#left somewhere inside the wardrobe or in some other kid's hands

[behindthecodes]

Concept art of The Forgotten Valley

[flieslikeamoron]

WIP Wednesday

I've posted a couple snippets of this before, but I finally feel like I'm getting somewhere with it. So this is the first two chapters of my Steddie Schitt's Creek AU. I'll start posting it on AO3 once I'm far enough into it, but if you want a preview...

This is about 5K words. Rated T so far for kissing and slightly impure thoughts. 

Steve Harrington is in hell. Granted, he's not wanted for tax crimes, insider trading, money laundering and whatever else his parents were getting up to. So it's not like he needs to flee arrest like they did. But is he really better off?

They put away a nice little offshore nest egg, fled the country for the Maldives as soon as they realized the heat was about to come down, and never said a word to him about what was coming. No heads up. No maybe you should come on vacation with us. No here’s an account we set up for you in the Caymans. Nothing.

And that's what Steve has left to his name. Nothing. Just a handful of clothes. And a ludicrously small amount cash. It's the kind of money he used to drop on lunch, or drinks at the club. Nothing. The cars are gone, and the New York apartment, and the house in the Hollywood Hills, and the beach house, and the other beach house, and the European beach house, the jet, so much of his wardrobe it makes him want to cry... The only thing left, the only thing that wasn't in his fugitive parents' name, the only thing he actually owns is a Family Video store in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

Of all the pointless things. Why couldn't his parents have given him a sweet little boat or a cute little ski cabin or something the day he was born? Why did it have to be a useless video store?

He knows why. At the time they'd only owned about fifteen or twenty video stores. The start of a regional chain that grew into a national monster that grew into a media conglomerate. At the time it had been a way to welcome their new son into the family business. A new store. A new kid. Both born on the same day. It was symbolism, not a real gift. He's never seen the store. He doubts they have either. He completely forgot he even owned it until the lawyers sat him down and laid out the complete devastation of his life. 

He doesn’t know who’s been running it, but someone has because it’s still open. Somehow. The Family Video part of his parents’ empire went under years ago, thousands of stores shut down all over the country. Just this one lonely shop left shambling along like some kind of zombie. An obsolete relic of a bygone era. He might as well own a Model T factory.

But it’s all he’s got. So now. Instead of whatever resort his parents fucked off to, instead of a fun little yacht or a Swiss chalet, he’s heading for Hawkins, Indiana. On a bus. A Bus! Where he has been trapped for over twelve hours with the absolute dregs of humanity and the pervasive smell of literal shit wafting from the disgusting excuse for a toilet.

He emerges. finally, with four suitcases, the last precious remnants of everything he holds dear, into the absolute worst place in the world.

The bus station seems to be right on the edge of what the sign across the street proclaims “Historic Downtown Hawkins.” There’s a row of quaint brick store fronts. Faded awnings over old-fashioned window displays. There's a restaurant called Mabel's. There's a Laundr-o-matic. There's an honest to God "General Store" like something out of a black and white movie. Like Steve's time warped into the actual past. Do these people even have cell phones? Has he discovered a land cut off from modern society like some explorer uncovering a hidden tribe in the Amazon? That would explain why they still have a video store.

His head is pounding. Everything is so fucking quaint. Someone says hi to him, giving Steve a cheerful wave as he passes. A disturbingly casual friendliness that puts Steve on edge. He waves back anyway, pasting on a big, fake smile. This is a nightmare, but he’s been in bad spots before. He just needs to sell the store and get the hell out of here. 

But first things first, he needs a place to stay. 

He pulls out his phone. Does this place even have Uber?

--

The car pulls up surprisingly quickly. A big boat of an Oldsmobile that’s seen better days. Not exactly Uber Black, but beggars can’t be choosers.  Steve wheels his bags to the trunk. The driver doesn't seem like he's going to help, which is not going to do his star rating any favors. There's no porter so Steve pops the trunk himself. Only about two of the bags will fit. He puts the other two in the backseat, and climbs into the passengers seat.

The driver is a shaggy haired guy about Steve’s age. He just sit there. Staring at Steve, wide-eyed. "Hawkins Motel?" Steve says, annoyed. It's all in the app, isn't it? The guy opens his mouth, and closes it again. Is there something wrong with him? Does he not speak English? His haircut looks like he did it himself without a mirror. Steve mentally docks another star. "Anytime today," Steve snaps. He could maybe stand to be a bit more polite, but he smells of bus, and this has been the worst day of the worst week of his entire life.

The guy shrugs, still looking a bit surprised that driving an Uber means having another person in your car. "The motel you said?"

So he does speak English.

"That's right." 

At least it’s a short drive. The motel’s toward the outskirts of the town, not that it seems like they get a lot of tourist traffic around here. As his driver pulls up to the check in office, Steve hesitates. The place looks- It’s a long row of dilapidated rooms with blue painted doors. Haphazardly tilted air conditioning units in the windows. A couple windows with cardboard taped in where the glass should be. An overflowing dumpster. It looks like it has been, or will be, the scene of a murder.

“Are you okay?” 

“Be honest. Do you know of any murders that have happened here?”

The guy thinks about it for a second, rather than just rattling off a no. Which Steve appreciates. “Not that I know of,” he says. “But there’s a B&B back in town if this isn’t your speed.” He gives Steve a small smile. “Byers’ House. Really nice place.”

Steve can’t afford really nice. He mentally adds a star back to the guy’s rating for his honesty. “No, it’s- It’ll be fine. Could you just wait one second while I check in though? I need to get to Family Video after I drop off the bags.” 

“I’m kind of in the middle of-”

“Five minutes, I swear. And you’re going back that way anyway, right? I’ll pay cash.”

The guy gives him a long look. “You can’t just-” the guy says, losing steam halfway through. Steve smiles as the guy caves with a muttered, “Fine.” It’s the Harrington charm. Works every time. 

--

Family Video is on the other end of “Historic Downtown Hawkins” from the bus station. It seems to be getting into a less historic area, surrounded by a strip mall on one side. The video store has that classic brick look though. A mural on the side of the building with a mashup of movie characters from Elle Woods to Darth Vader. It could easily be removed, wouldn’t affect the sale price. There are large windows on either side of the door, the classic coming attractions posters surrounded by lights. But as Steve climbs the stairs he notices the posters are made by hand. Some of them look like well done art by someone who knows what they’re doing, some of them look like the scribblings of a five year old. 

How quaint.

He grimaces, pushing the door open. Cringing at the cheerful tinkle of a bell. "Welcome to Family Video." The girl at the counter looks up from her magazine, bored. "Can I help you find something?"

"The manager?" Steve says.

"That's me." She straightens up. "Is there a problem?"

"I'm Steve." Steve tries out a smile as he makes his way over to the counter. He has a great one. But she seems unmoved, not smiling back. "Harrington." He points in the vague direction of the Family Video logo on the wall. "As in, the family in Family Video."

She cocks her head. "I think my family is the family in this Family Video. We've only been running the place for 28 years." She adds, "Buckley." She points to the nametag on her suspenders that says Robin. She's wearing suspenders. Somehow they kind of work for her.

"I'm sure my family appreciates all your family has done to keep the store up and running."

"Last one in the country."

Steve gives smiling one more go. She looks at him stone faced. So much for the famous Harrington charm. Steve supposes what he's about to say isn't going to give her a lot to smile about. "I guess this is awkward," Steve says. "But the fact is I own this building, and the franchise license."

"The hell you do." She crosses her arms over her chest, lifting her chin.

"I do though," Steve says. "I don't know what deal my parents worked out with your parents. Obviously, we've been- I've been- Hands off. So that's thirty years of profits you haven't had to share and rent you haven't had to pay. I won't be seeking to recoup that, by the way."

She snorts. "Go ahead and try. There aren't any profits to share. We barely keep the lights on."

"Maybe this is an opportunity then," he says. "To turn this-" He makes a motion, encompassing the worn counter she's standing behind, the overflowing shelves of Blu-rays and DVDs, the scuffed floors. The general aura of decline in this shrine to an outdated form of media. "Into something profitable."

"What exactly are you talking about?"

"Well, the building has value. If the business doesn’t."

"The business has value," she argues. "It's just not in profits."

Steve cocks his head. "I don't follow."

"It has value to the town. We host movie nights in the town square all summer. We have groups that meet here to talk about film or books or writing." She motions at a couple squashy chairs in the corner with another mural on the wall. It’s the Gremlins doing a dance from Singing in the Rain. "We have an annual film festival. It’s happening next month. There are-"

"That's great," Steve interrupts. "But I need actual money. Not feel good small town vibes." He has to get out of this hellhole. And if that means selling this building out from under this stranger he doesn't give a shit about, he'll do it. That's business. That's how the world works. 

“And I need you to go be delusional somewhere else.” She frowns at him. “You don’t own this place.”

“Really?” he says. “Because I have a copy of the deed in my bag back at the hotel and another on file with my lawyer. How about you?”

“I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.” She manages to sound confident despite the fact that Steve knows for a fact she doesn’t have the goods. 

“I’m happy to come back tomorrow with my extremely legal paperwork that will hold up in any court of law,” he says. “And you bring… Whatever you can dig up to help your case. If that doesn’t settle it, you can spend the profits you don’t have on a lawyer.” 

“Great,” she says, voice flat. “Is there anything else I can help you with.” The amount of rage coming off her would be intimidating if he wasn’t completely sure he owns this place. And if she wasn’t wearing suspenders. 

--

Steve heads to the diner down the street from the video store for dinner. He feels sort of shitty. Maybe he should have made his lawyer do this part, but he can’t really afford the retainer. So fuck it, fine. He’ll be the bad guy. It's not like it's his fault Robin’s parents put all their eggs in the basket of a store they didn't even own. What is Steve supposed to do about it? He needs the money. He owns the place. It's not on him to preserve some weird non-profit video store, just so kids can hang out there and talk about movies or whatever she was going on about.

"Anything I can get you?" a pretty blond asks. Steve grabs the menu, gives it a scan. The last few weeks have been one indignity after another. Steve didn’t really think he had any farther to sink, anything left to lose. But looking at that menu a lead weight sinks to the bottom of his gut, his throat suddenly going tight. He wants his salad with truffle vinagrette, he wants wagyu beef not meatloaf, he wants hiramasa not tilapia. He doesn’t want chicken fried anything ever. 

"How about you bring me your favorite thing on the menu." He tries his smile out on the waitress just to make sure it's not broken. It’s probably not his best effort, considering how desperately he wants to cry about toro tartare. But she smiles back, charmed. He takes a second to notice how well she fills out her apron. Chrissy, her name tag says.

"Anything?" she says. "You don't have any food allergies, or-"

"Surprise me, Chrissy." She blushes at the sound of her name in his mouth.

“It’s so weird that you’re like… Here.” She shakes her head, wrinkling her nose. Very cute. “I’ve never met anyone famous before.” 

“I know what you’re going to say,” Steve teases. “I’m more handsome than the pictures.” 

She laughs. “Are you here for a while?” He can’t tell if it’s a come on or just curiosity. 

“I have some business to wrap up,” Steve says. “But I’ll be here for a week or two.” Not more than that, surely. How long can it take to sell a stupid building?

"I'm really sorry about what happened. With your family and everything." She leans in, like she thinks he might be embarrassed for anyone to overhear her talking about something that was all over the news, all over twitter, all over tiktok, all over everything. The charges being made public. The feds turning Steve’s New York apartment inside out. Steve getting escorted out into a sea of flashing cameras. Every microsecond of his misfortune documented.

"Thanks," he says, clipped. The last thing he needs is pity from some girl who probably peaked by captaining her high school cheerleading squad, some waitress who's probably never left her home town. Steve's fucking broke, but he's still better than this town. Better than these people. He doesn't need her pity.

She senses the shift in his mood, the smile no longer directed at her. And straightens up. "Anything to drink?"

--

Steve fishes his phone out of his handbag when she's gone. He knows he shouldn't, but he checks his Instagram. He has friends all over the world. Had friends all over the world. And now look, he can watch them having fun without him in real time. Watch them not thinking about him. Not missing him. It's all right there in the palm of his hand.

There’s Kassandra sun bathing in Ibiza. And there’s Oliver clubbing in Toyko. And there’s Stavros. His boyfriend of a record breaking three months. Kissing some guy on the private plane he was supposed to be using to fly Steve out of here. And there’s Stavros kissing that same guy on his yacht with a breathtaking Mediterranean sunset behind them. Steve zooms in on a carpaccio with a jealousy so intense he feels sick to his stomach. Fuck Stavros, honestly. But he would kill for that carpaccio. 

"Here you go," Chrissy chirps. She puts down a plate. "It's not actually on the menu, but it's my favorite. It’s like avocado toast, but it’s hash browns instead of toast. The kitchen makes it for me special." She puts down a second smaller plate with a few huge onion rings. “Mabel’s famous for her onion rings. Or- It’s the sauce, really.”  She adds a milkshake. “You can use the shake for dipping too.”

Steve looks at the food. It’s all so… Fried. He looks at her face, the tentative smile there. He feels a flush of something uncomfortable. Feels sort of small, air knocked out of him by the way she bounced off his coldness and came back with a little piece of herself and a smile. Something hooks into his chest, and tugs. 

“Thank you.” It sounds- Pathetically sincere. “It looks delicious.” That’s a lie, but he’s fucking doing his best.

Her smile grows to a bright, wide thing. Her pretty face lit up. She tilts her head, taking a breath. "Listen. I know you probably have- It's probably not what you're used to," she says. "But if you want to meet some people, there's a party out by the lake tonight." She shrugs. "I know it's hard to be new in town." She smiles again. So cute. "At least you could get a couple beers out of it."

"Will you be there?"

She blushes and nods. Pretty. Tempting. A nice distraction. Maybe even something he could put on his Insta.

“I’ll see you there.”

--

The party is exactly what Chrissy said it would be. Big bonfire. A couple kegs. A bunch of locals getting drunk, getting loud, hooking up. Steve looks around for Chrissy, pushing his way through the crowd. He doesn’t see her, and being around these yokels is bad for his morale. He grabs a beer and does another pass through the crowd, looking for anyone who’d make a good picture. He doesn’t need to advertise that he’s at a shitty party, but making out with someone hot might give Stavros second thoughts about taking that generic twink to Mykonos when he could have had Steve. 

Steve looks past the rowdy center of the party to a guy standing a bit away from the fire. Long hair. Leather jacket. Shit-kicker boots. Steve can see a tantalizing bit of ink on his hand as he lights a cigarette. A bit more ink peeking out of the worn neckline of his tshirt. He looks like the kind of guy that'll sell you drugs or steal your wallet.

Perfect.

The camera is already open on Steve’s phone as he steps in close to the guy. Steve takes a fist full of his shirt in hand to keep him from stepping back as Steve plants one on him. The phone clicks and Steve' glances over at, about to take one more. 

The guy cups Steve's chin. Warm fingers insistent, turning Steve away from the phone. Turning the hurried, awkward mash of their lips together into something that catches. Steve opens up, unthinking, for the heat of his mouth. The hand tight on his waist urges him closer, into the brush of leather, the heat of a body up against his. There's a lazy confidence to the way the guy slips him a little tongue. Steve leans into it, into him.

And the guy pulls back.

It takes Steve a second to let go of the grip he has on the guy's shirt. To remember why he came over here. His phone. Right. He never did get that second pic. He licks his lower lip. His eyes still on the guy. On his mouth. When Steve looks up enough to catch the guy's eye, the cocky quirk of his eyebrow, he can feel his face going hot.

Jesus.

Why is this guy even getting to him? He flirted his way out a Saudi prince's compound. He made it through two countries without a passport. He got into KissKiss without a lock of human hair. He does not get flustered. Especially not by small town guys with hair like they've been in a bunker since the 80s, and rough fingers and that infuriatingly amused look on their face.

"Um," Steve says. The guy's smile gets wider. Fuck. 

“I have to-” Steve makes a vague motion, and starts walking in any random direction that’s away from how hard his heart is pounding, from how obvious it must be that he wants. From how easy it was to get under his skin. He tries not to picture that taunting grin being directed at his back while the guy watches him basically make a run for it. 

--

Steve hitches a ride back to the motel, dreading taking an actual look inside his room. The bags are where he carelessly tossed him. The floors are worn linoleum. The air conditioner rattles like a plane propeller. The tile in the bathroom is chipped and discolored. He lines up his bags neatly in the closet. No point in unpacking. He won’t be staying long. 

There are cigarette burns on the blanket, but the sheets seem clean at least. He slides gingerly into bed and pulls out his phone. He looks at the picture he took. It’s not great. A bit blurry. There’s the awkward stretch of his arm holding the camera. But if he cropped it- He zooms in on the guy’s face, trying to get a better look than he did at the party. It’s really only half his face. Steve can’t see that glint in his eyes, that curve of the grin that sticks so sharply in Steve’s craw. The soft focus blurry moment of his mouth against Steve’s still sends a thick pulse of arousal through Steve’s gut. The memory of the guy’s fingers against his chin, the demanding heat of his mouth.

He deletes the photo from his phone without posting it. It wasn’t Instaworthy.

CHAPTER TWO

Steve wakes up feeling worse than he did the time he accidentally roofied himself. A shower helps a little. The water temperature could charitably be called lukewarm. But Steve stands too long in the tepid spray, drawing in deep breaths, filling his lungs with the smell of his shampoo. One of a kind, made just for him. Because he’s the kind of person people want selling their brand. Because he’s the kind of person who has what other people want. He’s the kind of person other people want to be like. 

Or he was. 

No, he still is. No one will touch him right now, but that’s temporary. The next scandal will come along. People will forget about the bullshit, and remember that he’s Steve Harrington. 

He fortifies himself with a look in the mirror. He hasn’t changed. He’s still got a face made to sell collagen spray and a body made for thirst traps. He takes a little extra time with his hair. He takes a little extra time choosing his outfit, running his hands through the couture in his suitcases, the thick wool and crisp linen, bumpy tweed, featherlight jersey. He pulls out a couple favorites. The gray pleated skirt. Thom Browne, of course. He hesitates between the matching sports coat and the red LV bomber. He always feels like hot shit in the bomber, but he should probably go for the look that says I’ll see you in court. His fingers trail over the soft leather of the bomber as he puts it back in his suitcase. 

He snaps a couple pics when he’s done. There’s no way he’d post something with this hotel room as a background, but look at his hair. Perfect. His outfit. Impeccable. And there’s that Harrington smile. 

--

There only seems to be one Uber driver in this town, but at least the guy was- Well, no, he wasn’t friendly. But he did help Steve carry his bags to the motel room. He knows the town too. Maybe Steve can pump him for the dirt on Robin and the store.

It’s a van than pulls up to the motel parking lot though, not the Oldsmobile from yesterday. Steve peers in the window, just in case he’s about to get kidnapped.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath when a very familiar pair of brown eyes meet his. Long hair and tattoos. Leather jacket just like last night. Steve would almost rather walk. But he is dressed to threaten legal action. Probably best not to show up sweaty.

Steve opens the sliding door to the back. It’s full of an alarming amount of crap. Tools, and random metal parts of something. A car? Steve doesn’t know. Wood, a small plastic lawn chair, a lawnmower, an amp for some reason- 

The guy pats the passenger’s seat. “Up here, big boy.”

Steve climbs in as smoothly as he can. Just because he humiliated himself last night doesn’t mean he has to do it again.

“I’m Eddie,” the guys says. “And you’re… Steve?” He reads off the phone in his hand. “I didn’t catch your name before.”

Steve could maybe pretend he doesn’t remember. Do the whole “I’m sorry have we met?” It can be devastating if you drop it on the right person. But he’s pretty sure all he’ll get if he tries it on this guy, Eddie, is a knowing smirk. 

Fuck it. “Came on a little strong,” Steve says. “Sorry, I guess.”

Eddie pulls out of the parking lot. “No apology needed. You’re not that bad a kisser.”

Steve knows exactly what Eddie’s doing, but he can’t just not set the record straight. “I’m a good kisser.” Eddie shrugs, still with that teasing grin on his face. His eyes on his rearview. “I escaped from the Yakuza because of how good a kisser I am.”

Eddie shoots him a skeptical look. “If you say so.”

“I’m serious. I have literally been given a car because of how good a kisser I am. A really nice car.”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, if you want to prove it we could try again. See if I’m inspired to buy you breakfast.”  He chucks Steve under the chin, condescending. Steve wants to eviscerate him. He also kind of wants to take him up on it, a surge of heat spearing through his gut. What is it about this fucking guy? He bats Eddie’s hand away. 

“Excuse you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are we asking for permission before we grab each other now?” 

“That was a one time grabbing,” Steve says. “Temporary insanity. So how about we both agree to keep our hands to ourselves from here on out.”

“Your loss.” Eddie flashes his teeth. He’s such an asshole. It’s really unfortunate how bad Steve wants to touch his dick.

--

There’s a closed sign on the door of the video store, and no lights on. It’s well past nine. This is no way to run a business. Steve knocks on the door, but the lights stay off. 

He waits five minutes, ten, before giving up and heading down the street toward the diner. He’ll kill some time having breakfast, then try again. Chrissy’s at the counter in her perky little ponytail. He smiles when she gives him a blushy wiggle of her fingers, and takes a seat at the counter.

“Did you have a good time at the party?” she asks.

“Would have been better if you were there.” She giggles, handing him a menu. “I looked for you.”

“I had to close up.” She bites her lip, scrunches her nose. “I got there late.” She leans in across the counter and lowers her voice like she’s telling secrets. “I looked for you too.” 

Steve wouldn’t mind the distraction. A no strings fling with someone like her. Someone who’d be sweet on his tongue. Soft in his arms. Not like Eddie. Eddie’s too- 

Eddie pops up from behind the counter with a screwdriver in his mouth. Fucking hell. Is the guy a living jumpscare? Why is he everywhere Steve goes?

He has his hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, and his jacket off. Tight Metallica tee that shows off the tattoos on his arms. Full sleeves of stark black ink that Steve doesn’t have time to pick apart before he’s making himself look down at the menu. He’s thinking about breakfast and not about rough fingers on his skin, a warm mouth wrapped around his- Nope. He’s not thinking about that.  

“Flirt on your own time, Chris.” Steve looks up at the warmth in Eddie’s tone. It’s teasing, but without the edge he takes when he’s poking at Steve.

Chrissy rolls her eyes at him and smacks him on the shoulder. “Shut up, jerk. I’m not paying you to hassle me.”

“Where’s that replacement motor?” Eddie asks. She looks around, and snatches it up off the counter. He takes it, and holds on, her hand caught in his as he raises an eyebrow and says, “Be good.” They both look at Steve. He hopes they don’t think they’re being subtle. 

Steve watches as they look back at each other, a whole conversation in the way Chrissy wrinkles her nose and Eddie gives his head a shake. They’re definitely fucking. So much for that distraction.

--

The store’s still closed when Steve gets back from the diner. This has to be deliberate. Is Robin avoiding him? Hoping he’ll go away? Joke’s on her. It’s not like he has anywhere else to go.

A bunch of kids are sitting on the steps of the store, arguing with each other about Minecraft or whatever kids like. 

“Anyone know why they aren’t open?” Steve asks.

One of the kids, curly haired with a trucker hat shrugs. “We were wondering the same thing.” 

“Maybe she’s sick,” a red headed girl offers. 

“She seemed fine yesterday,” Steve says.

“Usually you’re not sick right up until you are, so-” The red head looks at Steve with a level of withering disdain only middle schoolers are capable of. 

“What are you guys even doing here?” Steve says. “Don’t you have netflix?”

“Of course we have netflix,” a lanky, dark haired scarecrow of a boy says. He runs a close second on the withering disdain meter to Red Head.

A chorus of voices overlap each other.

“Robin has lots of stuff that’s not on netflix.”

“And she lets us play DND at the store.

“We’re making a movie.”

“What kind of movie?” Steve instantly regrets asking. 

Five voices start clamoring. Steve gets about three words of it. One of the words is “Demogorgon,” which he’s pretty sure is not actually a word. A smaller boy with stick straight brown hair in a truly unfortunate bowl cut holds up several weird drawings that don’t help make anything clearer. 

“Did you do the window?” Steve asks the kid, ignoring the rest of the useless non-information being yelled at him. He points at the poster for Ghostbusters. It’s one of the better ones.

“Yeah,” the kid says. “I’m Will.” He points at a signature in the corner of the poster. Steve’s having a hard time not looking at his haircut. He’s pretty sure it would qualify as child abuse. 

Trucker Hat grabs the stack of pictures from Will’s hand and starts laying them out on the sidewalk. The other kids start yelling again, rearranging the order and calling each other stupid, uninspired, derivative…

“We still don’t even have a hero!”

“And who’s going to play Daisy?”

“Plus the third act and-”

“But the costume has to-”

“Guys,” a good looking, dark-skinned boy says, swinging a bat in front of him. “Come on. I can play the hero.”

“You’re not a hero, Lucas. You’re a shrimp,” Trucker Hat says.

“We already decided none of us would be the hero,” Scarecrow says. 

“What about him?” Red Head asks. 

Steve looks up from the pictures he’d been trying to puzzle through. It’s like a very confusing comic book with no words. “What?”

“Are you like, athletic?” Will says.

“He is pretty tall,” Scarecrow admits reluctantly.

“He’s obviously not busy.”

“Can you swing a bat?” Lucas asks.

Steve isn’t sure he likes where this is going, but- “Can I swing a bat.” Steve snorts. “I played polo against Prince William. And I won.”

“They don’t use a bat in polo,” Trucker Hat points out.

“Gimme the fucking-” Steve snatches the bat out of Lucas’ hand. He puts his handbag down and spins the bat around his wrist once to get a feel for it. Then swings at the closest thing to him. Which happens to be a mailbox. With a gnome sitting on top of it. 

The gnome goes flying, and keeps flying. 

“Holy shit,” Lucas says. The kids watch wide-eyed as the thing sails all the way down the block and across the street. Knocking through a window with the loud smash of glass shattering. 

Oops. 

But still. “I told you,” Steve says, flipping the bat up and catching it one handed.

“Jesus Christ.” Trucker Hat sounds a little bit impressed, and a little bit freaked out.

“That’s the police station,” Will says, sounding more freaked out than impressed.

A few cops burst of the building.

“Run for it,” Red Head says, taking off on her skateboard with a gaggle of bicycles in hot pursuit.

By the time the cops make it down the street Steve’s the only one there. Bat in hand.

“Fucking kids.”

[knockknockfan]

Axeswap chapter 3 : Ruins

''hey''

''Aliza''

''Hey!''

''wake upppppppp''

''huh?''Aliza slowly opened her eyes, staring into the distance ahead. Her mind is dreamy, her eyes are heavy

''Who-???'' Aliza jumped up from the ground in panic

Aliza picked up the knife beside her and prepared to fight. She must have heard a voice in her head .Aliza threw her backpack out into the dark to see if anyone was ahead

The backpack was thrown quite far. After making sure there are no enemies around. Aliza breathed a sigh of relief, she sat down and thought .Aliza finds herself inside the ruins, but how? Before she fainted, a monster came and challenged her, did she fight it?

''Wait how long have I slept!?''Aliza looks at the clock it's 3:24 pm

''Oh F**k''Aliza swears in anger and frustration

Finding something useful inside the ruins was difficult and time-consuming. Twice before going to Ruins she wore nothing but a windbreaker .Aliza walked forward along the wall, she went to pick up the Backpack and pulled out an old flashlight. It's hard to open it up, but it's better to have the light of a flashlight

Aliza suddenly realized that her little friend was not here. Aliza put her hand on her chest, trying to feel her friend. She felt that Lapis was still somewhere in her soul but it was very weak

''Looks like you're tired Lapis, rest for a while...'' Aliza worries about her friend

But she didn't have much time. Aliza continued to walk forward, as she walked up the stairs she could feel the pain in her leg. Aliza remembers the wound on her leg, it seems to be bleeding now

Aliza struggled to climb each step, the wooden stairs rotted and moldy. Aliza could already feel the stench of dead insects here. Hope your wound doesn't get infected

Aliza has arrived, sitting in a dark, dilapidated house with mice and cockroaches that she will probably catch for food. However, in the immediate future, Aliza will find a cloth or bandage to stop the bleeding

Aliza used to come here and search but she never went alone. Lapis was always by her side giving directions and suggestions, this was the first time she had to search alone

Next to the stairs is a bookcase, the books in it seem to be eaten or moldy. Above the bookcase was a well-wrapped glass box, and Aliza shone her flashlight into the box that contained a thick and intact bookcase. There is a name written on the top of the book

That name is Alex

Aliza broke the glass box and took the book into her Backpack. She tries to put together some readable books to take away

Aliza went to the room on the left, this is the dining room. On the dusty kitchen table, there are some notes on the refrigerator. Aliza opened it and she felt nauseous, the fridge of rotting food was full of maggots

Aliza continued her search. Everything is broken because it's too old. The remaining usable things like sugar and salt must have been taken by someone who came before her. Searching for a while, she found a carefully wrapped gift box, it was very well hidden inside the kitchen cabinet. Aliza gently shook the gift box, it was the sound of wood. She holds a flashlight to illuminate while her hand is opening the gift box

When I opened the gift box it was a set of cooking utensils made out of wood and appeared to be handmade. Each tool is engraved with Norman's name

Aliza immediately remembered her father. He must be very happy with his new kitchen tools. She could imagine the look on her father's face, and she giggled at the thought of it. She continued to put it in her Bag

Aliza came out of the kitchen and into the other rooms. She passed the wooden chair and the chimney, next to the stake on the chair was a book about slugs. She thought it was unnecessary, so she left the object there. Aliza went to a bedroom , apparently for children . There is a toy box and next to it is a wardrobe

lots of striped sweaters for kids. A pair of cowboy boots with an embossed name of Berny

Aliza took a few that fit her. Excited that she found a lot of good stuff this time.Luckily for her, in the toy cabinet there were several glittering rolls of colorful tape. Although it's not very hygienic, it covers the wound better than her bloody handkerchief

While she was putting her shirt in her pocket, Lapis suddenly appeared and flew to Aliza's face. The Young girl was happy when her friend drove her back, they continued to move down the corridor

The butterfly flew first as if it wanted Aliza to follow it, this is not the first time Lapis has always led her in the right direction or found something useful.

The moth flew to the doorknob of the next room. Aliza tries money to open it

''sorry Lapis ,it seems the room is locked''

The moth flies to the potted plant and flashes light ,Aliza lifted the potted plant and hid a lock under it. She was about to ask why Lapis knew but changed her mind

Aliza opened the door with the key she just found and it succeeded. She slowly opened the door

hello today i post earlier than usual.I want to figure out the specific model of as Aliza but it's too difficult for me. I will try to find an artist to draw it

Axetale & Axeswap by@thebananafrappe and @azulandrojo

Undertale by Toby fox

[bokettochild]

The Scarf Fic!!!

Inspired by This post by @sekiumiarashi and written as a gift for @into-the-linkverse

I wanted to write Ravio sharing scarves, but I accidentally found that I like writing Ravio, and more importantly, writing him and Legend like they’re a pair of elderly people, because... just because.

Giving Legend glasses was a choice that I didn’t see coming, but do not regret. I do regret Ravio’s naming scheme, but it was too funny to back out so I kept pushing. I’m not sorry that you all must suffer.​

Feel free to read this as being part of my main fic The Ties That Bind, but it can also be separate, just consider the uncle bit as being related to predecessors and stuff.

Enjoy! :)

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir wasn’t wearing his scarf.

 The one constant Ravio knew he could always count on during the war, was that the captain would be wearing that bright blue scrap of cloth with all the pride in the world, no matter what the circumstances (good grief, one time he’d stumbled upon the man bathing and the scarf had been the only thing that saved them both from embarrassment). But today, he wasn’t.

 The heroes had come to stay at Mr. Hero’s house again after a long battle, and Mr. Captain Hero Sir was currently sitting on the couch in the living room, one arm resting across it’s back and his feet propped up on the table. A scowl marred his fine features and his neck was horrifyingly naked.

 “Mr. Captain Hero Sir! Where is your scarf?” The words were out of his mouth in a moment as he looked around the captain to make sure it simply hadn’t fallen off or been laid aside (things the captain would never let happen, ever. He’d once been bleeding out and still managed to keep the trailing blue fabric out of the mud.)

 “It’s shredded.” The captain sighed, a bitter look in his eyes as he motioned down to the arm hanging from a sling around his neck. “And I’m currently unable to mend it.”

 The thought of the captain not having a scarf was so utterly horrible, simply unthinkable, that Ravio didn’t even think about what he was doing, instead bounding over to plonk himself onto the couch and quickly unwind his scarf before rewinding it around the captain’s neck (he had a dozen of these things anyway).

 “There! You can’t be without a scarf.”

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir smiled fondly, fingers reaching up to gently stroke the fabric. “And you can?”

 Ravio shrugged. “I have a dozen of those, keep it, it looks fabulous on you!”

 The captain’s eyes sparkled brightly, a familiar cockiness erupting within. “Are you kidding? I make everything look good! Even the Vet’s fashion choices would look fabulous on me!”

  Ravio sniggered. He’d heard and seen plenty of the goods from Hytopia, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Mr. Hero even knew what fashion was. But then again, he was just a simple Lolian; for all he knew, things like bomb outfits and heart shaped collars were absolutely acceptable and normal in this world.

 “But where is your scarf, Mr. Captain Hero Sir?” He asked after a moment, cocking his head on one side as the man looked at him oddly.  

 “Don’t you ever get tired of saying that? You can call me Warriors like everyone else you know.”

 “I know, Mr. Captain Hero Sir, I don’t mind.”

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir blinked. “O-kay.” Shaking his head, he answered. “Legend has it. Since I can’t use my dominant hand, he said he’d stitch it up for me.” The captain hero nodded towards the corner of the room, and Ravio followed his line of sight.

 Mr. Hero was perched in that Lolia-awful rocking chair that had been in the house since Nayru knows when. It was a horrid thing in his opinion, old, out of style and absolutely stiff and uncomfortable, and he’d shoved it into the furthest corner of the room ages ago. Mr. Hero loved it though, although he never said why, and he didn’t seem to mind that it was now nearly next to the fireplace all the time, even if he did have to pull it out of the corner to properly rock in it.

 Mr. Hero sat with one leg tucked underneath him and the other one hanging down to gently push at the floor, making the big chair rock steadily. Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s scarf lay in his lap and a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, a needle in his hand as he dutifully labored over the brilliant blue fabric of the famed scarf.

 “His eyesight is terrible.” Ravio snickered to the Captain.

 “But his hearing is perfect.” Mr. Hero’s voice rang clearly across the room, violet gaze darting up to look at them disapprovingly over the top of his spectacles.

 The minute he looked away, merchant and captain shared a grin, only to burst into muffled laughter.

...

 Mr. Smithy and Tune are cold.

 It’s obvious from the way the two huddle in place at the kitchen table as everyone enjoys the meal that Ravio and Mr. Hero have pulled together (Mr. Hero is hesitant to let even the finest of chefs in his kitchen for some reason, despite having stated that Mr. Champion Hero is a very good cook and better than him (at cooking, life, or heroing, he does not specify)). Tune- Wind has all but attached himself to Sky’s side, using the bigger hero as a heat source as he slurps down his warm stew, and Mr. Smithy has bundled himself against the Mr. Rancher.

 It’s only autumn, but both of the smaller heroes act like it’s the start of winter with the way they shiver and rub at their arms.

 Mr. Hero’s only response when he asks is to sigh, but when he presses, his pink haired doppelganger eventually explains. “Their Hyrules were never corrupted, so they’re used to warmer weather most of the time, if not always. The mist from the ocean is the worst Wind knows, and heaven only knows if Four could survive a proper freeze.” Mr. Hero shakes his head, wiping the last of the broth from their meal off a plate with his dish-rag. “If they need something, they know to ask.”

 But Mr. Hero isn’t really that cold hearted, he’s worrying too if the way his brows furrow and the lines around his mouth deepen is any indication. “I offered blankets, but they don’t want them.”

 “Does this happen often?” He muses as he takes the plates from Mr. Hero to dry and put away, and to his displeasure, his housemate nods.

 “When we come here or to Sky’s Hyrule, yeah. Usually, Wars will bundle them up in his scarf, or Sky with his sailcloth, even Twilight shares his fur, but...” Mr. Hero’s ears twitch irritably (truly adorable how they do that, although he’ll never say as much). “Sky’s asleep with his cape, the wolf pelt is a bloody mess after that battle, and I haven’t finished mending Wars’ scarf.” The ears flap again. “That thing is so dang complex and Warriors apparently hasn’t the faintest about the proper cloth to use to mend it. He used new material to mend a hole! Brand new material, Ravio! It’s an awful state and I swear if Styla could see it she’d faint dead away!” The vet huffed as he plunged another dish under the sudsy water of the wash tub. “Using new cloth on a worn scarf, it’s like he wants the thing to be ruined...”

 Ah yes, Mr. Hero’s rants. There’d be no righting this one until he’d fixed the problem, and considering he’d only been torn away from the scarf that lay peacefully sitting on his rocker in order to make food, it was quite likely that once his kitchen was clean again, he’d be right back to working on it.

 Ravio smiled, Mr. Captain Hero Sir would be quite pleased.

 His gaze traveled over to where the hero in question was sitting. The captain and Tu- Wind, were talking on the couch, the younger staring nearly longingly at the rocker and the scarf on top of it.

 Kid really liked that scarf, huh? If Ravio remembered right, half the time during his adventure with Mr. Captain Hero Sir, he’d constantly seen either Mask or Tune hanging onto it.

 Somewhere inside of a bunny head, an idea sparked and green eyes brightened excitedly.

 He’d donned a new scarf just before dinner, but it wouldn’t do quite right, so instead, he darted off to his room, much to the displeasure of his dish partner as his rag flew into Mr. Hero’s face and left his housemate spluttering indignantly.  

 “Ravio! You didn’t finish-”

 “One sec!”

 Mr. Hero’s grumbles followed him out of the kitchen, but faded as he darted into his room and towards his wardrobe. It was the work of moments to select two of his largest scarfs, and less time than that to dart back out to the living room and wrap one around each of the smaller heroes.

 “There! Snug as a kit in a quilt!”  

 Two small heroes stared down at the black and purple fabric that now draped around their shoulders, smiles brightening their flushed faces as Tune buried his face happily in the fabric with a bright hum.

 “Thanks, Ravio!”

 “Thank you.” Four’s eyes glimmered warm brown as he sunk into his seat, only the top of his face and his hands visible beneath the striped fabric.

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s eyes sparkled as the man looked up at him, and Ravio fought the blush that rose in his cheeks as he fiddled with his own scarf (he’d mess with his sleeves, but he’d shed his robe to help do the dishes, and his undershirt wasn’t nearly long enough to fiddle with). “Don’t mention it, it’s-” He chewed his lip for a moment before a smile broke loose, the one Mr. Hero said was cheesy and fake, the one for when he was trying to sell things. “It’s a complimentary gift for exceptional customers and/or guests!”

 “We’ve never bought anything from you.” Four deadpanned, eyes glinting with a smile Ravio couldn’t see past all the scarf in the way.

 “Yet!” Ravio chirped back, and darted back into the kitchen to help Mr. Hero finish doing the dishes.

...

 Mr. Champion keeps rubbing his scars.

 The heroes had left for a short spell, traveling off to fight more monsters only to be dumped in the orchard a week or so later (Mr. Hero said it’d been a month and a half for them, but by his time it was a week). And when Ravio said they’d been dumped in the orchard, he meant in the orchard. He’d been busy picking some of the ripened apples before the birds took them all (most of the wild birds knew better, but still, it was the principle of the thing, fresh fruit was rare in Lorule) when a shout and the snapping of branches had sounded all about him.  

 Ravio had shrieked in surprise, thinking that he was alone only to find (once he’d removed his hood again) that there were nine heroes hanging from various tree branches around him, and Mr. Hero himself was hanging upside down, one foot caught in the branches, as his face dangled inches from Ravio’s own, a scowl darkening it as a string of mumbles escaped his room-mate.

 He couldn’t stop himself, he kissed Mr. Hero’s twitching nose.

 Mr. Hero shrieked in surprise, jerking in place and effectively loosening himself from the tree, falling all over Ravio in the process. It was worth it, Ravio giggled as he lay on the ground. Mr. Hero was so like the bunnies in Lorule and their noses simply demanded to be kissed.

 Laughter and grumbles sounded around them, the heroes pulling themselves down from the trees around them.

 Captain Hero Sir Jr. moved with surprising ease, despite his heavy armor, clambering down the tree with the same grace that Mr. Champion did most of the time. Some things never change, he could still see him climbing up onto Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s shoulders in the same manner (only now he rather doubted either of them would attempt to do that anymore, Captain Hero Sir Jr. was much bigger now).

 It felt entirely too natural to lead them all up to the house, Mr. Hero trailing at the back with a bushel of apples in his arms. Settling them all down in the kitchen was easy as could be, and he and Mr. Hero worked quickly to set some fresh apple cider to boil before starting on a meal for everyone.

 He missed not having them all around, it was going to be awful dull when they all had to go back to their worlds when this adventure was over again.

 He was determined to enjoy the moment for that very reason while they all sat about in the living room, sipping apple cider as Mr. Hero had settled down in his blasted rocker, spectacles on his nose and more mending in hand. He never would rest until the light was faded, and Ravio had half a mind to take out his knitting (he was still currently short three scarves) before he decided to simply flop down on the nearest open spot on the couch and just enjoy his cider.

 Except, Mr. Champion was sitting in the seat beside him.

 The young hero kept rubbing at his scars, eyes distant, and despite the numerous amounts of times that either Mr. Captain Hero Sir or Mr. Rancher tried to move his hands back down to the still full mug he was cradling in his other hand, Mr. Champion (he was younger than Ravio though...would Mr. Be an appropriate title for him?) kept reaching right back up to rub his neck and face.

 The scars were enflamed, harsh red and puffy where they peeked out from beneath the collar of his shirt, and it made Ravio wince to even think of how he’d acquired such injuries that would scar so.

 He only winced more with every drag of broken nails and rough finger pads over the skin, but Mr. Champion- Wild? He could think of him as Wild right? He was kind of the kid’s uncle in a weird way- didn't seem to even notice that he was doing it. Cornflower blue eyes stared unseeing into the fire, face still and only his hands moving.

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighed, worry pulling his lovely face into shadows as he grasped Wild’s hands again. “Wild, hey, no more of that, okay? You’re hurting yourself.”

 Fingers twitched, but no other movement came from the young Champion until Mr. Captain Hero Sir (wait, was Wild also Captain Hero Sir Jr.? Or was he Champion Hero? Oh fiddlesticks, he wasn’t sure anymore) let go, and then broken nails moved right back up towards swollen flesh.

 Ravio shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

 Mr. Hero had spaced out before, did it a lot when the sun set or when he was outside, but he never scratched like that. He sang and fiddled with his rings. If Wild Champion Jr. Sir (oh heavens) did something like that, it would be fine, but this was... this was rather unsettling.

 Ravio shifted in his seat, curling around his mug as Mr. Captain Hero Sir had to reach out to stop the wild-child's hands from reaching the inflamed wounds (the last scratch had broken skin, and a thin trail of red has appeared).

 It was without a thought that he acted, pushing his mug into the captain’s hands and promptly looping his scarf around Wild Champion Hero Captain Jr.’s (oh Lolia help) neck.

 Thoughtless fingers nose just as before, but this time, they brushed against soft fabric. Ravio tensed, dearly hoping that his scarf would not be ripped off or simply pushed aside.

To the surprise of all of them, rough fingers brushed over the fabric, paused, and gently stroked its material. The Champion’s face did not move, but slowly, long fingers ran down the fabric, rubbing it between their tips as cornflower blue eyes blinked slowly. In an instant, the young hero’s gaze was lost to sight as the fabric was nuzzled with all the fondness of a cub nuzzling their parent.

 “He likes scarves, of course he does.” Mr. Rancher chuckled wearily, a tired smile playing over his features as both he and Mr. Captain Hero Sir sat back (but not before Ravio took his mug back).

 “So he does.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighed, eyes fond as he watched the hero in question curl up on the couch, face lost in purple fabric and bare toes the only moving part of the kid. The wiggling toes were almost like a dog wagging its tail, but weirder, still, he wasn’t one to judge.

 Mr. Captain hero Sir caught his eye. “Thank you, Ravio.”

 “Customer loyalty.” He murmured softly into his mug.

 He caught the way Mr. Hero and the others stared at him though, and he could only be thankful his hood shaded his face enough to hide his pleased blush.

...

 Mr. Rancher needs to wear more color.

 It’s like looking at the photos of Mr. Hero from just before he’d come around. Mr. Hero always fussed at him for going through things, but he couldn’t help but laugh at how odd his room-mate looked with black hair and dark clothes. “You dyed it?”

 “For safety reasons. How many people have you see in Hyrule with pink hair of all things? It was a dead giveaway!”

 “But you’re the hero?”

 “A hero whose face was plastered on every wanted poster in Hyrule. Still is in some cases.” Mr. Hero had grumbled, folding the last piece of newly clean washing and throwing a pointed glare in his direction. “Life on the run sucks. I was thirteen and just wanted to be ignored.”

 A glance at the dark haired but smiling youngster in the photo and back up to the bitter pink haired hero he knew told him (even if Mr. Hero hadn’t already) how well that wish had been fulfilled.

 But seriously, those photos at least showed Mr. Hero with some color. The most Mr. Rancher wore was that horrid sash and obi, and the orange and blue looked simply terrible with his color scheme, something that, when brought up to Mr. Hero, his friend seemed to agree with, stating that ‘he’d never get into Hytopia’s capitol looking like that’.

 Ravio had never been to Hytopia, but based on the stories and mannerisms Mr. Hero took on after that adventure, he can only agree.

 Originally, he’d hoped he could simply find something among his wares that he could sell to Mr. Rancher, but that proved to only be so effective, after all, when one sells weapons and items, it’s hard finding a normal piece of clothing amidst all the blessed or charmed pieces.

 Oh well, he was counting on ending up sharing the rest of his scarves with them all anyway.

 It wasn’t any dramatic or particularly touching moment when he walked up and slung a clean scarf around the rancher’s shoulders, but Mr. Rancher, after initially starting, smiled as he touched the sun-warmed material. Of course, that expression quickly faded into one of awe as the hero squeezed the fabric lightly.

 Mr. Rancher’s eyes lit up like a dog being given a new toy (Ravio wasn’t stupid, he knew a dog when he saw one) and the man proceeded to continue squeezing and petting the springy fabric with eyes sparkling as if Ravio had just handed him the stars themselves.

 He was down to two scarves now, but it was worth it.

...

Mr. Traveler Hero is small.

He is small, and wild, and the clothes he’s wearing are nearly too small. The traveler is a growing child (never mind that he’s still a teenager himself) and he’s out and about in nearly threadbare garments that leave Ravio shivering at the mere thought of wearing.

And this is the other hero who grew up in a corrupted world where the sun doesn’t shine as bright as it should and the winters are always too long.

Ravio doesn’t think twice when he sees the first signs of cold in the young hero. He’s got two scarfs recently made, and he’s only too happy to share.

Purple and black stripes nearly drown the young hero when he walks over and wraps not one, but two of the comfiest scarves he’s ever made around the youngster's neck.

Like Mr. Rancher, nothing is said or done immediately, but Mr. Traveler Hero smile at him shyly, holding up a hand and scampering over to his bag.

The pair of polished stones he’s given don’t make much sense, but he catches sight of Mr. Hero and Captain Hero Sir Jr. Both smiling over at the two through the doorways.  

“Thank you.” He murmurs warmly, tucking the rocks in his pocket.

“Thank you.!” Mr. Traveler smiles in return, eyes twinkling in the shade of the room and scarf tails flapping like the four wings of a fairy as he spins around to show them to Mr. Hero.

...

 Captain Hero Sir Jr. has nothing comfy to wear.

 Once more, the heroes had been whisked away, and once more they’d appeared at the house weeks later, looking exhausted and utterly soaked.

 The chill autumn rain might be to blame for that.

 Mr. Hero hadn’t even protested that... Wild (he’d just call him Wild, he couldn’t do this title thing this time) had bustled off into the kitchen to warm some tea, and instead promptly collapsing in all his soaked glory onto the couch.

 The other heroes followed suit, and Ravio (like a good host) immediately hopped up and fetched some blankets. Mr. Rancher was already stoking the fire, and with a bit of work, Ravio was able to help Mr. Her grasp what was left of his own steaming mug of cider (his hands were quite the state in this bitter weather) before popping off to the kitchen to brew more of the sweet apply goodness to share with the heroes.

 Armor and over-clothes had been stripped off, sitting wet and dripping in one corner (Mr. Hero eyes it with distaste, knowing just as Ravio did just what that would be doing to the floor) but neither housekeeper said anything, Mr. Hero nursing his cider and letting its warmth sooth his gnarled fingers, and Ravio puttering about with a kettle and mugs to share with everyone else.

 Blankets had been pulled from the shelves and were cast around quaking shoulders as chattering teeth uttered breathy thanks to the purple-robed merchant.

 There was nothing like being thanked for good service, and Ravio beamed as he passed between them.

 That smile faded however when he noticed Captain Hero Sir Jr.

 The man sat in a thin linen shirt and under-armor, looking far from being near the level of comfort that the rest did in their undershirts and pants (or a dress in Mr. Hero’s case).

 Come to think of it he’d never seen Captain Hero Sir Jr. dress in any comfortable manner since he’d come along behind Mr. Hero that first time since they’d started this adventure. Did the poor kid- er... Man, not have anything comfortable to wear?

 While the heroes slept that night, in the two bedrooms and sprawled across the couch, Ravio kept Mr. Hero comfortable, sitting before the fire with his knitting needles while Mr. Hero repaired yet more damaged clothing (poor mister Chosen Hero’s sailcloth had been damaged somehow).

 Usually, one or the other of them would eventually remind the other to go to bed, but both were so wrapped up in their work (Mr. Hero started singing even, that goddess ballad Miss. Princess told hm about) that neither seemed to remember to check the clock, or even to go to bed.

 Come morning, Ravio finds that he has fallen asleep wrapped in the tails of the scarf he’d been making, and Mr. Hero has become entangled in his mending, a peaceful smile on his face, worn fabric brushing his cheeks and spectacles teetering precariously on the tip of his nose.

 Mr. Chosen Hero is the one who wakes them up, stirring awake with a violent sneeze, but he smiles fondly when he lays eyes on them, opening his arms in an offer of a cuddle if either feels inclined to return to sleep. Neither does, but Ravio appreciates it, and even if Mr. Hero doesn’t say as much (quite the opposite really) he knows his friend does too.

 The day is normal, as far as a day with nine heroes in the house can be, and with the rain still pouring, they spend their time cleaning, although Mr. Hero shoos them all away after a time because they’re not doing it the right way (AKA Mr. Hero's very practiced manner of cleaning and organizing). It’s after Mr. Hero had shooed them all into the main room while he organizes the basement (thank goodness, it's an awful mess down there) that the talk starts.

 It’s cold out, and most of the heroes have donned the scarves they’ve been gifted over time (Ravio isn’t blushing, he’s not). Smiles shine and laughter rings as they explain to their brothers how they’d some to have them.

 “And he just... threw t at me! Not a word, not an explanation, just came up and tossed it over my shoulders.” Mr. Rancher chuckles. “Kinda like how my ma would do when I was a tot, jist wrap it up and ‘round soon as the cold weather came a’creepin’ up.”

 The others nod, smiles fond. Ravio beams as he lights the candle set near the masks on the wall.

 “I had one too once,” Captain Hero Sir Jr. Muses aloud. “Back in the war, you remember, Wars?”

 “Do I ever.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir smirks. “I used to tie you up with that thing when you got too rowdy.”

 “You and the general both.” Captain Hero Sir Jr. Chuckles, soft and deep and so different from his nearly witch level cackle that Ravio remembers.

 “What ever happened to it?” He asks curiously, blowing out his match and turning to move towards the rest of the group.

 Captain Hero Sir Jr. Smiles at him, eyes far older but far more at peace than they used to be. “I outgrew it. It was a child’s scarf, even if it was a bit big at the time. I considered bringing it, but it just doesn’t do much anymore.” A thin smile pulls at his features, almost guilty as he admits “I didn’t take the best care of my clothes as a kid.”

 Well, that doesn’t matter over much. Ravio smiles at his young (old) friend, and around him he can hear the others whisper and laugh. They know what’s happening, and Captain Hero Sir Jr. Does too if the twinkle in his eyes is to be believed, so Ravio makes a point of flourishing his gift with all the fuss he can before reverently draping the garment around the tall man’s neck. The eldest hero has to stoop, even from where he’s sitting on the couch, so that Ravio can reach, but it only adds to the mock reverence as Ravio adorns another bare neck with one of his toasty scarves.

 “Mind you take care of that one,” He scolds lightly. “I was up all night making it.”

 “Yes sir.” Captain hero Sir Jr. responds with a playful smile in his eyes, even if his face is the picture of obedience.

 Giggles sound around them, and despite hating it, Ravio takes the only seat left available (he really hates that rocker) and curls up. “You all be quiet now, I’m tired and need a nap.”

 “Okay, gramps.” The sailor whispers faintly, a giggle in his tone as titters and chuckles erupt.

 Strangely, it doesn't take too long for Ravio to doze off, especially when Mr. Hero settles in beside him and starts to rock the stupid chair, humming lightly as fingers work over another project, the light buzz of activity all around them as Ravio allows himself to be carried into dreamland.

...

 Mr. Chosen Hero has caught cold.

 He’s not surprised, not with how drenched the others all were day before last, but the Skyloftian is shivering madly, miserably sniffing into handkerchiefs and trying his best to avoid drinking the nasty herbal teas that Mr. Hero claims are good for people. Ravio doesn’t care if Mr. Hero drinks them, but for pities sake, drink black tea if you’re going to drink tea! What sort of decent being are you if you’re just drinking plant water?

 “Legend, I’m serious, I don’t-” Mr. Chosen Hero breaks off coughing. “I don’t think tea will-” Another cough, nastier than the last. “I don’t think it will help.”

 “Trust me.” Mr. Hero already has a small table pulled up to Mr. Chosen Hero’s side, tea and handkerchiefs both set carefully on top. “Tea’s just what you need. Eucalyptus does wonders for a cold.”

 “He’s right.” Mr. Traveler Hero chimes in, gaze warm and sleepy as he sips some of the tea himself. “And it’s got a calming effect.”

 Mr. Hero cocks a brow. “What are you, ‘Rule, a koala?”

 No one knows what that is, except Mr. Traveler Hero, but it doesn’t seem to matter much, as Mr. Chosen Hero breaks into another coughing fit and bundles a blanket closer around his shoulders, voice hoarse when he speaks. “I wish it’d stop raining. I didn’t even realize-” A cough sounds and is followed by a sniffle. “I didn’t realize the surface got so wet.”

 And Ravio sees where this is going, the shivering hero, the gentle atmosphere. He doesn’t bother waiting for Mr. Chosen Hero to sniffle again, he just wraps a scarf around the man’s neck, tucking it in close enough to keep the heat in.

 The smile exchanged is silent, and Ravio is thankful that the others aren’t about at present to tease, only Mr. Hero and Mr. Traveler Hero are here with them, and neither says a word as they sip their leaf water.

 “I’ll make you some real tea.” He murmurs softly, offering a wink and a gentle pat to the knee before he’s off towards the kitchen.

...

 Mr. Hero doesn’t have a scarf.

 It was glaringly obvious, as whenever the rest of them appeared at the house, they'd all be wearing their Ravio gifted scarfs proudly, smiles on their faces as the ends trailed or dragged after them (despite that, they were all in perfect condition).

 But Mr. Hero didn’t have a scarf.

 He was never going to get one either.

 They’ve all just returned to the house (it’s been two months since the last visit) and the snow outside it up to Ravio’s waist in places. It took him ages to shovel himself out of the house, but the harvest of apples is in and the bees are well prepared for the winter, and Mr. Hero finally tidied the cellar enough that they have room for food storage aplenty.

 Cider and tea are brewed as the heroes gather, fluffy socks and scarves on full display as they sit around the fire.

 Mr. Hero is shivering.

 Curious glances are thrown at both himself and Mr. Hero as the heroes drink their beverage of choice, concern in their gazes as Legend eventually gets up to pull the most ridiculously bulky quilt in the entire house over his shoulders. He’s all pink in the face and he’s shaking like a leaf, and it’s only because he won’t hold still that Ravio hasn’t attempted to try and help him hold a warm mug enough for his fingers to relax.

 Mr. Hero moves like a man thrice his age, if not more, and he creaks worse than the roof does in the wind outside.

 “Where’s your scarf, vet?” Mr. Captain Hero Sir murmurs softly, one brow raised as he watches Mr. Hero fumble with the quilts edge.

 “My what?”

 Glances are exchanged among the others. “Your scarf? The one Ravio gave you?”

 “I don’t have a scarf.” Mr. Hero answers, dropping the quilt again with a scowl that makes his nose wiggle.

 “But” Cornflower blue dart between himself and his housemate. “Aren’t you two friends? How do you not already have a scarf? Even Time did!”

 “It’s a customer service thing.” Mr. Hero murmurs. “I’m already a loyal customer, so he doesn’t waste resources on trying to earn my loyalty. That, and I don’t wear purple.”

 He shakes his head, loosening his scarf as the eyes of the others twinkle, but rather than taking it off, he only loosens one end, before wrapping it tightly around his friend’s neck, fluffing up the quilt in both of their laps, and settling a warm mug of cider in Mr. Hero’s hands.

 “Nonsense!” he chirps, trying not to be hurt at the obvious surprise on his friend's face, so he muses Mr. Hero’s hair instead. “You have every item I offer except this scarf. Why would you keep buying from me if you get it? I have to keep you from having one until I get something better in, otherwise business will plummet!”

 Knowing smiles are exchanged amidst the others, but Mr. Hero just sighs and shakes his head, leaning slightly into Ravio’s side as he sips his cider.

 A bitter expression overtakes Mr. Hero’s face. “You forgot the cloves.”

 “Oh shoot!”

[onceupon]

London Boy

summary: Y/n finds herself all the way across the pond, trying to escape OBX. But much to her surprise, a certain someone might get in the way.

pairing: Rafe x reader (just an intro in this part, we’ll get there dw)

warnings: swearing, drinking, some mentions of anxiety?

word count: 3.2k

a/n: if you’re a sucker for a slow burn like me, buckle up and enjoy the ride. I plan on this being multiple parts and this is also my first time posting so please be gentle with me lol :’-) (not canon Rafe)

You huffed as you dragged your extra large and definitely overweight luggage down to the pickup area at Heathrow airport. You had just landed in London where you’d be going to school until the holidays.  You had decided to apply for, and actually got accepted into, your high school’s British exchange program. Every year Kildare Academy gave the option for 15 seniors to study for half the school year at Westheath Academy in London, a private boarding school, while 15 kids from their school came to yours. Normally, you wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving your friends and family for that long, not to mention missing out on half of senior year at home. But ever since the drama that erupted during the summer after your junior year that ended with you being shunned by your “friend group” (where they really ever your friends to begin with?), you practically jumped at the opportunity to get as far away from the Outer Banks as possible, albeit for a little while.

You didn’t know at all what to expect at Westheath, you had skipped the predeparture orientation at Kildare a few weeks ago, but you didn’t care - didn’t care who was going or what Westheath was like, all that mattered was that for the next few months you could finally breath. It was the clean slate you desperately needed, a chance to finally be around people and places you hadn’t known since birth. Sure there were going to be 14 other kids from Kildare there as well, but you had zero intentions of sticking with your OBX peers over the next few months. You weren’t going to let your small town suffocate you for a second longer if you could help it.

You double checked the license plate on your phone screen as the Uber you ordered pulled up.

“Y/N?” the driver called out from the front-right window (god that was going to take some getting used to.)

“Yep!” you smiled, huffing as you tried to pick up your luggage and step off the curb. Thankfully the uber driver was quick to your rescue, effortlessly lifting your suitcase into the trunk of the car. Leave it to you to overpack without even thinking to leave room for all of the clothes and souvenirs you were certain to accumulate - oh well, an excuse for a new suitcase you supposed.

Not in the mood for small talk, you were relieved that the Uber driver silently read your mind, playing a pop station as you both respectfully ignored each other’s presence. You anxiously tapped your thumb on your phone, eyes flicking between the screen where you watched your route progress and the view out your window of townhomes, pubs, and countless strangers passing by.

You hadn’t felt anxious about leaving for London the entire first half of junior year, so why was your stomach and head simultaneously churning now? You were so excited to experience a version of life that was the opposite of everything you were trying to get away from - a version of life that involved British accents, buzzing city life, and endless possibilities. But it was all of a sudden dawning on you how unfamiliar it all was. As much as you hated to admit it to yourself, no matter how far you ran, you would never be able to fully separate yourself from OBX. That damned small beach-town would always be a part of you, an inextricable thread in the fabric of your life.

The Uber pulled up to a halt in front of your destination. You hesitantly glanced out your window as you double checked the silver number on the building. Yep, 25 Brampton Rd - you were here. The Uber driver graciously lifted your suitcase out of the trunk for you and as he pulled away you let out a long breath - your fresh start was waiting behind the doors in front of you.

You rang the doorbell to the lobby, the security here no joke. You were soon buzzed into the building and you shakily pulled your suitcase in behind you, desperately trying to calm your nerves to no avail.

“Hi,” you croaked out as you approached the man seated at the front desk. “I’m- uhh here to check in to my apartment- uh I mean flat… I think… I’m with the Kildare Academy exchange,” you rambled, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Despite your best efforts, your anxiety was taking over.

The man gave you a sympathetic smile. “Name please?”

“Y/n L/n,” you replied, pulling your lips into a sheepish straight-lined smile as you mindlessly tapped your fingers on the handle of your suit case.

“L/n, L/n, L/n,” the man quietly muttered under his breath as his pen traced over a list of names. “Ahh here you are. Alright Miss L/n, here is a fob, this lets you into the building, now this key lets you into your flat, you’ll be on the second floor - apartment 2C, and this key is for your individual room,” he began to fire off at you as he rounded the desk and came to grab your suitcase, beginning to walk as you hastily followed suit. “This packet will tell you everything you need to know about our building here - wifi, laundry, trash days,” he shoved some papers in your hand as you both entered the elevator, him pressing the button for the second floor.

You emerged on to your floor and a few steps later you two were at the door of your new home, which the man quickly unlocked gesturing for you to step inside. “And this, Miss L/n, is your flat for the next few months with us here at Westheath. Your room is the second right down the hall there and I believe you’re the first here. Two of your flatmates who are yet to check in are from Kildare, such as yourself, and the other two are students of our own here at Westheath. You know I’m surprised how early you are, classes don’t start until next week! But nevertheless I’ll let you get settled,” you stood staring blankly at your new surroundings, more or less registering the words this man was firing off at you.

“I’m Richard by the way, if you ever need anything you know where to find me,” the man extended his hand toward you.

“Thank you,” you smiled, accepting his handshake.

“Welcome to Westheath,” he smiled back and just as quickly was turning on his heel and back out the door before you could get in another word, leaving you in your new flat by yourself.

You slowly walked through the empty place, meandering through the kitchen and living area, down the hall, peaking into the bathroom, and then finding your way to your room. It certainly wasn’t the type of living arrangement you were used to back home - your family lived on Figure 8 in the Outer Banks meaning you had grown up surrounded by mansions and luxuries. This place was small, simple, and yet it was cozy and well… perfect. It was the exact opposite of your Figure 8 life and that alone was enough to make you love it. You smiled, content, as you sank on to your empty bed, taking in your new room. You had a nice sized desk, a decent shelf, and a wardrobe. Simple and sufficient. You could get used to this. The room was starkly barren, but since school wasn’t set to start for another week and no one was here yet you made a mental note to go on a little mission to find some plants and decorations to bring the white box that was your room a bit more to life.

——-

Three days had passed and still your other flat mates had yet to show. You were starting to wonder if they ever would or if you’d end up living in this flat all by yourself. Your room was now decorated, you had found some cute posters in a shop you had wandered into, some plants in another, and string lights in a third. You had acquainted yourself with the grocery store around the corner and the drug store down the street and you’d even gone on the tube all by yourself.

Being on your own these last few days had been decidedly therapeutic, leaving you unable to contain a cheesy grin every time it hit you that you were actually here, in London, far far away from OBX. But you couldn’t help feeling a little lonely, with a passing hello to Richard every time you left and returned to the building being your main source of human interaction these last few days.

You laid on your bed as you debated the decision you were about to make - you would’ve never dared to use Tinder back home. You knew virtually everyone on the island and would’ve been absolutely mortified to match with anybody there. But hey - you were in London baby! This was a fresh start and nothing was off limits. You sighed and gave in, downloading the app and quickly making a profile. You must’ve rearranged the order of your pictures at least a dozen times before you finally decided it was good enough. You started to swipe, an endless supply of British boys at your finger tips. You couldn’t suppress a chuckle at how funny the whole concept was, your inbox already flooding with cheesy pick up lines from your matches. You spent the next hour going back and forth with these boys, silly, meaningless, flirty conversations - god it was so much easier being a flirt through a screen, you would be positively flushed in the face in person, unless you were drunk of course (your drunk self was a dangerously confident flirt for sure).

Liam: are you free tonight? Down to grab a drink and chat?

Oh wow. Straight to the point wasn’t he. You knew the point of the app was to eventually get off it and meet up with someone, but now that you were met with the opportunity, your stomach was flipping upside down. Fuck it, what do you have to lose?

Y/n: yeah that sounds great, I’m in Hammersmith if you wanted to go somewhere there?

Liam: perfect so am I (: 8pm at The Ladle. See you there xx

Pure adrenaline coursed through your body as you started doing your hair and makeup, throwing clothes all around your small room to find the perfect outfit that was cute but simultaneously made it seem like you weren’t trying too hard. You threw your wallet and keys in your purse, chugged the glass of wine you had been casually sipping on by yourself, and quickly headed out the door before you could overthink it and change your mind.

——

You nervously approached the bar that Google Maps had directed to you, not sure what you were getting yourself into, but you had already walked all the way here so you’d be damned if you didn’t see it through.

“Y/n?” a voice called out to you. God, hearing your name in that accent sent shivers down your spine.

“Yeah that’s me, Liam?” you questioned back, staring up at the fluffy browned-hair boy approaching you.

“That’s me,” he winked, extending his arm out to you which you nervously grabbed, as he led you into The Ladle, spotting an empty table for the two of you.

“So Y/n, what are you doing here in London. Something tells me you’re not from here?”the boy across from you smiled as you two got settled in your seats.

“Hmmm I wonder what could’ve ever given it away,” you replied with a sarcastic smile, American accent in full force. “But I’m here for school, on an exchange at Westheath Academy.”

“Oh shit, that means we’ll see each other around. I’m finishing up my last year actually. And somehow you’re the first American I’ve had the pleasure of being on a date with,” he smiled with a devilish grin that felt like it was burning into you, you hoping the flush on your cheeks wasn’t too obvious with the dim lighting.

“Lucky me,” you smiled back, faking a sly confidence as best you could despite the fact that you were all nerves on the inside. Dating was not something you were familiar with, having maybe gone on two back home, if those even counted.

“First round on me, what are you drinking tonight Y/n?”

“Umm a vodka cran is fine,” you replied to which you were immediately met with a scoff.

“No way babe, you’re in a pub in England now. Should’ve figured as much coming from an American like you,” he chuckled with a shake of his head, his fluffy hair bouncing with it. “I’m getting you a pint,” he asserted, walking over to the bar and giving you a moment to breath and collect yourself. You hated beer but weren’t about to put up a fight, at this point you would down just about any alcohol in order to get some more liquid courage in your system.

He quickly returned, placing the tall glass of golden-colored liquid in front of you.

“Cheers, to new school mates,” he winked extending his glass up to yours.

“To new school mates,” you smiled back, bringing your glass to clink with his, taking a long swig and trying not to grimace at the taste of the liquid going down your throat.

——

The night passed by quickly, you and Liam going through three rounds of drinks as you both laughed and bantered with one another, your nerves all but dissipated by the alcohol now coursing through your bloodstream. Heck, the beer was even starting to taste… good? God you barely recognized yourself anymore, but in the best possible way. One by one you were letting the closely guarded walls you had built up over the years in OBX fall, and you were feeling better than ever before - you felt free.

You and Liam stumbled back arms linked to the building you found out you were both living in, Liam on the fourth floor. You rummaged for the fob in your purse and you both got on the elevator, Liam instinctively pressing both your floor numbers. The elevator dinged opening to your floor, Liam turning to you with a cheeky smile.

“See you around, Y/n,” he winked. Why did you find that so attractive, or maybe it’s just because you were slightly drunk.

“Goodnight Liam,” you smirked back, blowing him a kiss as you walked out the elevator, the doors closing behind you.

You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot as you unlocked your flat and stumbled into your room, immediately collapsing on your bed. London. It was definitely going to be an adventure.

——

You were woken up the next day by the sun peaking through your window. You yawned and let out a big stretch, still giddy from last night’s date. It’s not like you thought you had just met your soulmate or something, you both kept the evening light, mainly joking and flirting as you downed drinks. But god you couldn’t remember the last time you had that much fun or ended a night feeling so confident and carefree. You were embracing every ounce of the euphoria you were getting from your new life.

You slipped out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, still rubbing the morning crust out of your eyes. Just as you got a pot of coffee going, you heard the distinct sound of a key turning, startling you as you realized it was coming from outside of your flat’s door. You cursed at the fact that you were about to meet a new flatmate while in your flannel pajamas and messy bun hanging halfway off your head, but mainly you were excited to finally have some company.

“Dude it’s no Figure 8 living but fuck it I’ll live anywhere to not have my parents breathing down my neck these next few months,” you heard a voice say, now in the hallway of your flat.

You immediately freeze. That was a male voice, definitely a male. Of course it makes sense now that you think of it, everyone in the flat gets their own room so what does it matter if the flat is co-ed. The thought just hadn’t crossed your mind, you automatically assumed you’d be living with all girls.

“Yeah man, anywhere that’s 1,000 miles away from Ward sounds like the perfect place to me,” another male voice laughed in return. Ward? Ward Cameron? That couldn’t possibly be who the voice was referring to because that would mean you were living with- and before you could even finish your thought you were standing jaw slightly parted staring at Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton  in front of you. Two of the most popular guys at school.

You weren’t really friends but your families knew each other so you inevitably saw one another at kook events every now and then. You couldn’t help but feel intimidated by them. You always told yourself you didn’t care about boys like Rafe and Topper or about fitting in with their crowd, yet you always became nervous in their presence.  They were cool. They partied a lot, were athletes, and had girls tripping over them, which you couldn’t fault considering anyone with eyes could tell they were attractive, but you’d never have the confidence to be so bold with guys like that. Unless you were drunk of course. And unless you were the new confident and carefree version of yourself that you had been on your date last night with Liam.

“Yo Y/n, no fucking way, I didn’t know we’d get to live with girl,” Topper smiled at you with a teasing grin.

You were suddenly acutely aware of how disheveled you look and how you weren’t wearing a bra under your thin pajama top.

“Uh hey w-what are you guys doing here,” you managed to choke out. That confident girl from last night had disappeared as quickly as she had arrived, leaving you now feeling winded in front of the two boys from your hometown. Why were you getting so flustered?

“Just on a little exchange program from Kildare, maybe you’ve heard of it,” teased Rafe sarcastically, a smile tugging at his lips, holding back a laugh at how caught off guard you looked.

“Yeah no yeah of course,” you stuttered, “I guess I just wasn’t expecting you two to want to sign up for it.”

That’s when you realized the obvious. Every year there was always a number of spots reserved on the exchange for athletes, and Rafe and Topper were two of Kildare’s star soccer players.

“What and get to miss an opportunity to play at Westheath and go to Premier League games all semester? No shot,” laughed Topper.

“Maybe you should’ve gone to orientation after all, roomie,” joked Rafe as he picked up his bag following Topper down the hall to their rooms. Rafe Cameron noticed I didn’t go to orientation?

You let your face fall in your hands with a groan only audible to you. You quickly picked up your head and shook yourself off, pouring yourself a cup of coffee as you tried to ground yourself from your frazzled state. Looks like escaping OBX was going to be harder than you thought.

---

Part 2

[polonium-snap]

The Beauty & the Deku chp. 2

Summary: Izuku and Katsuki somehow get trapped in a book of fairy tales, to get out of it they decide to play their part in the stories. How far are they willing to go to fulfill the romantic plotlines? Will Katsuki be able to play the role of a fairy tale princess?

ao3

Wattpad

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When Katsuki comes to, he is washing some stairs.”Wha-? This again? You’ve got to be forking kidding me.” He stood up, inspecting his clothes, some raggedy top, and pants, which at least is not a dress,  and went to a nearby well, staring at his reflection on the water, scowling.

“Kacchan?” He heard Deku’s voice from behind, and the blonde turned to him.

“Deku!” Katsuki said. “As you can see, we are still trapped in this nightmare.” He frowns. “What do we do now?”

“Let’s continue trying to go along with the story, maybe if we do it enough times, we’ll get out of here.” Izuku suggested.

Katsuki growled. “Shut up! What do you know? This is probably your fault since you didn’t have to be at the house in the end.”

Deku frowned. “Oh yeah, Cinderella totally broke through a door like you did.”

The blonde scowled back, blustering and turning to look away from Izuku. “Whatever.”

Which was Kacchan-speak for ‘I’m sorry, you’re right', good thing Deku was an expert at reading his childhood friend. “We should continue trying to go along with the story, this time as much as we can with the original.”

“No way, nerd. I already gave that a try and we are still trapped in this hellhole.” Katsuki argued. “It makes more sense to try and make the story different, if it doesn’t let us move on we can find the reason more easily.”

“What if that just makes us be stuck here forever, Kacchan?” Izuku argued back. “Let’s do it like the story says one more time, then if we are still here we’ll try your thing.”

The blonde frowned but sighed. “Fine.”

Izuku let out the breath he was holding and stared into red eyes. “Thank you.”

Silence hung heavy for a second between them for several seconds. “I’m sorry…” Bakugou mutters, surprising Deku. “You know, for kissing you at the end…”

Izuku blushed furiously. “Oh! Uhm, i-i-it’s ok Kacchan, that actually made us move on, so…”

The implication of the previous statement weighs on them, and the silence only makes heat rise faster and more intensely into Deku’s face. If the kiss was what made them move on, did that mean they would have to again until they were out of there?

The most obvious answer was there, if they were in Snow White, like Izuku suspected, that meant they had to kiss to be able to continue with the story.

“Wh-What story are we in anyway?” Katsuki asked if only to fill the silence.

“O-oh, I think we are in Snow White.” Izuku reasoned.

“How are we meeting so early then, isn’t the prince supposed to kiss snow white at the end?” The blonde tried to remember.

“No, I think they met right at the start of the Disney movie.” Izuku explained.

“Crap I can’t remember.” The taller teen rubbed his hand on his face. “How am I going to go along with the story if I can't remember how it goes?”

The green-haired boy bit his lip, he couldn’t blame Kacchan, apart from this being a stressful situation, it has been a long time since either of them either saw the movies or read any books with fairy tales on them. “I think I know how it goes, just make sure to go near the forest and run away from the huntsman and look for a small house, it belongs to some dwarfs.” He explains. “Make sure they let you stay, cook and clean for them or something, the evil queen will look for you, to kill you, she will give you an apple, bite it, I’ll take care of the rest and then we’ll ride off to the sunset.”

“My prince.” Katsuki said sarcastically, and Izuku glared, but his cheeks felt hot. “I got it, I got it, I’m just tired of cleaning stuff, like I knew old men hate women in these stories and think their only use is to cook and clean, I get it, old news, but it’s annoying as heck, you know?”

“I get it Kacchan, I’m sorry, but I really think that we can get out if we follow the script as much as we can.”

“Yeah, except we can barely remember how it goes, you lame nerd, even just talking like this can change the story.” The fiery teen started to raise his tone. “We’re already doomed.”

Izuku cringed. “You’re right, but there must be plot points that make us move on, you know like in Cinderella, the background repeated until we did what it wanted, to move on we need to keep doing just that.” He tried to placate the other man. “This is the best plan we have right now, just go with it until we can think of something better.”

Katsuki stands staring at the other teen for a few seconds, glaring, but pondering what was said all the same. “Fine, but we better get out of this, or I’m going to explode.” He turned away and started walking toward the palace. “See you later, nerd, don’t you dare die.” He closed the doors, leaving Izuku staring.

The wardrobes the stories were putting the blonde in were killing him, he looked so handsome, even in dresses. Now the blonde wasn’t exactly wearing a dress, but elements of it were clearly borrowed, Kacchan was in rags but still looked amazing.

Izuku shook his head, this was not the time to be fawning over Kacchan, he turned around and left the grounds of the palace, unsure of what to do with himself. Jesus, fairy tale princes really were useless and had one shitty line, like Kacchan had said, though maybe like this, he could look for clues.

He looked down and sighed, even his clothes were boring.

۵⚜-The Beauty and the Deku-⚜۵

Katsuki changes his clothes because he is not staying in some ugly rags, besides he is 70% sure Snow White wasn’t dressed so badly, she needs to be marketable, little kids wouldn't buy merch of her if she looked ugly right?

He went near the forest, as Deku had said, and sat on a rock, at least the scenery was always interesting in these stories, as Katsuki had never gone out of Japan, he could almost pretend he was visiting Europe or some shit.

“I’m sorry, princess.” Said a voice, which startled the fuck out of the blonde.

“Jesus fu-!” Katsuki turned around to find Rikido Sato, from his class. “Sato?! You are the huntsman?”

The other man’s eyes widened. “You know my name?!” His eyes watered. “The queen has never called me by my name.”

Katsuki hadn’t either until just then, but he wasn’t about to say that to a man with a weapon while he remained quirkless. “Yes, of course I know your name!” He lied, he was lucky with Sato’s last name, he was between Sato and Sota. “I’m going to be the next ruler of this kingdom, and you my loyal subject.” He was talking out of his ass. “How could I not know your name?”

Sato dropped the knife. “I can’t do it!” He cried. “The queen is trying to kill you, your best option is to run as far as you can and hope she never finds you!”

Katsuki stood up from the ground and scrubbed the dirt off his clothes. “Right, thank you, I guess, for not killing me or whatever.” He jogged into the forest, enjoying it more than he normally would, maybe because it had been a while since he had been able to make one of his mornings runs.

At some point, his foot got tangled on some tree roots and he came crashing to the ground. “Argh!” He exclaimed. “Dumb tree, dumb story, dumb Deku!” He raged, and sat on the ground, finding the cabin could wait. As he lay on the ground feeling sorry for himself he felt small tweets from above, and slowly, animals from the forest came out and stared at him.

The blonde groaned. “One of you better not be Dunce face or Hair for brains.” He couldn’t take any more woodland animals as his friends, although thankfully it seemed none of them was anyone he knew. “What are you doing here then, If not to torture me?”

All the animals started to walk toward somewhere, and Katsuki, having nothing better to do went with them, only to find the small house Deku talked about. He opened the door, finding the insides absolutely filthy. And as much as Katsuki had complained he disliked cleaning, he disliked even more letting it stay filthy.

‘Fucking fine’ He thought because only in his mind he could use his favorite words. “You win, stupid Deku, I’ll clean this pigsty.” Katsuki picked up a broom and started sweeping the comical amounts of dust and dirt, the animals around him started to do the same, and for the first time, he didn’t mind the small woodland animals that seemed to follow him lately.

When he finally finished he realized how tired he was, it had been a few days since he last slept, so maybe now he could take a nap. Bakugou climbed the stairs, peering at the small beds with the dwarf's names, he pushed some of them together so he could fit in and dropped like a log on them, paying no mind to the few small animals that cuddled him, he was too tired for that shit.

He closed his eyes and lost consciousness.

۵⚜-The Beauty and the Deku-⚜۵

“What is that? Is it a ghost?” Said a fearful but familiar voice.

“Ha! There’s no such thing as a ghost.” An angrier voice said.

“Who cares, ghosts can’t touch you, let’s just sleep and be done with it.” Said another voice that sounded just like Aizawa.

With his sleep finally disrupted Katsuki decided to sit up and fuck up anyone who dared wake him. When he rose from the bed, multiple gasps were heard. “What is it now?” He said, the blanket still over his head, which he removed slowly.

When he finally could see, he found seven eerily familiar dwarfs looking at him and gasping once again.

“Prince!” One of them exclaimed. “What are you doing here, young prince?”

Holy shit, this dwarf was All Might. Katsuki gaped at the blonde dwarf, his face a picture of the man’s old glory.

The teen looked at the others, Aizawa, Present Mic, Koda, Kirishima, Kaminari...and Endeavour?!

“Let me guess, you,” Bakugou pointed at Aizawa. “Are sleepy, you,” Present Mic, who let out a very loud sneeze. “Are Sneezy, you,” Koda blushed. “Bashful.” Then Kirishima. “You are Happy, I guess.” Kaminari. “Dunce face, you are obviously Dopy.” Bakugou laughed. “This must be Todoroki’s old man, Endeavour.” The red-haired dwarf fumed. “That leaves you All Might, I guess you are Doc.”

All Might smiled. “Yes, young prince.” He eyed Katsuki as if searching for answers. “What brings you here?”

“Yeah, that, the queen is trying to kill me or something.” The younger man dismissed carelessly.

“The queen is trying to kill you?!” Several of the small men exclaimed.

“Yes, so let me hide here, I’ll cook and clean, or something.” Katsuki forced himself to say.

“Like we would let a stranger stay here in our h-” Endeavour started to say.

“Of course you can stay, my boy!” All Might said. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah!” Kirishima, Kaminari, and Present Mic said, Koda blushed, and Aizawa grunted his approval from where he slept.

Endeavour growled.

The next day, after making the seven nuisances breakfast and them lining up at the door to go to the mine, Kirishima took of his stupid hat and watched Katsuki expectantly.

“What do you want.” The blonde said, but he had started to piece what hair for brains was silently asking, the redhead wanted a kiss on his forehead, Bakugou fumed, missing the cracking sound of his quirk. The thing was Snow White obviously did so in the movie, and if he wanted to be truthful with what he promised Deku, he had to kiss the foreheads of these dumbasses and thank god they wouldn’t remember, or at least he hoped so.

He reluctantly kissed Kirishima’s forehead, cringing when the dwarf continued in his way. It didn’t take long for the rest of the short men to follow suit.

Kaminari laughed and thanked him with a teasing smile. Katsuki struggled not to punch with his bare hands. Koda, bless him, just blushed and continued on his way, Aizawa grunted, Present Mic whooped in happiness, and All Might thanked him.

Lastly, there was Endeavour, who Katsuki categorically and morally opposed kissing, as much as he hated the half-and-half bastard his old man was trash and he wasn’t about to ignore that. But he had made a promise to stupid Deku who was probably living it large somewhere as a prince.

Katsuki swallowed his pride if only because he was a man of his word.

He slowly bent to press his lips on Endeavour's dwarfed forehead, closing his eyes to avoid extra trauma, and gave him a lightning-quick kiss.

“It’s not like I wanted you to, brat!” What the fuck? Was Endeavour a tsundere?

Bakugou would never be able to look at the number one hero ever again.

While Katsuki baked a pie in the old-fashioned oven he heard some commotion on the outside. Bristling Katsiki let go of the hot pie and peeked through the window, only to see Shigaraki dressed in black rags and carrying a basket of apples.

Holy fuck, Shigaraki was the queen?!

Katsuki couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. “You?! Your crusty musty ass is the queen? HAHHAHA” He was nearly crying, Shigaraki looked worse than normal, and that was so hard to do in the blonde’s mind that he had to give the man kudos for surpassing himself.

“W-what? No, I’m no old queen, just an old man offering such beauty an apple.” Shigaraki stuttered, quickly jumping into convincing the teen into taking the blood-red apple in his ugly hands.

Katsuki wiped his tears of laughter. “I’m just, haha, sorry, It’s just been an annoying day.” He explained. “But alright, since you made me laugh so much I’ll take the apple, thank you for the few hours of peace, while that stupid Deku makes it here.” The blonde bit the apple, promptly falling asleep as he heard Shigaraki’s pathetic laugh.

۵⚜-The Beauty and the Deku-⚜۵

Izuku panted as he followed the forest’s animals toward the dwarf's house, where he knew Katsuki was waiting for him, the queen, whoever they were, was probably already chased off a cliff and Kacchan was placed in a crystal case.

He arrived at a clearing, watching as the dwarfs mourned Katsuki’s apparent death.

Wait. Was that Endeavour?! No. No, no time for that, literally everyone they knew was becoming a supporting character in these stories, it was entirely possible Endeavour was too.

...Was he supposed to be grumpy?

Izuku shook his head away from those thoughts and focused on Katsuki’s relaxed face as he slept and the dwarfs took away the glass casing on top of the snoozing blonde. Deku had always wondered why on earth the dwarfs just took off the case for some random prince to kiss the princess? What if it was just some creep? Though he had heard the age of the actual prince was 31, while Snow White was 14, which, what the hell.

Anyways he was getting sidetracked, maybe due to the nerves of having to kiss Kacchan, and the intense gazes the dwarfs were sending the green-eyes teen. He gulped, approaching the other man’s face, suddenly feeling very hot. It's not like they hadn’t kissed before, just two days ago Kacchan had kissed him, and there was always that one time they were 4 and wanted to know what kissing felt like.

However, both times it had been Katsuki who had initiated, not Izuku, Deku had never been the one to kiss someone, and the fact they were not conscious was really bothering him. It was morally incorrect to kiss someone who was unconscious, even if he somewhat knew Katsuki would be ok with it.

He felt dirty, like a 31-year-old prince kissing a 14-year-old girl, well maybe not that dirty.

But still, he did not feel great about this.

Finally, as his lips were millimeters away from Bakugou’s, Deku avoided the pink plump lips of his classmate and kissed the other’s cheek swiftly and reeled back. Katsuki’s eyes remained closed for dreadful long seconds, until red eyes fluttered open, sleepily batting long blonde eyelashes at Izuku.

“Took you long enough, nerd.” Katsuki complained as Deku offered him a hand and a taller teen rose from the adorned crystal bed.

“Sorry Kacchan.” Izuku said, relieved that the kiss on the cheek was enough to wake the other up. “Let’s go?”

Katsuki blinked. “Oh, yeah, you said we now ride into the sunset.”

“I-I mean, y-yeah, that’s how I remember it ended.” Izuku stuttered.

“Thank god.” Katsuki launches himself at Izuku's horse, waving at the dwarfs and animals as Izuku himself mounts it.

“Are you ready?” Izuku said, feeling like he forgot something.

“Yes.” The blonde rushed, a fake smile plastered on his face as he waved. “Let’s go you stupid piece of crap.”

“Right.” Izuku instructs the horse to start moving toward the horizon where a large range of beautiful reds and oranges paint the sky.

“Thank you for nothing!” Katsuki waves again, this time his smile is more genuine as he does a pg version of his usual cursing at the dwarfs and animals that probably don’t hear him due to the distance. “Hope you trip on your horrendous beards and die!”

The green-haired teen sweat drops as Bakugou finally settles down.

That is until he notices the horizon only seems to get further away. “No! Look, we aren’t moving on!”

Deku has to agree, as he notes his surroundings, while the background isn’t repeating, there seems to be no end to the valley even as seconds turn into several minutes. Well, if it isn’t the consequences of my actions, Izuku thought as he meditated the best way to confess why they may be unable to finish the story.

“Darn it!” Katsuki growled in frustration. “I swear I did everything you told me.” He tried to explain. “I even kissed Endeavour’s old geezer head.”

“I know, Kacchan.” Izuku reassured, gulping as he realized he needed to come clean. “It is my fault.” He confessed.

“What?”

“So you know ten minutes ago when I was supposed to kiss you and wake you up from the sleeping curse?”

“Yes…?” Katsuki nodded. “What’s your point?”

“I may or may not have kissed your cheek instead of kissing you in the lips like in the traditional story.” He said sheepishly. “...Sorry...?

Katsuki slowly turns to look at the dumbass he called childhood friend. “What did you just say?”

“...I’m...sorry?” Izuku’s voice got weaker.

“What on earth is your problem?!” Katsuki bellowed, his eyes glowing red. “You SAID that we needed to follow the story to get out, you made me PROMISE I would go along with it just this once.”

The other man cringed. “I know, I know.” He whined. “I’m sorry, it’s just when I had to kiss you, you were unconscious and it just felt wrong since you never explicitly agreed that I could kiss you.”

“It was implied that I wanted to kiss you!” Katsuki yelled and then blushed, Izuku did too. “I mean, it was implied I was ok with it, you bumbling buffoon!” He screeched.

“Buffoon...?” Izuku mumbled as he stared in surprise at red embarrassed eyes.

“Ughhh!” Katsuki said in frustration. “Being this mad without using my quirk is making me lame.” He explained to himself, he took the reins of the still moving horse and yanked it so it stopped. Then he threw his legs over the animal so Bakugou was fully facing Deku. “Let’s just kiss so maybe this can be over, you piece of garbage.”

Katsuki pulled Izuku roughly so their noses were touching. “Don’t think for a second I’m not going to kick your ass into the next century after we get back to UA.”

Before Izuku could respond, their lips smashed together, harder and deeper than necessary, all while he was vaguely aware the world started to crumble and fade into white once again.

[hartigays]

rafe taking barry to a fancy kook party👀

“but you’re still coming, right?”

rafe is pacing back and forth in his room, gnawing on his lip with his phone pressed to his ear.

“sho’ thang, country club,” barry says from the other end, and rafe can immediately tell that he’s fucking blasted already.

it’s four in the afternoon.

but that’s fine, great even. the less barry tries, the better. that’s the whole point, after all. to make everyone but himself as uncomfortable as humanly possible at tonight’s fundraiser or gala or whatever shit his family is hosting.

rafe can never be bothered to remember.

barry maybe possibly perhaps could be a minor casualty in this little endeavor, when it comes to ward at least. it’s not enough to deter rafe - he’ll just. make it up to barry later, or whatever, if it’s a problem. that’s what normal people do, right? just do whatever the fuck you want then ask for forgiveness later. or something like that.

rafe can’t be bothered to remember timeless sayings or what the fuck ever, either.

“wear something- ” rafe pauses, effectively cutting himself off. he was about to tell barry to wear something nice out of habit (the words were even thought in ward’s voice. rafe can feel a vein start to pulse in his forehead). “wear whatever you want. and be late. bring the bike.”

barry is quiet for a moment, and rafe doesn’t know why, but he feels like barry is doing that small half-smile dimple thing that makes rafe feel all wobbly inside.

probably because, as rafe remembers with sudden clarity, barry lives for drama just as much as rafe. it’s kind of why they’re fooling around behind everyone’s backs in the first place.

sure, barry is nice to look at and decent in bed and blah blah blah, but the best part about their relationship is the knowledge of how much it’d cripple people if they knew about it. people like ward cameron, for example.

rafe thinks barry is just as interested as him in seeing ward’s head burst like a grape after seeing them together for the first time. although rafe is pretty sure that’s more because barry just wants their relationship to be public, and he doesn’t really give a shit one way or another how it happens.

ward’s head turning purple from stress is just, like, the cherry on top of the whole shit cake.

“heard,” is all barry says in response to rafe’s requests (or demands, depending on how you look at it) before hanging up.

rafe exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. he turns towards his mirror, smoothing a hand over the shirt that he’d stolen from barry’s closet earlier this morning.

he’d wanted to stay at barry’s all day and convince him that they should go to the fundraiser together instead of just meeting each other there, but rafe never even got a chance to suggest it, only getting so far as asking barry if he could go at all. because barry had to work, the busy fuck.

when he’s not working, he’s dealing nonstop. when he’s not dealing, he’s busy making rafe’s life miserable by filling him with all sorts of stupid mushy feelings that have him missing barry when he’s gone. it’s disgusting, and he despises the fact that he loves it so much.

but he’ll make an exception, because it’s barry. always because it’s barry.

that doesn’t mean that rafe has to fill barry in on all of his plans, necessarily. he can just invite him places and vaguely allude to the real reason for the invite without actually saying it and barry can either go along with it or not.

at least in this situation, barry is seemingly okay with being conned into going to a cameron family event for more reasons than just being rafe’s - well, they hadn’t exactly settled on barry being his date.

rafe had simply asked barry to go and barry had simply said yes.

after barry left for work, rafe had raided his wardrobe, and he’s been wearing the ratty t-shirt ever since. it smells like barry, and rafe wants to smother himself in it.

he also wants to show up tonight in it, just to make things that much worse for ward.

so, rafe does.

sarah’s eyes bug out of her head when she sees him. she opens her mouth when he breezes past her, but he doesn’t stop to listen to whatever she has to say.

rafe can deal with whatever sarah throws at him later. right now, he’s setting a plan in motion and can’t afford to be distracted.

by the time the party is in full swing, rafe has yet to make it into ward’s line of sight, and barry is late. which was the plan, but barry’s almost too late.

the speeches have long since passed, and everyone is either dancing or mingling at this point. his chance to crash the party on-stage, an idea he’d been toying with, comes and goes as the hours pass.

rafe had kind of been hoping he could make a scene.

in the end, he sort of gets his wish.

barry comes strolling in when the party is starting to wind down. he reeks like he smoked a blunt on the way over - rafe can smell it wafting off of him as he storms over.

“are you fucking kidding me?” rafe snaps, ignoring the way barry is eyeing his shirt.

“that mine?” he asks, one brow arched.

rafe looks down at his shirt, then back up at barry, glaring. “yes? whatever. shut up. i had a plan. would it have literally fucking killed you to show up on time?”

“shit, baby boy. you said be late,” barry snorts, rolling his eyes. “ain’t i late?”

“you missed- ” rafe snaps again, an octave higher, before cutting his response short and pinching the bridge of his nose. “i didn’t say this late.”

“pretty sure i don’t remember hearin’ you specify, country club.”

which is fair, rafe was vague for a reason, and perhaps it backfired on him a little. but whatever, he’s mad at barry anyway and there’s not much he can do about that, except, well. be mad.

“i had a whole goddamn thing i was going to do,” rafe bitches. “and you missed it.”

barry glances around, eyeing the rather quiet crowd starting to notice their little display. for a moment, it looks like he wants to pull rafe outside for some privacy. but he must see something on rafe’s face, because his expression shifts, and then he’s grinning like a shark.

“ain’t i tell you to quit takin’ my shit?” barry asks, suddenly taking the argument in a new direction. “the fuck i give a shit about being late for when you taking all my damn clothes?”

rafe glances around at the crowd, noting sarah eyeing him from the corner of the room. and next to her, ward.

staring right at rafe, looking murderous. it’s entirely too good, and rafe could kiss barry.

but there’ll be time for that in - well. in like, the next minute, but rafe is determined to draw this out at least a little bit.

“maybe don’t ruin my clothes in the first place and i won’t have to steal yours,” rafe tosses back.

he’s pleased to see barry’s cheeks turn pink - just a little bit.

and then, “you want me to ruin some more? keep stealin’ my shit, that’s what’s gonna happen, princess.”

barry dangles the bait in front of rafe so nicely, he really can’t help but take it.

“i do, actually,” rafe says, then adds, thoughtfully, “wanna take this argument somewhere else?”

“shit, country club. i didn’t know you was such a romantic.”

rafe will certainly show him romantic, if that’s what he wants. only because rafe gets a whole hell of a lot more out of it, too.

he kisses barry right there in front of the whole crowd, with purpose. like it’s the last thing he’ll be able to do.

based on the color of ward’s face, it just might be.

barry grabs the front of rafe’s shirt - or, well, barry’s shirt, technically - and hauls him in closer, kissing him deeper. barry always kisses him like it’s the first time - like he’s constantly discovering something he never knew existed, and now he can’t get enough of it.

rafe is utterly consumed by it. he feels like he’s burning from the inside out, like he’s being stripped bare in front of the universe itself, and he wants to drown himself in it.

“get me out of here and i’ll show you just how romantic i can be,” rafe breathes against barry’s lips, his fingers still knotted in his hair.

barry bumps their foreheads together before extracting himself from rafe’s embrace, barely sparing his surroundings a glance before dragging rafe right back through the front doors. rafe hears the heavy wood shut behind them.

he feels like he’s snorted the fattest line in history when he climbs onto the back of barry’s bike, hearing it roar to life. rafe pulls his helmet on and wraps his arms around barry’s middle, slipping his fingers under the hem of barry’s shirt.

just a touch to tide him over. just until they can get back to barry’s trailer.

it isn’t until they’re speeding out of the parking lot that ward storms outside, shouting something at them from the front steps. it’s completely inaudible, but rafe looks back in time to see the look on ward’s face. his expression alone speaks volumes.

rafe surprisingly finds that, in the grand scheme of things, he doesn’t really give a fuck either way.

[intheticklecloset]

A Good Tickling (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

This one is a direct sequel to “Wardrobe Malfunction,” as requested above. It’s also officially the longest fic I’ve ever written for any fandom, clocking in at 3,000+ words, so buckle up! I really had fun delving into this one and exploring Kirishima and Bakugou’s friendship on a bit of a deeper level while still turning it into a tickle fic by the end. I sincerely hope you enjoy! <3

6: “You want me to tickle you that bad?”

25: “Let’s see how long you can go without laughing.”

8: “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

20: “Stop resisting!”

19: “I see that smile. Come on, laugh!”

25: “Let’s see how long you can go without laughing.”

You’ll notice for some of the numbered prompts I didn’t use the exact quote, but a variation thereof. This was to help prevent repetitiveness as well as maintain believable story flow. They’re still in the fic, just perhaps not word for word.

Warning: Slight angst.

~

Kirishima was quiet. Like, really quiet. Too quiet. And Bakugou was extremely aware of it.

The silence had come on gradually, over the course of a couple of weeks. At first it was just small pockets of time during which the redhead seemed to shrink in on himself for no discernable reason, but he’d soon bounce back when someone started talking to him, Bakugou included. But as time went on, those pockets of silence became entire hours, which became days by the time two weeks had gone by.

Then Bakugou noticed something even more disconcerting.

Kiri would only be silent around him.

He’d walk into a situation in which Kiri was his normal self, having a good time with their other mutual friends and classmates, and boom. Instant shutdown. It was impossible to ignore after the second time it happened that Kirishima was going silent because of his presence, and Bakugou was actually getting worried about it.

It all came to a head one night when Bakugou went downstairs for dinner, where Kiri and some others were already starting to eat. As soon as he entered the room Kiri’s face went dark and he stopped speaking, which was already bothersome to the atomic teen before the redhead then stood up, put his practically uneaten dinner in the fridge, and left the room.

That was the moment Bakugou realized he’d done something wrong. Somewhere along the line and without knowing it, he’d upset Kirishima so much that his closest friend couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him anymore.

No, he thought. I have to fix this. So he turned right back around and followed Kirishima to his dorm room.

“It’s open,” Kiri called when Bakugou knocked, and as soon as the door was open enough for him to see who was visiting, he turned his back and didn’t say anything.

Bakugou felt awkward closing the door behind him as he entered the silent space, but he’d resolved to find out what was going on. He hated this rift that existed between them now. He wanted to close it up. To be close with Kiri again. He missed him, dang it.

For a long while words failed him. How was he supposed to approach this when he didn’t know what was wrong? Finally Bakugou cleared his throat. “Hey. Are you mad at me?”

Kiri’s shoulders slumped. “No.”

Well, that was a relief, at least. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

Bull. Bakugou fought back an angry retort and said in his calmest voice, “You can run from me all you like, Kirishima, but at the end of the day you can’t hide that you’re upset with me about something. It’s written all over your face every time you look at me. So…” He sighed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Kiri still wouldn’t look at him. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to you,” Bakugou shot back, “and I don’t like that you aren’t yourself around me lately. Where’s that loud, obnoxious, spiky-haired idiot I usually hang out with?”

“I don’t know.”

Bakugou’s irritation was rising, but he used every ounce of willpower he had to fight it. He tried to think rationally. When had this all started? Not long after that day in the locker room when he called Kiri’s costume stupid. Was that it? “Is this because of what I said about your hero costume?”

Kirishima tensed, but shook his head. “No.” His voice was quieter now. “It’s not that.”

“Well, you started being really weird around me after that, so what gives?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The redhead got up from his seat at his desk and finally turned to look at him, and the look in his eyes – the upset, lost, desperate look – was like a sucker punch to the stomach to Bakugou. Guilt washed over him, and he still didn’t even know why.

“Yes, it does.” Bakugou felt something inside him soften. He dared to take a step closer. “Please, Kiri, tell me what I did wrong. I want to fix it. Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

Kirishima seemed to have some kind of struggle within himself. He grabbed onto the back of his desk chair and gripped it so hard Bakugou thought it might splinter. Finally he muttered, “It’s just…I’ve tried everything I can think of. Nothing’s working.”

“What isn’t?”

“I’ve tried tickling you,” Kiri continued, his eyes everywhere but the blonde. “I’ve tried outing you to our friends, I’ve tried tickling you in public, teasing you in public, saying things I thought would make you angry enough to retaliate…nothing!” He shoved his chair into his desk so hard it made Bakugou jump. “And then when you finally tickle me and call it revenge, we’re in the middle of class so I can’t even enjoy it because I don’t want to get in trouble. And I try challenging you openly and still nothing!” The redhead was on a roll now that the words were finally coming. “Even Sero has tickled me nearly to death, and he almost never does that kind of thing. Everyone seems to get it. Everyone can tell when I want it. But even when I outright tell you to do your worst, you do nothing!”

Bakugou was stunned.

“Why is it,” Kiri continued, voice rising, “that all of our friends know that I love being tickled and will tickle me when I want it, but my best friend just stands there even when I’m practically begging him to destroy me? I don’t understand!”

This time, the silence was on Bakugou’s end. He had no idea what to say. He’d never seen Kiri so openly upset, and over something that could have so easily been avoided if he’d just pulled his head out of his butt long enough to see how much damage his apathy was doing.

A long minute passed before he was able to speak.

“I…” Bakugou cleared his throat. “I didn’t know…I mean, I knew you liked it, but…I didn’t realize how much…” He frowned. “You want me to tickle you that bad?”

“Ugh!” Kirishima covered his face with his hands and cried, “Yes!”

“I’m…I’m sorry.” Bakugou took another step closer. “Kiri, I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize how much it meant to you. It…it means a lot, doesn’t it?”

“It’s so stupid,” Kiri growled, but Bakugou could tell even before he turned his back again that his friend was on the verge of tears. Another sucker punch to the gut. “It’s so stupid. It’s just tickling. I shouldn’t be so upset over this, right? It’s so dumb of me.”

“Oh, heck no.” No way was Bakugou letting him go down this path with his thoughts. He strode right up to him and grabbed his shoulders, turning him around. “Do not feel bad about this. This is my fault. This isn’t because you weren’t clear enough. I knew what you were asking for and I just stood there, like you said. Like a complete and total jerk. Do not apologize for my mistakes. Let me do that. Kiri, I’m so sorry.”

Kiri said nothing, but he swallowed thickly, and Bakugou pulled him into a hug before he could think twice about it. He held the redhead close and waited, hoping that his apology would be accepted. The silence stretched on for what felt like forever. Then, finally, Kiri wrapped his arms around him, too, sighing heavily into his shoulder.

“What is it?” Bakugou asked softly, genuinely, trying not to disturb the moment. As much as he hated sentiment, he didn’t want to screw this up any more than he already had. “Why is it so important to you? I want to understand.”

“That’s just it,” Kiri mumbled in reply. “I can’t put my finger on it, exactly. It’s just…it’s so much fun, and it makes me feel good, and when it’s with my friends I know I can feel comfortable and be open about it without judgement, and even when I’m getting absolutely destroyed I know I’m safe and they’ll stop when I really need them to. But until then I can just…laugh until I can’t breathe.” The redhead pulled away from Bakugou, keeping his eyes averted. “I don’t know. It’s just so much fun. And with you, I know you’re good at tickling; I’ve heard Midoriya talk about it, I even experienced it a couple of times. And you’re my best friend, so more than anyone else I want you to tickle me into next year. So when I openly asked you to and all this time has gone by and you’ve had lots of opportunities and you didn’t, I just…” Kiri bit his lip. “I felt like maybe you really didn’t care. You act like it a lot, but this time…this time I wondered if you—”

“I care,” Bakugou said quickly, desperate to bring an end to that train of thought. “I care, Kiri, I’m just a complete jerk.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “God, I really screwed things up. I’m an idiot.”

Kiri offered a weak smile. “It’s okay—”

“No it’s not okay!” Bakugou snapped. “Are you kidding me? Look how upset you are over this! How is any part of this okay? No.” He shook his head. “No. I have to fix this. I want to fix this.” He thought for a moment, then met Kiri’s eyes. “Do you still want me to?”

Kirishima stared at him. “W-What? Now?”

“Or later,” Bakugou said quickly. “If I haven’t ruined everything. But – but yeah, I’ll do it now, if you want.”

Kiri took a step back. “Talk about whiplash.”

“I know I’ve been a jerk, and I know you’re upset, but if you’re okay with it I’d much rather make you laugh right now—”

“Bakugou,” Kiri said, “I want you to tickle me. But only if you want to. Don’t do it just because you feel obligated. Do it because you mean it.”

Bakugou nodded once. “I mean it. I’ll tickle you into oblivion now, and then later I’ll do it again and again and again. I do want to make you laugh, Kiri. Really.” He dared to smirk. “But even more, I kind of want to see how much it will take for you to beg me for mercy.”

Kiri frowned. “It will take a lot. I’m not kidding about that.”

“Then bring it on.” Bakugou tackled Kirishima onto his bed, making the redhead yelp in surprise. He swung a leg over to straddle him and paused, just once. “You sure this is okay right now?”

“For the love of god, Bakugou,” Kiri groaned, “if you don’t make good on your promise right here and now I swear I will end our friendship and then end you!”

“Good enough for me.” Bakugou grinned wickedly, shoving Kiri’s arms above his head. “All right, then. When you really can’t take it anymore, tap out. Until then, I will not stop. Got it?”

“Prove it,” Kiri spat, but his eyes were hopeful.

“Keep those arms up there.” Bakugou growled, releasing his hold and sitting back. “Move them and I’ll make it worse.”

“All bark and no bite?”

“Hah.” Bakugou smirked. “One more thing. I want to make you laugh so hard you forget your own name. But before that, I want to see how long you can go without laughing. Bet you’re not going to be very good at that part.”

Kiri smirked back. “Bring it on already.”

Bakugou did, lightly trailing his fingers from Kiri’s underarms down his ribs and sides to his stomach, watching the redhead twitch a little but – surprisingly – do very well in keeping himself in control. “Hmm,” the blonde mused. “Should have had you take your shirt off. That would make this easier.”

“Want to enjoy the view?” Kiri teased. “I told you I look good in my costume as it is.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Give me a break.”

“The shirt stays on. You made me wait this long. Now I’m going to make you work for it.”

“I don’t think that will be hard, considering I can just do this.” The blonde shoved his hands up under Kiri’s t-shirt and raked his nails down his ribs roughly, making Kiri choke on a startled yelp. “Giving in already?”

“No way!”

“We’ll see.”

Bakugou got to work, starting very lightly and increasing the pressure with every pass, making sure to focus on the ribs when he circled back to them each time, knowing that was Kiri’s worst spot and very likely the place that would break him and make him laugh first. Kirishima kept his arms above his head as instructed and his smile widened more and more, but he did better than Bakugou was expecting at keeping his mirth at bay.

“Dang, you’re stubborn,” the blonde muttered after a few minutes of this. “Stop resisting, already.”

“Y-You’re the o-one who wanted m-me to h-hold out,” Kiri stammered. If nothing else, he sounded close to breaking, and that was satisfying just on its own. “I’m c-c-committed n-now.”

“Well, knock it off. I see that smile, but I want to hear you laugh, spiky hair.” Bakugou decided to be a little mean and press his thumbs into Kiri’s bottom ribs, kneading gently. “Come on. Let it out.”

“Agh, n-no,” Kiri’s voice wobbled as he tried to stay in check, his grin splitting his face. He squirmed a little. “That’s cheating!”

“Oh, is it? Too bad. Playing dirty is kind of my thing when it comes to tickling. Ask Deku.”

“I k-know all about that. He’s t-t-told me how r-ruthless you ahare.”

Bakugou kneaded deeper. “Was that a giggle?”

“Ah! N-No, no!”

“It sounded like a giggle.”

“It w-w-wasn’t!”

Feeling evil, Bakugou kept up his kneading pace and began to tease. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~”

Kiri whined. “Oh, y-you so don’t p-plahay fair!”

“Now that was a giggle.”

“You s-s-suck so much--!”

Bakugou dug his fingers in deep to Kirishima’s ribcage, and with a shriek of surprise, the redhead finally broke.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOU JEHEHEHEHEHEHERK I WAHAHAHAS DOING SO GOHOHOHOHOHOOD!!”

“Too good,” Bakugou corrected over Kiri’s laughter, impressed his friend’s arms were still above his head, albeit flailing now. “I was getting tired of you showing me up from such a helpless position. Forget resisting. It’s time to make you laugh your guts out.”

“YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU SOHOHOHOHON OF A--!!”

Bakugou slapped a hand over his mouth and tickled wildly with his other hand, enjoying the look of sheer panic that came over Kiri’s face. The redhead started to bring his arms down. “Ah-ah-ah! What did I say? Keep them up.” Kiri whined, fisting his hands into his hair while his legs kicked wildly, the sounds of his distress muffled. “Well now, this is satisfying. You look hilarious, all freaked out like that. Didn’t think I’d pull out all the stops, did you?”

Kiri screeched when Bakugou started pinching his bottom ribs.

“I mean, I suppose I could also tie you up if I really wanted to be mean. But that’s your call, and you can’t talk right now, so I’m not going to assume anything.”

Kirishima started to bring his arms down again, then settled for covering his face with them. His laughter was loud and crazy, even behind Bakugou’s palm over his mouth. The blonde smirked down at his friend, marveling at how much he seemed to enjoy this, despite the obvious ticklish distress he was in.

“You’re probably thinking, ‘I thought you said you wanted to hear me laugh? Why are you covering my mouth?’ Right?” Bakugou chuckled. “I do want to hear you laugh. But it’s so much fun to make you desperate first. You’re just dying to let it out now, aren’t you? No more holding back?”

Kirishima managed a split-second glare in the midst of his muffled hysterics before nodding frantically.

“That’s what I thought.” Bakugou finally pulled his hand away and used both hands to rake up and down Kiri’s ribs.

“SOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOMEWHEHEHEHERE ELSE!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE, PLEASE GO SOHOHOHOMEWHERE EHEHEHEHEHELSE!!”

Bakugou laughed. “What’s wrong? Can’t take it here anymore? But I want to hear you laugh, Kirishima.”

“I AHAHAHAHAHAHAM LAHAHAHAHAHAUGHING!!” Kiri screamed, his arms flailing wildly above him. “BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAKUGOU!!”

“Honestly, I’m just trying to find the technique that will make you bring your arms down to stop me,” the blonde said with a shrug. “So I can make it worse.”

Kiri’s laughter was wild already, and they were only a few minutes in. He squealed and shrieked and thrashed and kicked but – somehow – kept his arms above him the entire time. Bakugou was impressed. That had to take serious effort on his part.

Now, how to break that concentration?

He’d tried kneading, pinching, and raking – all obviously effective forms of ticklish torture. But nothing had made Kiri’s fight-or-flight instinct kick in the way he’d hoped it would. What was he missing?

“Oh, I think I know what will drive you nuts.” Bakugou laughed, suddenly leaning down to blow the longest raspberry he could manage on Kirishima’s bottom ribs. Sure enough, not a whole second had gone by before he felt Kiri’s hands grabbing at his hair frantically.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA DOHOHOHOHOHON’T DO THAHAHAHAHAHAHAT!!”

“Well, well. I told you to keep your arms up.” Bakugou smirked, grabbing Kiri’s wrists and pinning them to the mattress by his sides. “Now I’ll have to punish you.”

Kiri gasped for breath while he could, his eyes wide and cheeks pink and hair wild, but behind it all, it was obvious to Bakugou that his best friend was having the time of his life. He couldn’t believe he’d made him wait this long. Made him practically beg for something as simple as a good tickling.

“Y-You’re gonna…b-break me,” Kiri stammered between breaths of air, sounding surprised. “I w-won’t be able to…to take it at this rate!”

“That’s the idea, isn’t it? You wanted me to destroy you, right?”

Kiri beamed. “Yeah.”

“Still good to go?”

“Yeah!”

Bakugou took a big breath, then blew another raspberry. Then another, then another, then another. Then he got to work absolutely destroying Kirishima with tickle torture, digging into his underarms and sides and hips and knees and feet, but especially his ribs, until the minutes added up and added up for nearly an hour, and by the time they were done Kirishima was laughing so hard his voice was giving out and tears streamed down his cheeks and he was pounding the mattress as desperately as he could to gain some shred of mercy from the tickle monster that was Katsuki Bakugou.

And when it was all over and Bakugou finally relented, Kirishima kept giggling even without the tickling stimulation, shaking his head in disbelief and gasping for oxygen. “I c-can’t…breheheathe…”

“You asked for it,” Bakugou reminded him, but he couldn’t help but grin at the mess he’d made of his closest friend. “And I promise, the next time you ask for it, I won’t hesitate to do this to you again. And again and again. As many times as you ask for it, I’ll destroy you, Kiri.”

“W-What about…playful tickles…?”

“Those, too.” Bakugou nodded. “I swear I’ll stop being an idiot about this. You ask, I’ll answer. I promise. I won’t ever let you give me the silent treatment again. I’ll be a best friend worthy of the title.” He wanted to cringe at himself for saying it, but it was all true, and besides that, Kirishima’s response was more than worth it.

“You were already a great best friend,” the redhead replied tiredly, lifting his head off the pillow to grin at him. “This just makes you that much better. Thank you, Katsuki. Seriously.”

Bakugou swallowed, feeling a little awkward due to all the sentiment in the room. He nudged Kiri’s leg. “Thanks for putting up with me. I don’t deserve it.”

“Sure you do. You’re a little rough around the edges but you’re a cool dude, King Explosion Murder.”

Bakugou’s lips twitched. “I told you if you called me that again there would be consequences.”

“Yeah?” Kiri chuckled. He leveled a clear, challenging smirk at the blonde. “Prove it.”

[sithsecrets]

five intimate moments | din djarin x reader

A chronicle of five moments that shaped the Mandalorian’s relationship with his one and only crew member.

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3.5 k words

Mentions: illness, hallucinations induced by a high fever, minor injury to the reader character, NO SMUT!

(This is my first attempt at a Mando fic so please have mercy!!!)

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1.

When the Mandalorian says he wants to hire you as his first and only crew member, you’re taken aback to say the least. Your first impulse is to laugh and tell him that his joke is very funny, because what else could an offer like that be from a man like him? He’s entirely self-sufficient from the look of things, and it’s not like he doesn’t have the credits to buy services from others when he needs them. But one long look into the darkness of that visor tells you at once that what Mando’s said is no jest, tells you that he’s serious.

He tells you that he’ll cut you in ten percent if you help him out a little bit. It’s standard stuff, really, just ship repairs, navigation, and taking care of the baby. You’ve learned a lot under Peli over the last several years, you’ve definitely sat in the pilot’s chair a time or two, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a soft spot for Mando’s weird little baby— so why not? Working for him would get you off this planet, and it would be a change of pace for sure.

Doubt sets in the night before you’re set to go off with the Mandalorian, though Peli waves your feelings off pretty readily.

“You’re being stupid,” she tells you bluntly. “He’s a Mandalorian. Just do as you’re told, help him with the kid, and let him keep to himself if he wants to. Everything’ll be fine.”

Peli’s words are of some comfort, though anxiety is still fluttering in your gut the next morning. You say your goodbyes to your mentor and the droids, and then you’re flying off in the Razor Crest on the way to somewhere.

The first day is strange as you try to pick your way around your new home, and you spend much of your time feeling as though you’re snooping around in someone else’s space. The Mandalorian is just as quiet as you thought he’d be, clanging around in his armor doing this and that while you try to make yourself busy. You run out of tasks quickly, however, and it makes you skin itch to sit idle like this.

You watch for nearly an hour as Mando fiddles with the mechanics in one of his arm guards, cursing under his breath through the modulator as he picks at this and that. You think you know what the problem is, but you’re not sure you’re brave enough to tell him that. Finally, though, you can’t let him struggle anymore.

“Let me see,” you declare, cringing as you realize your tone was more commanding than you’d meant for it to be. But Mando says nothing to this, letting you take hold of his arm without uttering so much as a sound. Just as you thought, there’s an issue farther up the guard, one he’d overlooked. A little soldering here, a change of wires there, and then the thing’s good as new again.

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian says, and you can feel his eyes on you through the visor.

“It’s what you hired me for.” You laugh nervously then, suddenly shy under the attention. “Gotta show you I’m not completely useless somehow, right?”

The Mandalorian stands, headed for the ladder on the other side of the room.

“Don’t call yourself useless.”

This is said without so much as a glance over his shoulder, and you find yourself rushing to explain for no apparent reason.

“I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did.” The Mandalorian pauses with one foot on the first rung, finally turning to look at you now. “You’re not useless.”

 2.

The Razor Crest’s interior, in the grand tradition of spaces owned and maintained by single men, is in desperate need of a tune-up. There’s a bit of clutter here and there, and the walls and surfaces and well, everything else could do with a good scrubbing. It’s a big project to say the least, but you think you can tackle it given enough time and supplies.

The perfect window for such an undertaking opens up just a few days after the idea strikes you. Mando’s got another assignment, and it’s brought you to a relatively safe planet nearer to the Outer Core. He’ll be gone a few days, or so he says, and you know already that the market in town will be the perfect place to get what you need.

You set about your task the same day the Mandalorian leaves to set about his, the baby secured to your chest in a makeshift sling. It’s a good thing you brought him, too, because his charm helps you score several bargains along the way.

Organizing everything takes almost a whole day by itself, but after that, the cleaning is easy. You scrub and dust and mop until everything sparkles, and then it’s time to do laundry and see if you can make some functioning garments out of the scraps you find in Mando’s small closet. The clothes he wears aren’t rags by any means, but a little patching here and mending there gives him two more shirts and another pair of pants to work with.

It takes two more days for Mando to come home after you’re done, and he notes the changes immediately. He stops dead in the little hall between the main hull and the place where he keeps his carbonite-contained quarries, looking to the left and then to the right very slowly. You can’t tell if he likes what you’ve done at first, his expression obscured by that damn helmet like it always is.

“I didn’t touch your weapons,” you declare, holding up your hands as if to ward off whatever anger Mando’s about to level at you. But he doesn’t get upset, doesn’t cuss or ask you what the hell your were thinking, so you think it’s safe to go on.

“I scrubbed the whole interior, organized some of the stuff you had laying around, and made myself a better place to sleep.”

You gesture to the pallet you’ve made for yourself on the floor, proud of how you’ve managed to tuck it out of the way. That was the problem with your old spot— Mando had to step around you a lot, and it was becoming impractical. This new space comfortable, too, plush thanks to some cushions and blankets you managed to score in the market. You even have pillows now, but this is something you delight in privately.

The Mandalorian stands silently before you, and you prattle on, showing him this and that.

“I got the baby a couple of outfits to wear, one for colder weather and one for warmer weather. I mended some of your old clothes and washed everything that was here, so that’s done.” You shut the door to the little wardrobe and go to Mando’s bunk, pushing the button so he can see inside. “The woman that sells upholstered goods in the market really liked the Child, so she gave me a great deal. I managed to get you a decent mattress, or something close to it, and a couple of new pillows. She fixed up your old quilt for me too, so I hope it’s warmer now…”

You trail off, words escaping you under the intensity of Mando’s gaze. He’s staring you down properly now, the visor trained right on your face.

“Why did you do all of this?” he asks, gesturing to his bunk, the wardrobe. The thought crosses your mind that perhaps you should have asked before you messed with his things, his sleeping space, and a wave of something not unlike embarrassment sweeps over you.

“I— Mando, I’m sorry, I should have—”

But the Mandalorian still isn’t cross, cutting you off before you can finish apologizing. “Don’t apologize for anything. This is… This is…” He stares at his bed for a long moment, searching for his words. “Thank you.”

Something about the way he says it makes your stomach flutter, though you can’t decide if that’s good or bad.

 3.

The cough is innocuous enough when it starts, just a tickle in the back of your throat that comes on one afternoon. You brush it off as allergies, even telling Mando you’re fine when he asks about it that night.

Two days later, you’re bedridden.

Mando insists you’re absolutely burning up even as you shiver and shake beneath a virtual mountain of blankets, so cold that you think you’ll never be warm again. He forces you to sip on broth and water, though it all settles like sludge in your stomach. It must be bad, whatever you have— you must look bad— because the Mandalorian’s façade is slipping. He’s having full-blown conversations with the baby now, asking the little green infant if he thinks it’s a good idea to cut this hunt short, if he thinks you can be left alone for even just a few hours while he collects the last quarry. And though your body is aching, though you can practically feel the fever cooking your brain at this point, you tell him to finish the job. He made an agreement, and you know it’ll kill Mando not to honor it— you’ll be fine by yourself.

The two of you touch down on some planet in the Outer Rim, and then Mando’s practically running out of the ship. He promises to be back within the day, the sincerity in his voice managing to pierce the haze clouding your mind, and the ache in your bones makes you hope he means it.

Sometime later, you begin to hear a voice coming from the ‘fresher, one that taunts and teases you. It speaks nonsense on and off, but the clearer messages are frightening nonetheless. The voice says that Mando’s not coming back, that he’s left you here forever. Why else would he have taken the baby, hm? He doesn’t care for you, he’s not going to help you.

“Yes, he is,” you retort weakly, becoming more and more upset with each passing hour as this faceless thing continues to fill your head with words and threats. Somewhere in the very back of your fever-addled brain, you know that none of this is real, that all of this is a fever dream. But still, you weep and twist in your bed, scared that the Mandalorian really has abandoned you.

True to his word, though, Mando’s back in record time. You cry out for him the minute you hear footsteps inside the ship, and even the quarry grows quiet at the sound of your voice. Things are hazy after that, but you know that Mando comes to you after just a few minutes, promising over and over again that you’ll be better soon.

You and the Mandalorian and the baby fly somewhere together, this much you know, and Mando comes to sit on the floor with you once the Crest is in hyperspace.

“We’ll be there soon,” he tells you, voice tense and nervous through the modulator. He shushes you when you become upset all over again, emotions stirred by more taunting from the voice in the ‘fresher.

“Make it stop,” you cry, so very weak, “please make it stop. It’s so mean, Mando.”

“Hey, hey,” the Mandalorian cuts, pressing a gloved hand to your forehead. “Nothing can hurt you while I’m here, I won’t let it. I’ll stay right here until we get you to a doctor, I promise.”

And that’s enough to calm you for a few hours, it’s enough to help you fall asleep. You only wake again when you feel arms around your body, when the plushness of your mattress is no longer underneath you.

“Come on,” Mando says, talking to himself as much as he’s talking to you. “The medic will fix this. He’ll fix this, and everything will be fine.”

The medic the Mandalorian takes you to does fix this, but things are touch and go for a few hours there. Your fever breaks in just a couple of hours, thank the Maker, but you’re still very weak from being so sick for so long. You spend two days confined to a medbay bed before you’re deemed well enough to be discharged, and even then, it takes about a week before you’re truly feeling like yourself again.

It’s not until much later that you realize Mando never left your bedside once, and not for the first time do you find yourself wondering what something like that means coming from a man like him.

4.

Mando’s been gone nearly two weeks, and the baby’s beginning to lose it just the slightest bit. He doesn’t talk, of course, not in a way you can understand, but you know he misses his father. If the Child isn’t in a sour mood, he cries, and you’ve caught him playing in Mando’s clothes more than once. It’s stressful, taking care of the baby when he’s like this, but you understand how he feels. You feel strange and almost embarrassed to admit it, but you miss the Mandalorian too. The rational part of you knows it would be best to chalk it up to proximity, but you know in your heart that it’s a little more than that. But just because you know this doesn’t mean you accept it, and you tamp down the feeling at every turn, focusing instead on getting the Child through this rough period.

At the sixteen-day mark, the baby refuses to sleep in his pram entirely, insisting instead that Mando’s bunk will do much better. And you would be fine with that, all things considered, if he wasn’t insistent that you climb in there with him as well.

“Bug, I know you want Mando to come home, and I know you like sleeping with me when he’s not here, but I’m not getting in there with you.”

The baby makes a most discontent noise, pulling on your fingers so hard that he tumbles back onto Mando’s mattress when he lets go. You tell him once again that you won’t be invading his father’s space like that, and then the Child is crying, sobbing so hard his little shoulders shake beneath his baggy outfit. I’m too tired for this, you think to yourself, and you finally give the baby what he wants.

“Alright, alright,” you acquiesce, climbing up into the bunk with a sigh. “But we’re not telling him about this.”

The Child is soothed at once, snuggling down beside you in Mando’s blankets as if he was never upset in the first place. You lie beside him in the dark, eyes already growing heavy as you breathe in the scent of the covers around you, the scent of the pillow beneath your head. All at once, you realize that this is what Mando probably smells like under all the armor and the weapons. Something about that only serves to make this whole thing feel even more like a violation, but you force that thought out of your mind.

At some point, you do drift off, only the be woken hours later by the feeling of a hand on your ankle. And there the Mandalorian is, standing before you in the flesh (and beskar) after all those days away.

“You’re in my bed,” he says to you, though there’s no edge to the words. It’s a simple statement of fact, a plain observation.

“We missed you,” is all you have to say in explanation, though it takes you about three seconds too long to realize which pronoun you chose to throw out in the front there. Now properly awake, you go to cover the mistake, but Mando cuts you off as he is so wont to do.

“I missed you too,” he says slowly, voice dropping almost to a whisper. “Both of you.”

5.

You realize that Nevarro may not be as safe as you thought about three seconds after a man with a vibroblade demands you hand over all the credits you have. You try to flee on impulse, your mind focused on protecting the baby—

Right up until the man catches your shirt, using the natural momentum of the action to propel you right into his clenched fist. Searing hot pain blooms behind your eye, spreading across the entire side of your face and into your nose. You’re completely stunned, unable to so much as form a coherent thought as your attacker moves to hit you again.

It’s like everything happens in slow-motion after that. One minute, your assailant is bearing down on you with murder in his eyes— the next, he’s grimacing, falling to the ground with thud. Two voices urge you to follow them now, and there are hands on your shoulders, your back. You’re so disoriented that it takes you a moment to realize that there are two fucking Mandalorians in your face, but when you do, the urge to fight back leaves you immediately.

Neither Mando is your Mandalorian, but you follow them anyway. They usher you into a tunnel system beneath the city, telling you to turn this way and that, and you do as they say without question. For some reason, they know you— they know your name, and they certainly know the baby because they ask about him the moment the lot of you are concealed. About a thousand questions swim around in your mind as you follow the Mandalorians deeper and deeper into the tunnels, but you aren’t given a chance to ask a single one.

Finally, you’re allowed to stop in a smith of some sort, coming to stand before a Mandalorian woman sheathed in maroon and gold. She regards you for a long moment, pausing over her work to take in the sight of your face, the way you clutch the baby protectively against your chest.

“Fetch him,” is all that she says, speaking to one of your saviors, and they turn and leave without a word.

A period of time elapses before you hear movement in the hall, though you can’t be sure how long. What you are sure of, though, is that you hear Mando’s voice drawing near, and the wave of relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming. You’re safe here, of course— anyone would be, surrounded by this many Mandalorians— but… but they’re not him.

“What happened?”

It’s the first thing Mando says to you, picking up the pace once he lays eyes on your injuries. You’re taken aback by how he crowds you, how he lets his gloved hands linger on your cheek.

“She was attacked by a chakaar,” says the Armorer, speaking from workspace. “He will not be bothering anyone again, though.”

Mando is satisfied by this, thanking his brothers and sisters for protecting you and his child. You thank them as well, though it’s hard to tell if the sentiment lands with the Mandalorians. The Armorer is the only one who responds at all, saying, “You are our brother’s cyar’ika,” she explains, confusing you with a word you don’t recognize, “we as his brothers and sisters must protect you. This is the Way.”

“The is the Way,” intones the group, and then you’re being ushered from the room, tucked under Mando— your Mando’s— arm.

The walk back to the ship is a quiet one, though the Child coos happily. He seems largely unaffected by all of this, even dozing off in his pram as though he’s had an uneventful afternoon. You’re glad he’s asleep, knowing it’ll give you and Mando some time to talk. You want to ask him about what the Armorer said, what that word meant. Mando’s cyar… cyar’ika? Is that what she’d called you?

But you don’t get the chance to speak a word, because Mando crushes you against him the moment you get the baby settled. His arms are strong around your back, the sensation of being held by him effectively knocking the air from your lungs. When he finally lets you go, every question you had stuffed in your mind is gone.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” the Mandalorian says to you, sounding more distraught than you ever thought possible. You shake your head at that— how could he possibly have known?

“I’m fine, Mando,” you press. “Don’t worry about my face, it’s—”

“I should have been there.”

The both of you just look at one another after that, and the Mandalorian doesn’t flinch away when you lay your hand on the side of his helmet. You know at once that everything is different now, but you need to hear it just to be sure.

“That woman—”

“The Armorer,” Mando corrects.

“The Armorer,” you begin again, speaking slowly and deliberately. “What did she mean when she said what she said about me? What is a cyar… cyar’ika?”

Mando’s hand comes up, and his glove is cool on your uninjured cheek.

“’Beloved,’” he says softly, “’cyar’ika’ means ‘beloved.’”

You think your heart’s going to beat right out of your chest, but you force yourself not to be calm.

“If you’re going to call me your cyar’ika,” you whisper, afraid you’ll shout if you don’t, “then what should I call you?”

“Din. You can call me Din.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction || You Don’t Want Kids [Request]

BTS X Fem!Reader

A/N: I am in no way saying it’s a bad thing to either want or not want kids! It’s down to everyone’s personal feelings on the subject

Seokjin:

Pacing around the bathroom was all you could do to try and calm yourself down, you'd been feeling so sick lately which you thought would pass with time but then you noticed how late you were to your period and you realised what was happening. One of your worst fears could have been coming true at any given moment,

"How long has it been?" You questioned your best friend who was sitting on the other side of your phone, you'd taken the test and laid it face down on the counter so you couldn't see it. You didn't want to see it. This was the one test that had the chance to ruin your life,

"50 seconds since the last time you asked. Why aren't you doing this with Jin?" That was a good question, you knew you should have been with him but you couldn't. Not when having kids wasn't something you wanted.

"He's out-" The door to the bathroom tried to be pushed open but it was locked,

"Babe?" You hung up the phone and threw the test into the bin beside the sink trying to fix your face to make it look like you'd hadn't been crying for the last ten minutes.

"Yeah?" You questioned as you pulled the bathroom door open and looked up at him, he held up a bag in the air.

"I got you some anti-sickness tablets. Gingernut biscuits. The lady in the store said it'll help with cramps," You told him that all of this was because you were on your period, it was the only explanation you could give to him.

"Thanks, you can take it-" You stopped talking when you noticed that his gaze was fixated on something behind you.

"Are you?" You frowned looking over your shoulder, you'd left the box out on the side when you were in a rush to let him into the room, you looked down at your hands as you took in a deep breath.

"I-I don't know. Jin I'm scared." You whimpered as you finally let all the tears go that you'd been holding back for a while, he pulled you into his arms kissing the top of your head. The pair of you were in an agreement where kids were concerned, he didn't want to have any and neither did you. It had been one of the things you'd talked about in earlier days before moving forward with the relationship. Jin stated that he didn't want kids because he wanted to focus on his career and you and you told him about your fears of being a bad mother.

"I think it's been enough time, I should check the test." You mumbled into his chest as you pushed away from his chest and went to get the test from the bin.

"Turn it over," You should sense the nervousness in his voice so you turned it quickly and looked at the screen.

"Not pregnant." Was flashing back at you which made you smile in relief throwing down the stick into the bin and turning to pull Jin into another tight hug.

Yoongi:

It wasn't you that had brought the topic up for discussion it was the boys. You'd all been joking around in the dorms about your future when the subject of children came up into it all and you laughed it off saying you didn't want to have kids. At first, Yoongi brushed it off not wanting to bring it up in front of everyone but as soon as you got back to your shared apartment he had to question you on what you said.

"What did you mean when you said you didn't want kids?" His question was self-explanatory but you looked over at him from the wardrobe, you were getting ready for bed when he brought it up.

"That I don't...want kids?" You questioned, you thought what you said made sense but the frown on Yoongi's face told you otherwise.

"Ever?" You slowly began walking over to the bed and sat down beside him. This wasn't something that you and Yoongi had ever discussed since you'd only been dating for about 6 months.

"Never," You whispered unsure on how he was feeling about this. His face was giving away no indications as to what he was feeling about what you were saying to him. Truth be told he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about it. The thought of having kids had never bothered Yoongi before now, he'd thought about it in the distant future but he never put real thought into it.

"Do you want kids?" You questioned as you got under the covers and continued to watch Yoongi who was frowning,

"Not yet." Yet. That was the downfall of this. There was a chance he wanted kids. A chance you didn't want to have.

"Yoongi-"

"Do you think you would ever change your mind?" You shook your head at his question softly, it was something you'd felt strongly about for years. Yoongi began nodding his head as he stared down at the covers, he was trying to think everything over. Trying to think about if Kids was something he wanted or something he'd been brainwashed into thinking he wanted.

"Yoongi we should-"

"I don't want kids either," It came out more rushed than he intended it to but he was serious about it,

"No, Yoongi. You don't have to think about it now...We can talk about it and we can be adults about-"

"What's there to talk about? We can have fur babies right?" The thought of being surrounded by dogs instead of crying children was starting to become more appealing by the second to Yoongi. The thought of having another Holly around, someone to keep him company while he was away at work.

"Y-Yeah," You stuttered not expecting him to react so well to this, he just smiled and leant forward to kiss your lips.

"Then fur babies are enough for me," He chuckled as he kissed you over and over again, laying you down on the bed below him.

Hoseok:

Family events were always met with dread in your household, the constant questioning on where you were in your relationship with Hoseok. Why you weren't married yet, why you were waiting so long to get engaged at least and the greatest one of all. Why you hadn't had kids yet. A baby was placed on your lap as you sat with Hoseok in the living room,

"Watch him." Your cousin whimpered as she rushed to the bathroom to pee, she was pregnant with her fourth child.

"Look at you!" Your auntie yelled as she saw you bouncing your cousins baby up and down on your knee, waving your fingers around in front of his face and smiling at him.

"You're going to be a great mother, when are you having kids?" The questioned was directed at Hoseok this time, they knew how shy he was around them and would tell them anything they wanted to hear if it meant they would approve of him.

"I'm not sure, we're still young-" Your brother's loud laughter cut Hoseok off from talking about it and you stared at your younger brother who was shaking his head.

"Y/n doesn't want her own kids, she hates babies." You frowned looking at him and silently begging that he would shut up. The discussion of babies hadn't been brought up yet and you were hoping you could continue to ignore the discussion altogether but it was only a matter of time.

"You don't want kids?" Hoseok questioned slowly, the living room fell into an awkward silence and your auntie took the baby away from you.

"Let's talk somewhere else," You took Hoseok by the hand and lead him up to your old childhood bedroom,

"Didn't you think that was something we needed to discuss?" He was angry and he had every right to be angry with you,

"I didn't think it was important yet-"

"What? Y/n, that's our future you're talking about. I want babies, in fact, I want four." Your mouth fell open as you heard that he wanted four babies, the thought of having one was enough to scare you into never having sex again.

"Hobi, it's not something I want...Before you ask no, I'll never change my mind." You had reasoning behind not wanting to have kids, the fear of never been good enough and seeing what it's done to your family and their relationships was enough to put you off kids forever.

"If I have kids I'll never have my own freedom...My own life." He shook his head as he listened to you, you knew it was deemed selfish by some people but it wasn't something you wanted.

"Will you ever change your mind on the matter?" You shook your head looking up at him sadly, you knew what was about to happen, your mother had warned you it would happen if you ever told someone you didn't want to have kids.

"No," Your voice came out as barely a whisper and Hoseok wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head and sighing. You both knew what this ultimately meant for you both but it didn't have to be right here and now,

"We'll finish this later...Okay?" He questioned looking down into your eyes, you knew it meant things would end as soon as the day was out so you prayed the day would go on longer and last as long as possible.

Namjoon:

The topic of your future together with Namjoon had been coming up frequently in the last couple of days. He'd asked you to marry him and, of course, you said yes since he was the love of your life. You were in the middle of talking about the future plans, how you wanted to travel for a while before marrying him and then it got onto the harder questions.

"How many kids do you want?" He meant it as a small innocent question since it was something everyone knew he wanted. Everyone knew how badly Namjoon wanted to be a father, you'd known it too but you'd pushed it deep down inside of you. Having kids wasn't something you wanted in life.

"I-I don't really want...Any." As soon as the words left your mouth Namjoon stopped talking and looked at you, his mouth was hanging open a little as he tried to comprehend what you said.

"Joonie?" He shook his head as he tried to wrap his head around it,

"But you know I want kids, don't you? It's- It's not something I want to put off," The reality was starting to set in. That you and Namjoon couldn't have a future together unless you gave him something he'd always wanted, something he'd wanted for the longest time.

"Is this just a 'I don't want kids' thing now? Or forever?" His voice was cracking as he stared into your eyes, this was something you should have discussed before getting engaged but the subject had never come up. Whenever it came up in your brain you pushed it away, focussing on how much you loved Namjoon.

"I never want to have kids," Your voice came out as barely a whisper and Namjoon leant back against the sofa he was sitting on in defeat.

"Why?" The question that everyone asked whenever you told them you didn't want to have kids,

"I-I just don't want them, the thought of carrying a baby for nine months is scary enough and then what if I'm not good enough-"

"What if you are good enough? Y/n! You'd be a fantastic mother," You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to do what everyone else around you did whenever they found out that you didn't want to have children. Convince you that you were wrong.

"So it's a deal-breaker for you? If I don't want kids..."

"You don't think you'll ever change your mind?" You shook your head, it was never something you wanted but you wanted Namjoon to be happy, for that to happen it meant ending things so he could find someone to fit his life better.

"We know what we have to do, don't we?" He whispered to you as he looked up at you, you were twirling the engagement ring around your finger as you nodded.

"C-Can we just have tonight together, one night to say goodbye?" He stuttered out to you as he moved closer to you.

"One night to end things on good terms." You agreed with him, leaning your head on his shoulder as you tried not to cry just yet.

It was one night together that helped you both end on good terms, you wanted Namjoon to find someone better and you agreed to stay friends - whether that stuck or not was a different subject.

Jimin:

There was a small baby shower happening for Namjoon and his wife as they got ready to have their first child together, of course, that meant that all of his wife's friends with kids were around the party as well and you'd been left to sit with them on the sofa.

"Where's your little one?" One of the mothers questioned as she bounced a baby on her leg, you swallowed the lump that was in your throat and then shook your head,

"Oh, I don't have or want any kids." You whispered nervously as they looked at you, from past experiences mothers didn't turn to react well whenever you told them this information. You could already see the wheels in their heads turning as they all gave you dirty looks as though they were better than you because they wanted children in their lives.

"Does Jimin know that?" The first mother questioned, her tone was bitchy but you looked at her. She was pointing over your shoulder, you glanced back to see Jimin touching Namjoon's wife's bump while bouncing a child on his hip. The giant smile on his face was something you loved seeing,

"He does, h-he respects that I don't want them." They all hummed in disagreement with the statement and you were left to your own thoughts, the conversation had come up with Jimin before and he told you he wasn't bothered about having children but seeing the way he was around them. It made your heart fall at the thought of taking that away from him so you turned away again.

You were walking up to the house when Jimin finally decided to break the silence that had been hanging over you both since you left the party.

"What's going on baby? You've been so quiet." The sniffle you did, alerted him that something was wrong instantly and he rushed you into your shared home,

"What's wrong?" He panicked forcing you to look at him as he cupped your face in his hands, you shook your head doing anything you could to move away from him but he wasn't letting it happen any time soon.

"Tell me what's bothering you-"

"You want kids, everyone can see it," He frowned, letting you go and watching as you walked away from him.

"All the mums at the party could tell you wanted kids...I-I don't want to be the reason you don't have a family in the future. I don't want you to hate me because I don't want kids." He rushed over to you shaking his head as he heard what it was that was truly bothering you,

"No, no baby. Please don't think like that. I will never hate you...I don't need kids to have a family, you're my family." You sighed hearing him tell you this, you didn't want to be the reason he put things on hold.

"All I need is you." He whispered before kissing your lips softly so you could no longer fight him back on it.

Taehyung:

The guilt had been weighing down on your chest all week since the interview that the boys had done it was just some small TV interview and they were asked questions about their future lives. All of the guys saying the same thing - that they wanted kids which instantly made you sick with worry and guilt as Taehyung seemed to be one of the most excited ones at the prospect of having kids.

"Tae?" You questioned late one night he was laying beside you reading a book on something -- You hadn't been paying attention when he told you what it was since you were busy worrying.

"Yes, darling?" He sat up on the bed, shuffling back so that his back was pressed against the headboard of the bed.

"Did you mean it the other day? When you said you wanted kids?" Your voice came out as a stutter, you'd been trying to think of the best way to bring this subject up all week and nothing seemed right. It was a serious topic that couldn't just be dropped randomly into a conversation.

"I did, why? Are you pregnant?!" The excitement in his voice only made you feel worse for what you were about to tell him, it broke your heart knowing you were about to shatter his future dreams with you. This was something you'd never told anyone before, it wasn't something you wanted everyone to know.

"N-No, I'm not. I don't want to be either?" It came out as a question which struck Taehyung with confusion as he looked at you trying to work out what you were saying to him.

"You don't want kids?" You heard how hurt he sounded by it and you wanted to cry but you nodded your head.

"I should have told you before now...Before we got so deep into our relationship but- It's not something I ever see myself doing." You whispered as you looked up at him, you didn't want to see the hurt on his face but you had to know what he was thinking.

"You don't want kids, ever?" You nodded in agreement with him and he rubbed the back of his neck, he always respected every decision you'd make without questioning it but this time he needed to know the rationalising behind it.

"Why?" That was the million-dollar question that you had an answer for,

"I-I don't think I'd be good at it? It's not something I-I ever see myself doing?" It sounded as though you were questioning yourself, which you weren't, this was something you felt strongly about and nothing would ever change that.  Taehyung was unreadable as he stared down at the covers surrounding you both,

"Not even in the future?" His question came out shakey and you shook your head.

"I-Is this a problem?" The reality began to settle in that you might want different futures and not having kids could be a deal-breaker to him, he stayed silent for a couple of seconds as he thought about it all.

"I don't want you out of my life...If not having kids is how I keep you then so be it," That sentence didn't make you feel any better about what was happening,

"Tae this is serious, you can't just say that now. What if you regret it in the future. I don't want you to hate me-"

"I don't want a future if you're not in it, I love you and nothing in this world or universe could stop that," He kissed the top of your head, forcing you to relax in his arms.

Jungkook:

Jungkook's laugh came out louder than usual as he sat across from on the sofa in your shared apartment. You'd been watching movies together all night trying to have a relaxing time together and you'd just finished 'The Waitress' when you decided to tell him you didn't want to have kids.  Throughout the movie, he'd commented about how "all women wanted to have kids." Which wasn't true in your case but now he was laughing to himself as you told him that you didn't want them. You knew he wasn't trying to be malicious about it and he just thought you were kidding so you didn't get upset with him.

"You can't be serious, everyone wants kids Y/n." You frowned as he continued to laugh the way he was but it just wasn't true for you. The thought of having a baby wasn't something that appealed to you, even as a kid when other people had baby dolls you didn't. The maternal instinct had never been something you possessed.

"Jungkook...I'm serious, I-I don't want kids. What's so funny about that?" As soon as he realised the sincerity in your voice he stopped laughing and stared at you, his face was unreadable as he stared you dow. You didn't know what to do so you just looked away from him, you didn't want to feel any worse about this than you already did.

"I should have told you before now, you always wanted kids-" His hand moved slowly and he placed it on top of yours. You stopped yourself from talking too much or rambling on when you felt him touch you. Whenever you told someone that you didn't want children in the past they would go on some kind of word rampage about how you didn't mean it but Jungkook was different, you could see in his eyes that he was different from them.

"We don't have to have kids baby," You frowned hearing the words fall from his lips, you were sure you'd heard him talking about wanting kids in the future. This wasn't something you wanted to take away from him and have him regret years later down the line.

"But you want kids, Kookie I don't want you to say no to that because I don't want them," He shook his head at your words, cupping your face in his hands as he stared into your eyes. He began rubbing his thumb along your cheeks as he looked at you, he wanted you to see how serious he was about this. You knew he could never lie to you, whenever he did lie he'd avoid eye contact.  

"What I want is you in my life, if kids don't come with that then I'm okay with it. I love you Y/n," You relaxed against his touch leaning your face into his hands as you tried not to tear up so much at what he was saying to you.

"Besides, we can always get dogs or cats...Even one of those giant iguana's." He said excitedly as he began listing off all the different pets you could have instead of having kids. He didn't once question you on your reasoning behind it as many others did before him. It was comforting not having to explain it, that he understood your wishes and he was willing to go along with them.  

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @rjsmochii​ @bisexualmess007​ @innersooya​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @btsxdoll​

[just-another-obsessed-fangirl]

slow motion, double vision in rose blush (Renora College AU)

Summary: Ren doesn't need alcohol to know how gorgeous his best friend is or to admit to himself (kind of, sort of) that his feelings towards her aren't exactly platonic. Apparently, he just needs it if he wants to be unable to ignore those facts.

Warnings: Drinking alcohol, some suggestive thoughts

Fic under the read more or can be read on AO3 here

I wrote this for Flower Power Week, but I didn’t see that there was a rule to keep works PG-13 until I was almost finished with this fic, and I figure this fic is already inherently a bit more mature than that, so I don’t think I should use the tag or tag the blog.

Hope you enjoy!

Parties wouldn't really be considered Ren's "thing".

 He much prefers the slightly-hectic-but-relatively-calm get-togethers of his friends that they manage to schedule every week or so amongst all their university classes. But it was the end of some particularly grueling midterms and everyone in their little friend group (and apparently, everyone on campus) had wanted to let loose and let wild after being cooped up with only their textbooks and their stress for so long. So that, and not enough displeasure at the plan to do anything about it, is how Ren ended up in the corner of the front room of some frat house with a red Solo cup in his hand.

 He doesn't know where most of his friends have gone. Ren hasn't seen all of them in one place since basically when they first arrived and Yang had shoved shots of - Ren hasn't drunk enough alcohol in his life to know for sure, but he would assume it's whiskey - into each of their hands. He didn't have much desire to down it in one go like most of the group, would rather let its burn come in little bursts than have all of the pain all at once. By the time he had finished it, Yang had taken Blake somewhere promising to dance, Ruby heard a rumor of a ping pong table and had set off to find it with Weiss so they can challenge each other, and Jaune and Pyrrha went… somewhere. The only friend who hadn't wandered off was Nora, who immediately upon finishing her shot had started pouring ice, orange juice, and maybe a tad too much vodka into a Solo cup.

 She had immediately come back to his side, expressing how much this was needed for her after midterms. Nora then starts rambling about what lengths she had gone to in order to make the information stick and the stomach aches she got from the stress and how she was shaking during her last test partly from how little sleep she had gotten in the past month from projects. At least, that's what Ren was pretty sure she was talking about. The music was so loud that he had to lean in pretty close to hear what Nora was saying, and even then he couldn't pick up half the words said. Which was a shame, because as much as people seem to believe he just ignores her, Ren does listen to everything his best friend wants to say, and he likes listening to everything she says.

 Nora must've noticed how close Ren was leaning in, or his discomfort at the loud music, as she then grabs his hand and walks them somewhere else, still talking all the while. The farther they walk, the quieter the music gets, the more Ren can hear Nora. They arrive at some far-off corner and Ren is more than content to stay there and listen to Nora for the rest of the night. But then a girl dressed more like she was going to a full-out rave rather than a college party rushes up to Nora and begs her to be her partner at beer pong.

 "Kobalt and Ivori are ‘too cool’ for it, and Flynt's our DD, so obviously he can't drink, and you're fun enough and I bet you'd be super good at beer pong-"

 Ren can tell Nora wants to say yes, but she keeps looking at him from the corner of her eye like she doesn't want to leave him alone. If he really had heard her correctly, then she is certainly deserving of some fun right now, and it might be a little awkward standing here alone but it wouldn't be the worst thing.

 "You should go," he says.

 Nora turns her head fully to him. "Are you sure? You gonna be okay here all by your lonesome?"

 Ren gives her a little smile. "I think I can manage."

 "Great!" the girl says with a clap of her hands. "So it's settled". She grabs the cup that Nora was holding and hands it off to Ren. "Now be a good boyfriend and keep this safe for her."

 Nora's face flushes, and Ren can feel that he does too. "Oh no, Neon, we're not-" but before she can continue her denial, Neon yanks her away to the beer pong table.

 They're a little ways away, but they are perfectly within Ren's eyesight. He can see that they're playing against Sun and Neptune. He doesn't know them too well but he hasn't known them as anything other than friendly. Well, Jaune might disagree at least where Neptune's concerned, but it's been ages and he's since got over his crush on Weiss, so he's probably okay with him now. They start their game and on her first try, Nora lands the ball cleanly into one of the other team's cups. She jumps and pumps her fist in the air, showing off that usual bright beautiful smile in her joy that always seems to lighten up every room and flood Ren's insides with warmth.

 He looks away a little, not wanting to acknowledge what that feeling really meant, even if he had finally admitted to himself that what he had felt for his best friend wasn’t exactly platonic. The admission itself is a barely-there kind of thing because no matter how much Ren would prefer it, he couldn't be in complete denial over it for the rest of time so he'll just settle for being as close to that as possible. Nora's his best friend, what they've had since they were kids - it's good. For the most part, he's completely fine with the way things are and Nora seems to also so why potentially ruin or try to change something that's practically perfect already? Before he could uncomfortably spiral into that thought process anymore, mercifully, he is interrupted. But not so mercifully, that interruption is from Nora, laughing so loud and wonderfully that Ren just plummets even deeper.

 Something funny must have happened. Or maybe not. It doesn't seem to take much to send Nora into a fit of laughter. He likes that about her, that she can let joy or other emotions in so easily and that she doesn't really care about how it may look or what others might think. He's glad there isn't some insecurity that keeps Nora from laughing so often. She has such a nice laugh and Ren likes knowing she's happy and it's nice that she does it so much. And her lips are so pretty, especially when she smiles. He can't help but keep his focus on them. That is until she throws her head back, showing off the nice smooth skin of her neck. Ren then starts to wonder what it would be like to press his lips to the side of it and just how she'd react before he realizes the nature of just what exactly he's thinking.

 His mouth goes dry. Without thinking, he raises Nora's cup to his lips to make it go away but it isn't until he's already swallowed and surprised himself with the hefty burn it leaves in his throat that he remembers what was in that cup. Yeah, he definitely took a much bigger sip than he should've, and there is definitely too much vodka in that. But the orange juice masks the taste of it for the most part and the ice soothes away a good amount of the burn, so it's definitely not the worst alcoholic drink Ren's ever had and might actually be one of the more pleasant ones. He takes a smaller sip of it out of a measured curiosity.

 Ren's eyes drift back to Nora. If he had any sense left in him, he'd focus on anything else, keep trying to avoid feelings he doesn't want to feel and thoughts that might be inappropriate, or definitely inappropriate. But it's as if Ren's field of vision can only narrow down to just her. There are clouds of pink on the edges of what he can see, threatening to fill up the entire room, and it seems as if the only way it won't happen is if he keeps Nora right in the center, where all her movements seem to be in slow motion.

 She picked a green top tonight, a color more associated with Ren more than Nora. She bears a little more skin in this top too, the two spaghetti straps unable to hide the nice, toned muscles of Nora's arms and shoulders along with her delicate collarbone. Ren had already noticed this top when everyone was on the way to the party, trying to figure out if it was new as he's pretty sure he had never seen it before. He must've been more obvious than he should've, because Pyrrha had nudged his shoulder then, giving him a coy little smile. "Green's a good color on Nora, isn't it?" Pyrrha had said, as if he hadn't already known that. Nora doesn't have a lot of green in her own wardrobe, but Ren does, and the times when she has worn the color were usually because she was wearing his clothes. She's done it often enough - stolen his sweater to fight the cold in the café while they were studying, hung his jacket from her shoulders walking around town, switched into one of his tees and sweats when she needed to crash at his dorm for one reason or another. It always feels nice seeing Nora in green, especially when it's his green. Ren would let Nora borrow his clothes any time just to see it more often.

 Nora's skirt is still her signature pink, but without the usual volume or swish ability that she loves so much. No, this skirt is… tighter. It clings to the shape of her quite well, accentuating her curves very nicely. She's doing a little dance right now, and it looks like she's singing too. Nora's a really good singer when she wants to be but he can't imagine she's deciding to be that right now. She bumps her hip against Neon's and spins around, does some shimmying movement. Ren's mouth goes dry again. He's starting to feel really warm. He should look away. Nora's his best friend. He shouldn't be getting mesmerized by the movement of her hips or tracing his eyes over the muscles of her arms, or even noticing how her outfit and especially that skirt, while she’s dancing, makes certain areas of Nora more prominent and - okay Ren's taking another drink. He's taking another drink because he needs another drink, because he needs to stop ogling Nora and thinking these kinds of thoughts about her.

 The burn hurts. It's a deserved punishment.

 He's a little woozy right now but he still feels guilty. Nora is beautiful. She's always been beautiful. Ren has known that even before realizing he liked her in that way. But that doesn't give him or anybody else the right to objectify her like that. It's obviously not like her being gorgeous is the only thing to Nora, and neither that nor the idea of them being physical together are why Ren fell in love with her in the first place.

 Love.

 Well, that is… definitely true. It's definitely true but Ren doesn't think he's ever admitted that much to himself before. In fact, he knows he hasn't because emotions are uncomfortable and scary and often irrational and he doesn't like dealing with them especially when it could ruin probably the most important relationship he has. Why did he have to realize this now? Why did he have to realize this at all? This is uncomfortable. He might be panicking. He feels off balance. Ren takes another drink just so that he can distract himself from all of this but it doesn't quite work by the time he's finished off the rest of it.

 There's nothing of this too-much-vodka concoction left and it is immediately apparent to Ren that that was not his brightest idea. He doesn't really drink too much, even at social gatherings. Their friends usually appoint him the designated driver, and he doesn't mind. If he does drink, he'll usually stop by the time he feels a hint of a buzz. This was… more than a hint. He's more off-balance than before, the room sways a little more and he thinks it's grown even pinker. His head feels cloudy. And this is the longest a burn has stayed in his throat. And he is so warm. Ren leans his back against the wall for some stability.

 His eyes come back to Nora because if Ren couldn't stop it before, he can't stop it now. She's still there, being beautiful and charming and full of life, laughing with the people around her, and of course Ren is in love with her, how could he ever try to deny that fact. Neptune comes up to her, leans in kind of close to say something. Ren doesn't like that, or the way he's looking at Nora. Maybe Jaune was right about him. Maybe the problem with Neptune is that he's too friendly. Neptune points his thumb somewhere and - wait, is he pointing at him? He must have because Nora immediately turns her head and catches Ren's eye. There's some expression on her face and she immediately sets off in his direction.

 There's something in Ren that tells him to act casual and he raises the cup to his lips one more time but is immediately reminded of the fact that there's nothing left in it so he figures he just looks stupid.

 "Hey," Nora says as she stops in front of him. "You okay?"

 Ren looks up from his empty cup and pushes himself off the wall. He probably used a lot more force than he should've and stumbles a bit, which Nora remedies by putting her hands on his shoulders. She laughs a little, and he can't help but feel even warmer.

 "Guess that answers my question," Nora giggles some more.

 "I'm fine," Ren says. He is very aware of how her fingers are splayed out on his shoulders, the pressure she's putting that's just enough to still him. It keeps him calm, but also doesn't, and his heart is beating so hard she must feel it where her hands are.

 Her eyes scan over his face. "I've never seen your face so red." Ren's sure it only gets redder then. "How much have you had to drink?"

 He wordlessly brings his attention back to the empty cup in his hand, which Nora follows. "You drank all of it?" she points at the cup, her eyes widening. "Ren, I put a lot of vodka in that!"

 Ren blinks a couple times, having to more manually process what Nora said while he was trying not to stare at her mouth. "I can tell," he says, maybe a couple of seconds too late.

 Nora raises an eyebrow. It's another cute look on her. "You don't really drink that much. There a reason why now?"

 There's genuine concern in her voice when she asks that question, and it's so sweet and Ren's heart beats a little faster and he wants to take that concern away from her. But he doesn't think answering that question truthfully is going to help that. Ren's pretty sure the best-case scenario of saying 'you're pretty and I love you' to Nora is causing her confusion to the point of distortion.

 "I was… thirsty." And that's really about as close to the truth as he can get. Ren shakes his head, but not too hard because the room is moving too much already and… ouch. "I'm sure you've had more tonight," nodding towards the beer pong table. She must've, shouldn't she? Is it just his alcohol-addled mind or does Nora not seem any bit of drunk at all?

 She scoffs. "Maybe not. Sun really doesn't like putting too much beer in those cups. Besides, that's beer, not hard liquor. And I'm more experienced with it than you, so it takes a bit more to get me down. I've had more practice."

 Nora shoots him a cheeky grin, a little closer to his face than she was before. She leaned in a bit when she was talking, migrated her hands closer to the base of his neck. It's nothing new. Nora being so physically affectionate is one of her trademark qualities. And Ren's happy to let her do that to him at any time, but he knows he generally seems unresponsive to it. But what if he responds to it now? He's not going to, he's absolutely not going to, but it's easier to fall into that daydream than usual. Ren could wrap his hands around Nora's waist, lean into this little space between them to ultimately close it. He could press his lips to that grin on her face, and Nora would be a little surprised, but in no time at all, she'd be kissing him back. She'd wrap her arms a little easier around his neck and she could press herself a little more against him, the idea of having any distance left between them as unappealing to Nora as it is to Ren.

 "Uhh, Ren?"

 He falls out of the daydream. "Oh! Ah… umm… huh?" She hasn't been saying anything. Ren has been very focused on Nora's mouth for the past couple of minutes, so much that he had missed the blush on her face. He must've missed something happening. Did he say something? The thought of that mortifies him to no end.

 He might've been emoting his thought process on his face because Nora chuckles. "Yeah. That's definitely more alcohol than you're used to." She grabs his hand and leads him over to a couch nearby. Nora lightly pushes him down next to the armrest. "You stay right here," she says firmly, but full of fondness. "I'm gonna get you some water. And I probably need some too." Nora pats his cheek a little, brushes it with her thumb. Ren almost leans into it but she pulls away too soon.

 Nora turns around and goes in search of some water, and characteristically of him tonight, Ren can't help but keep her eyes on her, until he's forced to because there are too many people in that direction. He sighs, sinking into the cushions as he closes his eyes, feeling the warmth bloom in his chest. She's just so caring. Nora is just so caring and she loves people so much. And she's not afraid to give away all that love and care, to allow people to really see that that's what she feels for them, does it without a second thought. That's one of the big things, Ren thinks. That's got to be at least one of the big reasons why he fell in love with Nora.

 She comes back to him with two large water bottles in her hands. Nora tucks one under her arm in order to open the other, which she gives to him. Ren takes it and continues watching Nora as she settles right next to him, sitting down then kicking her legs up onto the couch. She leans back into the cushions and shifts herself more towards him, letting her head rest closer to his shoulder. Nora moves her head a bit to drink some water and then it actually touches his shoulder. Ren loves her so much. Moments like these are so small, and it's not like they don't happen between them very much. But maybe one day Ren will be brave enough to let them happen a lot more often, and those moments will have a slightly different meaning between the two of them than it does now.

 She looks so pretty in this light. Nora looks pretty in any light.

 Nora catches his eye again. She pushes her hand up beneath the water bottle Ren had forgotten that he was holding. "Drink up."

 And who is Ren to refuse her? He starts to sip his first non-alcoholic drink of the night and already his head is starting to feel less like it's filled with cotton. He drinks until the room feels still again, until everything stops looking like it's in slow motion, until there's no more pink clouds on the edges of his vision. Before he knows it, Ren's finished the whole bottle and his throat feels the best it's been all night.

 Despite the lack of pink clouds and an apparent increase in sobriety, Ren still keeps looking at Nora. She's giggling now. He doesn't know what exactly is so funny but that doesn't really matter.

 "Feel better now?" She asks. He nods because he doesn't know just what he'll admit to her right now if he allows himself to speak. "Great. I'm glad they set out those really big water bottles. That really saved me another trip. And you probably didn't drink enough that you'd need ibuprofen or something. I would've said to take some just in case, but I'm not sure what taking meds when something isn't really wrong with you could do to you. I think you should be fine now. Don't think you'll wake up in the morning with a hangover."

 Ren just keeps looking at Nora, without a word. He doesn't need them right now. He doesn't think he needs to do anything else besides look at Nora and hear her talk for the rest of time.

 But something must be wrong because Nora turns her head away a little, shrinking a bit into herself. "Are you mad at me?"

 That surprises him. "No," that is very much not what he was feeling towards Nora right now. "Why would you think that?"

 She heaves out a heavy sigh. "Neptune said you were staring at me the whole time we were playing." Ren's heart stops a little. Nora keeps shrinking down and her voice feels smaller.  "I don't know- I just figured you might be angry at me for leaving you alone at a place I know you'd rather not be."

 Ren straightens up, shifts fully towards her so she can more easily believe what he's about to say. "I told you to go," maybe he's leaning more forward than he usually would, makes more direct eye contact with Nora. "And being here isn't too bad. I just- uh- I uh-" He puts his head down a little, taking some time to find the right words. How does Ren explain the staring? That he just loves the way she exists and who she is and she deserves good times and it's nice when she gets them?

 "You were having fun," Ren brings himself to look back at her, says these words in all earnest. "I like when you have fun."

 That takes her back a little. Nora's eyes widen but her face softens. For one terrifying but almost hopeful moment, Ren thinks she might've understood what he really meant underneath those words. She smiles and brings her hand up to his face. She uses a couple fingers to sweep his bangs to the side. Ren's eyes almost close at the contact.

 "You're so sweet," Nora says, almost like she's in disbelief. "You wanna go back home? I can walk you back."

 "Are you sure?" That does sound like a good idea to Ren, but he doesn't want to take Nora away from something she enjoys just for him. "I'm honestly fine here. I know you were really stressed, I don't mind if you wanna unwind a little more."

 Nora smiles a little wider. "I think I've had a good amount of unwinding here already. If I stay here any longer and leave you unattended, who knows how many more screwdrivers you'll drink." She moves her hand from his forehead down to his cheek. "And you need to get home safe. For the most part, you seem all right now, but I just… I need to make sure."

 Ren leans into the hand Nora has on his cheek. It's a bit more than he'd usually do, but it feels right. "Alright then."

 "Can I crash at yours' too?" she asks. Ren chuckles a little at that, because when has Nora ever needed to ask that.

 "Of course." And then some daydream starts again. They get back to his single dorm and it'll be just like the other times Nora's slept over there. She'll switch tonight's outfit out for some of Ren's pajamas and she'll look just as good, if not better to Ren. They'll lay down and fall asleep in his bed, and that's all they'll do tonight. And then the morning comes and there's no trace of alcohol in their systems and everything's in the clear, and Ren will kiss her, soft and sweet. Nora will kiss him back because she has wanted this just as much as he has. He'll keep a hand on her cheek and maybe she'll tangle her fingers in his hair. Then maybe they end up never leaving the dorm that day, or even the bed. They'll talk, of course. They'll say what needs to be said, about their feelings and anything else. It's decided between them that Nora can sleep at his dorm a lot more often. And when she does, they don't need to struggle as much to fit together on this twin size XL bed, because Ren can wrap himself around her and they can let their legs get tangled together. He can wake up and bury his head into the hollow of Nora's shoulder and just breathe her in. The next time they see their friends, Ren and Nora won't act all that much different, but it won't take long before they realize something's up. They'll get it out of them, and they'll be happy, and then they'll be mercilessly teased because how did it take you two this long? Ren will get a bit embarrassed, but Nora will take it in stride. She'll kiss the blush on his face, and he'll just blush harder, and she'll laugh a little until he does too.

 But Nora in this reality grabs his hand and forces him to stand. He doesn't know if it's just how much he was in that daydream or if he's still a little buzzed from the alcohol, but it's a little disorienting as he makes movements.

 Before he knows it, they're out the front door and into the cold night air. It's a little windy out. Ren wishes he had a jacket to give to Nora.

 They walk at a leisurely pace in the direction of his dorm. Their hands are still intertwined, their arms swinging in between them. They don't speak, not uncommon at all for Ren but a little surprising from Nora. Ren might've wondered at this if we weren’t lost in his own thoughts.

 How close is that daydream to reality? How close could that daydream be to becoming reality? Is it just Ren or are there enough pieces in place for that to happen? All this time he's been worried about losing their friendship, what they already have. But what kind of future could they have? What could they gain? Is all that Ren really needs to do is get over himself?

 Maybe he's still not in his right mind. It certainly can't be that easy. But he can recall a few times when he's caught Nora looking at him. And maybe some of the comments she's passed off as jokes had more truth to them than she lets on.

 Everything about this still feels scary, but not as scary as it was before. He is at least very lucky to fall in love with such an incredible, amazing woman who's already his best friend. He doesn't know what will happen, but he does know what could. And yes, that may include losing the person closest to him. But as devastating as that is, there's another possibility that is at least that amount of wonderful.

 He peers at Nora from the corner of his eye. She's tucking some hair behind her ear to keep it from flapping in the breeze. Her hand is so warm in his.

 Ren's not going to do anything like confess to her tonight. Or the next morning. But looking at Nora, and holding her hand, and thinking about the good possibilities - he thinks he's starting to build up the courage.

[bibbawrites]

Papa and Maggie’s Weekend - Single Dad!Charlie x Owen

THIS IS PART 11 OF THE SINGLE DAD!CHARLIE SERIES, YOU CAN FIND THE OTHER PARTS HERE

Request: none

Word Count: 5924 words!!!

Summary: Part 11 of Single Dad!Charlie, Charlie goes camping for the weekend and leaves Margaux in the care of Owen 

Warnings: referenced drug use, swearing

A/N: i’ve had this sitting around for so long that i actually have almost two more full parts done so i figured i’d get this one out there before they stack up any more haha, i know most of you don’t care about this series much any more but it’s my comfort series so i’m gonna keep writing it for me (and ella, this is our series @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ lol)  anyways, enjoy almost 6000! words of owen and margaux being the cutest little buddies and owen just trying his best 

Tag List: @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ @herbrutals​ @youngbloodblog​ @courageous-she​ @littlemissaddict​ @gloomybrieyxb​ @itsyagorlemmalyn @jatpxmultifan​ @moneybagmgk​ @emeliii1​ @mybradforddream​ @lovesanimals​ (the strike through means it wont let me tag you)

SATURDAY

“Be good, okay?” Charlie crouched in front of Margaux. She nodded sleepily, the early morning wakeup something she wasn’t used to. 

“When will you come back?” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes with a fist. Charlie swallowed, willing himself not to cancel the whole trip. They needed to do this, he had to get used to spending time away from her eventually. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow night. So you and Papa will spend all day today and then all day tomorrow together and then Daddy will be back in time for bed time tomorrow.” Charlie explained, his voice soft. 

“Why can’t I go too?” Margaux pouted. 

“Because it’s a big person trip.” Charlie sighed slightly. He knew this wasn’t going to end well.

“I’m a big person. I’m four!” Margaux protested. 

“You need to be a little bit bigger to come. But I promise we can go camping next week, okay? Just you and me.” Charlie promised, knowing there was nothing Margaux loved more than going camping with her dad. 

“Pinky promise?” She questioned, holding out her hand, and Charlie wrapped his pinky around hers. 

“I pinky promise.” He agreed, before catching sight of the time on his watch. 

“Fuck.” He mumbled. “I gotta go now baby, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m gonna miss you.” 

He pulled the four year old into a hug, biting his lip as she started crying. Maybe leaving when she was tired wasn’t a good idea after all...

“Don’t go.” She sniffled, and Charlie pulled back, kissing the top of her head gently. 

“I gotta.” He whispered. “I love you so much.” 

“Daddy, don’t go.” She cried, throwing herself back into his arms and Charlie felt his eyes prick with tears of his own. 

“I’ll be back before you know it.” He promised. “I love you.” 

“Love you Daddy, don’t go.” Owen stepped forward, reaching out and taking the crying four year old from Charlie’s arms. 

“Go.” He instructed, as Margaux screamed out, Charlie’s heart breaking with every cry of his name. He stood up, hesitating, and Owen gave him a small smile. 

“I’ve got her. Go have fun. We love you.” 

“I love you too.” Charlie replied, and with one last glance towards Margaux he turned and climbed into his car. 

And no one had to know if he cried all the way to the organised meeting spot. 

- 

Charlie’s car pulled away and Owen waved slightly, knowing that his boyfriend would be taking this separation just as hard as his daughter was. The blond boy sighed, carrying the still screaming four year old inside, humming softly as he walked in an attempt to soothe her, his mind drifting back to the first time Charlie had left him alone with Margaux on the first day he had met her.

- 

“Just watch her for a second, I need to pee.” Charlie said, standing up and placing the two year old down next to Owen, before walking away. Margaux watched him go, her face scrunching up as she began to cry. Owen’s eyes widened. What was he supposed to do now? He reached out, patting the top of Margaux’s head awkwardly. 

“Don’t cry.” He mumbled, in what he hoped was a comforting tone. Clearly it wasn’t, however, since Margaux’s cries got louder, causing people to start to stare. 

“Hey, Maggie. It’s okay. He’ll be back soon.” He tried, moving to pat her back. Still no use, and Owen began to panic. What were you meant to do with a crying kid? He bit his lip, still awkwardly patting her back. 

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Charlie heading back over to the table, and Owen breathed a sigh of relief as the older boy scooped up his daughter, holding her close to him and mumbling something in French. Margaux relaxed into his arms 

“I didn’t know how to make her stop.” Owen admitted, as Charlie sat back down, Margaux still wrapped up in his arms. The Canadian boy laughed. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn.” He replied. Owen gave him a small smile. 

He sure hoped so, for everyone’s sake. 

 -

As usual Charlie was right. Owen did learn, and now here he was, officially on his own for the weekend with Margaux having a complete meltdown in his arms.

He bounced her slightly, humming the tune  to Stand Tall, hoping the familiar tune would calm the four year old. 

“Daddy!” Margaux wailed, her face red with anguish. 

“Papa’s here.” Owen reminded her, swaying back and forth with her head tucked into his shoulder. 

“I want Daddy.” She protested. Owen bit his lip. 

“Daddy will be back tomorrow but for now, think about how much fun we’re gonna have together! We can paint each other’s nails and get pizza for dinner and watch all of your favourite movies. Or we could go out if you wanted to go somewhere? We could go swimming?” 

“Don’t wanna.” Margaux cried. 

“Okay.” Owen sighed, moving over to the couch and sitting down on it, shifting Margaux so that she was in his lap. Surely she’d tire herself out eventually, especially since it was barely 7am... maybe the best thing would be to just let her cry. 

 So that’s what Owen did, let the four year old cry as much as she needed, as he held her tight and hummed whatever songs he could think of, his fingers tangled through her curls.

-

Margaux cried non stop for the first hour until she fell asleep in Owen’s arms, exhausted from her tears. Owen sighed. He knew there were things to do but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Margaux’s side. 

So he stayed on the couch for almost four hours, Margaux curled into his chest, while he played video games on mute waiting for her to wake up. 

Eventually she did stir, just before lunch time, which Owen decided was the perfect distraction. 

“Good morning princess.” He whispered. “Are you hungry?” 

Margaux yawned before nodding. 

“I found a really cool place for us to go have lunch and some friends we can invite along to come play with us. How does that sound?” Owen suggested and Margaux just nodded again, staring at the TV blankly. Clearly it was going to be a bit harder to get her to talk than he’d thought. 

“Should we get dressed? You can even pick your own clothes!” Margaux didn’t reply, so Owen just stood up, the four year old still held safely in his arms, and made his way down the hallway to her bedroom. 

He kicked open the door, and placed Margaux onto the ground, before opening her wardrobe. 

“What do you wanna wear?” 

Margaux stepped forward and Owen internally cheered at the slight progress. The tiny blonde scanned through her clothes, eventually grabbing at a pair of overalls, before turning back and looking at Owen expectantly. 

“You wanna wear those ones?” He asked, and she nodded, before grabbing onto a Julie and the Phantoms shirt that Madi’s dad had made her. Owen smiled slightly, taking the two items of clothing out and quickly helping Margaux get dressed. 

“Now, what’s next?” Owen mused, hoping to get a reaction from Margaux. She didn’t answer, staring down at the ground as Owen grabbed her hairbrush and settled down with her standing between his legs as he sat on the end of her bed.  

“How do you want your hair?” Owen asked, running the brush through her curls. Margaux thought for a moment. 

“Bun.” She mumbled, and Owen grinned. 

“There’s that beautiful voice of yours. I missed it.” He teased, and Margaux smiled slightly. 

“Okay, let’s get this bun going.” He pulled her hair back, tying it somewhat messily in a bun. “How’s that?” 

“Good.” Margaux replied. 

“Yay!” Owen cheered and Margaux giggled, the sound warming Owen’s heart. 

“Do you wanna go watch Paw Patrol while I get dressed? Or you can stay here and play?” Owen suggested, and Margaux shook her head, clinging to his leg. 

“With you.” She mumbled and Owen sighed but took her with him nonetheless. 

Two steps forward, one step back. 

-

Almost an hour later Owen climbed out of an Uber, before unclipping Margaux from the safety seat, removing the safety seat from the car, and thanking their driver. 

“You ready to make some friends?” He questioned, looking towards the large building that housed an indoor play centre where they would be meeting a few members of the cast. 

“No.” Margaux replied and Owen laughed. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll like them.” He said. 

They entered the indoor play centre and Margaux’s eyes widened in excitement, taking in the various areas of the room, before settling on a high ropes course in the middle of the room. Of course Charlie’s kid would choose the most adventurous thing in the room to be excited for. 

“Owen!” A voice called, and Owen turned to find Cheyenne heading towards them, with his twins holding onto their father’s hands.

“Hey guys.” Owen greeted. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too. And little miss Margaux here, look at how much you’ve grown!” Cheyenne gasped playfully and Margaux grinned, Owen smiling at the switch in her behaviour. 

“Cause I’m four.” She boasted. Cheyenne smiled. 

“So are my little ones. This is Willow and Ethan.” He smiled, gesturing to each twin as he introduced them. “And this is Margaux.” 

“Hi!” Willow grinned and Margaux smiled slightly, leaning into Owen. 

“She hasn’t had very good experiences with kids her age.” Owen explained. “Plus we’ve had a bit of a rough morning.” 

“That’s okay. Why don’t we head back to the table we’re at. Kenny and Sacha are there and Tori and Jadah are coming soon. Kenny booked the whole place out for the day so there’s no rush and no other people.” Cheyenne said, and Owen nodded, following the older man through the entrance and over to a table where Kenny and Sacha were sitting. 

“Hey guys.” Owen smiled, once they arrived at the table. 

“Hey Owen. How are you?” Kenny questioned. 

“Not too bad. Hopefully will be better soon.” Owen replied with a small grin. 

“Daddy can we go play?” Ethan questioned, and Cheyenne nodded. 

“Why don’t you take Margaux with you.” He suggested and the twins both turned their attention to the blond, who turned to Owen, a worried look on her face. 

“You’ll be okay.” Owen promised her, moving to take her shoes off as she clung to him. “I’ll be right here the whole time.” 

“Okay.” She decided, and Owen placed her on the ground, watching as she hesitantly took a hand of each of the twins and allowed them to drag her towards the biggest playground. 

“How was this morning?” Kenny questioned as Owen flopped down into an empty chair. Owen sighed, watching Margaux climb the stairs of the playground, any hesitation already gone.  

“Not good. She was okay until Charlie said he had to go and then she had a complete meltdown. He was about 30 seconds away from cancelling his trip, you could see it in his face. So I grabbed her and made him leave, and then she cried for literally an hour until she fell asleep again.” He said, and Kenny smiled sympathetically. 

“How long is Charlie gone for?” Sacha asked. 

“He comes back tomorrow evening.” Owen bit his lip. “I’m worried about how she’ll go tonight when she realises he isn’t there to put her to bed.” 

“You’ve got this.” Kenny assured him. “We’ve all seen you do it before and you do this all the time with Charlie around.”

“I hope so.” Owen replied. “I’m kinda hoping she’ll exhaust herself here and just pass out tonight.” 

The group laughed. 

“That’s pretty likely.” Cheyenne agreed. “I’m hoping for the same thing.” 

The door chimed again, signifying another arrival, and both Kenny and Sacha stood up to go greet the newest guest. Cheyenne gave Owen a small smile. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, you said Margaux hadn’t had very good experiences with kids her age. What happened?” He questioned. 

“Charlie had something to do, I think it was some beach cleaning thing, so he enrolled her into a childcare program. She lasted a few hours before she got into disagreements with the other kids about her not having a mum, and the bitch teacher backed them up saying she had to have a mum. So next minute Charlie’s being called in to discuss Margaux’s “issues with authority figures”, and she never went back.” Owen explained, and Cheyenne frowned. 

“That’s horrible.” He said. “I’m glad she didn’t go back.” 

“Me too.” Owen agreed. Cheyenne gave him a reassuring smile.

“At least we know with my kids they won’t worry about her not having a mum.” He joked and Owen smiled, instinctively glancing towards the playground, where Margaux and the twins had decided to attempt to climb up the large slides the wrong way, the three of them giggling loudly as they slipped back down. 

“She reminds me so much of Charlie.” Cheyenne commented, following Owen’s gaze. “They have the same adventurous spirit and cheeky personality.” 

“She’s his clone.” Owen laughed. “Everything except the hair.” 

“Personally I think her hair makes her look like your daughter.” Cheyenne said, and Owen’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Really?” His tone was filled with disbelief. He’d never considered that before. 

“Definitely. If people didn’t know they’d assume she was yours biologically.” Cheyenne nodded. Owen smiled slightly. 

“That means a lot to me.” 

“Anytime.” Cheyenne smiled, as they were rejoined by Kenny and Sacha, who were now accompanied by Tori and Jadah. 

“Now,” Kenny started, as everyone sat down around the table. “Should we order some food?” 

- 

So maybe not all kids her age were horrible, Margaux decided as she sat at the top of one of the large towers in the playground. The twins seemed nice enough and her Papa promised her that he would be there, and she knew he wouldn’t let anyone be mean to her, ever. 

“Do you have a brother or a sister?” Willow questioned, plopping down next to her. Margaux shook her head. 

“No.” She said. “Just me and Daddy and sometimes Papa. But he lives in Oklahoma most times.” 

“You don’t have a mummy too?” Ethan asked, joining them. Margaux shook her head again. 

“Do you have a mummy?” She glanced between the twins, who also shook their heads. 

“We have Dad and Daddy.” Willow told her. Margaux grinned. There was no way they’d be mean to her about not having a mum if they didn’t have one either. 

“Do you like Paw Patrol?” She asked, and the twins nodded quickly. 

“Yeah! I like Skye.” Willow answered. 

“I like Marshall.” Ethan added. 

“I like Everest cause she likes snow and I like snow too.” Margaux explained. 

“Can we go on the slides again?” Ethan questioned, and the girls exchanged a look before nodding. 

“You go first.” Margaux instructed, and together the three made their way through the tunnels, back to the slides. 

Yeah, Margaux thought as she followed the twins, maybe all kids weren’t mean. 

- 

After several hours of running around, the three four year olds were clearly exhausted so the group decided to call it a day. 

“Do you need a lift?” Cheyenne asked. Owen nodded, glancing down at Margaux, who was hugged tightly between Willow and Ethan. He couldn’t wait to tell Charlie that she finally had some friends her own age. 

“That would be great, thanks.” Owen smiled, which Cheyenne quickly returned. 

With a few last goodbyes to the rest of the group and promises to meet up again soon, Owen, Cheyenne and the kids left, Cheyenne leading the way while Owen brought up the rear to make sure the kids didn’t wander. 

And before he knew it Cheyenne was pulling up in front of Charlie’s place and Owen was unclipping Margaux’s seat as she clung to the twins, begging to see them again soon. It was only after Cheyenne and Owen promised they’d organise something that she let Owen lift her out of the car and the two of them stood and waved goodbye to the car as they drove away. 

“Come on Maggie, lets go inside and decide what we want for dinner.” Owen said and Margaux’s eyes lit up. 

“Pizza?” She asked. Owen chuckled. 

“Sounds good to me.” He agreed, unlocking the door and letting her in, placing the car seat near the door in case they needed it again. 

“Can we watch movies?” Margaux questioned, squirming in Owen’s arms until he placed her down on the ground. 

“We sure can.” He smiled. “Whatever movies you want.” 

“Nemo?” Margaux suggested as Owen flicked the TV on, going to Disney Plus and finding the movie in response to her request. 

And once the movie was playing Owen settled down onto the couch with her, and was determined he wouldn’t move unless he absolutely had to. 

- 

Eventually it was time for the moment Owen had been dreading. Bedtime. 

“Okay princess, it’s time to go to sleep.” He said, as the credits rolled on Frozen 2. 

“Daddy said he would come back for bedtime.” Margaux frowned.

“Bedtime tomorrow, remember?” Owen reminded her softly. 

“Oh.” She pouted, tears threatening to fall. Owen’s eyes widened, trying to think fast. 

“I know!” He exclaimed, and Margaux looked at him curiously. “We should have a sleepover. We can get your toys and sleep in Daddy’s bed and maybe even watch TV until we fall asleep.” 

Margaux grinned widely. 

“Yeah!” She squealed. “I wanna do it!” 

“Okay, well we’ll have to go get your friends from your room.” He said and Margaux grabbed onto his hand. 

“Hurry.” She giggled, tugging him down the hall to her bedroom. He flicked the light on as they entered, and Margaux jumped onto her bed, eyeing the large pile of Squishmallows stacked at the end of the bed. Madi had bought her one and ever since then she had been addicted to the stuffed toys. 

“Okay, who are we bringing?” Owen questioned, sitting down on the edge of the bed, already grabbing the toy penguin that Margaux never slept without. The four year old frowned at the pile before reaching towards an orange octopus, depositing it in Owen’s lap. She scanned the pile again, grabbing a small brown and white cow, a grey dragon, a green dinosaur and a large purple and blue cat that was almost as big as she is. 

“That’s all.” She decided. Owen nodded, grabbing the toys in his arms. 

“Anything else we need?” He asked, and Margaux grabbed her blanket. 

“Done.” She decided. Owen grinned, standing up. 

“Lead the way Miss Maggie.” He instructed, and Margaux giggled, rushing out of the room and across the hallway into Charlie’s room, leaving Owen to follow her after struggling with the light switch. Eventually he got it off and entered Charlie’s room, dropping the toys onto the bed for Margaux to sort out. 

“Do you want to watch one of those house hunting shows?” Owen asked, flicking the TV on. Margaux hummed in response, too busy figuring out the placement of her Squishmallows to pay full attention to him. 

“What’s it ‘bout?” Margaux mumbled, settling into the middle of the bed. Owen pulled off his shirt before climbing in next to her, smiling when the four year old latched herself onto him in the same way she did to her father.

“It’s about people who are looking for a new house.” Owen explained.

Margaux thought for a moment before nodding.

“Okay we can watch it Papa.” She agreed, so Owen changed the channel to the lifestyle channel. 

Hopefully the show would put the four year old to sleep.

-

It did not put her to sleep.

It was well past midnight and somehow Margaux was still awake, happily watching a couple decide between an apartment close to their ideal location, or a large house a little further out.

Owen yawned, glancing towards the time.

“Maggie, aren’t you tired darling?” He questioned, and Margaux shook her head.

“I’m awake! My Squishmallows wanna know if they buy the little house.” She informed him. “I want the big, big one.”

If Owen wasn’t half asleep he would have laughed at how invested Margaux was, but he was struggling to keep his eyes open and her not being asleep was not something he found funny in that moment. 

“After this we’re gonna turn it off and go to sleep, okay?” He told her, and Margaux frowned, shaking her head. 

“I wanna watch more.” She replied, and Owen groaned. 

“We gotta go to sleep, otherwise we won’t be able to wake up for Daddy coming home tomorrow.” He said, and Margaux pouted. 

“I wanna watch it more. You said I could watch it ‘til I sleeped, and I’m not sleeping yet.” She reminded him, and Owen cursed his past self for using those words, and cursed Charlie for raising such a smart kid. 

“But I’m falling asleep.” He whined. 

“You sleep then.” She answered, and Owen sighed. Time to put his “parent voice” on. 

“Margaux, we’re turning it off after this episode, and we’re going to sleep.” He said firmly and Margaux glared at him. 

“No.” She retorted and Owen tensed up. Now what was he meant to do? Margaux was rarely in trouble so he didn’t really have experience in how to discipline her if she acted out. 

“Margaux Ivy.” He warned. “Do you want to go back to your own bed?” 

Margaux shook her head. 

“Then after this episode finishes the TV goes off and we’re going to sleep. And if you go to sleep straight away maybe we can go get breakfast somewhere in the morning. How does that sound?” He tried, hoping the promise of a nice breakfast would make her back down. 

“Don’t wanna.” She mumbled. “Want Daddy. You’re a meanie.” 

Owen stared at her, his heart shattering at those three little words. 

“You don’t mean that, you’re just overtired.” He said, his voice sounding small, not quite sure who he was trying to convince. Margaux crossed her arms. 

“Yes I do. You’re a big meanie and a bossy pants and I don’t like you now.” She replied firmly.

“Maggie...” He trailed off, not knowing what to do. 

She ignored him, turning her attention back to the TV where the couple were about to sit down to decide between the three houses. 

Owen bit his lip, reaching for his phone to text Charlie, even though he knew the chances of Charlie replying were probably slim. He was probably out of cell range, or already asleep, or both. 

Messages between OPJ and Char

OPJ one day without you and she hates me

Charlie’s reply was almost instant. 

Char  she could never hate you O, i promise

Owen sighed, glancing at Margaux who had tucked herself into a ball with her chosen Squishmallows surrounding her, and was mumbling something under her breath in French. 

OPJ  she said, and i quote, that i’m a “big meanie and a bossy pants and she doesn’t like me now” so yeah, pretty sure she hates me

Char what happened?

OPJ she got sad at bedtime so i promised her we could watch tv until we fell asleep and now its 1 in the fucking morning and she’s still awake watching house hunters and i told her its time for it to be turned off, like the asshole i am, and she said no so i used my parent voice on her and now she hates me and she’s still fucking watching tv and i don’t know what to do

Owen had barely pressed send when his phone began to ring, Charlie’s photo appearing on his screen. 

“Hey.” He answered sadly. 

“Give the phone to Margaux.” Charlie’s voice came through the phone and Owen didn’t respond, holding the phone out to the four year old. 

“It’s for you.” He said, and she glared at him, but took the phone nonetheless, face lighting up when she heard her father’s voice. 

Owen flopped backwards onto the bed, relaxing instantly as Charlie’s scent engulfed his senses. He zoned out, just focusing on breathing, until he was jolted back to reality by Margaux poking his cheek. 

“Daddy wants to talk to you.” She informed him, and he took the phone, pressing it back to his ear. 

“Yeah?” 

“She’s gonna go to sleep now.” Charlie said, and Owen breathed out a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you.” He whispered. “I’m sorry I disrupted your night and bothered you when you’re trying to have time off.”

“You didn’t.” Charlie assured him. 

“I couldn’t even get her to go to sleep.” Owen mumbled, glancing at Margaux, who was already fast asleep, just proving how tired she had actually been. “I’m a failure.” 

“You are most definitely not.” Charlie replied firmly. “You’ve made it all the way til now with no issues, even after the complete meltdown she had this morning. Parenting isn’t always easy Owen, even I struggle with overtired Margaux.” 

Owen sighed, reaching for the TV remote and turning the TV off, engulfing the room in darkness. 

“Fuck, can you just promise me you believe me? I’m too high right now to figure out a better argument.” Charlie whined and Owen giggled, only just noticing how out of it Charlie actually sounded. 

“Kid free time is going well then?” He teased, thankful for the lighter topic. 

“I haven’t been this high since she was born, it’s nice to be able to smoke without worrying about her waking up or not being sober by the time she gets up the next morning.” Charlie replied, and for a moment Owen felt an overwhelming sadness for the 18 year old Charlie who had been forced to grow up so quickly, with no chance to be an actual kid himself. 

“I miss you.” Owen admitted. “It’s hard being here with her without you.” 

“You’re halfway there babe, just keep going.” Charlie reminded him and Owen blushed slightly at the pet name. 

“I will. Thank you again, for getting her to sleep.” Owen replied. Charlie hummed in response. 

“Any time. How was the rest of your day?” He questioned. 

“After you left she cried for a bit, and then slept until lunch time. And then we went to this indoor play centre thing with Cheyenne and his twins, and Kenny, Sacha, Jadah and Tori, and Mags loved the twins.” Owen recounted. 

“She did?” Charlie cut in, and Owen could hear the smile on his face. 

“She did.” Owen grinned. “She begged me to see them again soon, so you’ll have to organise something with Cheyenne. Then we just had pizza and watched some movies before we went to bed.”

“Sounds like you had a great day.” Charlie replied. Owen opened his mouth to respond, but instead yawned, eyes drifting shut for a second. 

“Go to sleep babe.” Charlie’s voice was gentle and Owen nodded, before realising his boyfriend couldn’t see him. 

“Okay.” He answered. “Night Char, I love you.” 

“I love you too Owen. See you tomorrow afternoon.” Charlie replied, before hanging up. Owen let his phone fall to the pillow, too tired to even plug it in to charge. 

And with Margaux’s steady breathing in his ear, he finally drifted off to sleep. 

- 

SUNDAY

Owen woke the next morning to Margaux attempting to braid his hair, Bluey playing quietly on Charlie’s iPad. 

“You awake Papa?” Margaux questioned. Owen hummed in response. 

“Yep.” He replied, voice deep with sleep. “You doing my hair?” 

“Yeah.” Margaux responded simply. After a moment she spoke up again. 

“Are you still mad with me?”

Owen sat up, reaching out to the tiny blonde. She wriggled closer, settling into his arms. 

“Oh darling no, I could never be mad at you.” He told her. Margaux thought for a moment before looking back up at him. 

“Do you still love me?” She asked, her voice small. Owen’s heart shattered. 

“Of course I still love you. You’re my little girl, I will always love you. Just like how your Daddy will always love you no matter what.” He assured her. 

“But I was mean to you.” Margaux frowned. “And Daddy said that’s naughty.”

“It is naughty, but I forgive you. Because I know you were just very tired.” He told her. She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry Papa.” She said quietly. Owen pressed a kiss to her head, playing with her curls like he knew Charlie did, hoping the familiar gesture would reassure her.  

“I know honey, it’s okay, I promise.” He whispered. 

“Love you.” Margaux mumbled, pressing her face into his neck. Owen smiled, wrapping his arms around her tightly and squeezing. 

“I love you too.” He replied. “Now how about we get dressed and go out for breakfast?” 

“Yeah!” Margaux grinned, perking up instantly at the mention of food. Owen laughed. 

“Okay then, let’s do it.” 

- 

Just over an hour later the two of them were curled into a tiny booth in the back corner of a café, the table chosen especially to try to remain unnoticed by any fans that may have been around. Owen loved the fans but sometimes they could be a little much, and having Margaux with him made him hyperaware of how necessary it was to remain anonymous. He had no idea how Charlie did this. 

Owen glanced around the room, picking at his eggs. There didn’t seem to be anyone around who might recognise them, but there was never a guarantee that they wouldn’t be noticed.  

“Can I have some of your one Papa?” Margaux questioned, catching Owen’s attention. 

Owen’s head snapped back, his attention now solely on the four year old in front of him. 

“Which one darling?” He asked. 

“That one.” She pointed to the cooked tomato that he had pushed off to the side of his plate. Owen nodded, placing it on her plate and shaking his head when she dipped it into the leftover maple syrup. Charlie really was raising his clone. 

“Are you full?” Margaux questioned after scoffing down the tomato, eyeing his eggs. Owen chuckled, scooping the eggs onto her plate too. 

“Hungry this morning huh?” He teased. Margaux grinned at him, her mouth full of his eggs. 

“Patrick says it’s cause I’m a growing girl.” She informed him. 

“I think Patrick is right. You were only tiny when I first met you and now you’re huge!” He emphasised the last word and Margaux laughed loudly. 

“You’re silly Papa.” She said between laughs. Owen grinned. 

“Excuse me?” A voice came and Owen’s heart stopped for a moment, looking up to find an elderly woman smiling at him. 

“Yes?” He answered politely. She didn’t look like the type to watch the show, but you could never be sure. 

“Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to compliment you on how well behaved your daughter is.” She smiled and Owen couldn’t help the light blush that covered his cheeks. 

His daughter. 

“Thank you.” He replied and the woman nodded, smiling at Margaux, before wandering away. 

Owen took a deep breath, collecting himself, before tuning his attention back to Margaux. 

“You ready to go kiddo?” He questioned. Margaux nodded, so Owen stood up, taking her hand and leaving the cafe, thanking the waitresses as they left. 

“So what do you wanna do today?” Owen asked as they began the short walk back to Charlie’s place. Margaux pulled a face as she thought. 

“Can we watch some more House Hunters?” She questioned, making Owen laugh. 

“Of course we can.” He agreed. 

- 

It was just after 2pm when Margaux shifted in his arms, where she had settled down to watch House Hunters hours ago. 

“Papa? I’m hungry.” She mumbled. Owen played with one of her pigtails. 

“What would you like to eat?” He asked. 

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, as Owen’s phone vibrated in his pocket. 

“Why don’t you have a little think then.” Owen suggested, pulling out his phone and smiling when he saw Charlie’s name on his screen. He answered quickly. 

“Hey!” He greeted. 

“Hey babe. I’m just leaving now, will be home in maybe an hour?” Charlie’s voice came through the phone. 

“That’s great, we can’t wait to see you. We were just talking about getting some lunch, would you wanna pick something up on the way home?” Owen asked. Charlie laughed. 

“I can do that. Anything in particular?” He questioned. Owen turned his attention back to the blonde in his arms. 

“You decided on what you wanna eat yet Maggie?” He asked. She shook her head. 

“No.” She replied simply. Owen chuckled. 

“Want Daddy to pick something? He’s coming home now and he’s gonna get lunch for us on the way.” He suggested. Margaux lit up at the suggestion. Or maybe the idea that her Dad was on his way home. Probably both. 

“Yes please.” She grinned. 

“Hey Char? Your pick. Just not pizza cause we had that last night.” Owen informed the older boy. 

“Okay cool, I’ll see you guys in like, 30 minutes then.” Charlie answered, and Owen could hear his car starting in the background. 

“See you then.” Owen smiled. He really had missed Charlie, and he knew Margaux had missed her father just as much, if not more. 

“Love you.” Charlie’s voice came, breaking Owen out of his thoughts. 

“Love you too.” Owen replied, before hanging up and turning to Margaux. “Okay Maggie, what house are they picking?” 

The four year old paused, thinking. 

“The blue one.” She decided. 

“With the pool?” Owen checked, and she nodded. 

“Yeah that one.” She said. He looked up at the TV, just in time to see the house again. 

“Cause it’s got a pool?” He questioned. Margaux nodded, settling back into his arms again. 

“And it’s blue.” She giggled. “Blue house and blue pool. That’s the best one.” 

“You know what? I think you might be right.” Owen laughed, and the two of them turned their attention back to the TV to find out which house the couple chose. 

-

Just under half an hour later Charlie arrived home, unlocking the front door and entering the quiet house, his arms full of Chinese takeout. 

He could hear muffled giggles coming from his bedroom, so he dropped his bags and headed down the hallway, entering his room to find Owen and Margaux curled up in a pile of Squishmallows, the lifestyle channel playing loudly on the TV. 

“Daddy!” Margaux exclaimed, jumping up and throwing herself at him. He stumbled, but caught her, handing the food off to Owen so that he could properly hug his daughter. 

“Hey baby.” He greeted, squeezing her tightly as she clung to him like a baby koala. 

“I missed you.” She whined. “Don’t go away again.” 

“I’ll try not to.” He laughed. “Did you have fun with Papa?” 

She launched into a complete recount of her weekend as Charlie placed her back down onto the bed and plopped down next to Owen, snuggling close to the blond in greeting. 

“You survived.” Charlie grinned, placing a kiss to Owen’s shoulder. Owen chuckled. 

“Barely.” He replied, scooping fried rice onto one of the paper plates that the restaurant had provided. Charlie shook his head.

“But you survived. That’s all that matters.” He said, and Owen glanced at Margaux before nodding. 

“Yeah it is.” He agreed. 

And as Charlie settled back into Dad life, he couldn’t help but wish that this was how life could be every day. 

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 25

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: smut (18+)

A/N: me to me “you shall not write smut. BEHAVE” also me “mILE HIGH CLUB”. 2021 barely started and i already need jesus. also rip me attempting to post this before christmas but hey i refuse to let christmas end bc christmas is my only hope and love and it’s over.

NEXT CHAPTER

Bucky was the first one up as the clock struck 5AM. He was anxious for the flight, for everything really. Y/N had assured him she had bought first class tickets so he’d be comfortable with the long trip but he was still reticent about flying. As an Avenger he used to do national missions, preferring not to fly as it brought him some memories he didn’t like to relieve. Sam had suggested he took some sleeping pills while the flight was going but Bucky refused not to be there to support Y/N who’d been getting called by her team 24/7 about her “mishap” as her manager like to refer to. As if a 20-something dating was something weird. Bucky knew Steve did way worse things than that but of course, she had stepped off the line, off the good girl, virgin ‘til marriage, girl next door yet just gorgeously unattainable and if Y/N hadn’t told him to stay out of it, he would’ve threatened everyone.

Anyway, other than flying he kept wondering about her family. Y/N had a big family, at least more family than he had and he wasn’t entirely sure how they would react to him. Bucky knew he wasn’t the type of man you’d like your daughter to bring in. Who’d want to say that their daughter was dating an assassin? No one. He had wanted to say no, he wanted her to have a nice holiday but looking at her there was no denying her. 

Y/N woke up half an hour later, extending her arm towards Bucky’s side only to feel the cold of the sheets on her side. She rose her torso, rubbing the sleep off her eyes before the blurry room became clear. He was sat on the big armchair, staring at the flight tickets.

     - Someone’s an early bird. - she leaned on the bed, hands under her chin as he gave her his charming smile. - Excited?

     - Nervous. - he rose from his chair to kiss her forehead. - Do you need anything, princess?

     - Just need to get dressed. - she lazily got up from her bed. - You’re gonna love it, Buck. There’s snow on the ground, we can get spiced mulled tea and go see the decorations at the West End. 

     - I’m sure I will. Now get dressed unless you plan on going to the airport in your underwear.

     - I don’t see you complaining. - she flirted, hips moving side to side as she opened his wardrobe to grab her burgundy long sleeve dress and pair of black flats. Bucky tried his best not to ogle at her and her figure in a matching black set of star motif bra and panties with garters to see through black stockings. Sometimes he had to slap himself to convince himself the woman standing in front of him actually liked him. - You’re okay with going, right?

      - Of course, princess. Whatever makes you happy.

      - Okay but what makes you happy? We don’t need to go if you don’t feel comfortable. 

      - Just regular meeting the parents nerves. - he pulled her hair away from her face to kiss her forehead. 

      - Based on the photos Rebecca has, I would say you’ve met enough parents not to be nervous anymore. 

      - Come here, you little minx. - he wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her in close to him. - I will have you know that I never met any of the girls’ parents. It was not a good thing for a lady to be seen alone with a man in my time, so we had to keep it a secret.

      - Mhm, were you destroying ladies’ reputations in your day, Mr. Barnes? Is that it?

      - Not my fault they couldn’t resist me. - he leaned down to kiss her but she turned her face away, naughty smile on her lips. - Don’t do that to me, princess. It’ll break my tiny heart.

      - Stop playing Romeo and grab your bags before we’re late. - she swung her hips side to side to grab her own cary on, a small matte black suitcase with her initials on the bottom left in a small size. 

Bucky followed her into the airport. He couldn’t seriously remember the last time he had been in an airport, maybe during his youth but right now everything seemed so different yet he didn’t feel scared. He looked to his right and there she was, holding his hand as the other pulled her trolley, dark sunglasses on to hide who she was but still sporting that smile that was truly hers, something he could pick out of a crowd. He never really liked the word or feeling of possession, neither did she, but they didn’t really mind the feeling that a ship’s rope held both their hands together in a nautical strong knot. It was that sort of feeling that disconnected them both from what surrounded them, the sound of echoed and at the same time murmured silence. Y/N didn’t mind, Bucky didn’t mind. The flashlights went by dim and the announcements went mute for both of them.

Y/N however did not like airports. For her, airports signified goodbyes, harmful and painful goodbyes those were you wave goodbye to your loved ones and walk into security checks with tears lodged in her throat, telling herself to put herself together as she approached the beginning of that line. It represented waving goodbye to her comforts to travel somewhere she was not happy, not that her life in the US after she left the UK didn’t made her happy, it did but it was a faux happiness. It was locked inside a bought apartment with people who didn’t or refused to understand her, with friends she loved and cared for but didn’t really check on her them too lost on their own lives, it was yearning for a love that took years to come and everyone told her it would come but never did. It was an odd feeling being at the airport but being with Bucky twisted that. It was no longer leaving loved ones, it was departing with them, it was leaving all the mess that haunted her behind yet she couldn’t help feeling like something lingered in the wind, some cut throating emotions and actions which would return to her. 

She decided not to dwell on it, smiling at Bucky as he picked some snacks to bring inside the plane besides her telling him they probably would have the peanut M&Ms rather than his beloved chocolate only ones. She watched him as someone watched something that reminded them of a childhood memory or something that touched them, with a tinge of sadness, almost knowing it would never happen again. She felt tied to him but she felt at any time this knot could worn out and she feared he would leave. Things fade, nothing lasts forever and she wondered when he would realise that he was dating a ticking time bomb controlled by others. She had control over her own heart but her face, her reputation, that would never be hers to control. 

     - Y/N? - he laid his hand on top of her shoulder. - Are you okay, princess?

     - Yeah, just thinking. - she handed the lady the tickets, holding Bucky’s hand as he led her inside the airplane.

Y/N was lucky to be used to first class, she spent in life in it but for Bucky it was a jarring new experience. His parents used to be well off, better than most however they were never well enough to afford flying anywhere. The closest he’d been to flying was in military helicopters but all his experience to commercial flying had been watching on magazines but even this looked so different. It looked like a perfect first class bedroom in a five star hotel with individual little places for each passenger and some for couples which he guessed was one for the two of them. As they approached their cabin, a polished dressed lady signalled them inside their own seats. She looked at Bucky who had star filled eyes as he noticed all the comfort of his seat.

    - Is this how you travel? - he sat down by the window, looking at the small bottles of water, juices and fun sized treats. - Now I know why you travel so much. It’s like a damn hotel room here. 

    - Peanut M&M’s. - she grabbed one of the snacks from his side. - I believe you’ll be donating those to me. 

    - That’s a travesty, princess. I cannot believe you prefer those with peanuts

    - Peanuts are great. 

    - Unless you’re allergic to them.

    - You’re not allergic to peanuts. Steve would’ve told me if you were and I saw you eat a peanut energy bar yesterday. - she crossed her arms. 

    - First, I hate peanuts so it’s almost as if I were allergic to them. Second, KIND bars don’t count, you know how good they are, they add that little caramel drizzle.

    - I guess we’re gonna have more than my nephews and nieces for a picky eater this Christmas. - she laughed, picking the remote to shuffle through whatever the company offered. Bucky leaned on her shoulder, leaving a kiss on it right before he did. - Thank you for coming with me. 

   - That’s not a problem, princess. Besides, who would guard you if I were not to come?

   - Is this overtime then, Mr. Barnes? - she looked down at him, his childish yet charming smile whenever he meant to tease her which he so easily could do both meanings of the word. - We should prepare for take off. 

It couldn’t be too different from take off in the quinjet. Bucky had done it once after the train incident but it always brought him back to it. He wasn’t like this and it pained him that the slightest of turbulences in any travels now made him feel like a kid. He didn’t use to be like this, he was fearless, going on the Cyclone time and time again and now ... now he was a shell of a man afraid of take off. He shouldn’t be afraid, it was not his role, right? He knew things were different then and were different now but he always wanted to be strong, strong for her as if any insecurity would throw her away. He knew it didn’t, Bucky knew Y/N was there to stick around and didn’t care about what the war and HYDRA had done to him but he cared. Bucky wanted to be her hero, her safe harbour and with this ... 

His mind shattered into snowflakes as she held his hand, the captain’s voice muffled as the plane gathered speech. Y/N never hand cold hands or a cold touch, she was just warm, a little ray of sunshine burning his icy exterior and forcing him to see the beauty of winter. Bucky clearly mostly got distracted by her own beauty but her holding his hand, the rings on her fingers which she had gathered from little shops along the street against his hand, made him want to remove the dagger he had stuck on himself so he could feel pain forevermore. 

The plane move upwards, both of them being pulled against their seats by the laws of physics on an endless climb and he still had his eyes closed, finding comfort in the darkness. 

    - Buck. - her finger caressed his jaw. - Look out the window. 

Bucky peaked open one of his eyes, looking out the window near him to see a full blue sky, completely different from the dark skies of the winter filled New York they had just left.

   - We fly above the clouds. Isn’t it beautiful? - she leaned against his shoulder. 

   - You see this everytime?

   - Unless I’m flying at night, yeah. Sunsets and risings are particularly stunning. 

   - Now what?

   - Now we wait for round 6 to 7 hours. We can put a movie on, maybe. Whatever you’d like.

Bucky took to shuffling through the movie catalogue himself. Some of the movies he’d never heard about and some he’d heard from Sam or from Steve’s list of movies he had to watch yet he never did. Capitan America himself stuck to the old classics, the movies they used to sneak through the backdoor of the theatre. He himself liked the classics too and Y/N, as a film/acting major herself, also had a soft spot for them. Bucky’s favourite was the Wizard of Oz, despite later knowing how controversial filming had been, yet he couldn’t help but always remember the wonder on his sister’s face and his own wonder as he watched the vivid colours. He could still feel it now, however the movie ended and soon the food came in and he found himself bored. There wasn’t much he could do on a plane and he found himself jealous of the 5 year old running up and down the cabin, despite most of Y/N’s laughter. 

He covered himself in the company’s blanket and snuggled against the pillow and still he couldn’t sleep. Y/N on the other hand had fallen asleep the moment she pulled the leg rest, wrapped around in her blanket, face facing his which gave Bucky the excuse to look at her while she slept. Bucky always found it wildly amusing how she slept, lips slightly puckered, eyes fluttering until she fell in deep and hands fisting the blanket up to her chin. Eventually, Bucky got frustrated, moving around in his seat to find a comfortable position. How come he couldn’t find a comfortable position on a first class seat?

    - Buck ... - she groaned, opening her eyes. - Stop moving around. 

    - I’m sorry, princess. I’m just ... so bored. How do you do this?

    - I sleep. - she placed the blanket on her lap. - Why don’t you get something else to eat?

    - How many hours left?

    - You don’t wanna know. - she rubbed the sleep of her eyes, Bucky still laid against his seat, blanket on his lap, head against the head rest. Y/N started thinking about how to entertain him until her gaze fell onto his lap. Looking around the cabin was quiet, no cabin crew or passengers on their feet, just a calm cabin. 

She moved closer to him, head against her shoulder, facade of a glistening angel on a renaissance painting. Her fingers traced the soft finish of his blanket, the embodied company name until her fingers were under the soft fabric. She slide her hand under his shirt, feeling his warm skin as her hand travelled downwards towards the Hugo Boss boxers he wore, fingers hooking on the waistband. Bucky swallowed dry, wondering if he had finally gone to sleep and this was finally a good dream or if his sweet, innocent girlfriend was actually about to do what his mind was rushing to as her fingers wrapped around his softened member. He grunted, looking at her like she was a fever dream, hips mindlessly thrusting into her soft warm hand. He would say there was no better feeling, had it not been for the fact he had been inside of her. 

Y/N bite her lip, insecurely swiping her thumb over the tip, his pre cum dripping onto it. She didn’t know what she was doing, mostly going by the erotica she had read and seen before, guiding herself by his low sounds, mumbled by his own hand which laid against his own mouth. She looked up at him, cerulean eyes looking at the ceiling as if all his strength would break loose were he to look at her and she thought that was the most gorgeous he’d look. She straight herself up, pushing his hand away from his mouth to start kissing him, something which would look rather innocent to anyone who passed by. Her kiss was warm, hot and sinful, much more different than the shy ones she would lay on him each morning yet he guessed it matched with her movements, fast and tighter against his cock. He tried to remain still, allow her to do what she wanted to do but his body had a different idea, hips thrusting and gyrating against her hand like some idiot teenager as her mouth lowered to kiss his pulse point. His breathe quickened, coming into staccatto as her movement quickened. The environment was blurry and all he could think about and hear were her movements and his body shuddering until he was spurting thick ropes of white liquid onto her hand and his breathe came out knocked as if he had finished a race. 

She cleaned her palm with a tissue, bringing her fingers up to her cherry tinted lips from her chapstick, disappearing within the plumpness of them. He swore he could cum again just from that sight. As he tried to regain his breathe from the latter event, she gave him a shy smile, pushing her blanket up to her chin. Whatever she did to him, whatever release she had given him had made him comfortable enough on that cloud nine that sent him into sleeping, only awaking once the plane wheels hit British soil. 

It was dark, around 9PM the captain had said and Bucky himself thought the trip was over until both of them disembarked onto the airport which was a completely different world. Had it not been by Y/N’s unwillingness to spend more time in an airport, he would’ve possibly stood behind taking pictures yet once she spotted a man with a sheet with her name written in, she had his hand on hers and dragged him up to it.

Bucky had been in London, he remembered it from the war and some buildings were the same yet everything was brighter. His eyes shone against the decorations, wondering how bigger they could get and Y/N took great pleasure in seeing him so happy. All she wanted was to make him happy, all she wanted was to see him happy. The taxi driver stopped in front of her childhood home which gladly always seemed to look the same with christmas lights and garlands. Both of them step out the car and the nerves finally hit Bucky. How do you meet someone’s parents? How do you meet the person who just gave you a handjob’s parents and make a good impression? How could he make a good impression? He was a hundred year old never aging man with a metal arm dating the little rose that everyone put on an altar. He didn’t belong. Maybe he could stop her, maybe he could convince her not to ring the bell except she was already ringing the bell and the door was opening up.

A short woman in a white jumper and jeans opened the door. She had Y/N’s eyes, the same eyes Bucky would recognise anywhere and based by the tight hug she gave Y/N, he would guess she was his mother.

   - Mum, this is Bucky. - she held Bucky’s hand. What should he do? Should he wave?

   - Oh my, you’re tall. I thought that with a nickname like that you’d be small. Oh, here I am again rambling. We are so happy here, you know, you’re the first man Y/N brings home.

   - Mum!

   - What? It’s true. You’re my oldest child and only now have you brought a man. Aunt Petunia is really proud of you.

   - Mum!

   - Come in, Bucky. Can I call you Bucky? Come meet the family.

taglist: @disasterbii​ @lookiamtrying​ @buckysteveloki-me​ @americasass81​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @lostinthebeans​ @mariahthelioness29​ @buckyandsebastian​ @peaches-roses-sins​ @theadorasabditory​ @sipsteacasually​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @booktease21​ @noiralei​ @learisa​ @everythingisoverratedbutgreat​ @uglipotata72829​ @naturalthrone22​ @husherstan​ @mandiiblanche​ @vicmc624​ @newyorkgoddess​ @itsallyscorner​ @chipilerendi​ @emzd34​ @writerwrites​ @bluevxnus​ @that-girl-named-alex​ @captnrogers​ @nsfwsebbie​ @sarge-barnes-sir​

[mmvalentine]

But You pt 1 | Feysand

Modern AU, college-y sort of. Part 2

Feyre worried about Rhys going to college. Of course his grades were impeccable, it’s just that he had never been very good at making friends. When they were in the second grade, the teacher had asked them all to say what their dream world might look like, and where all the other kids had said things like “a world with unicorns” or “a world where we have swords for hands,” Rhys had said “a world where everyone is warm and comfy and loved.” And then one of the boys had laughed at him, called him stupid, and then stalked around the room chopping everyone down with his sword-hands. By the time the teacher had calmed everyone down and gotten them to sit back in the centre of the room, she had quite forgotten little Rhys, who was hiding under a table. Feyre, always a watchful, observant creature, had brought him pillows from the reading nook, and set up camp with him beneath the desk.

She was pretty sure that was the last time Rhys had made a friend. Because they were inseparable all through primary school and middle school, and when Feyre started making more friends in high school, Rhys just wandered off to the library.

“Don’t you want to stay and sit with us?” Feyre would ask him. Rhys just smiled and shrugged, and then sauntered off to be with his books instead.

Of course, Rhys wasn’t antisocial or anything. In fact he had always been so sensitive. And he needed so much physical affection- had toned it down as they progressed through school, but still spent most afternoons sprawled over the foot of Feyre’s bed, a leg or hip against hers, as long as they always had one point of contact. He had one or two romantic entanglements, but they never seemed to last long. Feyre wondered sometimes whether Rhys had decided early on that people were callous and cruel, and most weren’t worth the risk.

So when she got into a college on the opposite coast, and Rhys got a scholarship somewhere up north, Feyre seriously worried about what might happen to him left to his own devices.

Rhys had rolled his eyes when she broached the subject.

“I’ll be fine, Feyre darling,” he said. “Look at me. I’m unreasonably handsome.” “And has that helped you make any friends in high school?” Feyre had demanded, eyebrows raised. “It helped me get you,” he said with a rakish grin. “And you are all I need.” “Right but you won’t have me in six weeks,” Feyre said, feeling like she was going in circles. Rhys only shrugged. “I’ll be fine,” was all he said.

In the end Feyre decided that Rhys was just less in need of people than she was. She had always enjoyed company, and bouncing ideas off people. Rhys lived more inside himself.

And so she packed up for college, said goodbye to her friends, and went to one last party before she was due to drive off the next morning. Rhys hadn't wanted to come, of course, he never did. Truth be told, she felt a little disappointed but not surprised. It would have been nice to hang out one more time before she left.

Disappointments aside, Feyre was ecstatic to be leaving her hometown. It was small, and dingy, and contained her two awful sisters and she just knew she would go and never look back. She hoped Rhys would be able to do the same thing.

Feyre left the house wearing a scandalous silver dress. It was such a conservative town, she knew she'd be getting looks but screw it, she was leaving tomorrow. She took the bus to the sorry excuse for a bar the town had, and as she looked out the window she couldn't say she would miss any of this.

The bar had stained carpets and flickering lights. For some reason, Alis was devoted to it and was here most weekends. Feyre had turned her down many times, but figured it was as good a place as any to spend her last night in town. Lucien was already there too, taking up half the booth with his long limbs.

"Feyre!" Alis squealed. She hugged her friend tightly, and then Lucien pushed two shot glasses toward her as she sat down. "You're two behind Feyre, drink up."

And that would be the last clear thing that Feyre remembered from that night.

Hours later, she swayed on her front door step and tried to open the door without waking anyone. This was particularly difficult because the keyhole kept moving.

She managed to get herself up the stairs without anyone coming out, and closed her bedroom door behind herself thankfully. Dropped her purse on the ground, threw her coat over the chair, and stumbled toward the bed.

Where Rhys was sitting, his legs crossed at the ankles and his back against the headboard, with a bemused smirk on his handsome face.

"Hello, Feyre darling," he said. "Rhys? How did you get in here?" Rhys shrugged. "Through the window." "I'm on the second floor." "I climbed." Feyre's alcohol addled brain struggled to put this together.

"Okay..." she said. "But, what are you doing here?" Rhys fiddled with a loose thread on Feyre's duvet cover. "Wanted to see you," he said. "I invited you out tonight." Rhys rolled his eyes. "Yeah but I hate those guys. I just want to see you."

Feyre walked unsteadily round the side of the bed and sat down next to Rhys.

"You always just want to see me, Rhys," she said. "Come on seriously, you know you're going to have to talk to other people at college." "I hate other people." "You hate everyone." "I don't hate you."

Feyre just peered at him until he squirmed.

"Okay, okay, I promise I'll talk to people at college. Now can you take that ridiculous thing off and come hang out with me?" Feyre sighed. "Fine. Turn." She circled her finger in the air, indicating for Rhys to face away from her. He huffed but then turned his back obediently, and she got out of her ridiculous dress and into flannel pyjama pants.

"Rhys," she said. "Are you sitting on my t-shirt?" "I don't think so?" Rhys said. He pulled off his own shirt and held it out to her without turning. "Here," he said. "You can have mine." "Well aren't you a gentleman," Feyre said. "You know this is my house, I have a whole wardrobe full of t-shirts." But tired as she was, she pulled it on anyway, and slid into bed.

Rhys turned when Feyre told him it was okay. "I know, but I like you in my clothes," he said. And snuggled down next to her.

"Hey," she said. "You can't sleep in here." "Why not?" Rhys asked. "I've slept in here plenty of times." "You're usually on the floor." "But you're leaving me tomorrow," Rhys complained. "Can't I just stay tonight?"

Feyre sighed. The alcohol still sloshing through her veins was making her sleepy, and made it hard to care about anything.

"Sure," she said. "I don't know why you don't just sleep in your own bed." "Because you aren't in it," Rhys said with a grin. Feyre frowned. "Turn off the lights, would you." She closed her eyes.

A second later, the room was peacefully dark, and Rhys laid his head down on the pillow next to hers.

"You know," he said more quietly. "I used to sleep up here." "Sure, when we were kids," Feyre said. She yawned. "I wish I could do it every night," Rhys murmured. "Why?" Feyre asked. Even though she was lying down now, the room still spun somehow. "Because I miss you when you're not there," he whispered. "Well what are you going to do when I'm at college?" she asked, and the words were like cotton in her mouth. "Think about you everyday," Rhys said, "and wish that I had told you when you were sober that I have no idea what I'm going to do without you and I've never been so scared in my life."

But Feyre was asleep by that point, and wouldn't remember that Rhys kissed her forehead before closing his eyes too.

****

HOKAY phew I really hit a wall there and was panicking a bit so I am very happy to be back in a chapter fic. Big ol' thanks and also smooshy kisses to my brain trust @feyrearcherons and @asteria-of-mars for getting me over the line.

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @tillyrubes10 @feysand-babies @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist

MASTERLIST

[darkmindsotome]

Soap and Sun

Title: Soap and Sun

Fandom: Love365 Masquerade Kiss

Pairing:  Yazuru Shiba x MC

Word count: 3,464

Warning: NSFW Smut

Written by: darkmindsotome

Summary: When a long awaited date threatens to derail under the summer sun a spur of the moment idea triggers an even steamer time together than planned.

Tagging @voltage-vixen​ as requested. Prompt #9: Car Wash Featuring the MC/LI as the Sponge

---

When I thought of summer in London, I hadn’t thought of much else other than spending some quality time with my boyfriend.

He’d been playing the part of visiting lecturer at his old alma mater, Oxford University. His curriculum was well thought out and methodical, just like the man himself. Every time I was been able to catch one it was like attending a sell-out concert. I was always blown away by how he could turn a baffling topic into something easier to understand. In the end, you were never left feeling like you were stupid and it was amazing to watch him in his element. A true genius craftsman with genuine love and passion for his work.

Still, I would have liked to have seen him a bit more than I currently was. Silently chastising myself for the selfishness of that thought I tried to push it aside. I was once more in England and as per our agreement, we were on a date. That alone was enough to re-energise me.

It wasn’t much but we had decided to go for a drive in one of his cherished Bugattis. The sleek lines of it cut through the English countryside like a hot knife through butter. This was the kind of escape he liked. It wasn’t any more rushed than he wanted it to be. Just him, the open road, and his car. I watched with relief from the passenger seat as I could see the layers of stress and fatigue melt away from him.

“Are you sure this is all you wanted to do?” He had his usual blank poker face on as he asked. The only thing giving away how sceptical he was, was his tone.

“Yeah. I enjoy spending time with you Yuzu. I don’t really mind what we are doing as long as we can be together.” The answer came quickly to me and I enjoyed the brief moment where I could see his stoic mask slip and get a glimpse under it.

“You can be very direct at times.” He sighed.

“Does it bother you?” I didn’t candy coat things when talking to him. I had tried that when were first became an item and found out the hard way that subtle approaches would not be to anyone’s benefit in this relationship.

“No.” There was a faint smile on his face whether he was aware of it or not.

A comfortable silence fell over the interior of the car as it twisted and turned down roads that were becoming increasingly more rural and isolated.

“Where are we going anyway?” I decided to break the silence and ask as it had been about twenty minutes now and there was still no clue as to where Yuzu had planned on taking me. When I suggested just going for a drive and he had agreed, I thought he would have a destination in mind, not just aimlessly driving around the rural backroads of England for the afternoon.

“You’ll see when we get there.” I watched his dashing profile my eyes naturally falling to the strong hands the gripped the leather wheel. Those slightly rough calloused fingers I adored and missed so much, flexing against the wheel I was suddenly jealous of. Averting my eyes back to the passing scenery I tried to push away the ideas that would send me into dangerous waters.

Tall old trees lit up with the sun produced a mottled canopy of light as Yuzuru expertly drove his car through a nearly completely hidden entrance from the main road onto a small dirt track. For a car not designed to be an off-roader, the ride was still smooth. I found myself wondering if that was a testament to the Italian engineering or his driving. A smile came naturally to my face and I couldn’t stop it. Before I met Yuzuru the idea of engineering, cars, driving… any of it would have been far from my mind. Now the ideas came to me easily. He really had changed me.

“What is it? You have a grin on your face.” He frowned.

“Am I not allowed to be happy when I’m with you.” I teased watching as his expression relaxed once more.

“As long as it’s only with me. We’re here.”

He stopped the car in a clearing that was right next to the three S’s old school hideout. The shabby little cottage stood there in the overgrown garden looking like something from a fairytale. It was just as I remembered it the first time I saw it with him.

“What happened to ‘no girls allowed'?” I couldn’t help but ask, surprised by his choice of destination.

“You would rather go somewhere else?” He still had the keys to the car in one hand and the handle of the door in the other. He was looking at me with those dark eyes scanning me like code on a screen.

“No, it’s just why here?” I didn’t really have a location for our date in mind I had decided to leave it up to him. That didn’t mean I wasn’t a little shocked by his choice.

“I wanted to show you something. You remember that old failed power supply?” His hand fell from the door allowing it to partly close on us both in the vehicle.  

“The hyrdo—” I started to answer only to be cut off.

“Hydraulic turbine.” For some reason, he looked bashful. A man who didn’t show much emotion was looking at me with a faint blush making my heart skip in my chest. “I got it working and I thought- I wanted you to be the first to see it.”

“Really?!” I was stunned.

“I’ve never known someone to get so happy over such things.” He chuckled.

I had assumed he would be showing his success to his two best friends before me. I was perhaps a little too excited to find something where I topped the list of people ahead of Kazuomi or Kei when it came to Yuzuru and his work.

“You’re one to talk Mr Space Screws.” I tried to distract from my over the top reaction by childishly reminding him of when he got so passionately attached to something it nearly ruined a date.

“True. Come on it's over here.” My childish retort didn’t work. He didn’t react to it at all and simply nodded accepting what I said as the facts they were and exited the car leaving me to scramble behind him to catch up.

A small waterway near the rear of the cottage was sparkling in the sunlight. The fresh clear water was turning the fossil-like shell structure I had seen on my last visit. Watching it spinning it looked even more amazing than before.

What once could have been little more than a garden sculpture was now functioning. Scooping up water and cascading it between its two halves speeding it up and pushing it out in a strong even flow.

“I can’t believe you got it to work.” I was mesmerised watching the two halves turning the craftsmanship of the original I had seen had been adjusted to something more streamlined and very much in keeping with the minimalist nature of its creator.

“It wasn’t easy. The stream here isn’t very large so I had to calculate the flow rate and adjust the design to accommodate it. Amping up the flow inside the device allows for more energy to be produced and stored so power is produced. Then there was customising the old generator for the cottage to take the charge and convert it for use.” He was explaining and becoming the animated Yuzu I remembered. He was a man typically of few words but give him a topic he loved then his passion would allow him to ramble on for hours.

“It’s wonderful.” The words barely left my mouth before the spinning shells in front of us gave an ear-piercing shriek and ground to a halt. “What happened?”

“I think one of the bolts might have slipped its casing. Or maybe…” Yuzuru was already moving from my side towards his creation before pausing to look back at me his posture slumping as he mentally chastised himself for losing focus on our date. “Sorry, I-”

“It’s fine. You want me to go make a cup of coffee while you figure it out?”

With my reassurance that I accepted his desire to correct the problem he nodded and fell silent. It might not be how I wanted the day to play out but this was the man I loved and it wasn’t like we weren’t together. Draping his jacket over a nearby branch as he bent over his invention inspecting it.

His passion came with an extreme immersive focus. It was one of the things I found endearing about him. How he showed me glimpses of himself where his guard dropped. This was Yuzu in his element. The kid in the candy store. I went inside the cottage removing the door key from its hiding spot under a planter.

Time ticked by the hours of the sun passing with every stroke of the hand on the clock. It might be a part of him I was used to by now but it didn’t mean that I wasn’t a little bored. Exercising to kill time in this heat was not my idea of fun. Still, my body felt kind of itchy wanting to move. I was washing up the cups when my eyes fell on the Bugatti parked outside and I had an idea.

Yuzuru normally paid a valet to clean it. Maintaining its showroom condition was something of a source of pride to him as an owner. It couldn’t hurt to give it a little wipe down myself right? I could get rid of the dust on it and cool off in the process.

The lukewarm water swayed in the bucket as I carried it outside. I had found a new sponge and even some car shampoo in a cupboard. It was several years old but it was going to be better than trying to use dish soap.

I hooked my hair up high at the back and pinned it there with a couple of chopsticks I found in a draw in the kitchen. I’d already abandoned my dress in favour of a pair of shorts and a t-shirt I found in Yuzu’s old bedroom. I had to pull the drawstring at the waist to get the shorts to fit and the shirt was massive. Rolling the hem, I knotted it at the back turning it into a makeshift crop top. Happy with the adjustments to my wardrobe I plunged my hands into the bucket and got to work.

The soap lathered quickly oozing between my fingers as I squished the sponge and carried it over to the car.

*

It took some time but the turbine was once more turning freely and working. He frowned as he looked at his watch, thankful for its water resistance and realising how much time had passed. This was supposed to be a date and here he was once more lost in his own world. As he walked back to the cottage, he only hoped Mc hadn’t gotten so bored with him that she’d left.

Musing over the fact that he wouldn’t blame her if that was the case he stumbled upon a rare sight and his heart skipped such a beat it felt like it had landed in his throat. Mc dressed in his old school gym gear, his car and one of the most dazzling impromptu foam parties he’d ever thank a God for providing.

*

For all the fact it wasn’t the first time I’d ever washed a car before I still forgot how hard it was to reach all the parts of the roof. No matter how hard I stretched I kept coming in contact with the side of the wet soapy Bugatti and not actually reaching the missing points on the roof with my outstretched hand and sponge.

It wasn’t until a hand enveloped mine taking the sponge from it that I even noticed Yuzu was back.

“What are you doing?” His question felt absurd so I decided to joke.

“Hunting elephants.” I tried to turn only to find myself pinned to the side of the car by him. His tall frame easily overpowering me. “I’ll ask you the same what are you doing?”

“I thought you were trying to tempt me. I’m just playing along.” His mouth was hovering near my ear and the grip on my hip was flexing like his hands had done before on the steering wheel. Large strong hands began kneading at my body like it was pasta dough.

Shamelessly I went limp against him. The weather was too hot for me to bother thinking of fighting back as usual. Our little games of cat and mouse we both enjoyed was a distant idea for another day. I let his hand travel further round to the ties at my waist, those skilled fingers loosening the shorts with ease.

All the time I remained “helplessly” pinned to the car by his body and his other hand sliding up my arm and pulling the chopsticks from my hair letting it tumble free.

“So compliant. That’s not like you at all.” He gave a dark chuckle that sent a chill down my spine. I couldn’t let that go and turned to give him a piece of my mind.

“I’ll have you know I--” Words died the instant I met that dry ice gaze. His dark eyes were an inky black reflecting only me and all hope I had of putting up a front with him melted in that passionate heat.

“You what?” He held me frozen in place that smirk on his lips felt very like him at a time like this. Yuzu always became a tease when things were taking a steamy turn. “You know you missed several spots?”

He pulled back his heat leaving me feeling the cool, dampness of the clothes I was standing in. I felt my body betray me with a whimper I barely silenced.

“I can’t reach all of it.” I knew I was pouting but right now this had been the closest contact we had had in a while and I was far from wanting to play coy. “Can you help me?”

Holding out the sponge to him I gave it a squeeze letting the suds run across my skin and smiled watching his adam’s apple bob under that thin infuriating turtleneck of his. Without a word he pulled his top off exposing that mass of well-toned muscle and lean physique, he worked hard to maintain with his demanding job. It was my turn for my throat to go dry as he took the sponge and loaded it with soapy water from the bucket.

“Come here.” His command had me moving automatically and I watched him slap the wet sponge on the bonnet of the car. “Take it.” I did as I was told only to feel my body pulled back by my hips. “I said take it.”

“I’m trying but you’re not helping.” My complaint was indignant but still playful. His hands were running over my thighs delving into the fabric of the shorts from below pushing them higher exposing more of my legs to the world.

“I can’t help until I see where you need my help.” His breath was like a vapour at this point. His body was burning up and I could feel the pressure of his desire against me. My grip on the sponge grew limp all I wanted was to be with him now the car be damned. “What giving up before the job is done? That isn’t like you.”

“Mmm, Yuzu.” I ignored how in control he was and was willing to blame the heat of the day for the fire swelling inside me and how I rubbed my ass purposely against him. It was an invitation he was all too willing to answer.

In a flash, my arms were pushed high over my head the water of the sponge ran in a river over the bonnet soaking through my shirt between my breasts. His hands removed the shorts and underwear in one fast motion like he was removing a band-aid. Even with the lack of breeze outside, I shuddered at the exposure.

With one hand reaching down to burry his fingers inside me he used the other to reach up over me taking the sponge and pushing it around me. The wet sounds from me and the squelch of the sponge in my ears had me squirming under him. The different places the water touched on my skin felt like he was running his tongue all over me and I arched my body into his firm chest as he covered me.

“I don’t think this is going to cut it.” He denounced the sponge. holding it high over my back and squeezing it dry over my exposed skin before tossing it from the car and flipped me over. My body felt limp in the heat but I managed to remove the painful knot of the wet fabric at my back and hitch myself up a little higher on the car so I was at a better angle.

He let out an appreciative guttural moan that sounded far more animalistic than usual.

“You like cleaning the car then huh?” I teased with what was left of my composure.

Yuzu moved to between my thighs soundlessly and dragged his hot tongue in a long slow swipe through my folds. I tilted my head back blinded by the bright sun and in total disbelief that we were even doing this. When had I become so into sex that this was my life? Did I care? I glanced down and was met with his eyes staring at me from over my pubic mound. He sucked on that bundle of nerves and gave me a little nip on the inside of my thigh.

“What are you thinking?” He asked as he played with his fingers inside me. Scissoring them moving both fast and slow.

“Y-you. I was t-t-thinking about you Yuzu.”

My reply had him smiling and he then removed his hand and grabbed both my ankles dragging me down the slippery metal towards him.

“You know one of the best things about cleaning a car?” I was stunned speechless. There was something devilish about him that I didn’t see often. He was always passionate with an endless sex drive but this was new. He leaned over me his face in front of mine blocking out the sun making it hard to see him. “It’s the getting it dirty to start with.��

Before my eyes could adjust to see him clearly I felt a familiar suffocating pressure from below as he filled me up with his length. With every roll of his hips, it had me bouncing against the bonnet. The water trapped under me foamed with the fabric of my shirt and moved me around in unpredictable ways. The even rhythm from him coupled with my body's unrulily movements thanks to the lubrication of the soap on the car had me reaching the edge faster than normal.

“Ah! Yuzu… I … I’m so close.”

He seemed to speed up and target all the parts of my body he knew I liked. Thanks to the clinging shirt, my nipples were clearly visible and found their way into his mouth where he nipped at them with his teeth. He used his mouth to cover the exposed patches of my torso playing a game of hide and seek with the wet fabric driving my mind further to oblivion.

Right when I thought I was going to reach my limit, he stopped. He left himself inside me but refused to move. I mewed and looked up at him. He was panting, sweat dripping over him. I tried to move my own hips to get more but he just remained still looking at me.

“Yuzu?” I was confused. Why had he stopped?

“I love you Mc.” His confession was quiet but touched my heart as clearly as if he had screamed it.

“I love you too Yuzu.”

“I know.” He picked up the movement as if he had never stopped. The devilish smile on his face replaced by an erotic pleasure mask that had my own heart soaring.

Under the summer sky in an isolated part of the English countryside, we connected over and over again. Our cries and moans melting into the nature surrounding us. Our love and passion driving us forward burning hotter than the sun long after it had set.

---

[vanillacaramelhoney]

Different (4)

Pairing(s): Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: YN leaned over to whisper to Five. "I like him."

Warnings: Mentions of doing the deed 😏, uhhh some violence?

A/N: I absolutely love Klaus and his dramatics

Will this post show up in tags? Who knows

Masterlist

Previous | Next

The Meritech building was modern, as expected for such a big company. Walls lined with windows gave a great view of the city outside while also allowing natural light inside. Nearly everything was white, giving the place a cold and sterile feel to it.

Five and YN waited a while for the building to open before they could finally go in. As they waited, Five had filled her in on the importance of the eye.

"Can I help you, kids?"

Turning back around, Five and YN saw a man dressed in a white lab coat with identification wrapped around his neck.

Five took the lead, stepping forward and holding the eye up. "We need to know who this belongs to."

YN stood right to the side of him.

"Where did you get that?" the man asked.

"What do you care?" Trying not to sigh, YN poked Five's back as a way to tell him to say something better. "We found it. At a playground, actually. Must have just-" Five clicked his tongue "-popped out." Five smiled up at the man, while YN bit the inside of her cheek, resisting a laugh.

"I wanna return it to its rightful owner," Five explained.

"Oh, what a thoughtful young man," the receptionist awed.

"Yeah, look up the name for me, will ya?" he asked her.

"Uh, I'm sorry, but patient records are strictly confidential," the man told him. "That means I can't tell you-"

"Yeah, I know what it means," Five stopped him.

"I can tell you what I can do. I'll take the eye off your hands and return it to the owner. I'm sure he or she will be very grateful, so if I can just-"

"Yeah, you're not touching this eye," Five snapped.

"Now you listen here, young man-" before he could continue, Five had the collar of his coat in his hands, pulling him down to his eye level.

YN let out a sigh, innocently glancing away from the scene.

"No, you listen to me, asshole," he spat. "We've come a long way for this, through some shit your pea brain couldn't even comprehend, so just give me the information we need, and we'll be on our merry way. And if you call me 'young man' one more time, I'm gonna put your head through that damn wall."

"Oh, dear," the receptionist's voice wavered. YN sent a smile her way.

"Call security."

The woman picked up the phone and quickly dialed. Recognizing defeat, Five let the man go with a shove.

Vanya let out a sigh at the sight of her brother. "Oh, thank god." He glanced back at her. "I was worried sick about you."

"Sorry I left without saying goodbye," he apologized, turning to her.

"No, look, I'm the one that should be sorry," Vanya said. "I was dismissive, and I guess I didn't know how to process what you were saying. And I still can't, to be honest."

"Maybe you were right to be dismissive," Five said. "Maybe it wasn't real, after all. It felt real. Well, like you said, the old man did say time travel could contaminate the mind."

"Then maybe I'm not the right person for you to be talking to," Vanya told him. "Look, I used to see someone. A therapist. I could give you her information."

"Thanks, but," Five trailed off for a second, "I think I'm just gonna get some rest. It's been a long time since I've had a good sleep."

"Okay," Vanya said. "And your friend- is she alright?"

"Yeah, she's around here somewhere."

"Alright." Vanya left the room after one final look at Five.

He followed after her to make sure she left, and the wardrobe door came open, two figures crawling out and unintentionally pulling stuff out with them.

"That's so," Klaus trailed off as he stumbled up, as did YN. "...touching. All that stuff about Dad and time. Wow!"

"Did you have to shove me in there with you?" YN asked Klaus.

"Would you two shut up?" Five hissed. "She'll hear you!"

"I'm moist," Klaus played, patting YN's back.

"I thought I told you to put on something professional," Five said, gesturing to Klaus's outfit.

"What?" Klaus asked. "This is my nicest outfit."

Five sighed. "We'll raid the old man's closet."

"Whatever, as long as I get paid." YN snorted.

"When the job is done."

They trailed out of the room together.

"Okay, but just so we're clear on the finer details," Klaus said, bringing them all to a stop, "I just gotta go into this place and pretend to your guy's dear old dad, correct?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"What's our cover story?"

"What?" YN asked. "Why would we need a cover story?"

"Well, I mean, was I like really young when I had you guys?" Klaus went in. "Like 16? Like, young and terribly misguided?"

"Sure," Five agreed, wanting the conversation to be over.

"Your mother, that slut." YN tried to hold back her laugh but failed. "Whoever she was. We met at..." he trailed off in thought before a fond smile spread across his face, "the disco. Okay? Remember that."

Klaus snapped his fingers. "Oh, my god, the sex was amazing."

"What a disturbing glimpse into that thing you call a brain," Five said, turning and grabbing YN's hand. He led her down the stairs as Klaus said something about time-out.

YN leaned over to whisper to Five. "I like him."

"Of course, you do."

"Like I said to your kids earlier, any information about the prosthetics we build is strictly confidential," the man Five and YN had dealt with not long again spoke to Klaus now, who sat across from him. "Without the client's consent, I simply can't help you."

"Well, we can't get consent if you don't give us a name," Five told him, leaning on the desk.

"Well, that's not my problem," he said. "Sorry. Now, there's really nothing more I can do, so-" "And what about my consent?"

The three looked to Klaus, confused.

"Excuse me?"

"Who gave you permission...," Klaus trailed off before continuing to speak with an edge of pain to his voice, "to lay your hands...on my kids?" He pointed up at Five, who stared down at him in confusion.

The man across from them seemed just as confused.

"What?" the three asked.

"You heard me."

"I didn't touch your children."

"Oh, really?" Klaus asked. "Well, how did he get that swollen lip, then?" He sat up in his chair.

Both YN and the man tried to question him on Five's lack of swollen lip. Klaus, however, was one step ahead, standing from the chair and swinging at Five.

The man stared in shock, and YN bit her lip to keep herself from doing anything.

"And her?" Klaus pointed back at YN, who's eyes widened as she realized it was her turn. "That bloody nose."

YN sighed, bracing herself.

Klaus's fist collided with her nose, and she stumbled back with a shout. Blood slowly dripped from her nose and down her face, falling onto the floor.

For someone that looked as scrawny as he was, Klaus sure did pack a punch.

Five was by her side in an instant to make sure she was alright.

Klaus inhaled sharply, turning to him. "I want it. Name, please. Now."

"You're crazy," the man pointed at him.

Klaus chuckled. "You've got no idea." He glanced down at the snow globe on the desk, picking it up. "'Peace on Earth.' That's so sweet."

In a quick motion, he smashed the snow globe on his head, groaning out in pain.

The three jumped, startled, as Klaus let out a howl of pain.

"God, that hurt." His face was wet, glitter in his hair and blood dripping down his face.

The man quickly picked up the phone, mentioning security. Klaus ripped the phone from his hand.

"What are you doing?"

Klaus gasped into the phone. "There's been an assault in Mr. Big's office, and we need security now," he said. "Schnell!" He let the receiver clatter onto the desk and looked up at the man.

"Now here's what's gonna happen, Grant," Klaus said.

"It's...Lance."

"In about sixty seconds, two security guards are gonna burst through that door, and they're gonna see a whole lot of blood, and they're gonna wonder 'What the hell happened?'"

Five looked at Lance, a smug look on his face.

"He really knows what he's doing," YN muttered to him. Five glanced back at her.

"And we're gonna tell them that you...," Klaus trailed off as a look of sorrow spread across his face, and a whimpering tone took over his voice, "beat the shit out of us." He let out a dramatic sob that turned into a sigh.

"You're gonna do great in prison, Grant," Klaus told him. "Trust me, I've been there. A little piece of chicken like you, oh, my god, you're gonna get passed around like a..." the man trailed off as he began rotating his hips in a circular motion. He quickly waved off the thought. "You're just- you're gonna do great. That's all I'm saying."

"Jesus, you're a real sick bastard," Lance said, looking between the other two before staring up at Klaus.

"Thank you." He spit out a shard of glass.

Lance picked through the documents with shaky hands with the three watching him closely.

He pulled out a file and opened it, sending an uncertain glance at Klaus.

"Huh, that's strange," he said.

"What?" Five and YN asked.

"The eye," Lance explained. "It hasn't been purchased by a client yet."

Klaus dropped off the surface and landed next to him. "What? What do you mean?"

"Well, uh, our logs say that," he trailed off a moment to glance at Klaus, who walked around him as an intimidation tactic, "the eye with that serial number... This can't be right. It hasn't even been manufactured yet. Where did you get that eye?"

He looked at the two across from him in bewilderment.

Five sighed with a subtle shake of his head.

It was quiet for a moment before YN finally broke it.

"Do you have any tissues?"

"Well, this is not good." The three walked out of the building in defeat once again.

"I was pretty good, though, right?" Klaus asked. "Yeah, what about my consent, bitch?" He let out a wild chuckle.

"Yeah, you were great, Klaus," YN agreed, "but did you have to give a bloody nose? Jesus." She dropped down on the steps of the building, holding a bundle of tissues to her still dripping nose.

"Look, it doesn't matter," Five injected.

"What? What? What's the big deal with this eye, anyway?" Klaus questioned.

"There is someone out there that is going to lose an eye in the next seven days," Five told him. "They're gonna bring about the end of the world as we know it."

"It's a pretty big deal," YN added.

"Yeah, can I get that twenty bucks like, now, or?" YN groaned in annoyance.

"You can't be serious, Klaus."

"Your twenty bucks?" Five asked.

"Yeah, my twenty bucks."

"The apocalypse is coming, and all you can think about is getting high?" Five seethed.

"Well, I'm also quite hungry. Tummy's a-rumblin'." He imitated his stomach, adding in weird hand motions.

"You're useless," Five said. "You're all useless."

"Five," YN warned.

"Oh, come on, you need to lighten up, old man!"

Five ignored him, opting to sit down by YN.

"Hey, I just now realized why you're so uptight- you must be horny as hell," Klaus laughed out, joining Five's side. "All those years- did the two of you never go at it, or something? That would be mind-blowing. Surely you'd crack at some point. Besides, don't think I didn't notice those rings."

YN hid her face in her free hand, trying to hide in embarrassment.

"You don't need to hear about all the things we've done," Five grumbled.

"Oh, so you've done a lot?"

"Oh, my god," YN drawled.

"I bet you say that to him a lot." YN looked away in disbelief.

"You know, you guys sure have been together a long time," Klaus said. "God, the longest I've been with someone was three weeks, and that's only because I was so tired of looking for a place to sleep."

"Can we leave?" YN whispered to Five.

The boy grabbed her hand, and they jumped into a taxi.

The driver looked back at them, startled.

"Don't stop," Five told him. "Just keep driving."

----Taglist

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