#i should get a tattoo from the shop downstairs to remember this time

[beinggayisreallyexpensive]

Guess I gotta grow up.

Afraid of risks. Afraid of responsibility greater than caring for a pet, and even more, afraid of failing responsibilities, afraid of being punished for my failures, and irrationally, a fear of being sued. Afraid of learning how to drive. I realized last weekend that while the start of my life had some shit, I've been extremely lucky in terms of both grief/loss and health. I don't have any close friends or family who have died, only parents of friends or family friends. My physical health, and those closest to me has been good, manageable. I got to have a lot of fun in my 20s too despite all of my depression.

Ian and I talked about the next 5, 10 years of our lives. We talked about how he wants to help fix up, and hopefully live in his dad's house up north and keep the land in his family and how deeply important it is to him, especially as an indigenous person to hold land. We talked about his parents' aging bodies and the fact they will need our care and help soon. We talked about his parent's partners and the role they would continue to have in their lives and care. And life is so fleeting, things could change, the timeline could accelerate at any moment. It could be his dad, his mom, or even my mom who needs help first, and there's a 4 hour drive from his mom's city to his dad's, and a fucking 6+ hour drive to get to where MY mother lives from the house he wants us to move into eventually.

I'm deeply afraid of change, I have always been resistant to moving onto a new phase of my life and honestly, with the exception of the feeling that I am somehow losing friends every week, I am really fond of this stage of my life. I got through the pandemic and back into the field I originally went to fucking school for, I was very close to giving up entirely on that thought back in 2019. I worked so hard to be here, to be as healthy as I am. I like being in my 30s, I like the way I look finally (mostly, at least, my self-hatred has cooled and matured). I worked so hard to be in a place I am happy to call home, in a neighbourhood I absolutely love living in. I love Toronto. I love my city. I love all the fucked up people who live here. I love the independence and empowerment this city gave me. It doesn't quite feel like I'm being "pushed out" of here, although a few of my friends literally have been. It feels like... this just might not be my home soon and I might not have much choice in that.

I don't know how I'm going to handle those inevitable moments of grief. I legitimately have no idea because I have never experienced real loss before. I don't know how my body will take this stress on. I can't even visualize my life in 10 years. Granted, I have never been able to do that very well, look into the future, but I can't imagine anything other than the extra wrinkles we'll have. Who will be there with me, who will be my community then? All I know is if I don't have Ian by my side I don't think I can get through it.

[tashacee]

I had a thought while reading the clock town murders fic, what if only 10 years had passed for Time since he last saw Warriors instead of 20?

So Time is in his mid twenties and around the same age as the other older members of the chain not the oldest?

Okay so not set in the Clocktown Mystery but I… wrote a thing

The Long Lost Brother

When wars was first reunited with his little brother, he didn’t recognise him. Mask had been a short, angry ten year old when they last met after all. This gangly man was well over six feet tall, with long hair in a braid down his back and was skinny as a rail despite eating twice his body weight in food every meal.

But… there was something about him. Yes, this man - still a boy, really, barely twenty - was tall and quiet. But there was something about those tattoos on his face that were horribly familiar. Something about his sullen silence that just… reminded him of something.

And then there was how he stared at Warriors. Like he recognised him. Like he knew who he was. He definitely looked familiar but… Mask had been a child. Hadn’t he? And surely if it was Mask, then he’d have said. Right? Sure the kid had been prone to moods, but he’d surely have greeted Wind and him.

It took a week for it all to come out. Time had been watching him and Warriors watched the man watch him until finally he decided that enough was enough. Time was Mask. He was sure of it. The marks were too familiar, he even had the small scars on his cheeks where he used to claw out of his masks.

So one quiet evening when they were relaxing by the fire, Warriors asked him if he wanted to take a walk and talk.

So they walked. Not so much the talking part, but they walked. Time was far taller than Warriors but he seemed to have shrunk in on himself, even quieter than usual. Warriors knew that he should say something but he couldn’t figure out what to say.

Then, finally, Time spoke.

“You-“ his voice was deep and rumbling, a far cry from the child Wars was used to. “You… remember me. Don’t you?”

Warriors stopped in his tracks and stared. Was… that why he hadn’t said anything? He thought Warriors had forgotten? His own brother?

He shook his head.

“Mask.” He croaked, his mouth dry. “I could never forget you. It took me a while to- but you’re so much older but- oh Mask, I never forgot you. Never!” Hylia, he wanted to hug him, but Time still hadn’t come any closer.

But Time finally offered a small smile. He ducked his head, looking away. “I… I wasn’t sure. People forget things but… I’m glad.”

Things were a bit easier after that. Warriors was unbelievably happy to finally have his brother back and Wind was over the moon. They both tried to get Time to open up about his life since the war, but he was as tight lipped as he had been as a child.

Warriors was worried. Yes, he was less angry than he’d been as a child, but he was less… everything. He barely spoke. He kept closed off. When the rest of the chain sat and chatted and joked he often sat silent, listening but not joining in. And everyone noticed. They all tried to draw him into conversation and sometimes it worked, but more often than not he gave a short answer and fell silent once again.

But… it was getting better.

Week by week, Time seemed to relax into their company. He opened up more. He talked. He let Wind climb all over him and he even sometimes initiated conversations.

Still Warriors worried. He worried what his brother’s life was like in his own era, if he had any support, was he on his own.

He worried right up until one evening Time came up and sat beside him, jittering with nerves. They’d spent the day in a town, shopping in the market and having a well earned break. They’d even splashed out on rooms in an inn, and Warriors was sitting in the tavern downstairs when his brother approached him.

And oh, he was clearly nervous. Warriors felt a surge of concern as he looked at his brother, white faced and picking at the skin around his fingernails and -

But he shouldn’t have been. Because Time had come to ask for advice, yes, but possibly for the best thing he could have said.

Because after all those weeks of worry, after how much Warriors had lain awake at night wondering if his brother was okay in his own era, it turned out he shouldn’t have been concerned.

Because Time had a girl back home. He had a girl and was living on her ranch and that day in town he had gone to a jeweller and bought a frankly absurd ring.

He wanted advice on how to propose.

Warriors couldn’t have been happier. When he got Time talking, it became clear that he adored this Malon and it sounded like she was good for him too. She sounded calm and cheerful and positive and Warriors wanted nothing more than to meet this woman who made his brother happy.

The two of them talked all night, and after that, Warriors worried less. His brother was going to be okay, he was sure. Everything would be alright.

-

Months later, when their journey was over, it was Warriors’ proudest moment to stand with Wind as groomsmen at Time and Malon’s wedding. The rest of the Chain were in attendance, teary eyed and grinning, and he had never seen Mask happier in his life.

He was right- everything was going to be alright.

[unluckyhoneybee]

The Handsome Artist. 19. (Daniel Ricciardo)

Perth. Abi is in love with Perth, the Ricciardos and the farm. But not everything is a fairytale.

MASTERLIST.

Previous part: Australia

Note: the beginning of this was supposed to be the end of last chapter. I had to rewrote it and it's just not the same. 😭

Warning: +18. Oral s*x (f receiving) at the end.

I was awake by a engine roaring. I brushed my eyes and turned to Danny's side of the bed. It was empty. I got up and got ready, walking downstairs and wondering were he would be this early. I found Grace on the kitchen setting the coffee machine.

"Good morning"

"Good morning, Abigail."

I bit my lip and walked closer to her.

"Call me Abi, please"

She looked at me and smiled.

"Okay"

"Where is Dan?"

"Joe and him had to go with some of the guys to check the cattle. Some fence broke and they found sheep on the road"

"Oh" It made me smile. I had gotten so used to seen him working on his sanitized studio that it was a bit hard to imagine him in the fields fixing some fence. "Farmer duties?"

She chuckled.

"He used to say he wanted to be a cowboy when he was a kid." Grace said trying not to laugh. "Also a race driver. Then he started drawing and... He is amazing at it. He saw a guy with tattoos and it started there." She smiled with melancholy.

I caressed her shoulder.

"And you? I suppose that growing up in a plants store helps"

I nodded.

"It's what I've always known. That shop is my whole life and I wouldn't change it for anything"

"It's a beautiful place, I understand."

The coffee hissed and we both sat to have breakfast together. After 4 days here, I already felt at home.

"You should go and..."

The door opened.

"Mum?"

"Here!"

"Grandma!"

The kids ran into the kitchen, followed by Michelle.

They hugged Grace first and then me.

"Look! We brought this eucalyptus for you because Mum say they smell good" Isaac said.

"Oh well, thank you very much, guys" I kissed their heads.

"And I found this for grandma" Izzy gave Grace a little star shaped rock.

"Thank you, it's beautiful"

"Where is Uncle Dan?"

"The fence broke" Grace said.

"Oh! The sheep! Can I go and help them fixing it?"

"You can't go alone. Let's call Grandpa and if he is free he can..."

"I can go with him"

Izzy's eyes lightened.

"I want to go too"

I smiled at her.

"Yeah?"

She nodded.

"Well, if Mum and Grandma are fine with it"

"Oh, it's easy to arrive. You can take the buggy."

"Yes! It's so cool. Uncle Dan drives it super fast"

"Well, vey much to your mum liking, I won't drive super fast, Isaac" I said chuckling.

Michelle laughed.

"I'm glad Danny found you"

We laughed.

"Let's go."Isaac said.

"Just follow the main road and then the first turn to the left."

I nodded. The kids and me went to the buggy and Isaac was the best teacher.

"Uncle Dan sometimes let's me drive"

I gasped and looked at him. We were already on the road.

"He does what?"

"He let's me seat on his lap and I use the wheel. But I can't reach the pedals."

"Oh"

The farm was beautiful, red lands, tall trees,... I loved the nature in there. It was so perfect. And after a while driving, we saw them.

"There!"

I saw Dan and Joe getting up and looking, some of the workers turned too. I bit my lip.

Daniel was wearing a flannel shirt and a hat. I remembered what Grace had said and I smiled to myself. He looked good and his smile was so big.

I stopped the car and the kids jumped.

"Can I help?" Isaac said when he was already hanging from his Grandpa's neck.

Daniel had walked to me and wrapped me in a big hug.

"How is Auntie Abi doing?"

"I slept like a baby" He kissed my nose.

"Sorry I left. They called pretty early"

"It's fine" I kissed his lips.

"Auntie!"

I looked at Izzy.

"Not shy anymore?" Danny whispered.

"Nop. She is here cute self again"

"Auntie! Looooook!"

"Go there or she'll start shouting"

I giggled.

While the boys worked on that fence, Isabella and I spent some time picking plants.

"So... This helps with sore heads?"

"Head aches. That's how it's called. And yes"

"Mum has headaches after work"

"Let's take some for hair"

She kept putting plants on her pockets.

"And this flower?"

"This flower is food for insects."

"Oh. What do we do?"

"We better leave it here so they can come and eat some"

I got up from the floor and she took my hand.

"Hey! Girls! Look!"

I followed Joe's finger. The sheep were there.

"Puaj" Izzy said. I laughed.

"They are cute" I said.

"They are smelly"

Daniel walked to us and touched her cheek.

"What are those plants?"

"This one for mummy head... Heaches! This other one is for food because is tasty. And this one..." She touched her lip while she was thinking. "Yes! It smells good and we can make oil with it"

"Wow, did Auntie Abi taught you all of it?"

"Mhm" She said smiling.

"Abi! Look! This one has a baby"

Isaac came and grabbed my hand. He was excited.

"It's a lamb"

"Oh look at this. It's so cute..." I said touching the baby's head. The mother was there looking.

"They are super nice because Sally and Hector take super good care of them and they are friends with humans."

"That's amazing, Isaac." I said pinching his cheek.

A little drop of water fell.

"Dan. It seems like it's gonna rain." Joe said. "Go back, we have almost finished."

Danny nodded.

He took the driver seat this time.

"A little bird told me you let a kid drive sometimes."

"He is good, I promise" He said lifting his hands. "And I'm careful. I'm a full grown man"

"Sure"

I sat and reach for Izzy, sitting her between us and putting my hand on her legs. She found my rings and bracelets so interesting. Isaac climbed on Danny's lap.

"Let's go buddy."

It was funny. Danny had his hands on the wheel too helping Isaac, but the boy truly know how to drive. Izzy was giggling and laughing.

"He is so silly" She said.

"He is" I touched her nose.

By the time we arrived to the house, it was already raining.

"Come here, sweetheart" Izzy wrapped herself around me and I ran with her to the porch. Obviously Danny wasn't that careful and him and Isaac stepped on a couple of puddles.

"Uncle Dan! Grandma will get angry for sure"

"You better not get inside like that!" We heard Grace.

The storm made us stay at home, but the kids were quickly with their paper and pencils. They sat in the living room and started drawing.

"I'm drawing flowers."

"Yes. And me."

Daniel looked at me and pulled me to his side. He hugged me and hid on my neck. I could feel his smile on my neck.

Danny had been a ball of happiness this days. Not even this big storm made him frown a little. There was nothing that could make him upset. He was so happy to be at home.

"Here. Some tea for your cold hands" Michelle passed us two cups and we pulled apart.

The three of us sat together observing the kids.

"Can I post some pics with them?" I asked her with pink cheeks.

"Sure. It's fine"

"Okay thanks"

"Auntie. Do you like Australia?" Isabella asked.

"I love it, honey"

"More than Los Angeles?"

"Sorry sweetie, but no. My shop and my aunt are there"

Daniel hugged my shoulders and I leaned on his side.

"And you mum?"

"Izzy..." Daniel started, but I put a hand on his chest.

"No. I don't have a mum"

She looked at me.

"Sorry. My friend from school doesn't have a mum."

Michelle looked at me.

"It's fine."

"And you live with you Aunt" Isaac said frowning.

"Yes"

"We could live with Uncle Dan and you" He suggested.

We laughed.

"When you are older you can come on summer, mate"

"Yes! Christmas!"

I giggled.

The morning was slow, the storm was strong and the thunder roared in the sky.

....................................

Liked by @.mollyalberts, @.scottyjames and 125 others.

@.hopper_abigail: Auntie and Uncle available even on holiday.

↪️@.danielricciardo: my heart is so full

↪️@.mollyalbets: can't wait to give you two a niece (it's a joke but if you want it's not a joke)

↪️@.michaelitaliano: the best kids

.................................

"Look what I found!" Grace appeared out of nowhere with a book on her hands and instantly Danny covered his face.

"Mum. I'm begging you"

Baby Ric. (link for inspo and cuteness overload, but also hot young Danny)

"Old photos?" I asked smiling. Grace nodded and sat next to me.

"Abi has to see this, son"

"No, she has not. Mum I was a mess"

I touched his leg.

"I'm sure you were the cutest. Don't worry" He crossed his arms on his chest and frowned, but a kiss on the cheek was enough.

"I want to see it!"

Isaac jumped and sat on my legs, making me huff a bit. Then Izzy ran too and sat between Grace and I.

We started watching the album, cute baby pics, toddler pics,... Daniel was the cutest boy.

"Just look at that. That smile" I said pointing at the photo and turning to look at him. "You were such a cute boy"

"Grandma! That's my car!" Isaac said pointing at the toy car Danny was driving in the photo.

"That's my car, buddy." He said tickling the boy.

"Look, this was Michelle's 10 birthday. Dan climbed a tree and what happens when you climb a tree?"

"You can fall" Izzy answered.

"Exactly. He fell."

Daniel laughed.

"My first bloody nose."

"Uncle Dan was so small" Izzy said.

"I grew a lot, right?"

"Mhm."

We kept watching photos, the kids were amazing to see their uncle so little and I was dying because he was the cutest. Then Grace passed a page and I gasped.

"OH no" Daniel leaned back on the sofa and covered his face. I could still see the blush on his neck though. "Mum, I'm gonna burn that thing."

It was Danny. Probably 16 or 17 years old. His hair was so much longer even covering his ears a bit, he had this crocked teeth and an earring. He was with friends.

"Oh. Look. This is Michael. He was in the rugby team." Grace told me. "He was already a big guy. Danny was skinny"

"Uncle Dan had chicken legs" Isaac said and made us all laughing.

"You want the tickles monster to attack, don't you?"

Isaac laughed and hid on me.

"Abi won't always be there to safe you... One of this days I will tickle her before and then I will go for you!"

"No!"

Isaac tried to hide.

"Auntie!"

"Danny!"

Daniel laughed and lifted his hands.

"Stop, please. We are watching your pics"

He rolled his eyes but leaned and kissed my shoulder.

Izzy passed the page again and I felt my checks warming.

"Why do you have those mum?"

"You were a handsome boy, Dan".

"I wasn't, look at that hair"

I bit my lip and looked at him.

"You looked good" I said and felt my cheeks burning.

He frowned and smiled.

"Did I?"

I nodded slowly.

"I would have thought you were a prick, I'm sure. But you were cute"

"A prick" He gasped.

I giggled and nodded.

"He was always on detention, paring and failed more exams than he did."

I laughed.

"I was the weird girl at the back who was always studying. I would have hated you because you were probably so noisy."

"But you would have secretly had a crush on me because I was noisy but charming"

I blushed and laughed.

"Maybe"

He smiled at me and pinched my cheek softly. I turned my face and kissed his hand.

"The afro was fine, really" I said. "I have my doubts with that earring though"

"It's ugly, Auntie"

"A bit, but Shh" I whispered to Izzy, who giggled.

"Hey!"

"This one was right before you gor the braces"

Daniel was blushing a lot. But it was cute.

"Danny, babe. There is no need to be embarrassed. You were a really handsome guy, I promise" I patted his leg.

"Oh! From when your friend's husband cut your hair!"

"Mum! I was a full grown man! I had beard! And pubes!"

I laughed. It was a photo of him with a mullet. And he looked handsome.

"I like the haircut."

"I like it too" Izzy said.

Daniel leaned and kissed Izzy's head.

"It's so embarrassing"

The day went like that, spent at home and playing with the kids. They were drawing something together, asking Danny for help but not letting me see it.

After lunch, when we were both laying on the sofa, cuddling under the blanket with the kids taking a nap on our side, he received a message.

Mike: hey, the guys want to go and have some beers.

Mike: are you guys coming.

Daniel looked down at me.

"Wanna meet my childhood friends?"

The nerves settled on my belly. I had met his friends from home. Why not his childhood friends?

"Um..."

"We can stay if you want. Or... I don't know. You can stay" He whispered the last part.

I turned and hug him, laying my cheek on his chest.

"I want to go..."

"But..." He hugged me tighter and kissed my forehead. "Where is the but?"

"I'm nervous. I... I'm not good with people"

I felt his smile on my skin.

"Love, you are. You are just a bit shy. But everyone adores you"

I sighed.

"Can you stay with me?"

"Of course. Plus... Blake and Michael will be there too."

I smiled.

"Okay"

He kissed my nose and then my lips. His fingers found their way on my hair, pulling softly and making me gasp on his mouth.

"I hope everyone is already asleep when we come back"

I bit my lip ran my fingers over his lower back.

.................................

"You look so perfect" Danny said and leaned to kiss my neck. I giggled and pushed him away. "Ready?"

I nodded. I was nervous, though.

"Give me a kiss"

I leaned and kissed him deeply.

I could do this. It was just a night out with some friends. I could do this.

Danny POV.

Abigail grabbed my hand hard and pressed herself against me right when we stepped in the bar. The music was loud and it looked exactly how it had looked when I was barely a kid.

"Oh fuck!"

I looked back when Abi squeaked. Michael was there giggling.

"Sorry! I thought you heard me"

"Mike, mate. Don't do that to my girl!"

Abi, without letting my hand go, hugged Michael with a smile.

"Don't scare me like that, idiot"

"Sorry, sorry."

We went where the guys were, all of them getting up to say hi.

"Mate, it's been ages!"

I hugged them all tight.

"I missed you fucker!"

"Guys! This is Abigail" I said hugging her to my side. I looked down at her and she was smiling. "Be nice to her, idiots. It's her first time in Australia"

She looked at me with big eyes.

"It'll be fine" I smiled and she nodded. "Come here. He is Connor. Jackson, or Jacky. Alan. And last but not less important, Gregory Arthur"

"Greg. Only Greg" He said.

"Nice to meet you guys."

We sat and Abi smiled at Blake.

The night was good. We were having fun and catching up. Abi seemed to be comfortable. Shy but comfortable. I think Blake helped a lot with that.

"How did you meet?" Connor asked.

"I got a tattoo." Abi said blushing.

"Oh! A classic"

I looked at him. What?

"A classic?" Abi asked.

"Well, I'm sure this one has met many many people on that studio" He said elbowing Greg.

I felt something on my chest. Something strange. Then Abi fixed her composture and I looked at her. She had a tight smile.

"What did you got? I hate to admit it, but Danny is good" Jacky asked curious.

"A plant. On my chest" As always, she blushed when she mentioned where the tattoo was. "And yes, he is good"

"On your chest? Wow" Connor add. I looked at him and he gave me a smile. "You know, Rose said she would come over. She got divorced a few weeks ago"

Michael looked at me and gave me his breathe deeply eyes. I tried to. I don't know who Connor was trying to do, but this wasn't was I was expecting.

"She said you haven't talked since you left" He kept taking.

I felt Abi's hand on my leg.

"We haven't, no." I drank from my beer and touched Abi's hand under the table. I felt as if she could know what he was talking about. "She didn't answer the first three calls. I stopped calling. Easy"

"Wow mate, everyone thought she was the one"

Abi tightened her fingers around mine and I felt all the eyes on us.

"Well. She obviously wasn't" I said. "I have Abigail now. And I'm more than happy with her. I couldn't ask for anything better"

Connor nodded slowly.

"Okay, mate"

"You know what? Cheers." Alan lifted his beer. "For Dan and Abigail."

I chuckled and looked at Abi. She gave me a small smile and lift her beer.

"Cheers"

But as soon as it was over, she appeared.

"Guys!"

She looked older. Her hair has pulled back in a bun and she had a different style. Rose had changed a lot since the last time.

"So... Your ex girlfriend?" I looked at Abi.

"Yeah. From high school." I said.

She nodded.

"Okay. She is beautiful"

I bit my lip.

"Abi"

"It's fine, Dan"

And then Rose came to the table and sat next to Connor and Michael and I saw how it wasn't. It wasn't fine. Abigail shit down and stopped participating in the conversations.

"You have changed a lot, Daniel!" Rose said. "And you? Are you Blake's girl?"

I felt the heat coming to my cheeks.

"No, Rose. She is Abigail. My girlfriend."

Abigail shifted on her seat uncomfortably.

"I'm going to the restroom"

"Abi..." I tried to stop her, but she looked into my eyes and I knew that the best would be letting her go there.

She left and we all stayed in silence.

Michael was looking at me. The others were in silence.

"Sorry. I didn't know. She is... Different. I always imagined you would end with someone different" Rose said.

"Yeah mare. She is not your type. She is all quite and awkward. Doesn't speak much huh?"

"Connor" Blake warned.

"Does she even have sex or is she waiting till marriage?" He said and started laughing.

I left my beer on the table and they all looked at me.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I don't know mate. She is so... Plain. She hasn't even spoken!"

"Plain? Abigail is nothing but plain, you fucking dick. She is the most amazing woman I've ever known. You don't know her. And you barely know me anymore. So you better shit that fucking mouth."

"Daniel, mate." Michael called for my attention and I looked at him. "Go and check her. Breathe a bit, okay?"

I got up and walked away. Who the fuck did he thought he was?

I found Abi at the door. It was raining and she couldn't go outside, but she was leaning against the wall.

"Abigail"

She lifted her head and looked at me. I sighed when I saw that at least, she wasn't crying.

"I'm sorry" She whispered.

I walked to her and hugged her.

"Don't be." I kissed her head. "I didn't know he was such a moron"

Abi hid her face on my neck and I caressed her hair.

"And Rose... I'm sorry for that."

She shook her head.

"It's not your fault, Dan" She whispered.

I leaned and kissed her cheek.

"Do you want to go home?" I cupped her chin and made her look at me.

"We can stay for a bit more if you want."

"I don't want you to..."

"Dan, honey" She grabbed me by the back of my head. "They are your friends. I can manage being there with Connor and Rose."

"We can leave anytime you want" I told her.

"I know. I'll tell you if I need to"

I leaned and pressed my lips to hers.

"I love you" I whispered.

She smiled and kissed me again, deeper this time.

Soon we were back inside. We sat and Abi threaded our fingers. I gave Connor a death glare. He would behave or I would punch him.

And then Blake made this stupid joke and Abigail laughed. Rose was looking at her. And then she looked at me. I moved my arm over Abigail and brought her closer. Rose looked away.

Abigail's POV.

"Bye, Abi" Rose hugged me and I just waited for it to be over. "It has been a pleasure"

"It's Abigail, actually" I told her.

She looked surprise.

"Sorry, I just thought that... Daniel calls you Abi"

"Yeah, but Danny is my boyfriend" I said smiling.

Blake, who was cassualy standing next to me, chuckled. We walked away, to where Daniel was talking with Michael and Jacky.

"Asserting dominance?" Blake asked with a smile.

I laughed.

"Maybe"

"Well done"

Daniel and I made the whole road to the farm in silence, only the music filling the car. His hand was on mine and I was playing with his fingers.

It had been awkward. The way they talked and looked at me had made me feel small. As of I didn't belong there.

Daniel stopped the car.

"Do you know what I want to do?"

I looked at him.

"What?"

"Go for a swim"

"Swimming?" I gasped.

"It's not raining anymore. The water is warm. Everyone is sleeping" He said with a tiny smile. "Keep me in company, please. Even if you don't swim. I promise I won't get you wet"

I bit my lip trying to not comment on that last one but he started laughing before I could.

"Won't get me wet?"

"With water. I can't control how you body reacts to this beautiful face"

"Dork" I rolled my eyes and opened the door.

I got into more comfortable clothes and went outside. He was already swimming on his underwear, his lean body moved on the water and I felt hypnotized. I took my trousers of and sat on the edge, dipping my legs on the water.

I was tired and wanted nothing more than to go bed, but this time of quietness and calm with him sound too nice.

Daniel came out of water and looked at me.

"That's my hoodie?"

I nodded. He smiled and swam to me.

"You look pretty"

"Thank you."

He gently grabbed my ankles to keep himself close to me.

"Can we talk about the bar? I... I need to know you are okay with it."

I sighed.

"Yes."

"Are you?"

"No" I said and felt the tears in my eyes.

"Okay, I supposed. Do you... Do you want to tell me what bothered you? I don't want this to happen again, I want you to come back to Perth and be happy here."

"I'm happy here, Daniel..."

I caressed his face and ran my finger over his cheek.

"Then?"

I took a deep breath.

"I'm not your type. I'm not the kind of girl you have dated, right?"

"No" He simply said.

I let a shaky breath out and ran my fingers over his hair.

"Are you sure it's me who you want?" I whispered.

His eyes opened like plates.

"Abigail" He gasped.

"Answer, Daniel. Just that. There is no problem"

"I'm sure it's you. I knew the moment I saw you"

I let my breath out.

"You are the only want I want. Ever. The best thing I've had." Danny kissed my thigh.

"I love you, Daniel. So so much"

He kissed the palm of my hand.

"Rose didn't want me to go" He said. "She almost made me chose. Never said that, but yeah. We were kids. It was my first relationship."

"Why did he said everyone thought she was the one?"

Danny sighed.

"We were the typical teen couple. Just that. Cute kids dating for longer than two months. It was kind of a serious relationship."

I nodded.

"I was just a kid. She was my first everything. But I wanted to grow and learn. And I wanted to leave. I wanted to make it work, but she didn't even try. She just ignored me."

I brushed a drop falling from this forehead and following his nose.

"I've been with many people, Abi. But you are the most special of them. I have never been so sure of something."

I smiled.

"Thank you"

"For what"

"this. Talking. Trying to help"

"It's nothing. You are my girl. I want you to be happy."

"Thank you very much"

He smiled and kissed my leg again.

"Can I try and make you feel better?"

"I'm already fee- oh." I blushed when I realized what he was talking about. "Okay"

"Good" He was so gentle while moving me to the edge of the pool and closer to his face. I gasped when he pulled my panties to the side and the cold air hit me.

He smiled.

He traced shapes on my lower belly, hips, belly button,...

"Open this legs for me"

"What if..."

"Stay quiet then"

I smiled and nodded, opening my legs wider for him. As he had already showed me many times, Daniel was an expert on this.

He hummed when he tasted me for the first time, closing his eyes and diving furder in me. I whimpered and grabbed his hair.

"Fuck, Danny" I whispered and let my head fall back. I closed my eyes ad focused on him, on the pleasure he was giving me.

Daniel was giving my clit long and slow strokes, he was messy and sloppy, but fuck... The way it felt.

"Oh Dan... You feel so good" I whimpered.

"Shh baby"

Short waves of water moved around him as he put his whole body on it. The sounds that left his mouth were more than unholy. He was humming and moaning, groaning as I pulled his black curls. He was eating me out as if it was the last thing he would do on his life. And boy, it was so perfect.

The blue lights of the pool made him looked even better. He was mine. Only mine. And somehow it was still difficult to believe it sometimes. But at the end he was here with me. He was here making me feel all this thing, my sking tingle and mind dizzy. He made me cover my mouth with my hand to not shout out loud. He made me forget we were here and his family was close. He made me forget about everything else because I could only think of him.

Then he made me see stars. Everything exploded and I felt like drowning. The hoodie was too much, my cheeks were burning.

"Fuck... Danny..."

He pulled back and I felt cold. His eyes were bright and his lips were swollen. I reached and ran my finger over his bottom lip.

"Are you feeling better?"

Having probably lost every last drop of self consciousness for the night, I reached for the hoodie and took it off. I laughed when the cold air hit me, but I let myself fall on his arms anyway. The warm water and Danny hugged me, my boyfriend pulling me close and pushing himself away from the wall and intk the middle of the pool.

I snaked my arms around his neck and kissed his lips, tasting myself on them and playing with his tongue.

"You, us... I haven been so sure of anything either. I just love you so much and I don't think I could be happier with anyone else"

He moved my hair out of my face and observed me quietly.

"It makes me incredibly happy to hear that"

Next part: Birthday.

Taglist: @d0ntjudgemy50shades @controsnes   @thybulleric   @ln15  @lcuppo  @priylodhasstuff  @shadowbowgirl13   @txtflxx @scotlynaurora @chxrryrose  @f1-incorrect-s @yearsof-war @earfquak3 @amsofftrack @xgallysonegoodlung

[sad-drake-lyrics]

obamitsu shippers!

so i am writing an obamitsu reincarnation/modern AU with the flower shop/tattoo parlour prompt... & i need help brainstorming!

1. what would obanai call his botanical/flower shop?

2. what would mitsuri call her tattoo parlour?

and to bait y’all for your ideas, i will give you a gift of a sneak peek at the first chapter i'm working on ;o

It was springtime in Tokyo, in fact only about three weeks until Mother’s Day, and so the shop was flooded with orders for bouquets. Obanai didn’t mind being busy, but he had a tendency to hyperfocus on whatever he was doing and lose touch with the world around him, so he was completely engrossed at his work station when a young lady entered the shop. She was visibly nervous and clutched a tattered portfolio to her chest. There was no bell on the door, and so Obanai had not even realized that someone had come in when she entered.

“Uhm… hello?” the girl muttered timidly.

Obanai, with his back to her and also so focused on his project that he did not hear her, continued working.

The girl fretted that she was bothering this man, but what she had to ask was unfortunately quite important, so she tried to get his attention again.

“Uh, hello!” she called, raising her voice. “My name is Kanroji Mitsuri and I’m here to ask about the retail space for rent downstairs?”

This time Obanai became aware of the visitor, and the sound of her voice was like a crystal bell; the clearest voice he had ever heard in his entire life. She sounded Real.

He straightened up from where he was bent over a last-minute floral arrangement for someone’s intolerable mother-in-law, a strange feeling washing over him. It was something like a chill running down his spine, or the hair on the back of his neck standing up–but contrary to those phenomena, this feeling wasn’t a dark or frightening one. Instead, it was something like a cleansing epiphany.

“Uhh…” the girl went on, sounding sheepish and worried, “the space is still for rent, right? Like, you haven’t sold it already? I can leave if it’s no longer available–”

Not knowing what to expect, Obanai turned around.

“It’s still available,” he said as he faced her, and when she came fully into view, his heart stopped.

Yes, the young lady was undeniably incredibly gorgeous–she would’ve stopped any sensible man or woman in their tracks–but there was more to it than that.

It couldn’t be…

The girl gasped once Obanai stood face to face with her. She put a hand to her mouth in complete shock and almost dropped her portfolio.

Immediately–instinctively–Obanai felt a twinge of pain, downcasting his eyes and frowning beneath the face covering he wore over his mouth. His automatic thought was that his ghastly appearance frightened her.

“I-I’m sorry–” the girl, Mitsuri, stuttered, “I-It’s not, it’s, um…”

I’m going to sound so crazy! He’ll never rent the shop to me when I’m acting like such a creep!

“P-Please, forgive me, b-but when I saw you… I, uh, I had the strangest feeling of déjà vu… although I can’t for the life of me remember where we would’ve met, I… I’m sure I know you,” she finished, breathless.

Obanai’s gaze returned to her face, his eyes widening.

No way…

Something in his heart softened as he realized that the girl looked genuinely apologetic for offending him, and that her admission was sincere; he could see it in her eyes. Chartreuse eyes, like the ones he always saw in his dreams…

“No apology necessary,” he finally managed to say.

He swallowed, unable to decide if he should tell her that he, too, was experiencing déjà vu in her presence. Ultimately, he was too nervous to disclose his true feelings–even if this girl was her–which, come on, how could she be?

❀ ❀ ❀

UPDATE: the fic is now live! it is called Watercolour Irises and you can read it on ao3 here!

[asstronauts]

quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

rating: t word count: 2.4k pairing: the homoeroticism of 200 amplified, aka jemily summary: a post-200 rewrite, in which jj spends some time in emily's arms and in the hospital instead of in a bar right after being tortured.

read on ao3, if you'd prefer

tw mention of jj's canon abduction and torture

---

A hundred feet.

Strangely enough, it wasn't the closest she'd come to death in this line of work, but now it was all that separated her dangling feet from the ground below.

She felt nothing besides Emily's arms and her heart thudding in her chest. JJ risked a glance downwards, turning her head ever so slightly to look.

Michael Hastings' body fallen. Dead.

It was over.

"You're here. It's you," JJ managed between ragged breaths as she was pulled back from the edge of the rooftop and onto solid ground. Her hands were still clinging desperately to Emily's biceps, her only lifeline while the world spun around.

“Emily,” JJ murmured, though it came out sounding more like a question. She needed to be sure. After hours of torture at the hands of Tivon Askari, and after the intense pursuit of Michael Hastings onto the rooftop, her friend’s comforting presence seemed almost unbelievable.

Emily inhaled sharply and reached out to move JJ's hair back. The blonde flinched instinctively, then slowly relaxed into Emily's touch. It was nothing like Askari's rough hands. It was tender — a soft brush across her cheekbone to wipe away a tear she hadn't even realized was there. The gentle caress grounded her, letting her know she was here and that somehow, against all odds, she was still alive, safely kneeling with Emily on this concrete rooftop a hundred feet high.

JJ could hardly bring herself to look around. She didn’t recognize the building he’d taken her to. It was in D.C, that much she could be sure of, but the air felt different now that she was free from Askari’s grasp. Fresher somehow. Below her, the city lights blinked on, unaware of the terrifying ordeal that had just happened. And in front of her, Emily.

Emily's hand was warm. Or perhaps JJ was just freezing. There was a chill in her bones that had remained since she'd seen Askari's face, a cold she couldn’t quite escape.

"You're here," JJ repeated, her voice steadier but still quiet. She shivered against the concrete, her shallow breaths visible in the cold night air.

"So are you." Their eyes met, and JJ found Emily's filled with concern, with relief, with love. They carefully searched JJ's face to make sure she was okay.

Emily's gaze landed on the blonde's unbuttoned shirt, and she furrowed her brow, the hard lines in her face deliberating a question she didn't want to ask.

JJ shook her head and drew back slightly. He didn't, she wanted to say.

He didn't, but she could still feel his hands on her, all over her. He didn't, but she could still hear his voice saying, "Maybe I can make you one. Another one." He didn't, but...

"It's okay," Emily murmured in a soothing voice. She noted the look on JJ’s face, but didn’t press further. “You’re okay now. You’re safe.” Her heart broke at the way the woman clenched her jaw and avoided Emily’s fixed stare.

JJ gave a stiff nod of permission as Emily reached out, gently beginning to button the shirt back up. JJ licked her lips and forced her fingers to relax their grip as she tried to speak again — to say something, anything.

"Cruz...is he-"

"He'll be fine."

"And everyone else?"

"Everyone's okay." Emily looked up as she finished with the shirt. “They’re waiting downstairs with the ambulances whenever you’re ready.”

“How did you find me?”

“We...we looked into everything from when you were in Afghanistan. Your backstop.” Emily tried to meet JJ’s eyes, but they were staring guiltily at the ground. “No more secrets please, JJ.”

“No more secrets,” she echoed back. “Only the truth from now on.”

JJ opened her mouth as if to say more, then shook her head and furrowed her brow.

Emily knew there were questions she was avoiding, trying to ask about the team to dismiss any concerns over her own wellbeing. Denial was ingrained in her nature — a habit she had perfected so well, she sometimes managed to fool herself.

The younger agent stood unsteadily and pretended to inspect her top as she took a moment to collect herself. "We should head down then," she mumbled, crossing her arms as another shiver ran up her body.

"You're allowed to take a moment, JJ," Emily said softly and rose to stand in front of her. "Take your time."

JJ bit her lip and shook her head ever so slightly. If she took even a breath to process all that had happened in the last 24 hours, the inevitable breakdown would come rushing over her, and she feared she'd never be able to stop.

"You're okay now," Emily said again, reaching her arms out and allowing JJ to collapse into them. The blonde buried her face in the crook of Emily's neck as gentle but strong arms wrapped around her body.

From the moment Hotch had called her about the news of JJ's disappearance, Emily's heart had been gripped by an intense fear over the other woman's safety. The thought of JJ in danger, of JJ hurt, of JJ on the brink of death had been too overwhelming to bear.

The panic had fueled her to find everything she could on Tivon Askari, to do everything she could to fight for JJ’s life. But the anxiety that had built up during Emily's flight over was only just now beginning to subside, as she reassured herself of JJ's safety.

"You're okay, you're okay," Emily whispered as she rubbed comforting circles on JJ's back.

She's okay.

---

45...46...47...48...

Emily concentrated hard on counting the hospital floor tiles, whatever she could to keep from thinking of her friend having just been tortured. She’d read the files on Askari, and she knew exactly what JJ had gone through. The drugs, the physical abuse, the waterboarding, the electrocution. It made her burn with uncharacteristic anger, made her wish this man had received a fate worse than death for hurting JJ. And from the look she’d seen on JJ’s face, there was far more to the story than just what Emily had read.

The situation had left the rest of the team a headache-inducing amount of paperwork, but Hotch had insisted that someone be present when JJ woke up. All eyes had landed on Emily, with Penelope demanding she be called immediately after, no matter the time of night.

It was late now, but Emily still felt restless. She picked furiously at her nails, counting and recounting the tiles over and over again until a voice broke her thoughts.

"Emily? She wants to see you."

Emily looked up and mouthed a silent thank you to the doctor, not quite trusting herself to speak aloud.

A wave of relief washed over her as she walked into the hospital room, and blue eyes turned to meet her.

"You're here."

Emily managed a sort of strangled sound in reply, a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

"I'm still here," she breathed, reaching out her hand to grasp JJ's. It was icy cold, but just warm enough to reassure Emily that JJ was alive.

"I wasn't sure...I've been seeing things," JJ mumbled. "I saw you, or I thought I did. Before I saw you, I mean."

JJ shook her head, trying to clear the cloud from her incoherent thoughts as Emily creased her eyebrows in confusion.

She exhaled and tried again. "It doesn't matter. But you...you really came all the way here for me."

"You'd do the same for me," Emily replied. "Hell, you already did the same for me."

Their eyes met.

Paris.

Emily remembered everything — the long nights that never seemed to end, the two of them exploring every street and shop, the night JJ had grabbed her hand and pulled her into an alleyway, and they'd stood unbelievably close, eyes shining in the moonlight with exhilaration...

She wondered if JJ remembered everything too.

"How long do you have here?" JJ asked.

Emily bit her lip. "A few hours." Not long enough.

"Do you have to go?" came JJ’s quiet voice. Emily had asked the same question that night in Paris.

They’d let the question hang unanswered then too, both too afraid to admit that they were running, not just leaving. Because staying would mean confronting the intensity of their feelings for one another, and that was somehow more terrifying than anything they’d ever faced in the field.

Besides, Emily's expression said more than her words could.

“How are you feeling?” Emily asked instead of answering.

“It hurts,” JJ said simply.

Emily’s grip around her hand tightened protectively. "I know," she whispered.

JJ began to trace delicate circles along Emily's knuckles with her thumb, eyes slightly unfocused. She could feel her mind already struggling, tendrils of flashbacks lurking beneath the surface. The pain in her side seemed to intensify, and her breath caught slightly.

"Hastings and Askari are dead." Her voice came out raw and louder than intended, as though she was still convincing herself of the fact.

JJ took a shuddering breath and shivered as a chill went up her spine.

Cold. Why was the room so cold?

She felt, rather than saw, everything around her shift as a sudden sense of dread overwhelmed her in the haze. Dark. Cold. Alone.

Alone, except for him. The shadow of Tivon Askari loomed in front of her, and a bolt of pain and panic wracked her body.

“Come back to me, JJ.”

She blinked.

“I wasn’t..I-It wasn’t a full flashback or anything,” JJ stuttered. “I’m fine.”

“It’s okay, just breathe.”

JJ sat for a moment until the pounding in her chest subsided, painfully aware of the heart monitor’s rapid beeping. She focused her attention on Emily’s hand in hers.

“I’m fine,” JJ repeated quietly.

"I know it doesn't feel like it yet," Emily replied. "It takes time, but I promise one day, you’ll be okay. You’ll feel safe again."

Emily moved her free hand to touch JJ’s shoulder, capturing her full attention so that the blonde could read the sincerity in her eyes.

“What do I do till then?”

"You could get a tattoo. We could match," Emily said lightly.

"Blackbird," JJ mused with a tired smile.

She remembered the day that Emily had shown her the tattoo, how she had stared in amazement at the beautiful ink that somehow both covered and showed off Emily's scars from her encounter with Doyle. Even then, she had been slightly wary, but Emily had taken her hand and guided her fingers to graze the tattoo, showing her that scars weren’t something to be afraid of.

The bruises and lacerations would fade. The electrical burns would leave a mark. JJ could feel their sting now, marring her skin with ugly scars. Perhaps she could get a tattoo to cover them up, but there was only so much she could hide. Beneath it all, there’d still be a heavy burden, an invisible wound she’d have to carry day to day, case to case, for the rest of her life.

They sat, hand in hand again now, letting the presence of each other be enough. JJ's thumb was still tracing its way across the familiar landscape of Emily's hand, one that the blonde had long since memorized. In those moments, with Emily holding her hand, it felt like everything was okay. Yet there was a feeling of horrid anticipation, like the teetering at the top of a rollercoaster, where the burning in her stomach told her that the moment Emily let go and left for London, time would inevitably start again, and everything would fall quickly and suddenly, collapsing into a wild frenzy despite Emily’s words of comfort.

“I don’t want you to go. I need you here,” JJ murmured.

She wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion or the medication talking, but she hadn’t quite realized the truth behind the statement until she’d said it aloud. JJ tried it again, her voice barely a whisper. “I need you.”

The admission hung in the air unanswered for a moment, and JJ’s mind raced, wondering if she’d made a mistake.

Emily didn’t speak, staring hard at the hospital blankets as if they would tell her the meaning behind what JJ had said. Part of her wanted to scream with joy at the idea that JJ wanted her near. But the other part of her shrunk back in fear, wanting to flee across an entire ocean once again to run from her emotions. She was terrified of what she felt towards JJ — an affection more intense and overwhelming than anything she’d ever experienced before. Without it, she’d be lost. She couldn’t risk that; it was too fragile to be tampered with, too precious to even be acknowledged.

“I saw you,” JJ began rambling, unable to bear the silence. “When they were trying to get my codes, I thought I saw you. I guess my mind just needed something or someone to hold on to. You should’ve been a million miles away, but some part of me knew that you’d come. That I’d be okay because you were coming.”

“JJ-“

“I knew it’d be you. It’s always going to be you.”

“I can’t...” Emily began, but the fear choked her and kept her from finishing her sentence.

“I know you have to go.” JJ’s grip tightened as her voice broke. “Will you stay until I fall asleep? Say goodbye now so I don’t have to watch you leave.”

A lump rose in Emily’s throat. Tell me to stay again. Tell me to stay for you, and I’ll leave it all, she wanted to say. But her cowardice won in the end.

Instead, Emily nodded and sat next to the bed as JJ closed her eyes.

---

JJ awoke to an empty hospital room. The pain in her side flared, and tears sprung to her eyes as everything she had experienced hit her full force.

The fluorescent lights blinked back at her from above, and the only noises she could hear were the gentle beeping of a heart monitor and her own shallow breathing.

One hand lay across her torso, the other gripped the hospital bed sheets as though she’d been holding onto something, to someone. She could've sworn...

She’s not here.

No, Emily was in London, thousands of miles away. There was no way, right?

She wouldn’t have come and then left her, not again. JJ pulled her hand in and held it to her chest, as she bit back a cry.

It must have been another hallucination. It had to be.

Any other way would hurt too much.

[deannaroxannewrites]

Tropetember Day 2: Coffee Shop / Tattoo Parlor / Flower Shop / Other Retail AU

Coffee and other ways to heal the soul.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: General Audiences

TW: Valhalla arc (mentioned), coffee, NCIS cameo

AN: Day 2 of @tropetember. I was really struggling with the coffee shop AU but once I got going, really got way too into it and could probably pad this out into a short series. Is that something people would be interested in?

Also, not really sure if I managed to capture Spencer but remember this is an AU and that's my excuse!

Enjoy!

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 2.4k

One of the biggest advantages of owning one of the few coffee shops in Quantico that wasn't part of a massive chain, was the constant stream of senior FBI and Navy personnel desperate for high quality, well made coffee. It had become such a lucrative venture in fact that you could afford to hire enough staff to rarely even have to be behind the counter at all.

The surge in popularity has even allowed you to convert one of the spare upstairs rooms into a meeting room. In hindsight, you should have converted more because once your regulars found out about it, there had been outright war between the Navy and FBI to try and get meetings booked in. A couple of your regulars had even managed to get both institutions to hardwire connections so they could host even more briefings and meetings in the friendly, comfortable space.

Today's winners were a Unit from the FBI, who had booked it out for a whole day. Aaron Hotchner, the BAU chief, came in most mornings and was a real sweetheart. You'd been trying to get him to drink something other than his normal americano since his return from Afghanistan a few months ago, but had not been successful so far. You were excited to meet the rest of the legendary team. He always spoke fondly of them when he bought extra coffees to boost morale.

With that in mind, you quickly throw together the pastries and beverages he'd preordered for the start of their session and head in to do a quick check that everything was ready.

Like any meeting room, there was a large table in the center but you'd made sure to surround it with comfy and artfully mismatched chairs. The floor was a deep walnut colour and matched the numerous floating shelves which were covered in plants and books. The place was homey and extended the cosy chic look you had been trying to achieve throughout the shop.

After a little bit of organising, including making sure the FBI cables were accessible and tidying any of the Navy’s equipment, you head downstairs to the main space.

Charlotte and Jessica were behind the tills this morning, making quick work of the line and exuding friendly helpfulness out of every pore. They were both grad students and you were already dreading them graduating. Their natural effervescence would be impossible to replace.

To pass the time until your booking arrives, you catch up with NCIS Agent McGee who is on the coffee run, trying not to hold him up too long in case he ends up getting in more trouble with his big bad boss. Apparently Agent DiNozzo had knocked over Gibbs coffee but McGee had then slipped in it and done some minor damage to some of the equipment. He told you he much preferred coffee run to door knocking duty round a 6 block radius like DiNozzo.

As you wrap it up, a group of people enter the shop, led by a woman in colourful clothes and a sunshine demeanour. It's not until you see Agent Hotchner's suited and booted presence bringing up the rear that you realise this is the infamous BAU.

Donning your friendliest persona, you politely excuse yourself from McGee and head to greet them, calling Aaron's name across the way.

The profilers seem surprised by your use of their bosses name but quickly shake it off as introductions are made. You receive hand shakes off most of them with the exception of Penelope, who gives you a hug because of course she does, and Dr Spencer Reid who gives you a shy wave and looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.

It didn't take a profiler to see the physical distance between the genius and the rest of the group. He was always a step away from the nearest person and automatically avoided any physical contact from them.

How strange.

Brushing it off you lead them upstairs and get them settled, letting them know that they're welcome to come and go in the shop as need and that all their drinks would be added to the discounted tab and left them too it, all the while trying not to puzzle over the handsome loner and his cute sweater vest.

-----

If there was one thing Spencer Reid hated more than anything, it was team building.

Normally, back before everything happened, he would just grit his teeth and bear it. That's been a lot harder after finding out that Emily was alive.

Processing the joy at her being alive and the rage at being led to believe she was dead in the first place, particularly by the people he trusted the most, was not easy. He was trying to forgive them. He was trying to let it go, to accept the damage but move forward.

It was still a work in progress.

That's why, when Hotch announced a team building/meeting day, he had momentarily considered resigning. Though there was no longer outright hostility between himself and Jennifer, things weren’t exactly comfortable between himself and half of the team. The only bright side to this whole endeavour was the location. No coffee shop lasted long in Quantico unless the coffee was actually good. It was a small mercy.

He followed the rest of the team into the coffee shop, eyeing the surroundings and taking note of the other visitors. As the rest of the team joked about, he stayed back, simply waving at the nice owner of the shop when Hotch introduced them.

They appeared to be about his age which was very impressive considering the success of the café. And there were a couple of sci-fi references hidden in the décor that he would have loved to ask about, but he doubted they’d appreciate him going off about Star Trek this early in the morning. Instead he just gave a tight-lipped smile and followed the team upstairs.

Spencer tried his best to concentrate throughout the morning but to say he was relieved when they were left to their own devices for lunch would be an understatement.

-----

After a productive morning in the office, you wander back out to the main part of the shop to check on things. The lunch rush can be unforgiving but the girls seem to have it in hand. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Tuesday lunchtime.

What you didn’t expect to see was Spencer Reid hidden away at one of the back tables with a ginormous book in front of him, a small scowl on his face and the rest of his team nowhere in sight.

You agonise silently with yourself for a few moments before you decide to head over. You figure if he doesn’t want company he’ll let you know but you feel drawn to him. It was strange. Maybe it was just your instinctive need to collect strays.

You smile gently at him when you reach his table, indicating the seat opposite him in question. He gives a quick nod but doesn’t fully look at you.

“Everything ok?” you ask.

He takes a moment and seems to be considering his options. He looks at you with a little tilt of his head, likely questioning your motives.

Finally, he seems to decide you have no sinister intention and quietly replies “I just wish things could go back to how they were”.

You had heard about the events involving the BAU in the last year or so. It had been a hot topic of gossip in the shop numerous times. Aaron also occasionally talked about his guilt at what he put his team through when he stopped by, needing a friend to talk to. It’s the first time, however, that you think in depth about how faking a close friend's death likely affected the team members who were unaware.

This isn’t to say you didn’t care or didn’t think that it must have been terrible for them. You did, but had agreed with the justification that it was for Agent Prentiss’ safety, that finding out she was alive would make up for it. It’s apparent in the sadness of Dr Reid’s expression that that isn’t the case.

“Can I touch you?”

His eyes shoot up in surprise and he hesitantly nods. You gently grasp his hands, wrapping your fingers around his.

“I can’t even imagine,” you begin slowly, “how difficult this must be. But if you ever need to talk to someone, you’re always welcome here”

He gives a short, sharp nod and squeezes your fingers which you take to mean thank you.

“Also, this is totally not my place but, a therapist, one outside the Bureau? Might not be such a bad idea?” You give a sardonic grin and admit ” It worked for me”

After you give his hands another quick squeeze, you leave him to ponder your statement and head back to your office. Paperwork doesn’t do it self after all.

You hope Spencer manages to find some support though and decide that if he wants it, you’d be more than willing to help him.

---------------

It was a few weeks before Spencer Reid showed up in the coffee shop again.

It was early evening and you only had a few people in. You’d opted to close up tonight to ensure Jessica, who had been on the afternoon shift, had time to work on her assignment for class. She’d been complaining about it for the last few days.

The sound of the front door opening distracts you from your thoughts and you glance up to see who has entered. When you realise who it is you can’t help but smile.

“Fancy seeing you here Dr Reid” you say in greeting. He gives you a small smile in return.

“Well, it’s good coffee and, erm, the company’s good?”

You understand the question implicit in that comment and glance around at the few remaining patrons. They all have a beverage and it’s a quiet night so you can afford to take a step out behind the counter between orders.

“Sure, let me make us both a drink and then I’m all yours.”

You take his order (how much sugar?!?!) and get you both sorted out and settled into a small booth. You look at him, taking in the nervous expression on his face and let him settle in and start the conversation.

“I, erm, I took your advice”.

“That’s good. Are you finding it’s helping? Having someone outside of work to talk things through with?”

He nods his head.

“One of the things she pointed out was that so much of my life is wrapped up in work, that when things go wrong I don't have an external support system. Not that I didn't know that already but, someone else pointing it out made me realise how much if an impact it has.”

You bob your head thoughtfully, acknowledging his comment but not forcing him to say more.

“She suggested I try to find people outside of work to talk to. I was... I was wondering if you could be one?”

His nerves seem to have failed him slightly as he can’t look you in the eye, but you give him a big grin. Of course you want to spend time with this lovely man.

“I’d love to” you say, which gets him to look up and give you a smile in response.

You spend nearly an hour, with occasional breaks to serve customers, chatting to him before it becomes necessary to close up. He starts gathering his things but you’ve been enjoying his company so much you can’t bear to let him go. Instead, you check if he’s in a rush and, after confirming he has nothing else planned, invite him to hang around and grab something to eat from the diner down the street.

By the end of the night, you’re glad the diner is 24hr. You completely lose track of time, fascinated by the sheer amount of information he can provide and the passion with which he infodumps. It’s extremely endearing.

“I had a lovely time tonight” you tell him as you walk towards your apartment. You don’t live too far from the coffee shop and he had very gallantly offered to walk you home. “I’d love to do it again some time?”

He smiles and nods in agreement before asking for your phone number.

“I don't really like technology that much so I don’t have a smartphone and I don’t really check it that much and prefer speaking to texting…”

“Spence” you say, a little laugh in your voice as you interrupt. “Whatever works best for you. I’m not going to suddenly vanish on you, promise.”

You seem to have hit his worries a little too closely as he sways a little awkwardly, gaze wandering down to his feet.

“Can I hug you?” you check. His answer is to wrap his arms around you and you gently sway the both of you side to side.

He lets go and turns to head back out into the night as you call out “If you’re ever missing me, I know a place you can get great coffee. I can get you a good discount.” A laugh stutters from his lips and he wishes you a good night.

Leaning against your door you sigh happily to yourself. It’s always a good feeling making a new friend.

--------------

It had been over a year since the last time the BAU had booked (and managed to attend the booking). In that time, you’d converted another room upstairs into a meeting room, as well as setting up a shared work/study space in a room out the back.

You grin as you see them all enter, fascinated by the way this family of agents interact with each other. There’s even a tall, handsome genius who stands within the group, laughing and joking along with the rest.

Spencer greets you with a gentle kiss to your lips and it causes uproar from his colleagues. You don’t react much, you just turn to them and shrug.

“Do you know how many germs are passed in a handshake? It’s much safer to kiss.”

Your genius just laughs and wraps an arm around you, guiding the whole group upstairs, his friends playfully demanding details the whole way.

[highonchocolate]

One More Cup of Coffee

ML Secret Santa for @togetherwekill! Happy Holidays :D

@mlsecretsanta

—-

The Queer Cafe: A Safe Space for LGBTQ+ People. All are welcome! 

Spoiler stared down at the cafe from her perch on a nearby rooftop. Black Bat crouched beside her, silent and still as ever, her only movement the flutter of her cape in the wind. The little shop was located in Amusement Mile, just on the outskirts of Crime Alley. Quite an interesting location for a cafe.

Logically, since it posed no threat, they should have moved on in their patrol route a while ago, but something was keeping her rooted to the spot. As cliche as it sounds, it was as if the Universe wanted her to go inside. 

Looking over at her partner, Spoiler indicated the still-open shop. “Wanna check it out? Patrol’s slow tonight.” 

Black Bat paused for a moment, considering the question, before nodding once. “Fast.”

“Yeah, okay. We’ll make it fast.” She jumped down from the building, landing in front of the door in a flash of purple. Black Bat followed, a silent shadow beside her.

She pulled open the door, and the heavenly scent of baked goods and coffee hit her nose. “Oh my gosh,” She moaned longingly. “That smells amazing.” She quickly walked (not ran, good vigilantes don’t run when they smell delicious food) inside, hand clasped around Black Bat’s to drag her in as well. The cheery jingle of the bell above the door chimed once, twice, and the two baristas at the counter looked up at the noise. One was male, with black hair frosted a light teal at the tips, and the other was female, with blond hair and blue eyes. “I don’t understand why I can’t be on the morning shift with Nettie and Kagami!” The blonde one was complaining as they approached the counter.

“Chloé, we all know that if you were in the morning shift, you would be cranky as hell because you had to get up at six. Don’t even try and deny it.” The man laughed. “Besides, you just want to be with your girlfriend while she works.” 

“..Maybe.” The girl, Chloé, grumbled in reply, crossing her arms petulantly.

Noticing Spoiler and Black Bat, they immediately stopped chatting and turned to the counter. 

“Hello. How may I help you?” The blue haired man smiled as they approached. His eyes were unnaturally teal, and they seemed to flash as they made eye contact. He radiated tranquillity, as opposed to Chloé, who seemed to have a loud, crackling energy that demanded your attention, and tugged at you until you noticed her presence. 

“Hey, uh, Luka.” Spoiler squinted at his name tag. “Could I get a cup of coffee, with cream and sugar?” 

“Sure.” He turned away to prepare her order, humming softly as he worked.

“What would you like?” Chloé turned to face Black Bat, a customer service smile plastered on her face.

Black Bat said nothing, opting to remain quiet in the face of this stranger, sizing her up and analyzing her body language to get a read on her character. 

At her silence, Chloé’s smile turned a bit more real, electric blue eyes softening as she pointed to a sign next to the display case.

All our employees are fluent in ASL, French, and English. Let us know if you speak a different language! 

Black Bat scanned it briefly, before nodding once and lifting her hands to sign. ‘Black coffee, please.’ 

‘No cream or sugar?’ Chloé signed back.

‘Sugar, no cream.’

‘Okay, You can head down there and wait,’ she indicated the other end of the counter, ‘your order will be completed shortly.’

“Thank you.” Spoiler spoke, cringing at how her words broke the calm silence that had come with their nonverbal conversation.

Chloé gave her a small smile. “You’re welcome.” 

—-

They were silent as they grappled back home. When they had showered and  eaten, Stephanie turned to Cass who was curled up beside her one the couch. “What’d you think of that cafe?” She asked quietly, running her fingers through dark hair, still damp and smelling faintly of flowers from her earlier shower. 

Cass hummed thoughtfully, head resting on Steph’s shoulder. “Safe. Trustworthy.” She paused. “Go back in the morning?” 

Steph smiled down at her. “Yeah, I’d like that. Maybe they have waffles.” She said hopefully, wiggling excitedly at the thought.

Cass laughed quietly, turning her head and pressing a quick kiss to her shoulder. Standing, she offered a hand and pulled Steph up. “Bedtime.”

“Yeah, I can get behind that.” She yawned, swatting away the blond strands of hair hanging in her face. “Lead the way, babe.” 

—-

They woke up a few hours later, cuddled together in a mess of limbs underneath the warm blanket. Yawning, Cass gently untangled herself from Steph’s grip, before heading into the bathroom to brush her teeth. 

By the time she walked back out in black tights and a matching sweatshirt, Steph was awake, blonde hair a tangled mess on her head.  She snuggled deeper into her blanket as Cass approached, stubbornly keeping her eyes shut. Cass’ lips quirked into a smile at her adorably grumpy look. 

“Come.” She kissed her nose gently, “Going to cafe.” 

Steph grumbled out a sleepy reply, eyes finally opening. 

“Gimme,” She yawned, “Fifteen minutes, Cass.” Another yawn. “And then we can go.” 

Cass beamed down at her, giving her another kiss-on the cheek this time- before heading downstairs.

True to her word, Stephanie came downstairs fifteen minutes later, clad in warm black leggings and a white top, purple cardigan thrown around her shoulders.

“Let’s go!” She grinned, earlier tiredness replaced with her usual vibrant energy. 

Cass smiled back, already straddling her sleek black motorcycle. Seeing her girlfriend’s ride, Steph immediately hopped onto her matching purple bike, revving the engine and following behind as they weaved through the busy streets.

They stopped in front of the familiar storefront, the charming sign proudly declaring it was ‘Open for Business’

The bell above the door once again heralded their arrival with a loud chime. This time there were two women at the counter. They could have been mistaken for twins with their matching heads of raven hair, if it wasn’t for their different colored eyes and facial structure. Interestingly, when one of them shifted, her sleeve moved, revealing a hexagonal tattoo on her inner wrist. Cass immediately noticed it, nudging Steph softly in the side, and she immediately committed its whorls and lines to memory. Thankfully it didn’t seem to match any of the gang symbols she knew of, which was a relief. The food here was so good she’d hate to have to fight the owners in some turf war next week or something.

“Hello!” The one with the tattoo grinned at them, otherworldly sapphire eyes gleaming. What was it with these people and their strange eyes? “What would you like today?” 

“Coffee, cream with no sugar.” Cass said, spine straight, gaze unwavering. Assessing. The other woman didn’t even flinch in the face of her stare, choosing to smile, even as a pink flush crept over her cheeks. Her name tag read Marinette.

“Of course! Would you like anything else?”

“Bagel, please.” 

“Okay.” Some hair had fallen out of her messy bun, and she tucked it behind her ear as she turned to Steph. “What would you like?” 

“Uh, do you have waffles?” Steph blurted out, feeling embarrassed for no reason. 

“We do! Would you like any toppings?”

“Um, just whipped cream and chocolate syrup, if you don’t mind.” She fought the urge to fidget. 

Why was she getting so nervous?! It wasn’t her first time meeting a pretty girl! Besides, she already had a girlfriend.

‘But Cass said she would be open to three, remember?’ A traitorous voice whispered in her mind. 

She squashed it down. Marinette probably wasn’t even interested in her, much less the two of them.

“No problem. Do you want a drink with that or is water good?”

“Water’s fine, thank you.”

“And can I have a name for your order?”  

“Oh, it’s Stephanie. Stephanie Brown.”

Marinette smiled, “Your order will be out in a few minutes. Feel free to take a seat in the meantime!”

She walked over to a vacant table with two seats and plopped down in one, allowing her head to thunk down on the table with a groan. She heard Cass slide into the seat across from her, and felt her warm hand grip her own. “Was pretty.” Cass said quietly, noticing her blush. “Maybe…?”

She allowed the question to hang in the air as Steph lifted her head to look over at her. “Those eyes,” she said reverently. “I think I’m in love.” 

Cass shot her an answering grin, answering the unspoken question hovering over their heads. Yes, She seemed to say. I would be okay with both of you. 

“You sure?” Steph breathed out hopefully. After all, she had been the one to suggest the idea of a third in the first place. 

“Yes.” She nodded firmly. Anything else they were going to say was cut off by the arrival of their food. 

“Here you go!” Marinette smiled cheerily, setting two plates down. 

“Thank you, this looks amazing!” Stephanie told her enthusiastically, the warm scent of just baked waffles rising to her nose, mixing pleasantly with the smells of bagels and coffee.

“Smells good. Thank you.” Cass smiled up at her, watching as she flushed from their compliments.

“Oh, thank you! Enjoy!” She smoothed down her skirt and walked back to the counter with a smile.

—-

Before Steph knew it, they were going to that little cafe nearly every day, and although she tried to deny it, she knew it was because they both had the smallest crush on a certain ravenette. But Marinette clearly did not like their presence, if the way she would turn red (flushed or angry?) and begin to stutter or ramble whenever they were within ten feet of each other was any indication. 

She also seemed to get more worked up whenever they stopped by, seeing as she once dropped an entire plate of tiramisu when they walked in through the door. Not to mention all the other times it happened, whether it was dumping a batch of flour over her head, or spilling coffee on her apron, but it only served to make her that much sweeter in their eyes.

Of course, Adrien, another barista with blond hair and a forest green gaze, was quick to reassure the both of them that Marinette was a hopeless bisexual disaster, and she would always turn fire engine red and trip over her words (and feet) whenever she had a crush on someone.

After that, it was easy for them to ask her out.

“Hey Steph, hey Cass!” She laughed nervously. “What can I get you for today?”

Cass, straight to the point as always, stepped forward and looked her in the eyes. “Your number.” 

It was comical how fast her face turned red. “What?”

“Could we get your number, Mari?” Steph repeated, refusing to waver.

“I didn’t think you were interested-uh are you sure?” She spluttered.

“Yes,” They said in unison, ignoring how Adrien was cheering in the background.

“Oh wow, um okay, sure!” She tucked her hair behind her ears nervously, grabbing a pink sticky note and scribbling down a set of numbers in looping cursive.

“Thanks Mari,” Steph grinned, “We’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Oh! Um, yeah!” She waved as they walked out of the store. And continued waving, a lovestruck grin on her face.

“Bug, you can put your hand down now,” Adrien laughed.

“Oh my god Adrien!” She let her head drop into her palms, “That was a disaster! On a scale from ‘you’ll be fine’ to ‘never show your face in public again,’ how bad was it?”

“I think it was pretty good, considering they’re both coming back tomorrow, and they asked you for your number,” He said, wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively. “Is there some romance in our Mari’s future?”

“Wait, were they both flirting with me?!” She shrieked, suddenly jolting up from her slumped position. “Was that them asking me on a date?!”

“How would I know? Romance is over my head.” He shrugged. “Ask Chloé if you need help with that kinda thing.”

“Oh my god,” She groaned, sliding down in her seat. “I’m hopeless.” 

“Hopelessly in love!”

—-

Soon enough, the two of them were regulars at the little cafe, in both their civilian and vigilante lives.

Cass would spend hours listening t o Luka’s music, the two of them communicating in a language only they seemed to understand. 

Stephanie and Chloé also grew close, their loud personalities and similar temperaments often prompting people to ask if they were twins, or sisters. 

Spoiler and Adrien hit it off as well, joking back and forth with each other as he prepared her order at ungodly hours of the morning, sunshine smile ever present.

Kagami and Black Bat, as unlikely a pairing as it seemed, also bonded over fighting styles, and their shared determination to get things done.

Group movie nights, random get togethers, spontaneous trips to the mall, soon the two of them couldn’t imagine life without the crazy group of five that had somehow become such a major part of their lives.

—-

And one winter night, as they cuddled together on Cass’ couch, Marinette told them of nineteen gods, bound to jewelry, and how time and time again heroes rose to protect the world. She spoke of a temple burned to ash, a sacred duty passed down from Master to Apprentice, and a tale of a corrupted brooch and how a man's undying love for his wife drove him to darkness. 

And after she finished her tale, silver tears glistening on her cheeks from the memories she had relived, Steph and Cass pulled her closer, clutching her tightly; and recounted their stories to her, whispering to her of swinging through the city at night, watching from the shadows high above, and battling in the name of justice.

As she snuggled deeper into her girlfriends’ warm embrace, Stephanie couldn’t help but be grateful for the small pull of fate that had led her into a coffee shop at two in the morning. 

Nothing could possibly ruin this.

Until her phone chimed with texts from Dick, Alfred, Bruce, and Tim asking her what, exactly, she thought she was doing, and why she was in a random apartment near Crime Alley. 

So that’s what they forgot...

[hwrryscherry]

The one with the Christmas Eve, eve.

blurb: Harry and Model Y/N are spending christmas in the French Alps with their families and suddely realizes they didn’t have any time to go christmas shopping this year.

word count: 2.8K

author’s note: Heeey guys, so I'm editing with my phone and I'm not able to add the "read more" tag but I'll do it in the morning🥰 I hope you enjoy♥️

christmas song of the day: Sleigh Ride by The Ronettes

December 23rd, 2020.

house near La Clusaz

— What are you doing? — You'd ask Gemma a you arrived at the first floor leaving the stairs behind you. You observed your sister-in-law with a bunch of wrapped boxes on her hands as she walked towards the huge christmas tree settled on the living room on the left side of the enormous fireplace. Gemma crouched down beside the tree and placed the enveloped boxes on the foot of the tree while you walked towards the big and comfortable brown sofa and sat on the same prop for your things.

— I'm putting the presents here. They were up there in the room and I already started to think it’d break or something — The woman told you while placing the boxes under the tree — And also because it looks nicer like that though. You and Harry should put yours here too.

— Sure, it looks more like home this way — You said agreeing with Gemma and then got up and walked behind the sofa where you placed your palms over it  looked at her — I'll get them, they must be in Harry’s suitcase — You smiled tenderly at her and walked again to the stairs, where you went up step by step until you reached the top floor and walked up to your room. When you opened the door carefully since when you left the room Harry had just entered the shower, you came across Harry with a towel wrapped around his hips giving you an excellent view of his exposed chest and arms tattoos as he placed the items of clothing he planned to wear on the bed.

— Love, I was thinking that we should've gone skiing yest... — Harry started to say the moment he noticed your presence in the room.

— We have a big problem, Hazz — You interrupted him bringing all his attention that were previously in the clothes for the you. He noticed the look of despair that you had on your face and felt the concern take over his body — A huge problem! — When saying this, you rubbed your palms on your face and Harry approached you in a quick pace, gently touching your arms.

— What happened? Are you okay? — Harry'd ask while carefully examining your face and body with his green eyes looking for any sign that you'd have been hurt in any way.

— I'm okay, that's not it! — You said taking a deep breath and then sighing to take your gaze against his — We forgot that we had to go christmas shopping — You'd say with a long breath coming out of your nostrils as you watched Harry frowing in completely silence as he actually noticed that none of you remembered of buying any gifts. The thing is, with Harry filming Don't Worry Darling and you doing so many shootings you both would always say "oh let's go tomorrow" and then you'd never actually go and it turned out that you totally forgot about it — How could we forget it? Oh my god, your mom's gonna be so upset and today is Christmas Eve eve, there's no way we'll find something for them and I panicked and told Gemma that their gifts were up here and...

— Love, love, love — Harry'd interrupt you as he rushed towards the bed and grabbed his clothes to start dressing up — Let's not panic! There's a christmas market down in La Clusaz. I bet there must be something good left! — Harry would say trying to convince himself more than you actually. He'd feel completely bad and shattered by giving no presents to his family. But he was kinda right though. The house you rented were up in the mountains but a fifteen minutes drive would take both of you to a commune that had a beautiful Christmas Market and as christmas day is so close it probably should be open.

— Yeah, sure! — You'd agree going directly to the small closet there was in you guys bedroom that you organized both of your clothes in there yesterday and grabbed some warmer clothes because it was probably the coldest it's ever been since the day you both got here, but thank god it wasn't snowing at this moment.

— Ok but what if they want to come with us? — Harry said as he put on his sleeves and later on his snow coat alongise with his beanie.

— We'll tell them we're going on a date! — You'd fastly say back as you changed your sweatpants to a legging and following it with jeans, and then changing your hoddie for a heavy coat of yours and your slippers for snow boots — I'm sure they won't try to follow us on our date.

— Yeah that'd be weird! — Harry would agree with you taking his phone and putting it inside his pocket and then his mask. Remember how the mask made your face warm in the summer? Thank god it makes your face warmer now. — I'll go downstairs and starts the car and then I'll just say that I was planning it and ye' didn't know.

— Ok! — You'd tell him as you searched for your phone on the mess sheets from the bed, as you found Harry's gloves, you'd take it in your hands and show them to him — Won't you use it?

— No, I'm good! See you downstairs! — Harry'd say as he left the room and walked downstairs leaving you alone in the room. And also, unlike Harry, you weren't wearing a beanie when you got downstairs.

— Oh, you look pretty! — Anne would say with a big smile on her face at the moment she'd see you leaving the stairs while putting your gloves on. She'd come closer to you with your newly washed mask on in her hands — We didn't know you both were having a date, dear! — She would complement as you'd put on the mask on your face feeling a little tense from her words. It's not like you don't know how to lie, you're good at it. It's just that you love this woman so much and it's hard to lie to her.

— Oh yeah, I didn't too! Harry said it was a surprise! — You'd say while putting your phone inside your 2005 Re-edition Prada bag that was actually last christmas gift from Harry. God, you wanted this bag for so long and you got so happy when Harry gave it to you that you couldn't stop thanking him for almost a week after christmas — We should be back soon, though! I don't know how much time is gonna take — You'd add stoping your movements and looking at the shorter woman's face.

— It's okay, darling! — She'd say giving you a warm hug before walking with you towards the door — Now go have some fun! — She'd say happily as you walked towards the car that Harry had rented too. God, the air felt so cold. Of course you lived in NYC for years, and you are used to snowy weather but this feels ten times colder. You'd rush into black SUV that Harry rented feeling the warmness almost instantly when you sit in the passagers sit and put on your sit belt.

Harry started driving directly to the commune center with the GPS instructions and honestly, you were glad that you had a GPS because you could never tell the difference on the way because all you could see was snow and mountain until you got in center. 

You both were so surprised when you left the car after you had parked it. Of course, it was dead cold but it was so pretty. It felt like you were inside a christmas movie with all the lights and decorations and the cute houses with all those people going ice skating and walking around the christmas market with a christmas song in the background. It felt like a heaven made of christmas.

— This must be what heaven looks like — You'd say as you and Harry walked hand in hand towards the christmas market getting a chuckle out of Harry. He knew how much you love the christmas spirit and all it came together with it. It just felt so great, and he learned to love it just as much as you do with the time.

— Do ye' have any idea on what we should buy? — Harry asked as you both first entered the market that was actually a little too crowed for being so early in the afternoon.

— I think that for your mom, we should get her new crystal bowls because you broke hers last christmas and for — You'd say casually remembering last christmas when they were all playing games together and Harry was a little too excited about winning the game and a little too wine drunk too to realize that he was one step away of breaking Anne's brand new crystal bowls.

— Hey, I still feel bad for that, let's not talk about this! — Harry'd say on a playful way making you let out a chuckle as you looked at the many stands options of presents to buy.

— Ok, I'm sorry! But anyway, I think we should get Gemma something classy and cute, maybe with a little...

— Pride and Prejudice vibes — Harry'd interrupt you making you turn your gaze to him seeing the boy with raised eyebrows at you — You say this every year!

— Yes, and she loved all the gifts we gave her in the past 2 years! — You'd say convincingly as you started to walk inside the market basically dragging Harry with you — Imma buy my mom a light spot necklace, you know? That one with only a small diamond in it? She's obsessed with it lately.

The first thing you'd buy would be your mom's necklace.It'd take you a while to find it, but it was so worth it because it was just like the one you have and you knew she would love it. The cute french woman, the seller was an old lady with white hair and a very sweet voice and it's been a while since you've put your french in work so it would really nice to talk to her. She'd tell both of you that she plans on spending christmas with her grandkids on their house and then later appreciating the christmas fireworks. The thing is that both you and Harry loved to know people's story, it's easier to understand and like someone when you know it's story of life and what made it be who it is.

Later you'd start looking something for Michal, which was probably the hardest thing ever because Michal is the kind of person that will like whatever you give to him so it's hard to think about something special and it's a proven thing when it's already the fifth stand that you ans Harry stops at to look for something to him.

— Why is this so hard? — Harry would say looking through some very cute sweaters.

— I know right! — You'd add as you looked through the many jewels it had on the stand — I'll go finding something for Gemma, and you find something for Michal! — You'd say starting to walk away from him and being stopped by the man's rough voice at you making you turn around to look at him.

— Why do I have to choose anything for him? Why don't you do it? — He'd say making you go silent for a moment as you thought about a good excuse about him finding it alone. You know Michal likes anything but you don't want to be the one to find the "wrong" anything.

— I mean, you're a guy! You know what guys want for christmas, love — You carefully say touching his arm as you approached him — And by the way, you've known the guy for five years, and I know him for two years so you'll do it! — You'd say with a convincing smile on your face as you petted his arm.

— Ow so that's the game? 'Cause I've known Gemma for 26 years! — He'd argue back.

— Yes, but she likes me better! — You'd say grabbing a bracelet with the letter G in it and observing it closer to your eyes.

— What do ye' mean she likes you better? I am her brother! — He'd say making a huge deal about the "brother" part. You'd roll your eyes at his little drama and then you'd show him the bracelet.

— Yeah, whatever! — You'd say — See, you could ask if you can buy this bracelet with the letters G and M and I think it would be the perfect gift for him! I'll go find Gemma's one! — And you'd leave. Harry would be kinda shocked on your presenting skills. It surprises how you can see one thing and transform it into the perfect christmas gift ans he knows that you'd call it your natural talent and maybe it was.

For Gemma, it would be a lot easier and right after Harry finished buying Michal's gift, he'd help you with Gemma's gift. You'd buy her two of them because it was just perfect for her. First, Harry would find a beautiful journal with major vibes from Fairy Academia and you both think it would be so useful for Gemma because she's always travelling and discovering some new things and with this journal she could write it down and read it 50 years from now and remember the good old days and the great experiences she experienced. And the second one, you bought her a bracelet that had "sisters by heart" written in it because you and Gemma had the best relationship ever and you knew you could count on her through the good and the best at this is more than what you could ask for.

At last, you both bought the crystal bowls for Anne and god, it was the hardest thing to find. Specially because it was already Dec 23rd and most actual stores was closed now. When you finally bought it, all you could do was to tease Harry about it asking him to please don't break those too. Poor Harry, he really felt bad about it and he really wishes he never made such a mess but it became a funny story to tell and to tease him about.

Later on that day, you'd grab some lunch too because you finished your shopping by just a couple of hours before it was actually dark and you'd just agree that what you and Harry said to Anne didn't have to be a total lie and you could actually have a date and enjoy some alone time.

You both would choose a very cozy restaurant called Les Rhodos, for the grace of god it wasn't very crowed and you both chose a sit by the window so you could eat with the most phenomenal view of the snowy mountain. The restaurant had a lot of details in stone and wood which brought all the alps vibes to it.

You'd both chose burgers to eat and it would honestly taste like one of the best burgers you've ever eaten in your life. Harry'd order a special type of beer to him that was literally green. You don't know how, but it was. You'd talk. You'd talk about last christmas, this christmas and what you expected from next christmas.

— Do ye' think that we'll ever tell them about we forgetting to buy their gifts? — Harry would ask in your drive back home while you admired the sunset by your window. The sky was lilac with a bit of orange and pink and for a moment you felt like you were inside the movie Brother Bear from Disney and all it missed was the northern lights, which you'd totally search on google if it happens in the french alps and you'd find out that it's possible but also really rare.

— I definitely think they'll notice it, H! — You'd say trying to contain your laugh. It's not like you both bought the worst gifts in the world; you bought amazing gifts but it's not what you usually buy and your families will notice it, but they'll appreciate the fact that you both really tried to get them something nice and I mean, it's christmas. Enjoy the holiday experience.

[nerdypanda3126]

A Pink Ribbon and a Leather Cuff

I swear this started as a sprint fic and after my first 15 minutes were up I just... kept going...

The rules are three 15-minute sprints with 24 hours for light editing, which includes new writing to smooth transitions or make it feel complete.

Except of course on this one, I did one sprint that morphed into an entire writing session... oops!

Prompt: "My soul chose yours. And a soul doesn't just forget that."

Read on Ao3

In her Dream, Marinette walked through an endless room filled with innumerable objects. Everywhere she looked there was something different. She wandered through, searching—or more accurately, her soul was searching. For what, it was impossible to guess. Whichever object called out to her, whichever one she chose, would be imprinted on her wrist for the rest of her life. Just like everyone else who had the Dream on their sixteenth birthday.

She stopped to touch a silver necklace with a neon green paw print. It warmed under her fingertips, but it wasn’t what she was looking for. She let her fingers trail over the piles of objects beside her. A pair of headphones, a pencil, a unicorn mobile, a pair of glasses, a mirror— everything seemingly random but connected to someone she knew. Or maybe didn’t know yet. Nothing was jumping out to her. She’d heard of this happening. There was always a little fear. Maybe there isn’t someone out there. Maybe none of these objects are mine. She let the worry float over her and kept going.

A bright flash caught her eye and she turned her head to look for it. It was on her left, and the closer she got to it the brighter it started to glow. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch it, expecting it to burn, but it was cool to her touch and still glowing like the northern star. She clutched it to her chest and felt wakefulness rush back to her. This was it. This was hers. The one her soul had chosen.

When she woke up, Marinette instantly stared down at her wrist to get her first glimpse of the object she’d chosen in her Dream. She squinted down at it, unsure at first what she was looking at. It was a tube of some sort, with writing on it. Like a paint tube or… she glanced over to her vanity where her makeup lay waiting for her. Or a tube of foundation. She groaned and flopped back on her pillows.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” She lamented to her mom once she’d gone downstairs. “It makes no sense!”

“Well, sweetie, it usually doesn’t at first.” Her mom sat and pulled her sleeve up to expose her wrist, showing Marinette the bag of rice flour that was replicated on her skin. “When I first got this, I had no idea what it meant. But as soon as I walked into your father’s shop and saw him with this bag of flour on his station, I knew.” She smiled fondly at the memory before she reached out to take Marinette’s wrist. “When the timing is right, you’ll know, too.”

***

It had been three years since Marinette first got her mark and it was still just as meaningless as the morning she’d woken up with it. Her parents had both told her so many times it was better not to look, to let it find you, but she couldn’t help it. She frequented makeup stores, but none of them carried the brand that was on her wrist or had even heard of it. No one she knew used it, either. Most likely it was something that wasn’t on the market, yet. Which made her obscure and useless clue even more obscure and useless.

She started going on blind dates instead, hoping to find someone that she could be happy with. Alya had made that decision and she seemed perfectly fine. Nino wasn’t her soulmate, and she wasn’t his, but they were in love, and Alya insisted that was what mattered.

Marinette started keeping a wide pink ribbon tied around her wrist and tried not to think about it too much. After all, that’s what her mom kept telling her. But patience was not Marinette’s strong suit. And her mark was always in the back of her mind, no matter how hard she tried to forget about it. Somewhere out there was someone she was meant to be with. And all her blind dates ended the same way.

“I’m sorry. You’re not the one.”

***

“You did what?” Marinette snatched Alya’s wrist to look at the brand new ‘soulmate tattoo’ she sported.

“Had it changed. Nino did, too.” Alya was gleaming with pride, even more than the sparkling diamond on her left hand.

Marinette dropped Alya’s wrist and fidgeted with her ribbon to adjust it, covering the edges of her mark that had started peeking out. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Well, not officially, but this tattoo artist is amazing. You can’t even see that awful thing anymore, look!” She traced the old outline of the broken rocking horse she’d had since she was sixteen, carefully covered by a dark green tortoise shell.

“Yeah. It’s great, Alya.” Marinette tried to smile and be happy for Alya. But the concept of changing your mark had never occurred to her. What would she even change it to, if she could?

“He said he does coverups for single people, too, M.” Alya’s eyes flicked to Marinette’s wrist, to the ribbon she always kept tied around her enigmatic mark so she didn’t have to worry about it. “He said he could make it something that actually has meaning for you instead. Maybe you could get those flowers you always use in your designs?”  

“Covering it up doesn’t change the fact that it’s still there,” Marinette mumbled.

“No, but it does prevent you from shooting down anyone who doesn’t fit the bill.”

“I don’t mean to! It just—”

“I know.” Alya squeezed Marinette’s hand reassuringly. “Not everyone is like me and Nino. I know you want to find them. Just… promise me you’ll think about going to talk to him at least? He’s a nice guy, and he understands that sometimes choice is more important than fate.”

***

The bell to the tattoo artist’s shop jingled quietly as Marinette opened the door. The smell of antiseptic greeted her and made her nose wrinkle. There was artwork hung at regular intervals throughout the room—samples, Marinette guessed, of the artist’s work. And in between the framed pieces were polaroids tacked up with push pins of people proudly displaying their new tattoos. Mostly couples, Marinette noticed, holding up their wrists and smiling. Alya and Nino were probably on that wall somewhere.

“Be right there!” A voice called from somewhere in the back.

She wandered up to the counter and flipped through a book of pricing and common images while she waited. The Chinese characters offered had been well-researched and it made her feel a little better about talking to this guy—Luka, she remembered Alya had said. His name was Luka.

“Sorry about that,” Luka said as he appeared. He was tall and lanky, with a shock of black hair dyed electric blue at the ends and gauges she could fit her pinky through. For a tattoo artist, he was suspiciously void of tattoos, and she noticed instantly that he had a wide leather cuff on his right wrist. Her nose wrinkled again as a fresh waft of rubbing alcohol hit her. “Just cleaning up. What can I help you with?”

He leaned against the counter easily, as if she were an old friend, and focused not on her face, but on the book she was looking at. Or maybe on the pink ribbon tied around her wrist. She pulled her hand away self-consciously.

“My friend, Alya, she wanted me to… well, you see, I haven’t figured out my mark and it—well, it’s stupid, really, but Alya said that you might, well—not that you might, but that you mentioned you could…” she trailed off and tugged at the knot.

He nodded as if he understood. “Alya, yeah. I remember her. And Nino. She said she might be sending someone my way. Wait right there.” He tapped his fingers rhythmically on the counter and gave her a kind smile before he turned and walked back to the back. She heard him rifling through something and he returned relatively quickly with a few small tubes in his hands.

“Now, before I do any coverups, especially for marks, I always recommend…” he eyed her forearm then switched through a couple, setting them down beside him as he seemed to rule them out. He seemed to settle on one and offered it to her. “I always recommend covering it up with this for a while first. Less permanent, and if you decide you want it after all, then no harm done.”

With trembling fingers, she took the tube of foundation he was offering her.  

“This stuff—” he tapped on it while she held it— “it’s amazing. They use it in Hollywood all the time. For actors, you know? You won’t even know it’s there.” He smiled at her again and started picking the other bottles back up.

She stared at it in her hands. She knew that tube of foundation. It was the same brand—the same color even—that she’d been staring at for three years. Looking for, for three years. It hadn’t even occurred to her that it might’ve been something specifically used to cover tattoos. Her eyes snapped back up to Luka and to the leather cuff on his wrist. Luka believed in choice, Alya had said. Should she even tell him?

“If after a week or so you still want it gone, come back and see me,” he said. He flashed her a brilliant smile and she was too stunned to even form a word of thanks in return. She left the shop still staring at it. When she finally came to, she had found her way to Alya’s door.

***

“But this is good news,” Alya said as she tossed the foundation back to Marinette. “Why wouldn’t you tell him?”

“I don’t know! I… I blanked. I was just… surprised? I guess?” Marinette pouted down at what was undeniably her object. “Three years of wondering, and it’s as simple as that. He just hands it to me and walks away.”

“I wonder what his mark is,” Alya mused aloud. “He was pretty quiet while we were there, just kinda listened while we talked and smiled as he worked.”

“He’s probably changed it already.”

Alya shook her head. “I don’t think so. He said he thought people should be able to choose, not that he personally wanted to.” She shrugged. “Besides, I don’t know why it’s such a bad thing. Maybe you could get to know each other as people before dropping the big ‘soulmate’ bomb.”

Marinette paused to consider. It wasn’t a bad idea, not really, to get to know someone first. She pulled the ribbon away from her mark to look at it. Now that she had the object in her hands, the mark itself seemed more devoid of meaning than she expected it to. Her mom always smiled whenever she looked at hers, as if remembering something special. But Marinette was still waiting for the realization to catch up to her.

“It’s not a bad thing,” she said decisively. She uncapped the tube and smeared a little of the makeup across her forearm. Luka hadn’t been lying; her mark disappeared in seconds and she was staring at a blank expanse of skin. It made her feel giddy—free, even. “And he did say that he wanted me to be sure.”

***

A week later, she was wrinkling her nose again as she opened the door to Luka’s shop. She had ditched her ribbon in favor of the foundation. Luka glanced up from the tattoo he was working on and smiled when he saw her before his head dipped back over his work. The angry buzz of the machine prevented much conversation, anyways. She chose to walk around the room instead and look at the artwork he had framed.

He liked flowers, she noticed. They showed up a lot in almost every large tattoo he had pictured. The polaroids were her favorite, though. She liked looking at the different objects, the before and afters, and the absolute change in the people pictured. How they held themselves differently, their shoulders up higher and their smiles brighter. Luka was even in a few of them, his arm thrown affectionately around the people he had helped.

“You’re back,” he said, and his low voice in her ear made her jump. He leaned back, chuckling, and put his hands up. “Sorry, I’ve been told I have a tendency to sneak up on people.” He pointed to her wrist and raised his eyebrows. “Shall we take a look?”

She nodded and her heart started pounding in her throat when he placed his hand on her back just under her shoulder blades to guide her over to a low table and couch off to the side.

“All right, so I’ll need to see it first before we can talk about changing it into anything.” He pulled open a drawer and set out a pen and a pad of paper before he grabbed what looked like a package of baby wipes. When he caught her watching him, he shrugged. “You’re not the first to come in with it on.” He gestured for her to hold out her arm and wiped gently at her wrist.

She held her breath as the lines of her mark started to appear. Not that he would recognize it. Would he? Maybe he would—it was his suggestion and he’d put it in her hand. As he continued wiping, she tried to watch him for any hint of recognition, but his hair was falling over his eyes and hiding his face from her.

Finally, he stopped and looked at her uncovered mark. His eyes came back up to meet hers. He understood. He knew. She bit her lip and waited for him to say something.

“I don’t think I got your name before,” he murmured. His thumb rubbed against her wrist gently in what seemed like an unconscious movement.

“It’s Marinette.”

“Marinette.” His breath came out in a shallow laugh and he leaned back and covered his eyes with his hand. “Marinette,” he repeated, more to himself than to her. He shook his head and started to undo his leather cuff. “All this time I thought…” he laughed and shook his head again. He rubbed at the skin of his wrist once it was uncovered before he looked down at it incredulously. She resisted the urge to peek, even though her heart was fluttering in her chest. Something had clicked into place for him, too. That had to mean—

He glanced up at her before he bared the inside of his right wrist. His mark was stark against the skin that was pale from being hidden for so long. It was a simple puppet, held up by strings connected to a cross at the top.

“It’s a marionette,” he said with a breathless laugh. “I looked it up.”

She touched her fingertips to it lightly.

“I always thought it was something you saw, not something you heard for the first time.” He was grinning again, that same bright smile. “Marinette.” Her name rolled off his tongue, only off by a syllable.

He sighed deeply and sat back up to pick up his pen and lean over his notepad. "Okay. So what were you thinking on the design for this?"

She blinked back at him. "You still want to change it for me?"

"It's your choice." He smirked sideways at her.

"You never changed yours."

"Well, that was my choice."

She reached over to fidget with her ribbon before she realized it wasn't there. Her hand dropped back into her lap limply. When she glanced over at him he was watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"Why didn't you change it?" she asked.

"Because…" he grabbed his leather cuff from where he had dropped it and offered it to her. Shyly, she held her wrist out for him. He wrapped the cuff around her wrist before he glanced up at her again. "I am a hopeless romantic, and I like the idea that someone…" he smiled as he snapped the clasp shut. "Someone out there chose me and I chose them."

He lingered before he let her hand go.

"Looks good on you." He turned back around and she caught a pink tinge to his cheeks as he cleared his throat. "Um, but that really only works if that someone chooses me, too. And I don't think it should be because of a mark, or a sign, or fate, but because they want to be with me. So, if you want to change yours, then I think you should change it."

He tapped his pen on his paper nervously and kept his eyes down. She looked at his cuff on her wrist and smiled.

"I like this," she said quietly. He looked up and caught her eye. She gulped before she continued. "Do you think I could maybe… hang onto it? Just while I decide, you know on the… on the change?"

His lips quirked up into a smile. "Yeah, sure."

"And do you think we could maybe meet for coffee? Just, you know, whenever… to talk about it?"

His pen stilled on the paper and he turned to look at her, his eyes soft and his smile widening by the second. "I'd like that."

[lovehugsandcandy]

Jump (Colt x MC, RoD)

A/N: This was a request from @shondideaira-blog of Colt/MC getting pregnant young; thank you so much for the request but this is the reason that no one should ever ask me because 1) it will take 75 years and 2) it’s probably not what you want anyways. Thank you again for requesting this, I am so sorry it took so long, and I hope you enjoy it!

Length: ~5,400 words

Rating/Warnings: R (Swearing. Unplanned pregnancy.)

Summary: Colt’s path has taken some sharp turns but somehow, it takes him to the right place anyways.

Colt Kaneko is 42.

Colt is 42, and he feels every single one of those years bearing down on him when he slouches into his desk chair. Hours spent wrenching on an import have made his back tight, and even the sultriest of massages hasn’t loosened the knot that’s lived for weeks between his shoulder blades.

He rolls his shoulders, shaking out the crick in his neck, and squints at the numbers on the screen. Right as he focuses on the first row, his cell phone blares and he reaches over, grateful for the distraction, picking up before the second ring.

“Hello.” His voice is gruff, and he stands, pacing the 15 steps to the office door.

“Hey, Pop.”

“Well?” He paces the 15 steps back. “How’d it go?” Jackson sighs on the other end, and Colt’s heart lurches. “Well?”

“I…” The tone of his voice shifts, and Colt can hear the smile breaking over his son’s face. “I got the job!.”

“I knew you could do it.”

“I mean, I still need to finish my thesis so I really need to hunker down , but… I got it. Don’t tell Mom yet, ok? I wanna call her after she’s home from work.”

Colt smiles fondly; Jackson’s studious nature definitely wasn’t from him. Colt would have bailed on a thesis faster than he bailed out of university. He wasn’t the one who fought tooth and nail to graduate university; he wasn’t the one who would write out flashcards in one hand while rocking an infant in the other. “I won’t.” 

He looks at the darkened phone screen for long moments after his son hangs up. Every single one of his 42 years has been both eternal and fleeting; he can only shake his head with a chagrined smile as he turns back to the computer.

~~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 6.

Colt is 6, but he’s not deaf and he’s not dumb, either. He knows his parents are fighting just behind the closed office door. His leg swing, clanging against the toolbox he’s perched on, and he drums anxious fingers against the metal beneath him.

He waits, watching the mechanics bustle around, watches the other people who work for his dad (they aren’t mechanics but he doesn’t know what they do but he knows enough to avoid them when they storm through the shop lugging briefcases and boxes). Every so often, he can hear raised voices, shouts from the office before the bitter tones become unintelligible. He doesn’t know what they’re fighting about, but it’s probably about him.

This weekend, he was supposed to stay with his dad but, as soon as his mom caught sight of the crowded shop floor and gleaming new sports car, she stormed right up to Pop and dragged him to the office by his wrist. His staff looked on in shock, like they couldn’t believe this tiny pipsqueak of a lady could force the great Teppei Kaneko to heel.

He wasn’t shocked at all.

People fear his dad. It’s obvious in the terror in their eyes, the way they rush to do his bidding and agree to his every suggestion. Even the mechanics who work the floor here, they stay out of Pop’s way, especially when he is angry. He’s seen his dad batter walls, slam wrenches into windshields, and, on one memorable occasion, punch someone in the jaw before he realized that Colt had crept downstairs. 

He still remembers the crunch of fist against bone.

It’s power, how his dad uses his brain and his brawn and his anger to force others to bend to his will, and Colt wants it, bad. He wants more than anything to be like his dad.

The door slams open, and his mother rushes from the office; her eyes are livid, wild, and Colt watches as she whirls on Pop again, stepping close to snarl up at him.

His mom is never scared of Pop, not even on his worst day, and, as he hops down off the toolbox and saunters to her side, he can’t hide the awe from his face. Her eyes narrow and she delivers one last barb, words so low Colt can’t hear them, but he catches the shock flitting across Pop’s face. It must have been something brutal.

“Colt, come on.” His mother gestures to him, and he frowns.

“But-”

“Colt, now.”

He bites his tongue, shooting one last wounded look at his father before following her past gleaming cars, out to the lobby. There, the receptionist sits, burly and oversized in a tiny desk chair, his one eye staring down where stubby fingers fiddle with metal, soft cloth rhythmically swiping over dark steel.

“Jesus, Rocco,” his mom growls. “Colt is right here.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” Rocco looks down at him, and Colt takes a step back. The man is hardened, imposing, tattooed biceps as big as Colt’s head and eyepatch covering a crater of puckered skin that haunts his nightmares. However, as fearsome as he is in darkness, now Rocco just nods, shuffling the metal into a giant lockbox; Colt can’t see what he was cleaning before he closes the lid, clang heavy and loud in the small room. “I’ll put it away.”

His mom nods and briskly walks out the front door; Colt follows, shooting a cautious glance behind her, and he needs to hustle up the street to catch up to her.

“What was that, Ma?”

“What do you mean?”

“What did Rocco have?”

She stops, turning away from the shop window to bring a soft hand to his forehead, running her fingers through his hair affectionately. “Nothing, baby. You don’t need to worry about him.”

He studies her, and her dark eyes glow warmly. He can’t help but smile. His mom’s not scared of Pop, and she’s not scared of Rocco either.

His mom’s not scared of anything.

Maybe Colt actually wants to be like her.

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 19.

Colt is 19 and his world is ending.

“What do you mean?”

“Colt, you heard me, come on.” Ellie bites her lip and stares at him, eyes imploring, and all he can think is that his life is over.

Technically, his life already is over. When his father immolated himself in front of his eyes, when the shop burned to the ground, when legacy and past and future all disappeared into raging flames that scorched his eyebrows and scorched his soul, it ended, in a blaze as hot as the anger that races through his veins.

But now he is cold, freezing, the shock chilling him to his core; when he exhales, he’s surprised that his breath comes out clear, not floating in grey tendrils through the air.

He always has a plan. Hell, he always has multiple plans, one to execute and then a few backups, and each of those plans has multiple escape routes. Fuck, half the time his backup plans have backup plans, timelines and contingencies mapped and traced in advance. He can leave nothing to chance. Nothing can be open to interruption. Every second, every step, hell, every breath happens precisely according to plan. 

But it’s hard to plan for something that, in your wildest dreams, you never, ever saw coming.

That Ellie Wheeler is standing in front of him is a shock. That she just said the three words he thinks she said is an absolute catastrophe.

“I can’t… I can’t have heard you correctly.”

“Colt! For crying out loud!” Her fingers pull through the curls surrounding her face and she looks uneasy, uncertain. Her eyes pool with tears and he would, he should close the distance and pull her into his arms, but his leaden feet won’t fucking move. “I’m… I’m pregnant.”

“How…”

She rolls her eyes. “You know how, I don’t think you need a recap.”

“But… mine?”

“Are. You. Kidding. Me?” Her eyes flash dangerously and he is reminded, for not the first time, that no one should underestimate her. Her brain and her fire attracted him to her most; to see them turn on him is disorienting in an already unsettled conversation.

“But… Logan?”

“Are you…” She trails off and it’s as if her fight dissipates into the night air, slim shoulders falling. “Colt….” She peers at him imploringly, shimmering eyes reflecting the moonlight. “I’m pregnant with your child.”

He continues to gape at her, mouth open, mind frozen, and when that continues for far too long, he shuts his jaw and stares at his feet. Somewhere in the distance, a car backfires, echoing like a shot against the concrete, and still he studies his boots, the scuff marks on his left toe, the shoelace on his right unraveling.

He doesn’t know what she wants him to say. He doesn’t know what he wants to say.

“What are you gonna…”

The fire in her eyes flares, positively scorching. “What am I gonna what…”

“Ellie, come on.” He rakes a hand through his hair; his stomach is dropping and the concrete floor underneath his feet spins. Colt makes plans; that’s what he does. It’s in his brain, his blood, but all of his quick thinking leaves him now (he imagines a toddler stumbling around the shop floor, he imagines a child being caught in the crosshairs of a rival, he imagines image after image after image and every single scenario flying through his head makes him sicker and sicker). “This… I… we can’t really…”

“We can’t really what,” she spits out.

He rocks back on his heels. “Ellie, I’m building up the crew. This isn’t exactly the time for-”

“Don’t you think this changes things?!?” Her voice cracks at the end, breaking pitch, and Colt winces. “Don’t you think this changes everything?”

He blinks at her, numbly; his plans have plans and he can see them all sliding away from him, slipping from his grasp while he stands there gaping. His plans of rebuilding the shop, brick by brick and board by board. His plans of rebuilding the crew, regaining the reputation and influence of his father and his father’s father and his father’s father’s father.

He can see all of them falling through his fingers like ash, grinding into the concrete at his feet.

She’s sniffling, tears welling and spilling over, streaks of moisture dripping down her cheeks, her jaw, skin he’s touched and caressed and kissed, now marred with sadness that he caused. “This messed up my plans too, but it’s like you don’t even think about that, it’s all about you and the crew-“

“All I fucking do is think about you!” He shouts and grimaces when her eyes widen; it seems far too close a reveal to scream raw into the night.

“If that were true, we would be together.”

“Ha. Like it’s that easy,” he scoffs. “Are you gonna stay here, build up the crew with me?”

“With a child?!?”

His eyes fall to her stomach; she looks exactly the same, but everything has changed. “With the future legacy of the Mercy Park Crew.”

“Ha. No.” She crosses her arms over her chest, chin raised. “I’m not staying, not letting that be our baby’s path, our baby’s life!”

“Then I guess you decided.”

“I guess so.” She gazes at him; her tears have dried and now something cold and hard fills her eyes instead. He shivers.

He watched her walk away before, returning to her sheltered life and her sheltered school and her sheltering father, but that hadn’t felt as final as this moment. Back then, he swore that she would realize her true path, and he was determined to build a legacy for her to return to.

But now, watching her walk away, it feels like the end-of him, of them, of every dream he had been working toward, of any legacy he wanted to leave, of every plan he wanted to run.

There was no fire here, but the wreckage was worse.

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 26.

Colt is 26 so, through his 26 years of life, he has developed a well-honed understanding of what he likes and what he dislikes.

And Colt hates camping.

He’s a city person, at home in a concrete jungle; the blare of frantic car horns and the savory aroma of food trucks are comforting, familiar. He’s in his element among traffic and skyscrapers and crowds of people bustling around; his blood flows like the transit system, racing with the practiced turns of Inglewood, flying down Western until the Pacific stretches in front of him, wide blue expanse of waves roaring and roiling.

He is not at home here. The woods are too still, a grim silence that is only occasionally punctuated by a forlorn bird call. The landscape is unchanging, trees and bushes immobile and dull, and both his brain and his limbs ache to go, to move, to act.

Ellie had insisted they do this. The first time she asked, he said no, along with the second and the third. But finally, she had worn him down, and the hope and excitement radiating from her almost made it worth it.

Almost.

Because here in the silence and the stillness, his thoughts are too loud and there is nothing-no car, no motorcycle, no job, no plan-nothing to distract him from the voices screaming in his head.

All he can do is sit with the thoughts and regrets, failed plans and shitty jobs running through his head, and he pouts, leaning against a fir tree and crossing his arms.

Across the field, Ellie and Jackson don’t even notice. They are huddled together on a chair intended for one, but his knobby knees and gangly arms bend and contort so he can curl onto his mother’s lap as she tries to get a burnt marshmallow off of a stick. Jackson giggles and Colt’s breath catches. The campfire in front of them wafts smoke into the night sky, embers dancing and floating until they disappear amidst the skyline, and the flickering flame lights Ellie’s face in a warm glow.

He can’t stop staring.

He’s not blind, he knew she was attractive the second he saw her, but she’s fucking gorgeous here, completely at ease, hair undone and tendrils curling around her beaming face, campfire reflected in her brown eyes.

Apparently fire doesn’t always destroy; it can illuminate, too.

When he inhales again, the smoke from the fire mingles with pine behind him. The branches over his head move softly in the breeze.

So he sits.

And watches.

And breathes.

And when Ellie motions to him, eyes sparkling and dancing in firelight, he smiles and wipes his hands on his jeans before he stands.

It’s warm by the flame, his son splaying out next to him while he gathers his wife in his arms. 

Soon, the fire burns down to ash, red glow still peeking through the soot next to him; Ellie dozes, nudging him with a cold nose, but he only watches the fire dim and dim until there is nothing.

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 19.

Colt is 19 but his fake says he’s 23, so it’s easy to slip into this dive bar and slide over to the bar for a shot of the strongest whiskey they have. He swallows it down, and it burns, caustic on his tongue and in his throat before angrily churning in his stomach.

“Another.”

The second shot goes down easier, as does the third and the fourth, and he’s debating another, head resting on an unsteady fist, elbow heavy on the grime that coats the bar top. The edges of the world are swaying and the bartender slides a bowl in front of him, free popcorn an obvious insinuation that he’s worried about Colt’s sobriety. He’s just about to ask for another drink out of spite when his phone dings. Again.

He pulls it out of his jacket pocket, two fingers unsteadily reaching in and easing it out as if it might bite him. The black case gleams in the dull bar lighting and his reflection shakes, his trembling fingers dropping it on the bar top as he stares at the blue notification light.

The liquor is starting to hit; he can feel the din of the bar recede, static in his mind growing louder, but it’s no comfort. That notification light is the reason he sped to the nearest dive, the reason he had to dull the ache with a succession of precisely poured shots in tiny glasses.

He doesn’t drink often; liquor numbs his mind, turns the world into blurry shades of grey, and he needs his mind: his focus is perpetually on the next job, the next hit, the next score. There is only time for action, movement, not feelings, and alcohol dulls his motions and brings emotions to the surface, intrusive and unbidden in the haze of this bar and his brain. 

Is he worried? Fearful? Longing, desperate amidst the solitude, and missing the one person he understands more than anything else in his life? 

Craving the one person who understood him?

He opens his phone and sighs. It’s only a text from a contact; the words sway in front of his eyes. Even though he squints, the text is unintelligible, and he needs to drop the phone on the bar, screen down.

Even though he can’t see it, he can still see the Instagram image every time he blinks, back of his eyelids taking the shape of Ellie’s smile, her arms clasped tightly over the shoulders of her college friends, stately building in the back, ivy crawling up over the bricks. And the tiny swell of her stomach, invisible to anyone else, everyone else. But he knew. He knew her body like the back of his own hands, knew every single inch, every single curve, concave and convex, head to toe, and everything in between.

She beams through the image, from his screen to his retinas, indelible and permanent; now that he has seen her, he has seen his child growing from thousands of miles away, he can’t think.

For once, Colt is unsure.

He had always made his plans and executed his plans, schemes piling up and winding down, cars delivered, reputation rebuilt, brick by brick, car by car. He could see his moves weeks in advance, opportunities unfurling in his mind like moves on an ever-shifting chessboard.

But now, all he could imagine was Ellie, alone at school, then juggling studies with an infant, then someone taking his place. 

All he could imagine was him, alone, consumed by job after job, hit after hit, eventually ending in a flaming blast.

And here, at this shitty bar, liquor clouding his mind, drumming his hands on the grainy bar top in front of him in a tense pattern that jostles the uneaten popcorn and the last drops of amber, that future was untenable, unacceptable.

All he wanted was a tiny hand nestled in his, a toddler with Ellie’s curls and his eyes digging into toolboxes and pretending to wrench on cars, a child with his drive and Ellie’s spirit upending his world in the most profound of ways.

All he wanted was her, in whatever way she would have him, wanted her under him and over him and by his side, always, their orbits paralleling each other through plans and schemes... and now a child.

And so he realizes, in this shitty bar with its shitty liquor and the world swaying around him, he knows. Regardless of his plans or his crew and his best scheming, without his input, his path had changed.

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 12.

Colt is 12, and this is the farthest east he’s ever been. The drive is never-ending; they left LA two days ago and it has been miserable every second. He hadn’t muttered a word as they inched through the city traffic and left the smog in the rearview; his throat still ached from the yelling, he wasn’t even sure he had a voice left, and apparently his words meant nothing, anyway.

He didn’t even get to see Pop before they left.

And then, they had just left, fled the city, rolling through mountains and motels and endless miles upon miles of concrete, on-ramps and off-ramps and potholes infinite as they drove further and further away from everything he cared about. 

The emptiness of the farmland mocks him; he crosses his arms over his chest and glares out the window, sullen and quiet, slouching as far into the door as his limbs will let him.

His mother sighs from the driver’s seat. “Do you want to play a game? ‘I Spy’?”

“No.”

Another sigh. “Do you want to pick the radio station?”

“No.”

“Come on, Colt,” she sighs and her fingers tighten on the steering wheel. He watches the divots deepen in the leather before he petulantly shifts in the seat until he can only see the endless rows of corn beside him, endless blue above. The car is small, stifling next to the expanse of the plains, and he is even smaller, insignificant, powerless, on this dismal drive.

“Can I pick where we stop tonight?”

“Sure!” His mother brightens momentarily, and a bitter flush of victory works its way from the knot in his chest.

“Back home.”

She sighs, her most aggrieved one yet, and his victory is short-lived. They drive in silence for a minute, maybe two, miles of corn fields passing in front of his eyes. The tears prick at his eyes and he blinks them away, focusing on the sway of gold out the window.

Finally, she reaches over, slowly, tentatively, as if calming a skittish animal, patting his forearm and gliding fingertips up to his shoulder before nestling in his hair, rubbing the short strands at the back of his head in a comforting pattern reminiscent of his childhood, when her hands were tender but Pop and the shop and Gramercy Park were anything but.

“I promise you, I promise… you will understand one day.” She sounds tired, exhausted, like the drive has aged her prematurely, like the miles they are speeding by have cost her years of her life. It’s only been 20 hours of driving but, for him, it feels like he is leaving his entire life behind, all 12 years, packed into the truck of this shitty Civic, rolling across the interstate. Her next words are forceful, sure. “You’ll know what it’s to leave everything behind for someone you love, I promise you.”

He wonders what his mom left behind and stares at the fields whizzing by.

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 19.

Colt is 19, so it’s been seven years since he made this drive, through Utah, Colorado. Nebraska seems like it will never end and, when he gets to the smaller states in the Midwest, he has no idea where he is, speeding past highway signs so fast that the text blurs in front of him and the only direction he can think is east, east, east.

He had called Ellie, three times in Nevada, four in Colorado, and on the chirp of her voicemail at his tenth call in Iowa, he threw his phone into the cheap motel room wallpaper, sliding against the wall until he plopped onto the floor, head in his hands next to the shattered glass and metal littering the taupe carpet. Once he finally makes it to New York, he’s exhausted, ass numb and knuckles cramping, but he still whips the bikes down the cross-streets and perpendicular angles until he slows to a growling stop in a back alley. He’s lucky he memorized the address, the high-rise dorm that served as his North Star over two thousand miles, and he glides past the loitering smokers armed with grim determination and a winning smile, through a propped emergency door and up four flights of stairs to a nondescript door, exactly the same as the seventeen he stormed by save for who was inside.

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

The rustling inside grows louder, but he’s still not prepared when the door is thrown open, all the words drafted on his interminable drive sailing from his mind when he sees her again.

Her greeting also dies on her lips when she opens the door, jaw dropping, and he uses the second of surprise to look her over. Her hair is thrown back in a sloppy ponytail secured with a felt-tip pen; while her features slide easily into a glare, he catches the exhaustion under her eyes, in the corner of her frown. She’s clad in pajamas, baggy t-shirt covering her torso, and his fingers itch to reach out to greet her and his child, but he’s lost that right; hell, he’s lost all rights.

“Ellie.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” She crosses her arms over her chest and makes no motion to slide away from the doorframe. “I wanted to apologize.”

“You? Apologize? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that in your life.”

He has to avert his eyes from the beam of her glare, laser-hot on him. “I apologize when I have something to apologize for.” Her gaze doesn’t soften and her stance doesn’t change. Fuck. “Ellie…” She raises her eyebrow. Fuck. “Ellie, I’m sorry.”

He waits.

She says nothing.

“Ellie…” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I needed to… I needed to think. I was an idiot.”

“Was?”

“Seriously?!?” He glares, anger flaring. “Are you gonna be a jerk or are you gonna listen?”

“I’m the jerk here?!?” He waits as they stare each other down, both strong-willed and head-strong and he doesn’t know if he’s ever loved her more. “Talk,” she growls

He takes a deep breath and rocks back on his heels. “You surprised me and I needed… I needed some time to think. I… I’m building up the crew and this completely changed my plans. I was focused on avoiding the cops and rebuilding and then I got…”

“Scared?”

“What?” He looks up sharply. “I’m not scared.” She stares through him for so long he fidgets before finally glancing away, abashed. “I was taken by surprise… Surprises aren’t really good in my line of work. I was shocked… and worried… and…” He trails off. The knot in his chest defies words, a tight coil of fear and uncertainty and worry, thick and throbbing.

“Colt...” She crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s ok. I was scared too. But it was worse when you freaked out. I...” Her arms drop, eyes falling to the floor, and what’s left of Colt’s heart crashes. “I felt alone.”

“I know what that’s like,” he mutters, eyes flickering to her torso. “But you’re not. We’re not. Not anymore.”

“Well, I knew that. But you apparently just needed a little reminder.”

He cocks his head, and when the realization hits, his shoulders drop. “You posted that picture on purpose.”

“Of course I did. Colt, I know you. I know how you are with the people you care about. With me.”

“I hate everyone.”

“You love me,” she fires back and he can’t find the strength to deny it. “I know we never talked about it but… I’m scared about a lot right now but I’m not scared about doing this with you.” She blinks wide eyes up at him and takes a deep breath. “You’re a better man than your dad ever was.”

“Not yet.” He once knew his path, could see every single step clear as day. Every move. Every steal. Every job. “But I will be. I fucking swear, I will be.” Now, the path wavers, blurring in his mind.

“Then…” The smile breaking over her face speaks of hope and contentment and love, everything he wants for himself, for his child, everything he ever wanted.  “You’re ready for a baby?”

He crosses his arms. “Are we ready? I don’t know if anyone really is. But sometimes you can’t get ready. Sometimes you just need to jump in.”

And, apparently, Colt can change his plan; now that he has a plan, a direction, a goal, there’s only one thing left to do.

She sighs, fingertips curling tight around the doorframe, but a glimmer of hope shines in her eyes. “Does this… does this mean you’re doing this with me?”

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 8.

Colt is 8, so he is just learning about acceleration and metric units of distance and the undersea ecosystem below his feet; however, he knows that the drop is long and far and dark.

“I don’t…” He peers over the edge, leaning forward as far as he dares, and pulls back when he feels slightly unsteady, as if the magnetic sway of the ocean could draw him forward into the abyss. “I don’t want to.”

“You will.” The lighter clicks and illuminates his father’s face in flame as he draws it close, taking an inhale to light the cigar, and a plume of exhale floats caustic and smoky around his face. For an instant, with the shadowed moon overhead and the flickering light in front of him, his dad looks more demon than man, smoke rising around him and eyes glowing impatiently in the darkness.

Colt swallows hard. “I can’t-“

“You will.”

“But Pop…” He hazards another look over the edge; he can make out the pale spray of the waves battering the cliff but, deeper into the Pacific, it’s only darkness, inky black, ready to swallow him whole. “I can’t see what’s down there.” His voice comes out as a whine and his face flushes; he sounds like a baby, weak and pathetic. He feels weak and pathetic.

His father slowly puffs the cigar, bud flaring in the night. He is calm, measured, certain. “Often, you know not what is before you. All you know is that you must leap.”

“What does that mean?”

His dad thunders, “It means jump, Colt!”

Colt pauses for a second, fingernails curling hard into his palm as the harsh command echoes through him. The darkness below is scary, but his father is terrifying.

He takes a deep breath.

And he jumps.

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 19.

Colt is 19, and he’s standing in the doorway of a dorm in New York City and the girl he would speed and fight and kill for stands before him and he doesn’t know how their life became so messed up but he knows that there isn’t anything that would pull him from her side, from his child’s side, no path more important than the one laid out for him by a girl in pajama pants and a baggy tee.

And he jumps

~~~~~

Colt Kaneko is 42.

Colt is 42 and his wife is 41 and, when he collapses into bed next to her, he feels like he has both lived for centuries and was born this morning. He rolls over to slide under her arm, breathing sleepy breaths against the warmth of her skin.

She looks up from her book, eyebrow raised. “Why were you working so late?”

“Urgh, crap day.”

She sighs, closing the book so she can thread calming fingers through his hair. Gradually, the tension ebbs from his shoulders, his mind, and all he can feel is loved. “Jackson called me,” Ellie says, breaking the silence and stilling her hand.

“Did he?”

“He told me about his new job.”

Colt smiles, lips dragging against the soft curve of her breast. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s so excited.”

“I know.” His mind gets heavy, and it becomes harder to pull his eyelids open again.

“Are you sad he doesn’t want the crew or the shop?”

He glances up. “Maybe a little.” He drags his arm around her stomach to trace hazy shapes against her side.. “But this day was always gonna come; he wasn’t interested in the crew, the shop.”

“Yeah,” she hums, free arm dropping her book on the nightstand. “He was always interested in following his own path.”

“Yeah… he was...” Colt blinks. While his own path meandered and changed, wandering in and out of misbehavior, it had always wound its way back to her open arms. He watches her, settling into the sheets, curling into his arms, and her eyelashes flutter, movement slowing and finally stopping as each tiny lash lay featherlight against her cheek. 

His son always had been intent on blazing his own trail.

And just like Colt, that path would lead him just where he needed to be.

.

Tags (pls let me know if you want me to take you off)

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Colt

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[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Forged Through Fire (1/13)

Summary: Amestris. Once democratic, now a military dictatorship. Prohibition is strict; personal freedoms curtailed. All alchemists must be state-licensed or face imprisonment. Foreigners are met with suspicion. It’s a grim place and a grim time, but there are some people able to bring a little light to the world. Behind an innocent-looking bookshop, speakeasy proprietor Chris Mustang has formed an unlikely alliance with unlicensed alchemist Van Hohenheim to provide alcohol to those who want it and medical care to those who need it. When Riza’s newly complete tattoo becomes infected, Roy brings her into this underworld, little knowing the way it will change their lives in the future – uncovering the secrets of the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and the schemes of a Fuhrer hell-bent on achieving immortality, all whilst navigating what they mean to each other.

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Rated: T

[AO3]

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Content warning for this chapter: Domestic abuse – parent on child; parental neglect; mentions of abortion.

===

Forged Through Fire

One

From the moment Riza woke up, she knew that it was going to be a bad day. Her back felt like it was on fire, and she wondered if this was how the mannequins that Roy used for target practice felt like once he’d finished with them.

If she was being completely honest with herself then she wasn’t even surprised that this had happened. She’d been expecting it at some point; she was lucky to have made it this far into the process before it had happened.

Or, of course, she was extremely unlucky.

She got out of bed, looking down at the damp patch of sweat staining the sheets. Laundry could wait until she’d assessed the damage. Her nightgown was sticking to her, and she winced as she inched it up over her head, craning over her shoulder to try and see what was going on in the mirror.

As expected, the tattoo was horrifically infected. Considering her father’s penchant for getting the array down on her skin without much thought for anything else, including the cleanliness of his needles, it was only a matter of time before it happened. She reached round and touched the worst-inflamed parts of her skin, the final pieces of the array that he’d added a couple of days ago. The pain brought tears to her eyes and she clamped her jaws tight shut to avoid crying out.

Maybe she could just let the infection run its course and it would be fine. Riza shook her head. She didn’t really have much choice in the matter. It wasn’t like she could go to a doctor. The minute anyone saw the tattoo she’d be thrown in front of a firing squad.

Sometimes she wondered if her father even realised what he’d been condemning her to when he’d started to etch his life’s work onto her so indelibly. She’d known. She’d always known. She’d just never been in a position to contradict him.

Somehow, Riza didn’t think that it had ever crossed his mind. The most important thing in Berthold Hawkeye’s life had always been his research, and he’d always walked the line between the legal and the forbidden, never trusting the government with the full extent of his work.

Like all licensed alchemists, he had dutifully submitted his arrays for recording at the central library and received permission to use them and teach them to others.

The array on Riza’s back, however, had been put there and not on paper for the precise reason that he did not want anyone else to get their hands on it. Never mind that creating arrays and not submitting them for governmental approval was illegal and could carry a death sentence depending on the potency of the alchemy involved. Never mind that even though Riza wasn’t the one to mark her skin and couldn’t see the array to use it, she’d be the one to suffer.

There wasn’t really a lot she could do about it.

Still trying not to cry with the pain, Riza made her way to the bathroom, scrambling through the cabinets for antiseptic. There wasn’t any. Why wasn’t she surprised? At least there were bandages; although she wasn’t sure how much good they would do, they’d be better than nothing.

She heard the knock on the door below her, and then Roy’s voice as her father let him in. Of course this would have to happen on one of the days that Roy was due to come for a session, because her skin couldn’t have seen fit to start trying to kill her on a day when she didn’t have to worry about strangers in the house potentially finding out about the elephant in the room and on her back.

Not that Roy was really a stranger, though. Riza reflected on their strange relationship as she cleaned up and bandaged her back as best she could. They’d been practically living in each other’s pockets for the last two years ever since her father had taken Roy on as an apprentice, begrudgingly accepting that caveat of keeping his state license and finally realising that all the research into flame alchemy in the world would be for nothing if he simply took it with him to his grave.

Riza still didn’t really know what that made them to each other, though. She liked to think that they were friends, although he spent most of his time these days holed up in the study. The more secretive her father had become about the full array, the less time the three of them had spent together in a more social setting; Roy was no longer welcome to stay for dinner, as much as Riza was ever desperate for a conversation partner and someone to deflect her father’s attention onto.

Her father was yelling at her to brew some tea and get breakfast ready, and Riza sighed, trying to adopt as normal a stance as possible, not letting show that something was wrong and that she was in pain. Not that her father would care (although perhaps he would – if her back got really bad then it might ruin his array, after all), but she didn’t want Roy to worry about her.

She downed a couple of painkillers – government issue and barely better than sugar pills but she could hope for a kind of placebo effect – and made her way downstairs to start the day. She could hear Roy and her father arguing over his decision to join the military academy. It was the same argument they had every time. Riza had never questioned Roy’s decision; his life was his own and in a place like a Amestris, the rigid life of the military was ironically the best place to gain a modicum of freedom. If you can’t beat them, join them and all that.

“Riza? Are you ok?”

She jumped at the voice and immediately spun round; she’d been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Roy follow her out of the study after she’d collected the tea things.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? There’s blood on your back.”

“What? Shit!” She tried to look over her shoulder, finally catching a glimpse in the shiny metal of the oven door. Sure enough, spots of blood and fluid were seeping through the bandage and onto the back of her shirt.

“Riza?”

For the first time in her life, Riza could only feel utter blind panic.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Riza, you look like you’re in pain. What happened?”

“Nothing!”

“Are you…”

“MUSTANG!”

Roy rolled his eyes at the summons. “You’re not fine,” he said, with a tone of stern finality that Riza had never heard in his voice before. He turned to leave the room and return to her father, and Riza felt herself sag, leaning back against the oven. Everything had just got so much worse.

Still, at least the cold metal was nice and numbing against her back.

She wasn’t really sure how long she stayed there, back pressed against the oven door and knowing she’d leave a wet smear there when she moved away. She should probably go and hide in her room so that Roy couldn’t question her again when he left, but at the same time, there was something in the back of her mind that wanted to speak to him again.

He was concerned about her. Riza couldn’t remember the last time that someone had been concerned about her, but now that she really thought about it, Roy had always looked out for her ever since he had first come into the house. The small part of her that had not completely given up all hope was nudging her to take the potential lifeline that might have been offered and cling to it. Surely Roy, of all people, would understand. He wouldn’t shop her to the military police if she told him about the tattoo. He knew her father, after all, knew what kind of a man he was even as he continued to learn under him.

She could trust Roy.

She hoped she could trust Roy. Roy trusted her, after all. She was pretty sure her father didn’t know that he’d grown up in a speakeasy and knew more about dodging the law than any nineteen-year-old should.

Perhaps that was part of the reason why he’d chosen to join the military. It was easier to protect the people you loved if you had inside knowledge of when the raids would be going on.

Roy trusted her. Roy knew all about living in less than legal circumstances beyond your control.

She could trust Roy.

Eventually, she could hear the sounds of the day’s session coming to a close, and her father yelling for her to show Roy out. She crept out into the hallway, waiting until he’d vanished back into his study before grabbing Roy and yanking him into the kitchen, barricading the door with a chair for good measure.

“Riza? What’s going on, are you ok?”

She shushed him.

“I need help,” she admitted. “I have no idea how you can help but I’m just hoping you might be able to give me some advice.”

“OK. You’re scaring me a little. And why is the door barricaded?”

“My father.”

“Right. Enough said, sorry. So, how can I help?”

Riza took a deep breath, turned her back and took her shirt off, crossing her arms over her chest even though she knew Roy couldn’t see anything. She heard his sharp intake of breath as he looked at the stark black ink and the wet and bloody bandages.

“Oh my God, Riza… How could he have done this to you?”

“What’s done is done.”

“Riza, I’m not a doctor but this is really bad, you need to see someone.”

“How can I, Roy? It’s an unregistered array, no doctor would touch it with a bargepole, they’ll just call the cops.”

There was silence for a long time, and Riza glanced over her shoulder at him. His brow was furrowed in deep thought, looking down at his spark gloves and the simplified flame array – the legal flame array – dyed into them.

“Please don’t kick up a fuss,” she begged. “If he knows you’ve seen the full array…”

“My lips are sealed, I promise. I think I know how to help you. Can you get out of the house tonight?”

He moved past her towards the fridge and Riza scrambled to put her shirt back on, ignoring the pain as the damp fabric brushed her inflamed skin.

“Have you got anything you can use as a cold compress until then?”

“No.”

“OK, well, try putting a couple of towels in the fridge or something to try and help keep any swelling down. If you can get out tonight, meet me by the phone booth in the park at nine o’clock, I should have got something organised by then.”

Riza nodded her understanding and removed the chair from under the door handle, letting Roy out of the house. Her father would probably have passed out by then, and it wasn’t the first time she’d snuck out after dark for a breath of fresh air and freedom.

She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against the front door with a sigh. If Roy couldn’t come through for her she didn’t know what she’d do, but she trusted that he’d think of something.

She trusted that he cared enough.

X

“Roy, this is your aunt’s speakeasy. When they said alcohol can be used as a disinfectant, I don’t think they were talking about bathtub moonshine.”

“Madam Christmas does not serve bathtub moonshine. I’ve never pried into where she gets it, but I know it’s not out of a bathtub. Anyway, we’re not here for the alcohol.”

Riza shivered in the cool night air, looking around at the deserted street. There were never many people around after dark. There wasn’t officially a curfew in Central City, but the police presence on the streets always doubled once the sun went down, and people weren’t inclined to hang around. Not that they were inclined to hang around much in the daytime, either. Even just going to the market to get groceries, everyone walked with purpose, eyes down.

“It’s a double front. Aunt Chris rents out a couple of the back rooms to an unlicensed medical alchemist. He’s not the cheapest, but he’s the safest. And he’s kind.”

“I know what that’s code for. Great. Now everyone’s going to think I’m here because I got myself in trouble.”

“Hohenheim does a lot more than that. Actually the thing he does most is stab wounds, as you do. But I won’t deny he does do a lot of that. Is that a problem?”

“Having my illegal alchemy tattoo treated by an illegal abortionist? No, Roy, that won’t be a problem.”

They entered into the quiet bookshop that served as a front for the speakeasy. Officially it was closed, although the lights were still on in the back and there was a girl sitting behind the counter, looking bored out of her mind by the pulp fiction romance novel she was reading. She just nodded at Roy, a regular visitor enough to be trusted without getting the third degree from the doorman, and he went through to the back room, opening the door to the basement and gesturing for Riza to go through.

“After you.”

She’d been in here once, a year ago now. It had been the middle of the day at the time and the bar hadn’t been properly open, just a few die-hard regulars in the corners. It had still been an experience though. Anything that wasn’t the four walls of her house was an experience. Her father had passed out and Roy had invited her to come for a walk with him, and they’d ended up in the speakeasy. She’d just turned seventeen and her father had just started to mark her back, and she’d been feeling rebellious – if I have a tattoo that might get me killed, might as well go to a place that might get me killed too.

Despite everything, including the undercurrent of fear at being caught either by the police or by her father, Riza still felt a certain warmth towards the place. It felt like more than just an illegal bar to her. It felt like a home. Maybe because it had been Roy’s home for so long, and he had seemed so at ease and alive in there.

He wasn’t quite as easy today, but he smiled at her when she looked back over her shoulder at him as they descended the stairs and entered the bar itself. It was busier tonight, in the height of its peak time, and Riza felt extremely self-conscious as Roy guided her through the room, bypassing the bar entirely and going towards the draped off area on the back wall.

He pulled back one of the curtains to reveal a suspiciously ordinary looking door. The door itself wasn’t suspicious, it was a normal wooden door, but there was something about it that made it look out of place, as if it shouldn’t have been there – like it hadn’t been there one moment and had mysteriously appeared the next. Maybe it had. Alchemy could do all kinds of things, after all.

Roy lifted his hand to knock but stopped short and turned to her. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

Riza shook her head. “No. I’ll be ok.” Honestly, she wanted nothing more than for Roy to come in with her, because whilst she definitely trusted him, she wasn’t entirely sure she trusted anyone else in the establishment; but since she was already paranoid about people getting the wrong impression as to why she was visiting an unregistered alchemist, she didn’t want them to think that Roy was the one who had potentially got her into that non-existent state.

That said, no one in the bar seemed to be paying them any mind, all too focussed on their drinks and on each other. They were in an illegal speakeasy after all, so they didn’t have all that much room to judge her.

“Ok. Well, Trisha can always come and grab me if you need me.”

Riza didn’t ask who Trisha was, and Roy left her alone, letting the curtain drop back down behind her and cutting her off from the heavy smell of alcohol and the muffled music.

She knocked timidly.

“Come in.”

Like most average, law-abiding citizens, Riza had never been to an unlicensed doctor or alchemist before, and from the gossip she’d heard flying around about them, she’d been expecting a scene from a horror film.

She was a little taken aback when she entered a clean, well-lit room with a couch covered in crisp white sheets, no sign of bloody surgical tools anywhere. The alchemist was washing his hands in the corner and he turned as she entered.

“Hello. Riza, is it? I’m Hohenheim, pleased to meet you. Roy said something about a skin problem, but he didn’t give me any details.”

Riza nodded. “I have a tattoo on my back, it’s infected.” She paused. “It’s an illegal alchemy array. My father is licensed, but he likes to experiment.”

Hohenheim’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “On you?”

“No. Well. Not exactly. I’m just the notebook. He needs to write it down and he figured this was more secure than putting it on paper.”

“Hmm.” Although he said nothing more on the subject, there was sympathy in his golden eyes as he gestured to the couch. “If you take your top off and lie down on your front on the couch, I’ll take a look. Are you all right on your own? My wife’s just next door in the dispensary; she’ll happily come in if you would be more comfortable having another lady with you.”

“No, it’s ok.”

He turned his back as she pulled her coat and shirt off, and she saw him twitch as she let out an involuntary hiss of pain.

“I’m ready.”

His hands were warm on her back as he removed the dressings; she’d changed the bandages twice throughout the day, but she didn’t think it had made all that much difference to the infection.

“You’re in a lot of pain.” It was a statement, not a question. “It’s not as bad as it could have been, you managed to catch it early. If you’d left it any longer it might have caused some real damage.”

He draped her coat back over her. “Sit up a moment, I’ll need to draw the array.”

Riza watched as he worked straight onto the sheets with blue tailor chalk, marking out an intricate circle.

“That doesn’t look like alchemy.”

“It’s Xingese alkahestry. Far more widely used for medical purposes than destructive ones and sadly far more illegal in Amestris.”

“You’re from Xing?”

Hohenheim laughed. “No. I just spent a lot of time there.”

He glanced sideways at her and Riza noticed the golden eyes again. He might not be from Xing, but she didn’t think that he was entirely from Amestris either. Eye colour was usually a good indicator.

“Where are you from?”

“Nowhere.” There was sadness in the eyes now. “Lie back down, this won’t take a minute. It might sting a little.”

It was more like an electric shock than a sting, the lightning crackle of alchemy dancing over her skin, but when it was over, there was just blissful, blessed relief.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Hohenheim went over to the door in the corner as Riza got dressed again, tapping lightly. “Is it ready, Trisha?”

“Yes, love.” The door opened to reveal a small room barely bigger than a closet, filled from floor to ceiling with shelves of jars and bottles. A young woman wearing an apron came out and pressed a small pot into Riza’s hand.

“It’s a tea-tree salve, a natural antiseptic,” she said. “Rub it in every night before bed for a couple of weeks and everything should clear right up.”

“Thank you so much. How much do I owe you?” She’d raided the housekeeping and the scant savings she kept under her bed; she knew how much medical treatment cost ordinarily, but this was very different.

Hohenheim shook his head. “Roy paid in advance; didn’t he say?”

“Oh. No. Oh. Well. Thank you.”

She left the room, fighting her way through the curtain and out into the main room again. Roy was sitting at the bar waiting for her.

“All sorted?”

Riza nodded. “Yes, thanks.”

“Great. Can I get you a drink to calm your nerves?”

“Roy, she’s only seventeen.” Behind the bar, Madam Christmas gave her nephew a pointed look, before heaving a long sigh. “I guess there’s no legal drinking age in a country where no one’s allowed to drink anyway. Pick your poison, hun, but I’m not serving you spirits.”

Riza shook her head. “If he smells it on me there’ll be hell to pay. I should probably be getting back before he realises I’m out.”

Roy nodded, and the brief flash of sorrowful sympathy in his face did not go unnoticed. He slid off his bar stool, walking through the bar with her.

“I’ll walk you home in case of patrols.”

They didn’t speak for a long time after they left the shop, both of them lost in their thoughts. It was only once they were nearing the Hawkeye home on the outskirts of the town that Riza remembered she hadn’t thanked Roy properly.

“Hohenheim said you paid for my treatment.”

“Yeah.” Roy’s smile was sheepish in the dim moonlight. “I figured it was only fair. It’s not your fault the tattoo you had no say in getting got infected. Why should you have to pay the price for it?”

“Thank you.”

“Any time.”

They stopped at the gate, and Riza knew that if this was a romance novel of the type that the bookshop front sold, now would be the point where they would kiss and declare their undying love for each other.

It wasn’t really undying love, per se, but there was definitely something there, something that Riza could not quite define yet.

Feeling emboldened now that she was no longer in pain, she darted in and pressed a peck to Roy’s cheek. Even in the darkness, she could see the beginnings of colour coming up in his face, and she could feel that hers was just the same.

“Good night, Roy.”

“Good night, Riza.”

[sushiandstarlight]

“Scarf”: NaNoWriMo 30 Days of Prompts

Today’s Prompt

Read this story on AO3

Personal note: today I bring you tooth-rotting Christmas fluff.  Also, I do not knit or crochet, though I have poked at both hobbies.  Mostly, I take what little I know from the knitters and crocheters in my life.

“I've joined a knitting circle in town.” He had said it without preamble over dinner at their favorite restaurant.

“Knitting?” Crowley tried to recall what knitting looked like, “Something to do with string and big needles, right?

“Well, crochet actually. Right now, anyway. Apparently they go back and forth for new people. Crochet, they said, was easier to learn.”

“Crochet.” That, he assumed, also dealt with string and needles.

“Yes. I thought- I thought, you have your garden to muck about in... I should have something, too. Aside- aside from my books, of course. But, having no shop or customers-” the way Aziraphale said the word customers: it dripped, ever so, with disgust, “I wanted to find something to do with my hands, you see?”

“Sure, Angel. You crochet now, it's cool.”

And nothing more had been said about it that night. Or any of the following. On Thursday evenings Aziraphale would kiss his cheek and disappear for a few hours.

The house started filling, little by little, with bits of yarn. Squares at first, some parts of them loose or tangled, other parts stiff and tight. Tension, he said, he was learning tension. Crowley thought he knew plenty enough about tension, but didn't mention it.

He would come in from the garden once it was too dark to work (not that he couldn't see, but it was the human thing to do and they were living among humans) and find the angel in the living room, in his chair, lap full of yarn- the string was called yarn, he had learned- and tiny hooked needles. There was muttered counting and some amount of grumbled curses over “dropped stitches.”

Eventually they had a big pile of what he called pot holders in the kitchen. They were squares of all sorts of colors, Crowley supposed to go with the seasons. Or maybe Aziraphale got tired of one color and went to the next, hard to be sure. They were more uniform than what he had done before, perhaps he had learned about this “tension” he muttered about for weeks.

And then he became secretive. New projects stopped showing up around the cottage. Crowley would come in for the night and have the feeling that Aziraphale had hidden something swiftly right before he returned. Something about the near-manic way he would be staring at the book sprawled out on his thighs.

Their first Christmas after the events of almost-megeddon was fast approaching. He might not have guessed except the pot holders in the kitchen were red and green now, as opposed to fall colors. He wondered if he should get Aziraphale something for Christmas. He probably should.

“Don't come in here, Crowley, I'm on Christmas business!” Crowley stared at their bedroom door, now barred from entering it. He supposed that answered that.

“I'll be back, Angel, I'm headed to town.”

“Kisses!”

Crowley stared at the door for a further minute before shaking his head and heading out to the car. He returned some hours later with large bags from all the local craft stores. Who could have guessed there were so many kinds of yarn? What on earth were they all for? He had spent some time before he left, going around and touching all of the crochet projects he could find around the house, trying to guess the material. Or at least know it when he found it again at the store. But, that was an impossible method, he had found. Dumbfoundedly, he had stood in the yarn aisles- AISLES, plural- touching them one at a time.

“Whatever project you're getting them for, you should get the colors in one dye lot,” The overly-friendly employee of one store had said, “so they'll match.” Whatever that meant.

It wasn't so much that he bought out the stores, at that point. That would have taken a miracle to get home and would definitely have been noticed by his angel. But, he did settle on buying the softest of yarns. The ones that drifted through his fingers rather than dragging. Aziraphale enjoyed, nay deserved, soft things. He was soft and he had not had enough softness in his centuries.

“Oooh, what have you got there, my dear?” Crowley startled, clutching his packages to his chest, suddenly grateful that the stores had elected to give him unmarked bags. He was pretty sure they were all giggling about him, even now. Their smiles as they helped him and rung him up had been... conspiratorial. 'Happy Christmas, Mr. Crowley,' they'd smiled, 'I hope he likes them!' He wondered if they worked on commission.

“Nothing!” his voice hadn't squeaked, it really hadn't, “Christmas business, as you say. Nothing here to see.” He swept upstairs and hid the bags under the bed.

Christmas morning had dawned colder than expected, crisp even. He was happy enough to give the angel the gifts he had picked out, but he was even happier to stay right here, tucked snug and warm under the covers with him. But, fingers tickled along the tattoo on his face.

“Five more minutes,” he grumbled, not opening his eyes.

“You said that five minutes ago,” Aziraphale was smiling at him, he could hear it in his voice. Yeah, it was possible he had asked before, and it was possible he would ask again. He grumbled some more and slid further under the covers, wrapping his arms around the angel's waist.

Time passed, how much he couldn't say because he drifted. He felt fingers comb through his hair.

“Five more minutes,” his voice was muffled by the angel's bed clothes pressed against his face.

“Really, Crowley!” Aziraphale chuckled softly, Crowley enjoyed the bounce of his chest, squeezing him and nuzzling closer- the sound and feel of Aziraphale's happiness made him giddy. It also had the side effect of waking him up completely, at last.

“Happy Christmas, Angel,” he rolled on to his back and stretched, feeling the blankets fall down around his middle. It wasn't nearly as cold as he remembered it being... how ever many minutes ago, how ever many minutes he managed to bargain for.

“Happy Christmas, Crowley, you beautiful creature,” Aziraphale was draped over him and kissing him softly, a bit teasingly, his smile pressed to Crowley's lips. It was like drinking happiness, Crowley decided, this was like drinking Aziraphale's very joy. It made the already giddy part of him crow inside.

“Maybe,” Crowley snaked his arms back around Aziraphale's middle and tugged him down onto his chest, “maybe five more minutes.” He was smirking, himself, as he muttered against his soft lips. They pulled down into a frown. When he pulled back he saw it was mostly for show.

“I suppose you don't want your gift, then.”

“Got all I want, right here,” he squeezed him.

“Soppiness is not going to get you any more five minute reprieves.”

“It was worth a shot.”

“Hmm.” And then Aziraphale did his worst: get left the bed and took all his warm softness with him. Crowley groaned and pouted dramatically.

“Bastard.”

He heard chuckling fading as the angel padded down the stairs. He sat for a few moments more, hoping he would return, but then gave it up. He threw back the covers- extra messy so Aziraphale would make a fuss later- and stepped into his slippers. Slippers. He had slippers now. Who'd have thought? Grabbing his robe, he donned it and went downstairs.

The night before he had waiting for Aziraphale to fall asleep and then he had snuck down with his packages and piled them under the tree. Every skein was wrapped individually in shiny, red wrapping paper, tied with white ribbon. There were... a lot of little red packages. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, Aziraphale was in the sitting room, staring at them.

“Looks like St. Nick really delivered this year,” Crowley walked up behind him, hugging him and resting his chin on his shoulder to peer at the piles of packages, “You must've been a good boy.”

“Oh, Crowley, it's too much, isn't it?”

“Nah, could be half of them are fake. You won't know until you open them,” he was getting distracted by the line of Aziraphale's jaw and nuzzled his nose against it. Aziraphale's arms came up and rested over his, squeezing his hands.

“You're planning to spoil me, aren't you?”

“What? I got you nothing. This is all Santa's work. I might have to have a chat with him, he thinks he might win you from me with presents.”

“Pssh, really.”

“You should be spoiled,” he placed a soft, gently sucking kiss where his jaw met his neck and delighted at the shiver he felt, pressed as close as he was, in response, “I won't have it any other way. Sorry, you're gonna have to suffer it.”

“I suppose I'll survive it, somehow,” there was a beat of silence, “but I did not get you this many things.”

“It's not a competition. No tally's here. I'm sure I'll like whatever you give me, Angel. Just enjoy your presents, alright?” He let him go and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Something strong and earthy for him, something light and slightly floral for Aziraphale. When he returned with tea, there were three more packages under the tree: these wrapped in silvery tissue paper with black ribbon.

“Oh, did St. Nick make another stop by? Find something at the bottom of the bad did he? Bad form, should be more organized. He would be hell to live with, you know?” Crowley sat their tea on the coffee table and then sprawled on the sofa.

“I can feel the mussed bedsheets from here, you fiend. You're hell to live with.” The statement held absolutely no fire.

“Just so,” Crowley propped his slippered feet on the coffee table, to be a further annoyance, “Go on and open them.”

“All of them?”

“Sure, why not?”

“We could take turns?”

“Oh, go on, I want to watch you.”

Aziraphale dithered another moment before sitting on the ottoman beside the tree. He picked up the first one, pulling off the ribbon and finding the tape to pull it off gently. Crowley watched in growing madness as he carefully removed the paper, folding it and setting it aside.

“It's yarn!” and then his fingers dug into the skein, “Oh, it's angora yarn!”

“Best for you, Angel,” Crowley took a sip of his tea.

“Tell me they aren't all angora.” Aziraphale was staring, wide-eyed at the packages.

“Well, not all of them. There's some different wool blends. Some of it's alpaca? I think. And a few are made from bamboo. Amazing, humans, eh? I never would have looked at a bamboo plant and thought yarn. But, oh Angel, it's so soft. You had to have it.” Crowley watched him over the rim of his mug as he opened them all one by one, cooing over the softness and the variety of colors. And stopping to fold every. Single. Piece. Of. Paper. He couldn't decide if it was endearing or crazy. When he had them all unwrapped he stacked them gently under the tree. Then he grabbed the silver packages and strode over to the sofa. He sat them down next to Crowley and picked up his own mug, pausing to allow Crowley to snap it warm.

“Perfect,” he smiled over the rim, tucking his feet up under him and angling himself towards the demon, “your turn, love.”

Crowley put his mug down and picked up the first package. It crinkled under his fingers. Something soft. He looked over at the neat pile of wrapping paper Aziraphale had left behind and then back over at the angel himself. Then in a flurry of movements, he had the paper flying everywhere.

“You're such a child!” But Aziraphale was laughing, batting at the paper that drifted his way.

“Oh, but it's...” he picked up the pile of yarn and let it unspool over his knees, “Angel this is beautiful!” He lifted it, almost against his will, and rubbed it against his cheek. The scarf, black on one side and red on the other was buttery smooth against his skin. He wrapped it around his neck a couple times and then let the rest hang over his chest. Only now could he see that the ends were tasseled in the same colors, alternating. At the ends, just above the tassels were designs. On one side they matched his tattoo. On the other was a pair of wings. It would depend on if he was showing the red or black side, which one would show. He stared at the designs, a lump forming in his throat.

“You really like it? I mean, I'm still learning, but I thought it was okay.”

“Okay,” the word came out strangled and a moment later he was climbing over the sofa cushions and into Aziraphale's lap, “I love it, really.” And he leaned in and kissed him soundly, slipping his fingers into the hair at his name. Aziraphale kissed him back, holding him close for a moment. Then he pushed against him, smiling against his lips again.

“There are two more, you know? Do I get a kiss like that for every one of them? I might have tried to make you some more,” his eyes were twinkling with mirth and happiness and it made something in Crowley's chest ache with joy. He wondered if a demon could be discorporated from feeling this good. Surely, they weren't built to contain it.

“I could have the kisses now and the presents later,” Crowley peered at him through his lashes, nuzzling his chin into the scarf around his neck.

“Oh, do open them.”

“You don't want my kisses,” he pulled his face into a pout.

“Now, you know that's not true!” He was starting to look honestly worked up.

“Alright, let's see what's in package number two,” he pulled the ribbon off and put it atop the angel's curly hair and then he destroyed the paper in the same fashion as before so it fell like confetti over both of them. It was matching gloves in the same black yarn with his sigil in red on the backs. He reached for the final package, shredding it mercilessly, and found a black beanie with his sigil on the front. It was a whole set, just for him. He reached up and pulled the hat down on the angel's head, sitting back and smirking at him, “oh, I like that look, I do.”

“The mark of the beast, for sure.”

“I do say,” he tugged it down until it covered his eyebrows and nodded, his work complete.

“But you like them?” The angel's voice was small, quiet.

“I love them. I love that you made them for me. They're perfect. I'll wear them until they fall apart and when I do,” he rubbed his cheek against the silky yarn, “I'll think of you, even when I'm away.”

Aziraphale wiggled happily, grasping the ends of the scarf in either hand. Crowley cocked his head to the side in question.

“I'll have those kisses now!” and with a tug, he pulled Crowley to him by the scarf and took them.

Previous Prompt Ficlets:

Family / Hearth / Frosty / Ribbons / Wrapping / Cardinal / Coal / Unwrap / Blustery

[concealeddarkness13]

WHG 15 Post-Games Brains and Brawn Part 7

This happens the day after the interview in Triel’s part 28! Tagging: @ratracechronicler, @maple-writes (also, thanks for Skyler!), @pen-of-roses, and @thoughts-of-nora!

The morning after the interview, there was a knock on my door, and my phone buzzed at the same time. It was Shine. “I’m at your door. Are you ok with me coming in?”

I sat up with a sigh and responded. “Yup.”

They opened the door a few seconds later, and they were smiling. They walked over and sat next to me on my bed, and I was about to send them a text asking what was going on, but they had already started typing, so I just waited.

“So, a few days ago, I discovered that Triel’s phone number was texting Indigo Carmine, and the things that were being texted were things that Triel would send, and the first thing that was sent was a video where Triel burned something that was important to Indigo. So, I decided to take the chance, and I sent her the code. She seemed to recognize it, but she was suspicious. Finally, this morning, she decided to agree to meet up tonight with me. Just in case this is a trap, would you be willing to come with me as a witness so I don’t just disappear?”

I sucked in a breath. Shit, this was too early for this. I could possibly see Triel tonight?

Could I even face her after what happened? I was the whole reason that the crew couldn’t be there to help her. She’d hate me, wouldn’t she? I had only known her for a month. How could she forgive me for letting her crew get hurt?

I shook my head and looked away from Shine, but I texted them. “I won’t be able to. I’ll probably just fuck something up. Sorry.”

I stood up and tried to walk away, but they grabbed my arm and pointed at my phone. When I just tried to keep walking, they stood in front of me and glared until I held up my phone. They typed and sent. “You wouldn’t fuck anything up. I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t trust you.”

Shit. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I looked away from them. “I can’t.” I shoved past them and ran away before they could follow me.

I ended up in the improvised training room, and I immediately proceeded to beat up a training dummy. “Stupid piece of shit. Not good for anything except fighting. All I ever do is fuck things up.” I muttered basically a mantra as I punched and kicked the training dummy. Why would anyone trust me? I was the whole reason everything went wrong.

The door to the training room opened, and Skyler walked in. He looked around, looking a little awkward. I stopped and shook my head to try to clear my thoughts before I looked over at him. “Is everything okay?”

He blinked and stood up straighter. “What, with me?”

I frowned. “Well, in general I guess? If something wasn’t going on, why would you approach me?” Why would anyone care enough about me that they’d just seek me out to hang out? I was just a stupid piece of shit. I never did anything right.

His face fell, and he looked down at the ground and kicked at the base of some equipment. “There’s some stores and stuff down the street. I was wondering if you wanted to check them out.”

Shit. He had actually wanted to hang out with me? Why? I stared at him. “Oh. That sounds great, actually. I’d love to.” That did sound nice. It would certainly be a good distraction. And I’d love to hang out with him.

He smiled, and a smile tugged at my lips too. What could I say? His smile was so genuine and nice that it was contagious. “It’s cooling down so I want to grab my hoodie but then I’ll meet you outside?”

I nodded, smiling back. This would be so nice. I liked being around him. I already had my hoodie on, so I didn’t have to grab anything. “Meet outside in less than a minute, and you’ll be able to insult me the rest of the day.”

“Yeah sure.” He waved it off, but he did check his watch as he left. I grinned a little wider and headed downstairs.

A few minutes later, he walked down, and I smirked over at him. “Two minutes. So close.”

He scoffed and gave me a gentle shove. “So what?”

I pretended to think for a bit. “Well, I suppose I didn’t say anything about what would happen if you lost, so nothing, I guess.”

“Didn’t think that through, did you?” He grinned, holding his head high. “You ready?”

I nodded. This was going to be fun! I just had to push away any other thoughts. “So, what stores are we headed to?”

He shrugged and led the way to the pretty crowded street with all the shops. I grinned and stared at all the shops. There were so many different ones! Food, clothes, entertainment. Everything was here. He spoke. “I don’t know, what looks interesting?”

I grinned. “Maybe a knife store!” I paused and frowned. Shit. “Wait, do either of us have money?”

“Are you asking me if you have money?” He raised his eyebrows at me. “Because I know I do.”

Maybe I put some spare change in my hoodie? I patted my pockets, but there was nothing. “Shit.” What could I do? Oh! “I can steal stuff!”

He rolled his eyes. “Just don’t get caught if you do.”

Good. He was enabling me. Still, I wanted to tease him. I huffed. “A gentleman would offer to pay.”

“What made you think I was a gentleman?” Touché. He shrugged. “You can pay me back if you want something.”

He was a good at word sparring too! Awesome! I smirked and nudged him with my shoulder. “Remember, you’re talking to a pirate. Or soon to be pirate. We’re not in the business of paying people back.”

“Then you’ll just have to owe me for next time. Unless you have expensive taste then I can’t help you.”

I smiled, and my eyes landed on a fancy clothes shop, and I grabbed Skyler’s arm and pulled him toward it. “Let’s check out that place!” He just stammered as I opened the door and ran over to the stupid rich shit.

The first clothes rack I stopped at had way too many sequins and were way too colorful and bright. They hurt my eyes just looking at them. I turned over to Skyler, grinning. “Can you imagine people actually wear shit like this?”

He made a face and stuck out his tongue at the clothes. “Wouldn’t be caught dead like that.”

We’ll see about that. I smirked over at him. “How about this? We go through this store and pick out the most hideous outfit we can find, and whoever picks out the worst outfit gets to choose the next store we go to?”

He smirked back. “Deal.”

Oh boy! I dashed off into the store and picked out the best outfit ever. A neon green shirt with flashing lights that spelled out the stylist’s name, highlighter yellow pants with sequins all over them, high heeled sandals with laces that went up to someone’s knees, and a sky blue hat that had been cut in half.

When I met up with Skyler, I almost burst out laughing, but I was able to contain it. He had brought a top that was long enough to be a dress in the front but too short for that in the back and it was patterned with neon animal prints, leggings that looked like actual legs with cheesy tattoos, and super tiny sunglasses.

We decided to try on the outfits the opposite one picked out and to base the worst one on how much the people in the store clapped. Skyler took one look at the outfit I picked, and he cringed. “What the hell is this?”

I laughed, eyeing the outfit he picked out. “I could say the same to you, but yours is so awful it’s almost funny.”

“It’s…something.” He glanced at the changing room. “I’ll go first.” It took a while, but he got everything on and walked out on wobbly legs. He stared at himself in the mirror as the customers and workers “ooh”d and “ahh”d.

He turned to me as I stifled laughter. “I feel like an off brand crayon.”

“Hey, I think you look great.” As a few laughs escaped.

He rolled his eyes. “Well now it’s your turn.” He went to change back, and then I went in to change. When I left the changing room, I rocked the outfit, strutting like a runway model and grinning. And I got way more applause. Ha.

When the other people finally turned back to their own stuff, I looked over my tiny sunglasses at him. “Now, that’s how you show off an outfit. Even a ridiculous outfit like this.”

“Well played.” He crossed his arms with a smile. “But since they liked my pick does that mean I win?”

“Yup.” I went and changed back because that outfit was way too ridiculous to stay in any longer than I had to. When I came back out, I gestured for him to go first. “Lead the way, fearless leader.”

He stood tall and left, and he looked around until he pointed out a shop that had more theatrical stuff, and he turned to me. “Want to look for masquerade stuff?”

Oh shit, that made me think about seeing Triel again. Hopefully I could distract myself in there. I nodded with a laugh. “We should pick out each other’s costumes too.”

He snorted. “Yeah, not after what you picked last time. But I’ll take suggestions.”

I just laughed and followed him in, and I went to the masks first. They were so cool and varied! Skyler stayed nearby, also looking at the masks. “Do you think they always have this many or stocked it just for the event?”

“Honestly, they probably have these all the time. It is the Capitol after all, and what are they if not extravagant?” I picked up a cheetah mask that had the patterning of a cheetah, and the mask’s eye had a see-through cheetah eye over it. It was my favorite animal. “Ooh. I actually like this one.”

Skyler still looked a little uncertain, so I glanced through the other masks until I found one with brightly colored snake scales on it. It was just flashy enough to fit in while not being gaudy. I held it out to him. “I think this looks like you!”

He took it and tried it on, and I stared. It just fit him. Flashy but dangerous. And it looked good on him, especially when the lights hit it because the scales shone iridescent. He…he really was pretty.

My face grew slightly hot, so I looked away a little and opened my mouth to say something, not even sure what, but someone spoke up first. “Ooh! Are you two going to the masquerade?” Two people walked up to us, wearing a ridiculous amount of sequins, as if they had bought out the store we had just been in.

Oh shit. I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing in their faces, and Skyler glared at them. He didn’t look like he wanted to say anything, so I spoke up after I stifled the laughs. “Well, actually, my sister’s having a masquerade themed birthday party, and we’re looking for stuff for that.”

The woman pouted. “Aww. That’s too bad. But maybe you could help us pick out masks. What screams pirate to you? We just love Triel, not only because her name just looks like a shortened version of mine, but also because she’s excited about life! And we are too! So, we want to dress up as pirates in her honor. And we know pirates always wore stuff like this.” She gestured at her outfit, but I was barely paying attention anymore. Triel. How the hell could I look her in the eyes again? Would it be better just to run away? It probably would be better because then I wouldn’t be bothering anyone else then.

The woman said something else, and Skyler snarled and said something. I finally focused back when the woman spoke again. “Oh, that’s a good idea! What mask should we wear?”

Okay. I could get them the hell away from us. I grabbed some ugly masks and shoved the masks at them. “Here.”

They took them and walked off, talking and laughing. I took a deep breath and turned back to the masks, putting up the cheetah mask. I tried to keep my voice lighthearted. “For some reason, I’m not that interested in looking at masks anymore.”

Skyler nodded. “Well we’ll have to wear more than a mask anyway.” He walked over to other clothes, and he glanced back at me.

I nodded and followed, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Triel. She should hate me for what happened. I was the reason everything was messed up. What could I even say to her when I saw her again?

He touched some items with a smile, still looking over at me. “We could surprise each other again, this time with our own outfits.”

I shook my head to help push away the thoughts. Nothing I could stress over now. I smiled a little. “As long as you don’t choose anything piratey for me. That’s not really a costume then.”

He snorted. Rude. “I already said I don’t trust your taste. I mean we reveal our own outfits to each other.” He smirked and flicked my shoulder, and I had to smile back. “See who does it best.”

I laughed a little. “You’re going to be so jealous when you see the awesome outfit I choose that you’ll wish that I chose your outfit.” I winked and ran off.

They had plenty of nice clothes set out for the masquerade, and I searched through the dresses first, but I didn’t find anything that I liked. So, I moved on to the suits. And there was a nice, dark blue suit with a lavender shirt. Then I found some practical, dark blue boots that were the same shade as the suit, and then I went back over to the masks and chose a mask that mimicked the waves. It was pretty damn good.

I changed into the outfit while Skyler waited. I walked out, without the pomp and circumstance of last time.

He blinked and stared at me. “You look watery.”

Wow. I snorted. “That’s the best compliment you can come up with?” I paused, thinking. “Wait, is that even a compliment?”

“Depends on how you take it.” He had a lighthearted tone, but he dropped it when he gave me a more genuine smile and a nod. “It suits you though. You look nice.”

Wait, what? Nice? I…I looked nice? Really? Was he sure? Uh, what did I say to that? “Well, thanks. I think I’m gonna go change now. I need to see your outfit anyway.” I grinned over at him and got changed, but my face was getting a little hot again. He really thought I looked nice?

When I got out, he had already left to get changed, so I had time to make sure my face wasn’t flushed anymore. Just in time for him to peek around the corner and lock eyes with me before he walked out. His suit was dark, but in the light, there were shimmers of blue-ish scales. He went with knee-high heeled boots that were also dark with the shimmering scales, and the shirt under his jacket was red. He even had red gloves. And he had chosen the mask I had pointed out to him. Holy shit. He was really good at picking out outfits. My face got hot again.

To hide my flushed face, I grinned and adopted a snobbish voice. “I love how you incorporated the mask into your repertoire.” I couldn’t keep that going for long, so I snorted and spoke normally. “I just think it’s amazing. And the heeled boots…” I cocked an eyebrow. “You chose those because you want to be taller than me, I bet.”

He didn’t look so nervous as he walked over to me, taking wobbly steps. “Of course, could barely hear you down there.” He waved dismissively. “I thought I’d try it out.”

Before I could even think about what I was going to say, the words slipped out. “It’s a good look on you. I might not mind you looking down on me this one time.” And then my face got really hot. Shit. What the hell was I saying? That was a Triel line.

He opened his mouth a few times before any words came out. “Thanks.” And he just went back and changed into his normal clothes. I was almost thankful for that. I didn’t really want to address what I had said either. That was too embarrassing.

When he changed back into his regular clothes, and I had gotten rid of my blush, he walked back over to me and held out his hand for my clothes. Aw. He really was going to buy it for me?

I laughed and handed my outfit over to him, trying my hardest not to think about how he had looked in his outfit. “On my word as a pirate, I’ll pay you back.”

“I thought you said it went the other way around.” He sounded annoyed, but in an exaggerated way. But he just went and paid for everything.

I smirked at him when he was done. “That’s the mystery, isn’t it? Will I actually pay you back because of my word or will I not because of the fact that I’m a pirate? Only time will tell.”

Skyler walked out of the store and started walking back toward the apartment. “As long as you don’t throw me into the sea or whatever it is pirates do.”

“Nah. I’ll just make you wear the sequined mess that those two thought had something to do with pirates instead.”

He stuck his tongue out and faked gagging. “Yeah, just throw me into the ocean. It’ll be less painful.”

I just laughed, and we headed back to the apartment. Right when we got there, I ran for my room and grabbed enough money to pay him back, and I gave it to him. He was such a good friend, I couldn’t be a pirate to him.

[uswnt-owns-this-homo]

Math? I Thought You Said Meth? (Krashlyn x Reader)

AN: I got a request of Krashlyn x Reader and this is my pretty lame attempt to get something out in these very dire, boring times. I hope you dig it! It has a bit of swearing and maybe a bit of like childhood trauma? family issues?

I walk down to the hotel lobby, feet dragging, shirt on inside out, skin pallid and dark circles very prominent. I’m still in my sleep shirt, no makeup, and my glasses, which almost never happens. My hair is an absolute mess, and Ashlyn ruffles it as I join her and Ali.

“Kid, you look like trash, no offense, very cute trash, but still,”

I groan and pull her towards the desk.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I was up late,”

If by ‘up late’ I meant I haven’t slept in over 42 hours because I’ve been studying in every extra second I have, then yeah, I was up late. I turn to the receptionist, smiling lightly.

“So, I really really need to find the closest coffee shop. It can be a hole in the wall, it can have bad coffee, I just need something,”

The woman smiles at me and pulls out her phone.

“Okay, well, good news, there’s a Starbucks a little bit down the road to the right, walking distance,”

We thank her and grab Ali and Sonnett, who’s just made it downstairs.

“Dude, who’d you get in a fight with, I haven’t seen eye bags that dark since your bar fiasco with that one guy’s girlfriend!”

I chuckle.

“How was I supposed to know they came together?”

We make quick work of getting to the shop, talking and laughing along the way. We all walk in and I make a beeline for the counter, the rest of our small group taking a seat, having given me their orders. I order everyone else’s before taking a deep breath.

“Okay, I need to know, like legally, how much espresso you can put in a cup. Like, can you do a tiny bit of coffee, and the rest espresso?”

After discussing concerns and worries, which includes me telling the dude that I’ll pay whatever the price is, I’ve secured my 2 tablespoons coffee to the rest of the largest size cup espresso concoction. I walk back to the table, distributing the drinks to their respective owners.

“So, y/n, what’d you get, something you’d recommend?”

I cackle and shoot Ali finger guns.

“Absolutely not. This is a cup full of espresso shots with like a minuscule amount of coffee… it’s bitter and embodies my parents… would not recommend,”

She gasps and turns to Ash, gesturing towards me and groaning.

“No, no, no, remember last camp? We discussed, she’s your kid before 12, and it’s 11:49 so thats on you, babe. Also, y/n, really kid? Kind of impressed, kind of in awe, kind of worried,”

I just shrug, take the lid of my cup, and test the temperature. Seeing that it’s cool, or at least a little bit, I start to chug it, finishing half the cup before I start to listen to the other’s conversation. 

“So, y/n, how’s the math you were talking about yesterday going?”

I spit out my mouthful of drink on the table, lightly coughing.

“What?? I don’t do meth, man, look I know I’m kinda out of it today. I’ve been up for the past 2 days studying for my calculus exam I have next week, not doing drugs,”

Everyone looks at me as I burst into tears.

“Hey, hey, we were talking about math, not meth, we know you don’t do drugs, also we will be talking about the all nighter, but, I think we should finish our drinks, get ready for the beach day we have planned, and you can sleep there, just relax, sound good?”

I let out a sniffle and wrap my arms around my waist.

“Yeah, maybe I do need some sleep, sorry,”

I drag my hand over my face and pick up my cup, taking a sip. Ali wraps her arm around my shoulder and I lean my head on her shoulder, leaning my weight onto her and closing my eyes. I must doze off because I wake up to Ashlyn picking me up. I shake my head and rub my eyes.

“Ah, fuck, went and woke the kid up,”

I curl up further and lean my head into her body, quickly falling back asleep. I get woken up by Ali and Ash aggressively shushing the team, who are all gathered in my room.

“I told y’all to shhhhhh, and now she’s awake! Man, this is why we have to run so much, y’all don’t listen,”

  I tap Ash’s shoulder, giving her a hug as she sets me down.

“Well, looks like beach time is still on, so I’m going to change into beach wear, and then get another coffee, and then we can leave,”

They all nod and I get into my suitcase, grabbing my swim trunks and bikini top. I quickly change, grabbing my hair cream and going to find Ash.

“Moooom, I need help with the hair, and since Pinoe is going to pick up the caffeine, I need you,”

She quickly grabs some cream and creates a look that Pinoe, crowd favorite for her hair, will be proud of. I check it in the mirror quickly before turning to her and hugging her.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,”

She chuckles and wraps an arm around me.

“Yeah, yeah, can’t have any kid of mine walking around with wack hair,”

I squeal and turn to Ali, giving her a huge hug as well.

“Wait, I love y’all, like a lot, thank you for helping me adjust and for dealing with me, okay, that’s all, thanks for coming to my TedTalk,”

Pinoe chooses that moment to walk in with the coffee. I prance up to her, kiss her cheek, and walk off to find Rose, Mal, and the rest of the youngins.

“Thanks boss! I expect a volleyball match partner later, yeah?”

She nods and I sprint towards Sonny, making sure to not spill my coffee.

“Y/N, no running babe! Knowing you, you’ll fall and scald yourself or something,”

I wave my hand at Ali and smirk. I catch up to Sonny and lean up against her.

“Man oh man, I’m going to snooze at the beach, mark my words,”

She looks at me and smiles.

“Well, at least you’ll actually get sleep.. Look, I know school is a lot, by itself, I can’t even imagine what it’s like while your playing on this team, but you have to take care of yourself man, cause I know Ash and Kriegs are this close to making you room with Carlos,”

My eyes widen as she puts her fingers almost together. I nod and bow.

“Yeah, I just really want to do well, you know? I mean, birth parents didn’t end up going to secondary schooling, the fosters were more focused on taking care of us in the care minimum than encouraging us kids, and I just want to be better,”

I start to tear up and Lindsey and Em both pull me into a hug.

“Okay, I know it doesn’t feel like it, but kid, you’re insane! I mean, I didn’t go to college, so you’re already passing me up. And, you’re trying for premed things, on top of playing for the national team? Anyone would love to be doing as well as you’re doing, and even if you’re parents aren’t proud, or aren’t around, we are, and we’re so fucking proud, and I’m defintely getting yelled at later for saying fuck in front of you,”

I laugh and give her a quick squeeze, wiping at my eyes and chuckling. I separate myself from them, and cup my hands around my mouth.

 “I’m definitely getting smoked for this, but I fucking love you all! You all treat me like a kid, and while that sometimes gets old, I’m so thankful that I have people in my life that care enough! Also, Mom and Mom, please don’t room me with Carlos! Carl, I love you, but you’re scary and I think you might kill me at any given moment, love you though,”

Everyone looks at me and I flash some dimples in hopes of not getting in trouble for swearing.

         “Okay, we’re going to let the fuck slide, but don’t get ideas, kid. Also, it’s very nice to know that Carlos is a valid threat, also, we love you too, just, stop chugging weird amounts of caffeine, please. And to conclude, you forgot to tie your swim trunks, I see that tattoo, who signed off? You’re 17, you need a signed consent form, kid…”

I grimace and run to the van, hoping they’ll cool off by the time we need to leave. 

 We’re all at the beach, Megan, Ali, and I all tanning while Kelly, Emily, Rose and Mal all play soccer tennis, Ash and Alex out surfing. 

 “You really thought they said meth, Y/N? Really? You’re like the best kid ever, why would you ever do meth?”

I grin and laugh and turn my face towards the sun, deciding to just enjoy my off day and to look forward to the future, together, with my team.

[solieldoux]

when brush meets canvas; a collection of thoughts and happenings ( @wclfsun​ )

[     🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·  ] ⠀━━   five years ago, snu campus tour

he’s  not  listening. ethan  liu  has  the  attention span  of  a  a  goldfish when  it  comes  to  irrelevant things.  there’s  the  center  of  the  campus, there’s  the  café  (there’s  great coffee  there!),  dorms are  that  way,  class  buildings one  and  two  over  there  (  “  they’re  close  together  so  you  don’t  miss  classes!” )  …  so  on  and  so  forth. he  can  keep  pace  with  the  group  well  enough on  auto-pilot.  the  ‘highlights’  of  the  greater campus  are  irrelevant to  a  student who  plans  to  spend  four  semesters  holed  up  in  a  dorm  room.

“  sorry!  i’m  so  sorry!! “

he’s  rather  responsive for  someone  on  auto-pilot.  she  crashes  into  him  out  of  nowhere. his  arms  reach  out  to  catch  her  and  stabilize them  both.  it’s  not  until  after  he’s  done  it  that  ethan  truly  realizes that  something  happened, and  he’s  got  his  arms  around  a  brunette  who’s  expression  reads  utterly  horrified by  her  own  actions.

he  lets  her  go,  waving it  off,  “it’s  fine.  you’re alright?”

yes  she’s  alright, and  she’s  very  sorry,  and  she’s  sometimes so  clumsy,  and  she  wants  to  make  it  up.  ethan  continues to  wave  her  off,  shaking his  head  because it  really  is  fine.  it  takes  some  talking  down,  but  she  ultimately  accepts it,  and  she  shifts  herself off  to  the  side  a  bit  so  she’s  not  walking  so  closely  to  the  man  she’d  just  collapsed  into.  

ethan  sighs.  the  walk  continues. now  they  know  of  each  other’s  existence; any  time  they  catch  glances he  gives  a  small  nod  and  she  alternates  between mouthing  ‘sorry!’  and  giving  him  a  gentle smile.  he  finds  it  funny. and  it  makes  the  rest  of  the  tour  considerably less  grating.

[     🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·  ] ⠀━━   five years ago, coffee shop

ahh.  that’s  why  she  asked  what  my  coffee  order  is  the  other  day.

leia  is  settled at  a  small  café  table  –  in  front  of  her  a  tall  glass  of  iced  coffee  and  a  slice  of  crumb  cake.  across from  her  in  front  of  the  opposite, empty  chair  is  another  cup  –  this  one  a  large  ceramic cappuccino  mug  with  two  slices of  lime  set  on  a  separate  dish  to  the  side.  it  too  is  accompanied  by  a  slice  of  cake.

“  did  you  wait  long  ??  “  he  asks

she  didn’t  wait  long  at  all,  she  just  got  there  a  little  early  and  decided to  order  for  them!  she’s  fine  with  paying  for  it,  and  ethan  certainly shouldn’t  worry.  she  hopes  she  ordered  the  right  thing, she’d  written  down  what  he  said  a  few  days  ago  about  liking  to  mix  lime  into  his  coffee.  she  thinks  it’s  very  interesting, and  she  almost ordered  it  herself. and  she’s  talking and  rambling  to  much  and  she’s  sorry.

ethan  is  to  used  to  her  by  now  to  be  phased. he  simply  sits  in  front  of  her,  lets  her  ramble  a  minute  while  he  adds  the  lime  to  his  drink  and  takes  a  fork  to  the  cake.  after  a  moment  she’s  quiet,  shyly  looking  down  at  her  own  setting. ethan  shakes  his  head.

“  you  worry  to  much.  “

she  knows.  she  can’t  help  it.  

“  i  owe  you  for  this.  “

no  he  doesn’t! it’s  completely  fine.  she  doesn’t mind.  and  ethan  doesn’t  care,  as  he’s  already  reaching across  the  table  to  pocket the  receipt. leia  sighs  a  bit.  she  just  wanted to  be  nice.  ethan  tells  her  she’s  nice  without trying,  and  it’s  one  of  the  many  reasons  he  likes  being  around  her.

[     🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·  ] ⠀━━   five years ago, leia’s apartment

leia  is  rambling, as  she  always is.  only  this  time  she  rambles  while  dumping  new  dishware  into  the  sink  and  unpacking boxes  of  this  and  that  and  things from  home  into  cabinets  and  into  drawers. ethan  is  listening, as  he  always is.

if  he  doesn’t want  to  enroll in  snu,  then  he  shouldn’t! he  should  definitely join  two  star  if  that’s what  feels  right. and  she’s  supportive of  his  decision. and  yes,  it’ll  be  harder to  start  school without  him  if  he  chooses not  to  go,  but  she’ll be  alright!  and  they  can  still  text  and  hang  out,  and  everything  would  be  fine.  and  she’s  seen  some  of  the  lyrics  he  wrote!  and,  oh,  they’re so  good  no  wonder  two  star  entertainment extended  him  a  contract!  

she’s  practically  bouncing up  in  down,  bubbling  up  with  all  the  excitement one  would  expect ethan  to  have  after  receiving a  personal  invitation from  the  company’s ceo.  but  he’s  just  standing there  with  his  arms  crossed, watching  her  with  one  brow  arced  and  a  smile  tugging  at  the  corners of  his  mouth.

“  when  was  the  last  time  you  took  a  breath?”

leia  pauses,  her  body  going  stiff  for  a  moment as  she  manually takes  in  a  breath,  then  lets  it  out  again  with  an  embarrassed  smile. she’s  just  so  happy  for  him.  and  she  wants  what’s  best  for  him  and  wants  what  makes  him  happy. ethan  moves  towards her  and  puts  his  arms  around  her  waist.

“  i  have  a  lot  to  be  happy  about  these  days.  “

[     🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·  ] ⠀━━   four years ago, leia’s apartment

over  the  past  year  or  so,  ethan  has  come  to  learn  how  every  aspect  of  leia  is  soft  –  lips,  voice,  demeanor.  more  recently,  he’s  learned  that  the  rest  of  her  body  is  no  different.  the  discovery  wasn’t  by  chance.  it  was  planned  and  executed  with  comfort  and  assuredness  in  mind.  the  location,  however,  was  a  bit  unplanned  –  the  intent  had  been  the  bedroom,  but  the  living  ended  up  serving  just  as  well.  and  that,  ironically,  turned  out  to  be  for  the  best  as  ethan  discovered  something  else  that  very  same  afternoon.

leia’s  back  is  a  wonderful  canvas.  the  better  part  of  the  next  hour  had  been  spent  in  quiet  conversation  as  he  brushed  unplanned,  but  ornate  designs  onto  her  skin.

“  it  washes  off.  “

she  knows.  she  wouldn’t  really  have  let  him  do  it  if  it  was  permanent.  or  maybe  she  would  have.  maybe  his  art  would’ve  become  a  beautiful  back  tattoo.  she  wants  a  picture  of  it  when  it’s  done,  because  she  can’t  see  for  herself  what  she’s  doing  and  it’d  be  a  shame  to  wash  all  his  hard  work  away  without  remembering  it.

why  do  i  love  you  so  much?

[     🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·  ] ⠀━━   two and a half years ago, leia’s apartment

he’s debuting! she’s so excited, and she always knew it would happen. there’s no way ethan would’ve gotten two invitations to the company if they didn’t want him. imagine how different things would’ve been if he’d gone to snu instead! she misses him a bit when she’s alone on campus, and she does sometimes think it would’ve been fun to go together. no wait! oh, she didn’t mean to say that. she shouldn’t have said it, and she doesn’t want him to worry about her. because she’s fine! she’s doing great on her own! she’s only got a couple more years and then she’ll be graduating, and everything will be fine.

“ i’m moving into the dorm this week. “

she’ll help him pack!

“ you can’t come to the trainee dorms, leia, i’ll get in trouble.”

oh right.

her smile is still soft and gentle. their relationship had been quiet and incredibly comfortable til now. never something either of them spoke to openly about. not out of shame, but just out of natural inclination to not speak to often about personal matters to other people. but now it’s necessity.

“ …. no one knows about you except hyunsik. i think it needs to stay that way. it’s for your safety, ultimately.”

it’s okay! she completely understands. she doesn’t want to jeopardize his career and she loves him enough that she’s okay with keeping things quiet. really, she’s fine. she’s completely okay.

ethan wraps his arms around her tightly, presses his lips to her forehead. he’s never wanted to shout that he loves her more than right now. more than this moment where he’s realized that he can’t.

“ i love you. “ he settles for a soft whisper in her ear.

she loves him too.

[     🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·  ] ⠀━━   six months ago, d:fi dorm

“  ethan  ?!  yah  –  ethan  !!  “

the  force  of  leaving  the  trance  sends  ethan  tumbling off  his  chair  and  onto  the  ground where  he  catches himself  on  all  fours.  

“  you  okay  ??  you  weren’t  responding …  can  you  hear  me  now??”  hyunsik asks,  kneeling  by  his  side  and  putting an  arm  him.  

ethan  shuts  his  eyes,  squeezing them  so  tight  that  he  feels  pressure in  his  forehead, “…yeah.”  he  says  finally.

the  past  hour  of  his  life  is….  nothingness,  as  far  as  ethan  can  recall.  but  the  state  of  the  dorm  room  indicates  otherwise. dropped  brushes,  a  tipped  over  cup  of  mucky  water. tubes  of  acrylic paint  are  scattered across  the  floor, some  burst  open  from  the  force  of  being  stepped on.  paint  had  splattered  onto  the  wall  and  floor, even  onto  some  of  the  furniture.  his  easel  is  turned  over  on  it’s  side,  and  the  canvas ethan  had  been  working  on  lay  on  the  floor, slightly  smudged  due  to  making contact  with  the  bedframe  before hitting  the  ground.

“  what  were  you  doing  ??”

“  i  don’t  know.  my…i’ve been  off  recently. i  don’t  know.”

suddenly  ethan  pushes himself  up  and  whirls  around to  look  at  the  painting. he  feels  a  pit  form  in  his  stomach  as  he  examines it.  it’s  messy, it’s  smeared  with  dark  reds,  browns,  and  auburns.  but  he  knows  exactly  what  he’s  looking at.  the  creature hunting  them  all  –  the  being  known  as  aries  –  holding leia  aloft.

his  hand  is  around  her  neck.  she’s  bleeding  profusely. her  body  is  limp,  but  her  eyes  are  wide  open  in  horror.  the  sight  breaks lose  tears  form  ethan’s  eyes,  and  hyunsik snatches  the  painting up  and  turns  it  around.

“  stop  it.    leia  is  fine.  ethan  –  leia  is  fine.  “

“  you  don’t  know  that.  ”

hyunsik  puts  himself between  ethan  and  the  painting, places  both  hands  on  his  forearms  and  squeezes  tightly, “  i  do.  two  star  is  protected. and  leia  is  right  downstairs.   there’s  nowhere  else  she  could  be  that’s safer.  she’s  fine.  she’ll  be  fine.  nothing’s going  to  hurt  her.”

ethan  uses  all  his  force  to  push  hyunsik  aside. the  elder  doesn’t expect  it,  and  so  he  tumbles  to  the  side  and  into  the  bedframe. ethan  snatches  the  painting  back  up  and  flips  it  over,  trying to  understand  what  part  of  his  brain  decided  to  concoct  this  monstrosity  of  an  image.

what  is  this  panic  induced nightmare  sitting  at  the  forefront of  his  mind?  why  is  his  stomach sinking  the  more  he  looks  at  it?  why  does  it  feel  so  real?  so  possible? so…inevitable?  he  feels  the  tears  begin  to  fall,  and  they  plop  onto  the  canvas,  causing bits  of  it  to  run  because  of  still  wet  paint.

hyunsik  gets  up  again  and  tries  to  pull  the  painting  from  ethan’s  vice  grip.  the  elder  ultimately wins  the  scuffle, and  the  painting is  pushed  off  to  the  side  of  the  room  face  down  and  smeared across  the  floor. ethan’s  body  racks  with  sobs  as  hyunsik pins  him  down.  loud,  anguished cries  as  realization  sets  in  of  the  future he’s  seen  for  leia.

  [     🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·  ] ⠀━━   last night, d:fi dorm

leia’s  asleep,  curled up  in  a  blanket  while  ethan  sits  beside  her  with  one  of  his  sketchpads.  over  the  course of  the  evening, a  series  of  elaborate  mandala like  designs  have  blossomed  onto  the  page.  it’s  not  until  the  very  early  hours  of  the  morning where  light  is  peeking  into  the  window that  ethan  realizes he’s  been  awake  since  the  moment  leia  arrived.  with  realization  comes  exhaustion.  his  vigilant  watch  over  her  was  bound  to  come  to  an  end  eventually, but  he  remains uneased.  like  he  can’t  trust  the  locked doors  and  magical wards  around  the  dorm  to  protect  them.

considering  how  monsters had  broken  through them  before,  though, were  his  concerns truly  misplaced?

he  sets  his  sketchpad  aside  and  slides down  into  the  bed,  wrapping an  arm  around her  and  leaning into  her  back.  leia  stirs  and  turns  to  face  him.  worry  is  written all  over  her  face  as,  even  through her  glossy  eyed  half-asleep  daze,  she’s  picked up  on  something troubling  him.  ethan  smiles  a  bit,  shakes his  head.

“  i’m  fine.  just  thinking. why  do  you  always  know  when  i’m  thinking?”

she’s  too  tired  to  form  a  meaningful response.  her  words  come  out  practically  inaudible and  a  little bit  slurred.  exhaustion is  evident,  and  so  ethan  just  strokes her  hair  and  her  arm  and  tells  her  to  go  back  to  sleep. it  doesn’t  take  long  before she’s  out  again  and  he  is  left  to  his  thoughts.

would  you  have  ever  spoken to  me  if  you’d  known  this  is  what  your  life  would  be?  constantly chasing  down  or  running  away  from  monsters…fighting  against the  threads  of  time  and  having  to  figure  out  what  fate  looks  like  for  you…?

he  knows  what’d she  say  if  she  were  conscious.  she’d  say  yes,  of  course. she’d  say  it’s  worth  it  and  as  long  as  they’re  together, she  knows  she  safe.  she’d  say  she  doesn’t  want  to  be  a  burden, but  she  wouldn’t want  it  any  other  way.  though  if  he  wanted to  leave  her,  she’d  say  she’d  understand. it’d  break  her  heart,  but  all  she  wants  is  for  him  to  be  happy  –

ethan  realizes  that  he’s  rambling for  her  and  lets  out  a  small  laugh.  she’s  so  much  a  part  of  him.  maybe  to  much  now.  ‘that’s  what  soulmates  are’,  he’s  sure  someone  in  the  dorm  would  say.  hyunsik  or  reese.  and  yeah,  perhaps that’s  what  they  are.  no…that is  definitely  what  they  are.  nothing  else  would  explain why  it  feels  as  though leia  has  a  cord  around his  soul  and  is  constantly pulling  at  it.  he  welcomes every  tug.

and  god  save  whoever tries  to  sever  that  cord.      

[fangirlofbooksandpasta]

One Morning (Part 2/2)

Part 1

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warning: a little angst but more fluff 

Summary: you and Sirius reunite after 12 years of waiting

Note: Once again i’m writing in the middle of the night, so sorry if it sounds stupid lmao. Please send me feedback and reblog if you enjoyed it! 

Night had come and darkness had fallen over the village. The cold air came through the slightly open window in your room, which gave you goosebumps under the blanket. Freya was sitting next to you, halvways under the cover. Even Hermod had come back, not that the flight from Remus to you was very long. Almost the minute you teleported to Hogsmeade, you were met by Professor McGonagall. The main street had been slightly more crowded than it usually was. Whether it was because Hogwarts soon welcomed its students or another weird tradition you didn’t remember, you didn’t know. But when McGonagall had called your name out, you turned around a couple of times, unable to recognise the source of the shouting.

Freya moved under the cover and sat nearer to you. You layed a hand on her back. Her fur felt warm and cosy, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes and just enjoy the company of your favourite little creature. The teacup in your hand was almost empty, and the tea was getting rapidly colder the more you drank.

‘I have to leave soon, though I’d love to stay with you and cosy all night,’ you said quietly to Freya, who seemed to understand the message. McGonagall had insisted you get a guest room at Hogwarts, as all the inns in Hogsmeade were bound to me filled to the brim. If not with tenants, then with loud customers in the pubs downstairs. You were unable to argue with her unflawed logic, and follwed her to Hogwarts.

As soon as you came face to face with the big doors and the seemingly endless castle, a flood of memories swept through your mind. The very first time you stood before those same doors. You had been slightly wet from the boat trip over the lake. Nervous about what was in store for you. Nervous about whether you, a muggleborn, would fit into the setting of what seemed like a giant crowd of wizards. Some of the kids in your boat had talked about how their parents had already taught them a few spells and tricks, which made you nervous. You didn’t know anything. The moment you got the letter you and your parents were confused like hell, and you were convinced that it was one of your classmates playing a joke on you. But it turned out quite the other way. And what Hogwarts held in store for you were some great times, and some great people that you turned out to never forget.

‘Well, I should get going,’ you said, mostly to yourself as Freya seemed to have drifted of to sleep. The watch on your hand was ticking quietly. 01:24. You sighed and put on your coat and scarf and grabbed a small bag from the small desk. The way outside wasn’t far from the guest rooms, luckily for you. You didn’t fancy meeting Filch as you had gotten enough of him from your own time at the school. You hurried through the corridors as if you were 16 and sneaking around again.

‘Are you sure that you know what you’re doing?’ you asked James in a quiet voice although the tone was sharp. He had the map in his hands and had guided you around the hallways so much that you weren’t even sure of where you were. The plan had been to go outside and take a short stroll in the evening air, as there was much more privacy in the night time.

‘Shh, I’ve got it,’ he whispered before he made a motion with his hand, indicating that it was safe to go.

He had told you about some flowers he had seen growing against the castle, and you being the best herbology student in your year, he wanted to know what they were and how to care for them. You knew that he was going to give them to Lily, which you found was a very sweet gesture that she would act annoyed about, but actually love once she was alone with you and Marlene. The last time he had given her flowers, she had been looking at them longingly when she thought nobody was watching. You and Marlene knew, always had known.

When you reached the big doors, you looked around. A habit from your student days. You were met with the fresh air of the night, and although cold it was definetely refreshing in a way few things were. You took a deep breath in and changed into your animagus form. A big brown dog, almost like Sirius’s. It had been a hard process and you remembered a lot of trial and error, but when you got the hang of it you were so extatic and ready to go on adventure after adventure. You were also very sure that McGonagall had known about it ever since it had succeeded for you and the other three, but she never asked or commented on it. Sometimes she would smile slyly at you or the four boys when she was talking about animagi in class. But never did she tell on your, for which you were incredibly grateful.

The light from the village shone ahead of you, leading you to where you needed to be. McGonagall had been very right when she warned that the guests in the inns would be loud and obnoxious, and you made a not of having to thank her once again for the room.

You looked behind you at the great castle that towered over the area and felt a rush of warmth run through your body. The place had given you endless things; sorrows as well as joys. You remembered the week when Harry was born. You, Sirius and Remus talked about all the stories you were going to tell the kid while he grew up. All the places you would take him and all the secrets you would share with him. Magic, that he wasn’t supposed to know before he started at Hogwarts. Secret places in the castle that only the staff knew about. But all that had been taken away from you on that fateful October night.

When you reached the city, you slowed down. You tried to get a glimpse of what was going on, so you merely walked through the streets while looking inside shops and inns. A lot of wizards were sitting outside at tables too small for all their glasses and chairs that could hardly carry them. You could hear folks laughing and telling stories in passionate voices.

That should have been us

But soon you reached the Shrieking Shack, where you were sure to find who you had been waiting to see again. The little house seemed more eerie than usually in the darkness of the night. The loud noises from the village didn’t quite reach the shack but rather sounded like vague echoes. The light and life you had experiences in the village seemed to have died out on the way to the shack, not surprisingly. You quickly went from dog to your human form. You tightened the scarf around your neck and wrapped yourself tighter in the coat as you looked around yourself in case you had been followed by anyone. The Shrieking Shack was an uncomfortable place to be no matter how often one vsisited it, and knowing that death eaters could be anywhere only made it more uncomfortable. The creaking boards, the holes in the walls. The insects that lived there. And of course the rumours, from which it had gotten its name. You knew how they had come to be, but it was still incredibly scary to stand face to face with a darkness that could contain so much. So you pulled out your wand and whispered ‘Lumos’. But before you could take another step your heard the creaking noises that indicated that you weren’t alone in the seemingly haunted place.

‘Who’s there?’ you asked as confidently as you could, although voice shaking from the cold and the fright. Of course you knew who you hoped it would be, but you were prepared to fight nonetheless. A moment of silence followed your question. A moment full of thought and wonder. Until a creature creeped out from the doorway a few meters in front of you. A big dog, black with rough fur. A big smile fell on your face as you realised who it was.

‘Is it really you?’ you asked with a shaking voice. Tears had slowly begun to gather in your eyes. The dog took a few steps forward, as if it didn’t quite trust you. But in a few seconds the dog changed from a big and scary creature to the man you had known and cared for. The man you had loved, and had never stopped loving.

‘I knew you’d find me, Calla,’ he whispered. You froze at his words. Whether it was hearing the nickname he had given you or the state of his appearance. Probably both. You hadn’t expected much clothing-wise, but hardly anything could’ve prepared you for the sight you met when he went from dog to man. His hair was messy and curlier than it had been in your youths. His prison clothing, if you could even call it clothing, was disstressed, hanging on to a couple of stitches. Holes showed his dirty but pale skin. It showed the tattoos he had gotten in his youth, you by his side most of the times. His face was oily and his beard was out of order and just as messy as his hair, as if he had been cutting it with a pair of rusty scissors or, even worse, just pulled it out bit by bit.

Your thought process was interrupted by your body finally reacting to his prescense – you ran into his arms and basically tackeled him in a hug. He had trouble retaining his balance, but remained standing with your wrapped in his arms and he in yours.

‘Of course I found you,’ you said quietly before you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. ‘I will always find you, Sirius Black.’ He smiled at you speaking his name and dried away a runaway tear with his thumb while his other arm was still holding you around your waist. The feeling of his body against your own after all these years, what had felt like eternity, had awoken a sensitivity you had forgotten. You could feel every place where your clothing met your skin. You could feel his warmth through the layers.

‘How have you been?’ he asked sincerely. Standing close to him, you could see every fold in the skin on his face. Every twitch and every movement. And when you saw his signature smile settle, you couldn’t help but smile back.

‘You know… I tried my best with what I had…’ you said with your face falling against his chest again where you could feel the steady beating of his heart.

‘I don’t think I’m going to pass tomorrow,’ you sighed as you closed your eyes. The night had fallen over Hogwarts and alone in the Gryffindor common room, you and Sirius were to be found in the soft couch with a thin blanket over you. You were lying halfways on top of him and he was playing with your hair.

‘Of course you’re going to pass,’ he whispered in a tired voice. You smiled against his chest, sure that he could feel it. His playing with your hair made you more tired by the second.

‘What makes you think that?’ you asked in a teasing voice. He chuckled before he answered.

‘Because you’re the smartest person at this school.’ You smiled at the answer before you drifted off to sleep alongside him. And he had been right.

‘I actually brought you some clothing, it’s in the bag,’ you said while nodding at the bag on the floor. Some time had passed and after the emotional greeting the two of you had decided to sit down and talk about everything. The good and the bad. The things that have been going on while Sirius had been away. You didn’t dare ask how it was like, being in Azkaban. You had heard rumours from many different sources, rumours that had terrified you and made you anxious about what they did to him.

Sirius reached out for thr bag and looked interested inside. He pulled out a sweater that when you had packed seemed small, but you hadn’t accounted for him being malnourished and worn. Along with a pair of black slacks and a white t-shirt, he looked even better than before. He even found the snack you had packed in the bottom: a piece of dinner from Hogwarts over which he was extatic.

‘Where do we go from here?’ you asked as he finished eating the food. He looked at you with a sad smile and squeezed your shoulder while pulling himself closer to you.

‘I really have no idea,’ he said and paused while looking into the nothingness. Your wand was placed in between two floorboards, lightening up the small room. ‘I saw Harry yesterday,’ he said quietly as if he was upset, which was a very real possibility. Your eyes widened at the statement and you leaned forward in order to gain eye contact with him.

‘Did you speak with him?’ you asked. He looked into your eyes and shook his head. You leaned back against the wall again.

‘But I want to make myself known to him. I want to have a relationship with him,’ Sirius started before he looked back at your face. ‘I want to tell him about his parents and the things we did at Hogwarts. I want him to know that he isn’t alone and that I will protect him from harm.’

‘Don’t you mean, we will protect him?’ you asked with a cheeky smile, which Sirius couldn’t help but return. He leaned close to you and kissed your shortly before he leaned against the wall as you did.

‘I guess we are us two now, yea?’ he asked more that stated. You turned to look at him, and he at you.

‘It always was, Sirius.’ Your statement was followed by a pause until Sirius drew a breath.

‘While I was there, in Azkaban, I thought about loads of things. Mostly Harry and you and Remus. I kept thinking “what’s wrong with me” and the list of things I could come up with felt like one of those books Albus has in his office.’ Sirius paused and once again looked into nothingness. He looked back at you and put a hand on your cheek. ‘But I survived, and what really kept me going was the three of you; Harry, Remus and you. Do you remember that evening at the lake, our last year?’ he asked. You nodded.

‘Yeah, I do. It was a… weird night,’ you said quietly. You took his hand away from your cheek and held it in your lap.

‘I kept thinking about that night… it felt as if, I don’t know, it just felt like a big night. And I was scared that it meant absolutely nothing to you and that you hated me and would just forget me…’ he continued with tears forming in his eyes. You smiled sadly and squeezed his hands.

‘Sirius, the memories I have with you are the best ones I have. I would never every forget you. And yes, it was hard at the beginning. I needed, well, a good amount of time to cope with it all, and…’ a pause. Now it was you who stared into the air.

‘I love you so much,’ Sirius said and kissed your forehead. You blushed slightly smile a smile crept up on your face.

‘I love you too.’

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Tags: @coldlilheart​ @hybridfamily​