#my father has picked up and read my sketchbook from the coffee table and when I saw him i asked him not to read it. he became enraged | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghosttotheparty · 3 years

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while the world ends around us (make believe with me)

8. Oh, it’s like I’m looking down from the ceiling above AO3

“I just don’t see why I can’t call her or something,” Lucas says dryly, mixing the sugar into his coffee.

“We’ve talked about this,” his dad huffs from behind him, where he’s sitting at the table. “She needs space to recover.”

Lucas lifts the spoon and looks at the sugar, sparkling in the spoon, and drops it back in the mug, stirring more aggressively.

“Yeah, but she has space,” he says without turning to look at him. “I think she could heal a little better if she had support.”

“She has support.”

“She has doctors and pills,” Lucas says. “Which helps, but having her son support her would help too.”

“You can write her a letter,” he says dismissively.

Lucas tosses the spoon into the sink loudly.

“Why would I write her a letter like it’s the fucking nineteenth century,” he says “when I can Skype her or something?” He turns to lean against the counter, but his father is still looking at his laptop in front of him, doing fucking whatever. “Her doctor told me I can schedule a call and—”

“No.”

Lucas grips the countertop behind him, until his nails are digging into it, until it feels like it might crack and crumble. He takes a sharp inhale before speaking.

“She won’t even get a letter for a while, I wanna have an actual conversation with her.”

“I said no.”

“You’re not even listening—”

“I don’t need to listen. I gave you an answer.”

Lucas stares at the back of his head, his heart pounding, livid at his insouciance, at how he just doesn’t care.

“I…” Lucas starts, shaking his head. “I just think if we actually talked about it, you could see what I mean.”

“Lucas…” his father huffs, like he’s the exasperated one. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

“I tried talking to you about it last night— I need your permission to call her,” he says adamantly.

“You’re not getting it,” he says calmly. “Give her space .”

“She—”

“Lucas, drop it,” he snaps finally, turning to look over his shoulder. He looks angry, and a part of Lucas feels gratified. Fucking finally he looks, even if just a fraction, as angry as Lucas feels. (Another part of him is startled. Every time he gets angry, it’s this quick, this sudden. It’s always sharp anger, preceded by silence, by indifference, until he snaps.) “You’re not getting permission. You can write her a letter.”

Lucas states back, relaxing his face. A part of him wants to give his father the same treatment, the same unreasonable coolness, the dryness. A part of him wants to walk out, and leave him angry.

He doesn’t.

“Would you even send it if I wrote one?” he asks calmly.

His father is quiet, still staring with furrowed brows.

“God, you really just don’t like her,” Lucas says. “You just don’t want me to talk to her.”

“You don’t need to.”

“She’s my mother,” he says, leaning forward, losing some of the stoicism he’s trying to maintain.

“And I’m your father.”

“You didn’t raise me,” Lucas snaps. “And I’m fucking glad you didn’t,” he mutters as he walks out of the room, leaving his father sputtering some nonsense, bullshit that Lucas doesn’t even bother acknowledging.

He shuts him up by slamming his bedroom door (or maybe he just can’t hear him anymore), and he stands there for a few seconds, just shaking, just trembling, just trying and trying and trying to take a deep breath, but it doesn’t work, and he explodes.

“Motherfucker!”

He swipes his hand across the top of one of the cardboard boxes (the goddamn cardboard boxes), snatching a sketchbook and flinging it behind himself, throwing it into the door.

His eyes squeeze shut and he falls to his knees as the sketchbook hits the door loudly, splitting open, and the papers fly in the air, falling around him. He hears the pages hit the ground, soft scrapes against the uneven wood that sound like the screeches of metal on the inside of Lucas’s skull.

He whimpers, his eyes squeezing shut tighter and tighter until it hurts as he presses his hands over his ears, drowning out the sound of his father tossing silverware into the drawer, the loud, shrill clattering, the drawer slamming shut like it’s in competition with Lucas’s bedroom door. Lucas’s head dips lower until his forehead presses into the floor, gritting his teeth against the whimpers that escape him as his father begins to shout at him through the doors, through the walls.

Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutup.

Lucas doesn’t realise he’s speaking out loud, softly murmuring the words to the floor, until he finally does shut up, until the apartment lays deathly silent, as if in apocalypse. Lucas opens his eyes and stops whispering, staring at the floor. It’s so close that it’s blurry, swirls of dusty brown and age. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the edge of a sheet of paper that floated down next to him.

He looks at the drawing, slowly, tentatively moving his hands away from his ears as he lifts his head. His eyes focus on the sketch.

He almost wants to look away from it, almost wants to crawl closer to it and snatch it from the ground in a tight fist, almost wants to crumple it and tear it up until it’s dust.

Instead he stares at it, only breaking eye contact with it when he startled, jumping and wincing as the front door slams shut in the dead silence of the apartment. It echoes through Lucas’s head as he deflates, sighing and collapsing onto the floor.

He moans softly, pressing his forehead against the grainy wood, lifting his arms to press them to his chest, feeling it rise and fall as he sighs heavily.

Piece of shit.

He ends up climbing into bed, tugging the blanket over his head and blocking out the sunlight. It still comes through the blanket, pressing against his eyelids in faint shades of red and purple.

He pulls it down when his phone vibrates, and he looks at it dejectedly, his eyes hooded as the screen lights up and it buzzes against the floor. When he lifts his head he can read Jens’s name on the screen, but he lets his head fall and he rolls away before he can read what Jens is saying.

He stares at the blank wall, biting his trembling lip when his phone buzzes again.

And again.

- - -

Lucas only comes out from under the blanket when he can’t stay still any more, when he gets tired of bouncing his foot against his mattress and tapping his fingertips against the floor with his hand hanging off the side of his bed just to hear the noise.

His father still hasn’t returned, (Lucas wonders briefly where he is, where he could be. Out drinking? With friends? Lucas would be surprised if he has any.) but Lucas still walks as lightly as possible to the kitchen, carefully stepping over the creaky floorboards in the hallway like his dad is going to come out of nowhere.

He opens the fridge (to stare for a while before shutting it and leaving it like he usually does), but stops when he sees his forgotten coffee.

The mug is cold to the touch so he pours it into a bigger glass with some ice and sticks a straw in it, taking a sip and wincing at its bitterness (though he doesn’t bother finding more sugar) as he goes back to his room.

He kicks some paper out of the way when he enters his room, navigating it in the sudden dimness he hadn’t noticed until now. There’s light coming through the blinds, casting pale stripes across the floor, and they shift like illusions as the papers slide across the floor.

He doesn’t bother trying to pick them up. He barely spares them a glance. He knows them well. He could redraw them in his sleep.

They’re all people. Some of the pages are covered with messy pencil sketches of Kes and Jayden and Isa and Noah, smudged and blended under Lucas’s hand. He never fixed them, or tried to avoid the smudges. None of the drawings felt like real drawings, like actual portraits he wanted to put effort into. They just made him feel better. Some of them are random people from the internet, photos he’s screenshotted from Pinterest, because he likes the slope of their noses and the angle of their eyes.

And then there’s Jens.

Lucas is embarrassed, if he’s honest. He’d never show them to anyone. He barely even looks at them himself, except the few times he gets stuck, looking at it like Jens is right in front of him, even though he’s only ever seen him in Instagram photos and over Facetime and Skype.

Some of his drawings even capture the graininess of the photos, the blur of his screen as Jens grins at him. (Somehow the drawings give Lucas the same swoop in his stomach and flutter in his chest.)

Lucas sets his coffee on the ground next to his mattress before grabbing the drawings off the ground, quickly, rushed, his cheeks burning even though he’s completely alone. He stuffs them into a box, ignoring the way they bunch and wrinkle and fold so they fit before he slams it shut, pressing the worn and papered tape over the seam harshly so it stays closed.

He grabs his phone from the ground before flipping onto his bed, huffing and leaning against the wall before picking up the coffee and taking a few gulps to nurse his headache. (Though the caffeine probably won’t help much in the long run.)

He scrolls through his notifications as he sips the coffee.

Jens hey do you wanna zoom with the guys?? lucas???? l u c a s lu :(((

Moyo bro you there?? we miss you 💔

Robbe hey we’re video chatting if you want to join! :)

Aaron lucas lucas lucas lucas lucas lucas lucas

Jens is everything okay? call me when you want

The final message was sent a while after the others, and Lucas’s chest tightens.

He takes one last gulp of coffee before he sets the cup down (the ice cubes were watering it down anyway) and slides back so his head is propped up against his tower of pillows, and he calls him.

He answers quickly, before Lucas’s head is even settled.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Lucas says lightly, and even his expression softens. “‘S fine.”

Jens is quiet for a second before he says, “You don’t wanna talk about it?”

Lucas really can’t tell if it’s a question or not. Either way, his face falls and he squeezes his eyes shut as he inhales deeply. Jens can see right through him.

“Not really,” he says quietly.

“That’s okay,” Jens says softly. “Would you rather talk about how Nick is definitely in love with Gatby?”

Lucas startles and scoffs before a giggle is ripped right out of his chest.

“What?”

“You don’t see it? It’s so obvious!”

“I mean— I’m not arguing with you, I just…” He closes his eyes again, grinning at the ceiling. “Do you have textual evidence?” he asks, annunciating and imitating Ms Peeters.

“Uh, the book?” Jens says sassily, and Lucas almost giggles again. He can just imagine the furrow of Jens’s eyebrows and jut of his chin. “He follows Gatsby everywhere, he’s all he thinks about!”

I’d follow you anywhere.

“He’s the narrator,” Lucas says, ignoring the thought.

“Okay, and why do you think— What’s his name? Fitz— Fitzgerald?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Why do you think Fitzgerald chose to make Nick the narrator instead of choosing to use third person narration?”

Lucas pauses, processing his question.

“What, are you my final?”

A laugh bursts out of Jens.

“I don’t know,” Lucas sighs. “Why do you think?”

“Uh…” Jens sighs thoughtfully and there’s a rustle of fabric. Lucas wonders if he’s laying down too. “I think he just thought the gays needed a win.”

Lucas laughs loudly, rolling onto his side and shaking head, his eyes squeezing shut under his smile.

“I don’t think people were that invested in us back then,” he says as he settles.

And then he freezes, his eyes flying open.

He didn’t mean to let out so soon.

He’d been thinking about it, how to go about telling Jens that he’s embarrassingly gay without scaring him off. (Though he also reminded himself that Jens’s best friend is gay. Though, he also reminded himself, Robbe’s known Jens a lot longer than he has.)

He stayed up last night with it on his mind, whether it’s worth it or not, telling Jens he’s gay, and risk Jens thinking he likes him. (He wouldn’t be wrong, of course. That’s another thing that kept Lucas up: the way the mere thought of him, or his voice, makes Lucas’s heart flutter, makes his breath shorten, the way the fucking thought of seeing him in person makes Lucas gasp in excitement. He has it bad.)

“Maybe not, but you don’t think Fitzgerald was a little gay?” Jens says, paying no mind, and Lucas’s eyes open to the stack of boxes in front of him.

“What?” he says, laughing.

“You don’t think so?”

“He had a wife.”

“Oh, did he?”

“Yeah, her name was Zelda.”

“That’s a dope name. Okay, whatever, he had a wife. Sure. He still could have been a little gay.”

“I guess?”

“No straight person speaks that poetically.”

Lucas snorts, rolling over more until he’s almost laying on his stomach. He rests his chin on her forearm, holding his phone to his ear as he looks outside, seeing the city between the blinds.

“Then that would prove that Nick is gay, not Gatsby.”

“I never said Gatsby was gay,” Jens says, followed by another rustling sound and a soft huff of breath, like he’s mirroring Lucas. “Just the author. And Nick.”

“So it’s about unrequited romance?” Lucas says, his chest tightening slightly. He takes a deep breath as quietly as he can, feeling suddenly like his lungs won’t fill quite right.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jens says softly. “He’s watching Gatsby fall in love with Daisy, that’s heartbreaking.”

Lucas swallows.

“Gatsby was already in love with Daisy.”

“Right.” Jens takes a breath and Lucas closes his eyes for a second. He wonders what it would be like to fall asleep like this, with his phone pressed to his ear, with Jens’s voice whispering to him. “Nick was falling in love with Gatsby, and watching Gatsby be in love with someone else. Is that worse?”

Lucas thinks for a second, about the day, the second he realised his crush on Kes.

He was sitting across the table from him at a cafe, and Kes had kicked him in the shin by accident before looking under the table and kicking him again. Lucas had laughed and tried to kick him back but missed, kicking the table so hard it jostled, and Kes burst with laughter as Lucas hissed “Shit!” and grabbed the edge of the table to steady it.

Lucas had listened to Kes laugh. And looked at the way Kes was looking at him, his eyes bright with amusement. He’d even dropped his phone to laugh before setting his forehead on the table when Lucas shushed him, seeing a woman at another table turn to look.

And he remembers watching Kes fall for Isa.

Watching kiss her and pull her close when all Lucas wanted to hold his hand.

“I think it might be.”

Jens hums thoughtfully.

“We could write an essay about that.”

“Oh,” Lucas says, blinking. “We could.”

“Ms Peeters would definitely like it. She likes in-depth analyses. Even if they make no sense.”

Lucas chuckles, trying to forget about Kes.

It’s not hard to forget right now.

Not with Jens’s voice in his ear.

“We still have to finish reading it,” Lucas says.

“Of course.” Jens sighs. “I can see why you like it so much.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

They’re quiet for a second, and Lucas looks out the window. It’s dark now, and there are still bright windows scattered around the city. The street lamp across the street from his building flickers. Lucas wonders if stars flicker before they go out too.

“Lu?” Jens says softly, and Lucas closes his eyes. No one ever called him that before Jens. (No one does now either. He wonders if anyone else will. He hopes not.)

“Mmhmm?”

“Are you better now?”

“Yeah,” he says after a pause. “I am, actually.” You have that effect on me, he doesn’t add.

“Do you wanna talk about it now?”

Lucas smiles softly. It doesn’t feel like Jens is just curious. Like if Lucas were to say no, Jens would just say that’s okay.

Which gives him more bravery.

“It’s just…” he starts, huffing softly. “My dad. I’m so sick of him.”

Jens hums quietly.

Lucas squeezes his eyes shut and his lip quivers.

“I just—” he chokes. “I’m so fucking tired of this place.”

“Which place?”

“Just— I don’t know,” he says before burying his face in his arm. “This city, this apartment.” He lifts his head. “Mainly this apartment. All these fucking boxes.”

“When we— When we can meet up,” Jens stammers out, “I’ll take you places.” He sounds so sincere, so desperate, that Lucas’s heart squeezes. He shuts his eyes, hanging onto every word. “Wherever you want. Wherever we can go. I’ll leave Lotte with my dad, and we can stay out as long as you need to.”

Lucas muffles a sob into his arm, clutching the phone like a lifeline.

“And until then we can call whenever you want, and we can call my friends—” He cuts off. “Oh!”

Lucas rubs his face on his sleeve, letting out a breath.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, uhm…”

Lucas can sense his hesitation, and smiles.

“Tell me.”

“My friends and I were gonna have another call, I thought you’d like to join?” He pauses again. “The guys, but also some others.”

“Will they like me?” Lucas asks, only half joking. His voice is small.

“Of course.”

“When?”

“I don’t know yet, probably Friday? But they talked about Thursday, I’ll text you when we figure it out.”

“Okay.”

“And you can call or text any of them whenever, if you need a distraction or…”

“Jens?” Lucas whispers after a quiet second.

“Yeah?”

Lucas shuts his eyes again.

“Thank you.”

- - -

There aren’t many other people Lucas talks to from school. He exchanges messages with Mohamed from literature for a little bit, but the conversation doesn’t really go anywhere. The only other message he gets is from a girl, Élina, who he doesn’t recognise, but most of her posts were photographed at school. (Lucas wandered around the campus after arriving in Antwerp, just to see. There was no one there, save for an older woman who looked at Lucas disdainfully.)

Her message, heyyyyy youre new right?, makes Lucas cringe, reading it in the same voice as the girls that used to approach him at parties. The girls that he would flirt back with, doing everything in his power to ignore the uncomfortable churn in his stomach, the twisting of his nerves as the girls reached out and pushed his curls back or brushed their fingertips over his jaw and freckles. It made him so viscerally uncomfortable that for a while he wondered if he could be attracted to anyone at all. He even did research, finding out about the spectrums of asexuality and aromanticism, trying to find what fit, but nothing ever did. It was then that he decided he should probably experiment, and eventually he realised he doesn’t mind hands touching his hair and face softly or eyes looking at him like that when it’s another boy.

He still pretended, though. Even when his phone had the notifications set to not appear on his screen, notifications from pretty boys and their photos and slick words, he would press girls against walls and listen to their giggles and whispers, ignoring the ugly thoughts he couldn’t stop thinking.

He’s tired of pretending.

So when Élina sends him a message one night as he waits for Jens to get Lotte to sleep, a message that reads sooo do you have a girlfriend 👀, he sets his jaw and takes a deep breath before responding.

élina i’m gay

She responds with the laughing emoji, and he waits as she types, until lol no worries appears, followed by lucky boys ;).

He exhales and responds with a smiley face.

- - -

“Hey,” Lucas says softly when Moyo appears on his screen.

“Hey,” he says back, whispering. “Why are we quiet?”

Lucas chuckles, wrinkling his nose at him.

“My dad’s in the living room,” he explains. “You don’t have to be quiet. I have headphones.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Where is everyone?”

“They’re coming,” Moyo says, checking his phone. “How’ve you been?”

Lucas hesitates, wondering if he should tell him anything he’s told Jens. But he doesn’t want to fuck up the mood before the party’s even started.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ve been doing homework and stuff.”

“Gross.”

“Copying Jens’s maths.”

“As you should.”

“Oh my god!” Lucas says, setting his laptop on his bed as he remembers suddenly.

“You good?”

“Yeah, I just…” He pauses as he reaches to grab his sketchbook from the ground next to him. “I had something for you, I just remembered.” He sits back to see Moyo’s eyebrows raised.

“For me?”

“Something to show you, yeah.” He grabs his phone. “I’ll text you a picture, hold on.”

He waits as it sends, awkwardly tilting his head back and forth until Moyo lets out an Oh!

“Holy— Oh my god!” His voice has risen several octaves, and Lucas giggles, his eyes squinting under his grin. “That’s me!”

“Yeah!”

“You actually— Oh my god.” Moyo pulls his phone close to his face, hiding himself from Lucas as he looks at the photo of the sketch more intently.

“I said you have a nice face.”

“Lucaaaassss,” Moyo whines, and Lucas giggles again, leaning down and resting his chin on his hands happily. “This is so cool.”

Lucas is relieved, if he’s honest. He’d done the drawing late last night, looking back and forth between his sketchbook and a photo from Moyo’s Instagram.

“You like it?”

Moyo lets out an indignant noise, looking at Lucas with wide eyes.

“I fucking love it, bro.”

“Yeah?”

Moyo’s box shifts as Lucas grins at him, and Jens appears next to him.

“Hey,” Jens says brightly as Lucas’s eyes move to him. “What’s up?”

“Can I show him, Luc?” Moyo asks excitedly, and it takes Lucas a second to rip his eyes away from Jens’s pixelated face to answer, “Yeah, course.”

“I’ll text it.”

“What’s going on?” Jens asks, confused, and a little thrill goes through Lucas at the sight of his wrinkled brow.

“Lucas drew me!”

Jens’s eyebrows raise and he grins.

“Yeah?”

Lucas’s face burns when Jens receives the photo, when Jens exclaims that it’s so fucking good, man, when Jens looks up at him through the camera, and Lucas can feel his eyes on him, his delight.

“You wanted to draw someone and you chose Moyo?” Jens asks, grinning as Moyo lets out an offended “Hey!”

Lucas’s face burns again, and he hopes Jens (and Moyo, he supposes) can’t see his cheeks bloom. He shrugs, forcing a grin.

“I said he has a nice face.”

As Moyo playfully shoos at him, saying “Oh, stop it,” and looking back at the drawing, Jens’s eyebrows quirk up and his eyes widen as he leans forward slightly.

Oh.

Oh no.

Lucas glances at Moyo, who is still looking down, and then back at Jens, shaking his head. Jens’s brows raise more and he starts to smile, starts to beam, amusement in his eyes.

No, Lucas mouths, shaking his head harder, but before they can continue their silent conversation, the boxes shift again and a girl’s voice says, “What’s up, fuckers?”

“Luca,” Moyo says indignantly, as Jens laughs. It takes Lucas a second to look away from Jens to the girl, who has her hand clapped over her mouth.

“I don’t know you,” she says, dropping it and leaning close. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he assures her. “We’re basically already friends.”

“I’m Luca,” she says, holding a hand out to the camera.

“Lucas.”

He copies her and they shake, both laughing lightly.

“Where is everyone?” Luca asks.

“They’ll be here soon,” Jens says.

It takes a little while for them all to arrive.

Zoë comes in next (she smiles when Lucas compliments her hair), followed by Aaron and Amber who, Lucas has to agree with Aaron, is very pretty. Not Lucas’s type (obviously), but pretty nonetheless. Robbe and Sander arrive next, almost simultaneously, and after an onslaught of teasing from Moyo and Luca, Jens interrupts to tell Lucas to show Sander his art.

“Uhhh…” Lucas grabs at his phone before looking up again. “Moyo.”

“On it,” Moyo says sharply, looking away and lifting his phone.

Lucas flushes under Sander’s praise.

Yasmina joins next, already smiling as she appears on Lucas’s screen. She’s wearing a yellow hijab, and the brightness of her smile with the soft fabric makes Lucas think of the sun. (He tells her, exclaiming “You look like sunshine!” to which she responds with a squeal and a bright, flushed, broad smile.)

Jana appears last.

She’s smiling when she appears too, but it’s a smaller smile, almost sad.

“Hey,” Zoë says when Jana’s arrival interrupts conversation. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Jana says dismissively. “Where’s the new kid? I gotta find you.” Her eyes scan her screen and Lucas waves his hand. “Ah!”

“Lucas,” he says, pressing his hand to his chest.

“Jana,” she says with a smile.

She’s sweet. Her laugh is nice.

Lucas knows he doesn’t really have a reason to not like her. But he can’t seem to help it as he listens to her tease Jens, to Jens tease her. As he watches Jens’s eyes while Jana speaks, as he watches Jana’s eyes as Jens speaks. There’s nothing for him really to go on, nothing really to suggest anything between them except Lucas’s overthinking.

He can’t stop overthinking.

He can’t even tell if Jens’s eyes are really softening when Jana speaks or if it’s just Lucas’s mind telling him they are, or if Jens is really saying Jana in a certain way.

(He can’t really tell if Jana is Daisy or not.)

It’s dark when everyone leaves. Dark dark. In everyone’s room, except Amber, who leaves all her lights on, including a lamp next to her. Zoë leaves first, because We have school tomorrow!, followed by Robbe because he’s actively falling asleep.

Jana leaves last, still chatting with Jens, who involves Lucas for his input. It’s sweet, especially as Lucas just… sits there, listening and watching.

He still gives her a friendly bye-bye wave when she leaves. It’s not her fault he’s the way he is. And she really is nice.

“So,” Jens says firmly when it’s just them, rocking forward and making the same face he did earlier, when Moyo wasn’t looking.

“No,” Lucas answers, already shaking his head.

“You don’t know what I’m gonna say!” Jens exclaims, delighted. His voice is hushed, and he’s wearing headphones (he’d gotten them out about halfway through the call), looking awfully lovely.

“I know exactly what you’re going to say, and the answer is no.”

“No what?”

“No,” Lucas insists, not really wanting to say it. “I don’t have a crush on Moyo.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jens makes a face full of doubt, complete with raised eyebrows and a downward tilted chin.

“I don’t.”

“You said he has a nice face,” Jens teases.

“He does,” Lucas insists. “But so does… Yasmina. That doesn’t mean I have a crush on her.”

“…Okay, fair.”

Lucas doesn’t tell him about the drawings.

The ones stuffed into the boxes in his room, hidden away where he doesn’t have to see them, the ones of photos from Jens’s Instagram, the ones of subtle screenshots Lucas takes during their Facetime calls, the ones of Jens focussing on his maths homework while Lucas pretends to pay attention. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tell him about them. He doesn’t know what he’ll do with them.

“What did you think of the girls?” Jens asks, setting his chin on her forearm. He’s laying on his stomach, and Lucas wants to memorise the image: Jens looking up at him with sleep in his eyes, looking awfully precious.

“They’re really nice,” Lucas says honestly. He almost mirrors him, but instead he moves onto his side, resting his legs around the laptop and laying on his head on a curled arm. “Amber makes me think of someone I know in Utrecht.”

“Is she also a human strawberry?”

Lucas blinks.

“Actually, yeah. That’s…”

“I’m a genius,” Jens sighs, and Lucas makes a face.

“Fuck you,” Jens laughs, his eyes squinting, and then closing completely as he yawns into his arm.

“You should sleep.”

“You should sleep,” Jens retorts, laying his head down and looking at Lucas. His eyelids are low. Lucas’s heart skips a beat. “I don’t wanna go to bed,” Jens complains, oblivious to Lucas’s internal crisis of the admiration of sleepy Jens.

“We have school tomorrow,” he points out.

“You’re worth it,” Jens mumbles.

And Lucas fucking f a l l s .

“Cheesy bitch,” he says, ignoring his heart’s free-fall, and Jens giggles. It’s a sleepy laugh, raw and unfiltered, and Lucas smiles at it.

“Jens?” Lucas asks softly after a minute, and Jens’s eyes flutter open. Maybe he was asleep. But he smiles when his eyes settle on Lucas.

“Mmhmm?”

“Did you mean it? That you… That you’ll take me around when we can meet up?”

Jens’s brows furrow for a second and he lifts his head.

“Yeah, of course.” He sets his chin on his arm. “I’ll take you wherever. We’ll have to stay distanced for a while but…” He shrugs. “I’ll keep you out of your apartment.”

Lucas nuzzles into his arm and Jens lays his head down again, still looking at him.

“You don’t think it’ll be awkward?” Lucas says. “Last time I met up with someone from the internet it was super awkward.”

He doesn’t mention that he’d met the boy on a dating app, and that they’d hooked up and left.

“I won’t let it be,” Jens says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll let my full extrovert personality come out.” He sighs. “You can be awkward if you want. I won’t.”

“Okay,” Lucas whispers. He’s not sure if Jens hears.

#i dont even remember the last time I updated this #idek if anyones reading it lmao #but yall i swear im still writing this #i have a lot going on but I haven't abandoned my boys #anyway #go stretch and drink water #eat something yummy #tell someone you love them #wtfock #skam nl #wtfock fic #skam nl fic #vds #van der stoffels #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #while the world ends around us (make believe with me)#ninety percent of the things i made italicized arent italicized im so mad what the fuck @ ao3

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

Note

ok abm concept how about one of the girls getting really into astrology/tarot card readings or something like that (they keep on coming up on my tiktok and i’m giving that inspiration to you)

This was so much fun write! 💟

“Can’t you do this with your sisters?”

“Clementine’s too stubborn – it’s all that Scorpio in her. And Penelope is too scared.” Lucy answered as she shuffled the cards in her hand.

“I’m not scared. I just don’t believe in that.” Penelope answered from the corner of the sectional sofa, sketchbook tucked up behind her bent knees as she flicked her pencil over the paper to draw the outline of her father’s profile as he sat on the rug across from Lucy.

Lucy made a face.

“What’s wrong with being a Scorpio?” Clementine asked, flicking her youngest sister’s cheek as she climbed up behind her on the couch and tossed a few pistachios in her mouth.

“It’s the most annoying sign.” Lucy answered matter-of-factly. “And you have it in moon and rising. Double trouble.”

Daniel chuckled at Clementine’s eye roll. He crossed his legs on the rug and shuffled closer to the coffee table as Lucy shuffled out the cards in a fan in her hands.

“Pick three cards, Daddy.”

“Any?”

“Any.”

“Do I show you?”

“It’s not a magic trick. But no. Don’t look at them. Just set them in a row on the table face down.” Lucy instructed. “Follow your instinct of what your hand is drawn to.”

Daniel let his fingers glide over the fan of fresh cards and landed on one. He pulled it out and set it to the left and repeated the motion two more times. When the three cards were lined out in a row between them, Lucy tucked the rest of the deck away and flipped open the small book that came with the tarot deck.

“Okay,” she shifted onto her knees and smiled excitedly at her father, “I’m going to tell you your past, present, and future.”

“Alright.”

“This is past.” Lucy turned over the first card on the left. She analyzed it and then turned to her instruction book to figure out what it was and what it meant.

Florence came into the living room and she shared a small smile with her husband as she passed him a can of Coke. He thanked her quietly and focused back on their youngest.

“Oo, okay.” Lucy grinned, setting her finger under the line in the book, “Upright Temperance: ‘the blending, mixing, and combining diverse elements in a way that creates something new and even more valuable than its separate parts. Blending can take on many forms; for example, a blended family.’ That’s funny. We don’t have one of those. I wonder what it means for you then.”

Daniel sipped his pop quietly and Florence shuffled off to the kitchen without a word. Penelope sketched on. Clementine scrolled through her phone.

Lucy continued reading, “It says finding order and balance and being set on the right path.”

“That makes sense.” Daniel agreed to her latter statement outright.

“Good! Next is present.” Lucy said without question and flipped over the middle card. “10 of wands. Upside down.”

She turned back to her book and flipped a page to find it.

She read, “‘Ten of Wands reversed suggests that you are carrying a heavy weight on your shoulders, but you are keeping this private and are unwilling to share your burden with others. You may be grappling with emotional trauma, carrying a dark secret, or dealing with increased responsibilities.’”

“Oh…that’s deep.” Daniel said.

“Are you emotionally traumatized, Dad?” Clementine giggled.

Lucy turned around and smacked her leg, “What if he is? Don’t be insensitive.”

Daniel chuckled lightly, “I think I’m fine. Work’s busy but I’m certainly not emotionally traumatized.”

“Good. Now the future.” Lucy turned over the right-most card. “Three of swords. Juicy.”

She flicked back a page in her book and skimmed for the description. Her eyes went wide, “Oh. ‘Three of Swords, upright, expresses that you are feeling deeply hurt and disappointed. Your heart has been pierced by the sharp blades of others’ hurtful words, actions and intentions, and they have inflicted intense emotions of pain, sadness, grief, and heartbreak. These events are often unexpected and come out of the blue, making them even more painful.’”

The three daughters’ eyes raised to their father’s surprised face.

“Heartbreak or grief.” Lucy breathed. “That’s scary.”

“It’s made-up nonsense.” Penelope said, her pencil held off the paper in midair.

“I don’t like this one. Pick a different card for future.” Lucy shoved the deck towards her father.

Clementine scoffed, “Luce, it doesn’t work like that.”

“Yes, it does.” Lucy said quickly as Daniel slid out another card and set it face down on the table as instructed.

Lucy flipped it over. Daniel and Lucy’s matching blue eyes went wide as they stared down at it. Death.

“Lucy!” Penelope gasped, tossing her sketchbook to the side, suddenly invested, and leaned forward to see better. “What did you do?”

Clementine peered over Lucy shoulder and her mouth fell open in shock.

“What?! What does it mean?” Daniel asked quickly.

Lucy skimmed her book with her finger and read, “‘The Death card symbolises the end of a major phase or aspect of your life that you realise is no longer serving you, opening up the possibility of something far more valuable and essential. You must close one door to open another. You need to put the past behind you and part ways, ready to embrace new opportunities and possibilities. It may be difficult to let go of the past, almost heartbreaking, especially in terms of relationships, but you will soon see its importance and the promise of renewal and transformation.’”

“Letting go of relationships?” Clementine repeated. “After the first one said heartbreak and grief?”

“Divorce!” Lucy squeaked and all three girls’ heads whipped to the kitchen where their mother was making herself a mug of tea. Even Daniel stared at her with wide eyes. Florence glanced up from her mug and froze under the frightened stares of her family.

“You’ve doomed our family, Lu-Lu.” Penelope whispered.

“Oh God.” Lucy squeaked, hurriedly shoving the cards back in the deck. “Oh gosh.”

“Okay, relax, no one is getting a divorce.” Daniel assured them quickly. “I promise.”

“Uhm, yeah. No divorce here, thank you very much.” Florence added as she joined her family in the living room and helped herself to a spot on Daniel’s lap on the floor.

Lucy stuffed the cards and the book back in the small box they came in, “I hope not. Oh gosh…I didn’t think it was going to be like this.”

“Don’t panic yourself, Princess, it’s just cards.” Daniel chuckled.

Lucy quickly shut her eyes and did the sign of the cross, making her parents laugh as she mumbled a quick pleading prayer under her breath.

Clementine scoffed through a laugh and got up from the couch, giving her youngest sister’s shoulder a shove on her way past, “The sign of the cross isn’t going to save you; Christianity doesn't believe in tarot. You’re gonna go to hell.”

“What?!” Lucy looked between her sisters and her parents.

The box was down the garbage chute by that evening.

#anything but mine #daniel seavey #why dont we

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moonlightkitkat · 5 years

Text

You forgot this

Prompt: “I Swear I’m not a creep! You just forgot your wallet and i just wanted to give it back to you!”

words: 1162

It was a slow morning at the cafe, which was always welcome. Weekends were usually less busy then the weekdays, since people had their days off and such, and she never minded working on them. There were only a few regulars today, as well as a newcomer, a tall blonde who’s name was Felix.

He ordered a pure black coffee, but she saw him put in several sugars in it after he ordered. She found it funny, he knew he could just order the coffee with however many sugars he wanted right? Or were they the only ones to do that?

Since there weren't any more customers coming, and she finished the orders she already had, she decided to just sketch in her sketchbook a little,coming up with new designs for the boxes in her parents' bakery. They'd had the same ones for a while now, it was time for an update.

Soft music played in the cafe, creating a calm and relaxed atmosphere. Even though this was work, she truly did enjoy the cafe, especially when it wasn't busy and she got to relax like this.

After a few songs played, she looked up and surveyed the room. It seemed a few people left, leaving their mugs out on the table. Closing her book, she stood up and walked around with her tray, placing the dirty mugs on it to be dumped of their leftover contents and washed. Stopping at a small table by the window, she noticed something. A thick leather wallet was sitting there, abandoned on the chair. Sighing softly, she picked it up to look at the ID.

It wasn't rare that customers left their wallets, and she always called them to let them know where it was so they wouldn't have to worry. To her surprise though, the id had a card with it, a business card. She sucked in a breath as she read the name.

Agreste. Felix Agreste.

The son of one of the biggest fashion lines in all of Paris, heir to the company. That was who he was? The boy who put an insane amount of sugar into his coffee was the same stern, quiet, and cold man she read about in the media? To say it was hard to believe they were the same person was an understatement.

Glancing back at the counter, she quickly set the tray down, slipping off her apron and hanging it up. “Hey Alya! I’m heading out for a bit, I should be back in about ten minutes!”

Her best friend and coworker poked her head out from the back room, fixing her ponytail. “Emergency at the bakery?” she guessed.

Usually that was the reason for her suddenly taking off work for a little bit, but not this time. “Someone forgot his wallet.”

The brunette’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why don't you just call him then?”

“His workplace is nearby, i figured id save him the trouble.”

A Knowing smirk appeared on Alya’s face, and she chuckled in amusement. “If you say so girl. Go on go on, ill hold the cafe over while your gone. Just get back soon Mari, we don't get as many customers when your cute face isn't at the register,” she winked.

Marinette’s face flushed at her words, and she quickly left the shop.

The Agreste Manor wasn't too far from the shop, just down the block. Lots of workers for the agrestes usually came to jer shop to get their fix of caffeine before the day started, but she’d never seen the agreste’s themselves come in. usually they had cooks of their own, as well as a few butlers. Would they have butlers? She had no idea what rich people were like, save for Chloe, and she only hoped the Agreste’s weren't like that. Then again, Adrien was a sweetheart, so they couldn't be that bad.. Right?

Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't even realized she'd made it to the manor until she bumped into someone. Startled out of her thoughts, she looked up in surprise, her eyes widening as her eyes met with beautiful cool blue grey eyes, with a hint of green in them. It was Felix. She stumbled backwards, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. Somehow he seemed a lot smaller when he was on the other side of the counter. Now? Now he was so tall, she barely reached his shoulder!

“H-Hi,” she stuttered, forgetting for a moment why she was there.

The boy did nothing but stare at her, his expression unreadable. All at once she remembered why she came, and she quickly held out the wallet, watching as his eyes widened, surprise apparent.

“You're the girl from the cafe,” he noticed, his voice full of suspicion. She suddenly realized that he thought she had stolen it, and her eyes widened in horror.

“You uh, forgot this! So I brought it back!” Her face flushed with embarrassment.

The wallet left her hands, and she watched as he flipped through his wallet, no doubt checking to make sure she didn't steal anything. When he was satisfied, he looked down at her, pocketing his wallet.

“Thank you miss…

“Marinette. Marinette Dupain Cheng.”

His eyes had a spark of recognition in it, and he looked at her in a new light. “Related to the owners of the bakery I presume?”

The tension in her shoulders faded a little, and she offered a warm smile. “My parents own the bakery. I used to help there when i was younger.”

He nodded his head, a slight smile appearing on his face. “My brother has talked about you, he speaks highly of your bakery, even if our father doesn't approve of the sweets.”

GIggling, Marinette nodded. “I remember. He always wanted our croissants, so id sneakhim some at school when I could.”

“He told me about that, he'd come home with a drunken smile and would whine about how he wanted to live in the bakery and eat everything there. Our father knew nothing of the secret sweets.”

They both chuckled at the memories, finding a topic that they both had fond memories of: Adrien.

“I don't suppose you'd want to come inside?” He asked carefully.

Marinette’s eyes widened,and she glanced back in the direction of her cafe, chewing her lip. “I’d love to.. But Alya’s all alone in the shop..”

Nodding his head, Felix looked down at her. “Of course. The offer still stands though, as thanks for returning my wallet.” He turned to walk within the gates of the Manor before pausing, looking back. “Im sure Adrien would like to see you as well. Thank you again Marinette.” With that he headed into the white manor, and Marinette took in a slow breath before returning to her cafe, a soft smile on her face.

“Felix.. He isn't so bad.” Definitely like the coffee he orders. Pretends to be bitter and plain, but is secretly sweet.

#ML #miraculous season 3 #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #marinette #felix month #felinette #aged up #coffee shop #alya cesaire #adrien #adrien agreste

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specialagentsnark · 4 years

Text

Just One Blind Date

A/N: For @d3-iseefire Thank you for all the encouragement today. As you requested, Sigrid on a blind date with our favorite golden-haired prince. I hope you like it!

It can also be read here on A03.

Pairings: Fili x Sigrid, minor Kili x Tauriel

Word Count: 5,404

Warnings: None

Summary: Tauriel drags Sigrid on a blind date with her new boyfriend’s older brother and won’t tell Sigrid anything about either of them.

“Really Tauriel? A blind date? And with your boyfriend’s older brother?”

Tauriel leaned away from the mirror, holding her mascara brush a good distance from her face to avoid accidentally touching it to her cheek. She’d worked hard on this look and didn’t intend to mess it up on the last freaking step. “Give him a chance,” Tauriel coaxed with a patient smile. “I’m pretty sure you’ll like him. It’s just one blind date. One.”

“At least tell me their names,” Sigrid said as she slumped down on Tauriel’s bed. She ran her brush through her ashy chestnut brown hair and did her best not to envy Tauriel for her perfectly straight auburn hair. It had to be so much easier to manage than Sigrid’s own wavy mass. “You’ve been way too secretive about your new boyfriend as it is.” She reached for the bottle of product beside her and started rubbing some on her hands and then into her hair, doing what she could to tame the bush.

“I promised I wouldn’t,” Tauriel said as she stood up from her vanity, carrying her small makeup bag with her. “You’re your father’s daughter and would go look them up the moment I told their names. That would spoil the fun.”

“Oh no,” Sigrid said and leaned away. “No makeup. You know I hate it.”

“Just a little,” Tauriel encouraged. “No foundation, just a touch of color for your eyes and mascara for your lashes,” she started digging through the bag and pulled out a small black cylinder. “Maybe some lipstick as well.”

Sigrid glared but held still as Tauriel started to work, closing her eyes and lifting her eyebrows dutifully as Tauriel brushed on some eyeshadow. “Where are we going anyway?” Sigrid asked when Tauriel started the second eye.

“Open your eyes,” Tauriel ordered and started lining Sigrid’s eyes with a fine-tipped black brush and moving onto the mascara before she replied. “We’ll meet them at the Barrell and Barge,” she said as she picked up the cylinder she’d set aside.

Sigrid obediently opened her mouth slightly so Tauriel could apply the lipstick. “It’s just dinner then?” she asked when Tauriel sat back and put her makeup back in the bag.

Tauriel smiled but didn’t reply. Sigrid watched her suspiciously. “Do I have to go?” she almost whined and followed Tauriel into her own room. She watched as Tauriel dug through her closet in search of something.

“No,” Tauriel said as she pushed clothing aside. “You’re welcome to stay here and bury yourself in your sketchbook and work on clothing designs, like you do every night, and continue to not have any social life whatsoever.”

“Why did I ever mention wanting to get out to you?” Sigrid demanded as she flopped back onto the blue and burgundy patchwork quilt on her bed. “I didn’t mean I wanted to go on blind dates. You know they never work out. And you know I can’t date anyone seriously. My grandfather would have a fit.”

Tauriel seemed to find what she’d been looking for and triumphantly pulled out a bluish-green, above the knee length, off-shoulder dress. Sigrid groaned. “Why didn’t I burn that thing after the last banquet?” she demanded.

“Because it looks fabulous on you,” Tauriel said. “Go on the date and then worry about things being serious.”

“Do I have to wear a dress?”

Tauriel fixed her with a deadpan stare, one eyebrow raised.

“Right. You’re already wearing that gorgeous black thing but you have the legs for it.”

Tauriel snorted and started dragging the dress off the hanger. “So do you, Sweetie,” she said. “Put it on while I find some shoes.”

“Low or no heels,” Sigrid begged as she went to the little bathroom on the opposite side of the hall as her bedroom, making a quick stop at her dresser for her one strapless bra. She shrugged out of the warn flannel and her comfortable sports bra. She gave the strapless bra and the off-shoulder dress a dirty look as she kicked her jeans off into the pile with her other clothes. Sighing in resignation, she dressed and went back to her room.

Tauriel held up a pair of grey boots that would come about halfway up Sigrid’s shins. Two buckled straps went around each boot for decoration.

“At least the heel isn’t too tall,” Sigrid said as she accepted them and pulled them on over her ankle socks. “You do realize it’s autumn, right?” Sigrid asked as she stood up and tugged her skirt down. “We’re both going to freeze.” She looked meaningfully at Tauriel’s one-shouldered black bodycon dress and bright blue heels. “At least I have pockets. Where do you put your phone, wallet, and keys?”

Tauriel rolled her eyes and went out to their front room, Sigrid trailing behind grudgingly. “I carry a purse,” she said. “You know, those bags that most women have to carry their personal belongings?”

“Why bother when you have pockets to carry stuff?” Sigrid asked and started to reach for her red and white snowboard coat. Tauriel slapped her hand.

“You’ll be fine without one,” she said.

“Says the woman that never gets cold,” Sigrid grumbled but followed Tauriel outside anyway, locking the door behind them. She stuck her keys into her pocket next to her ancient flip phone and old leather bifold wallet.

“If you freeze to death, you may blame me,” Tauriel said and leaned waited by the passenger side of Sigrid’s classic black Mini Cooper. Sigrid climbed unlocked the driver’s side and climbed in, unlocking Tauriel’s door before settling in and starting the engine.

“At least you have a cute car,” Tauriel said as she tucked her feet back towards her seat, crossing her ankles.

“Not always the most sensible, but that’s why you have the pickup, isn’t it?” Sigrid remarked and nodded at the little cherry red Ford Ranger.

“Exactly,” Tauriel said. “Now quit stalling. Let’s go.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes and pulled out of the driveway of their little three-bedroom townhouse.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the little pub on The Upper Ridge in Dale. Tauriel looked down at her phone. “They’re on their way but will be another five minutes or so,” she said. “Let’s go wait inside, get a table before the dinner rush hits.”

They climbed out of the little car and Sigrid paused, resting one hand on the top of her car. She looked over it at Tauriel.

“What?” Tauriel asked as she slung her purse onto her shoulder.

“Are you sure about this?” Sigrid asked. “I don’t want to ruin things between you and your boyfriend.”

“What in Eru’s name makes you think you’ll do that?” Tauriel asked and leaned her forearms against the roof of the car.

“My dating history hasn’t exactly been that spectacular.”

“Your dating history has been marred by creeps and jerks,” Tauriel said and tilted her head to the side. “That’s hardly your fault.”

“But-”

“I can assure you the man taking you out tonight is neither. He’ll be the perfect gentleman. Now cheer up and find that famous Bowman confidence that led your father to take down the most notorious serial killer the Three Kingdoms has ever seen.”

“You’re right,” Sigrid said and took a deep breath. “I’m a Bowman and Bowman’s always hold steady,” she recited her father’s favorite saying. She smoothed a hand down her dress. “How do I look?”

“Wonderful,” Tauriel said and linked her arms with Sigrid’s. “Trust me. Tonight will be fun.” She started walking and Sigrid kept pace with her. “Just promise me you won’t freak out when you meet them.”

Sigrid looked at Tauriel curiously but didn’t press, just agreed not to freak out.

The Barge and Barrel wasn’t like most pubs found in Dale. The owner Bombur McAnally had bought the remains of an old, burnt-out office building and immediately started renovating. With the help of his engineer brother Bofur, he’d found ways to open up the entire floor plan, only dividing the dining room from the kitchen with a single wall. Heavy, dark stained wooden beams stood out in contrast to the whitewashed stone ceiling and walls. Two walls had been completely replaced with floor to ceiling windows, making the restaurant seem even more open than it already was. He’d taken the bow of an old barge and turned it into the bar and the tabletops stood on top of barrels with comfortable chairs spaced around them. It was well lit and modern music streamed from hidden speakers in the ceiling. The wall behind the bar was lined with shelves of different kinds of liquor and there were a few beers on tap. The kitchen was behind the bar as well, accessible by a pair of easily swinging doors.

A hostess led Tauriel and Sigrid to a table after Sigrid requested somewhere with fewer people and then told her that they were waiting for friends and would need a few minutes. In the meantime, Tauriel ordered herself some sort of coffee cocktail Sigrid didn’t recognize. When the waitress turned to her, Sigrid ordered her favorite soda with a smile. “I’m driving,” she explained when the waitress raised an eyebrow.

“In that case, your soda’s free,” she said. “Thank you for driving responsibly.” She left to get their drinks.

“Not that you would be drinking anyway,” Tauriel said with a smile once the waitress was gone.

“Oh hush,” Sigrid said and lightly kicked Tauriel under the table. “Now, I’ve been good. Tell me about these guys.”

Tauriel smiled secretly and didn’t say anything.

“I swear Tauriel if this is some type of joke, I’m not bringing you anything from Dori’s Tea Shop for a month. At least tell me if they’re cute.”

Tauriel’s smile spread wider. “Judge for yourself,” she said and climbed to her feet and quickly walked past Sigrid.

Sigrid turned and stood from her chair and…

Made a conscious effort not to gape like a loon. Dimly, she noted Tauriel attaching herself to the side of a handsome young man with long, dark hair left loose to tumble around his shoulders. He wore a black leather jacket, red shirt, dark acid-washed jeans, and a pair of nice black shoes. His smile was easy as he greeted Tauriel with a quick kiss.

The other young man had caught most of her attention. She was pretty sure that even if she weren’t wearing two-inch heels, she’d still be a touch taller than him, maybe an inch or two. But that didn’t matter. Not in the least. What did was that he was absolutely stunning. He wore his mane of long blond hair in a high tail at the back of his head and his beard and mustache trimmed close and neat. He filled out his red henley and black leather jacket better than anyone had a right too and she didn’t even dare study his jeans beyond noting that they fit him well. Really well. Shoes. Sigrid. Look at his shoes. Black boots. Nice, leather black boots. What was with him and black leather? Not that she minded. He made leather look good. Look back at his face, there’s a good girl. Nice strong nose, and oh Eru, were those dimples? And talk about the most beautiful pair of blue-grey eyes she’d ever seen. Maybe his face wasn’t the best idea after all. He better have a crappy personality or she was going to get attached and then Grandfather was going to disown her for breaking his one rule: no dating anyone seriously.

“Sigrid? I’d like you to meet Kili,” Tauriel tapped the chest of the young man she still held onto, “and his older brother Fili.” She nodded at the golden god. “Kee, Fili, this is Sigrid Bowman.”

Her last name helped her snap out of her stupor. Bowman. Right. Bowmans always hold steady. Even when faced with unbelievably gorgeous men dressed in leather that she couldn’t get attached to.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, somehow finding her voice in the depths of her shock. Suddenly, she wished she’d let Tauriel put more effort into her appearance, like doing something with the plethora of hair that was probably frizzing out in despair at the sight of such perfect hair. Or that she’d at least called one of the family stylists.

“It’s a pleasure.”

Oh, Eru. That voice should come with a warning.

Grandfather was going to kill her dead.

They all took their seats and Sigrid managed to discreetly direct a look at Tauriel without the two men seeing her. She gave Tauriel the most astounded, jaw-dropped, you-jerk-you-didn’t-warn-me-he-was-super-hot-with-a-great-voice stare she could possibly muster. Tauriel smirked and winked quickly before sinking into the chair Kili held out for her.

Fili, Sigrid noted, held her chair out for her as well. She smiled at him and sat, frantically wondering if she’d remembered to scrub the back of her neck and behind her ears when she’d showered earlier.

The waitress reappeared at that moment to finish taking orders, saving Sigrid from spiraling into panicky mental reviews of her daily hygiene routines.

“So, where did you two meet?” Fili asked when the waitress was gone. “You’ve been awfully secretive about her, Kee.”

Tauriel and Kili exchanged a grin. “I saved him from a mugging,” Tauriel said.

“A mugging?” Fili’s eyes widened. “Kee, you didn’t-”

“Nothing happened, I could have handled it. I didn’t want to worry you and Mum,” Kili said as he tore his eyes away from Tauriel to give his brother an exasperated eye roll.

“He really probably could have,” Tauriel said. “I didn’t even have to draw a weapon and they went scurrying away.”

“Spiders?” Sigrid asked. Tauriel nodded.

“I’ve missed something,” Fili said. “What do you mean ‘spiders’?”

“It’s cop slang,” Kili said. “Just means low-level crooks that run whenever there’s a threat, mostly police.”

“You’re an officer then?” Fili asked.

“Yes,” Tauriel said.

“And that’s how you two met,” Kili said, glancing between Tauriel and Sigrid.

“You’re an officer too?” Fili asked and Sigrid wondered if she should be insulted by the surprise in his voice. Sure, she wasn’t the perfectly toned, leanly muscled bombshell Tauriel was, but she wasn’t a soft and squishy weakling that depended on others.

“No,” she said, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Tauriel was partnered with my dad when she was a rookie before he started working with my grandfather. She was over at our house all the time, begging him for pointers and tips. Became part of the family pretty quick. Now we’re roommates.”

“What do you do for a living?” Kili asked curiously.

“I’m a clothing designer,” Sigrid said. “I work in a little shop down on East Ridge.”

“She also teaches Aikido,” Tauriel said and Sigrid glared at her.

“Really?” Kili asked, his grin widening. “Could you teach me?”

Sigrid smothered a smile. “Come by the dojo. We can see about starting lessons.”

Their food arrived, interrupting the flow of conversation briefly as they all settled. Once they had, Tauriel turned to Kili, gaining his full attention. Sigrid picked up her fork and winced when Tauriel kicked her in the shin. Right. Socializing. Ask a question, then take a bite.

“So, what do you do for a living?” she asked, turning slightly to look at Fili.

He wiped his mouth on his napkin, chewing and swallowing before replying. “I’m a jeweler,” he said and nodded toward Kili. “That ear cuff he wears is one of mine.”

Sigrid looked over. The silver that flashed around the top of Kili’s ear looked sturdy with tiny, intricate designs worked into it. Before she could say something about it, he continued. “I also do a bit of work for my uncle, busy desk work mostly, working on trade agreements.”

“He’s in politics then?” she asked.

Fili smirked. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it,” he said but didn’t elaborate. “So, Aikido, huh?” he asked, none-to-subtly but she didn’t mind. It was just a first date, after all. They didn’t need to learn everything about each other right away. She ended up telling him how she’d gotten started in martial arts as a little girl when her father had enrolled her in classes and why she’d stuck with it. He, in turn, told her stories about him and Kili. They no longer lived with their parents but in apartments nearby where their uncle worked. He took the jewelry he made to a tiny, little known shop she’d never heard of before but decided to hunt down sometime. They ate as they chatted, barely noticing when they ran out of food and their plates were taken. Finally, Tauriel interrupted their conversation.

“If we’re going to make the show, we better get going,” she said, a sly smile crossing her face when Sigrid all but glared at her. She’d been enjoying listening to Fili talk.

“Show?” Fili asked, glancing at Kili. “What show? Not that I mind seeing something, but you were a bit vague on the details about tonight.”

“It’s at The Bear Theatre,” Tauriel said.

Sigrid could feel the grin creeping across her face. “Arsenic and Old Lace?” she asked. “Really?”

“I should have known you’d know what was being performed,” Tauriel said.

“Arsenic and Old Lace doesn’t come to stage in this town without me knowing about it,” Sigrid said sheepishly when she caught sight of Fili’s amused smile. “It’s my favorite.”

“Then we shouldn’t be late,” Fili said and pulled her chair out for her after he stood. Kili took out his wallet and pulled out a couple of bills, tossing them onto the center of the table. “May I?” Fili asked, offering Sigrid his arm.

She smiled shyly at him. “Thank you,” she said and slipped her arm around his. They left The Barge and Barrel and headed toward the parking lot. Sigrid glanced at the setting sun and silently cursed Tauriel. It was going to be freezing by the time the show ended. Oh well. Perhaps she’d left one of her jackets in the back seat of her car.

“Which one’s yours? Or is it Tauriel’s?” Fili asked, his eyes scanning over the cars.

“The Mini,” she said, nodding at her little black car. “It’s mine.”

He smiled. “I like it,” he said and walked over to the driver’s side door with her. He opened it for her once she’d unlocked it and took her hand to steady her as she slipped into the seat. She couldn’t help the delighted and slightly embarrassed grin that spread across her face. He smiled at her in return, bringing those dimples of his back into existence. Oh Eru, she was in trouble.

“We’ll meet you at the theatre,” Kili said as he gripped Fili’s shoulder. Fili closed Sigrid’s door and the two sauntered down the row of cars.

He even had a nice walk, even if it was a little bit cockier than she typically liked to see. There was nothing wrong with a little self-confidence, right?

Sigrid turned to Tauriel who already sat in the passenger seat, and punched her hard in the shoulder. “You jerk!” Sigrid cried. “Why didn’t you warn me they were unbelievably attractive?”

Tauriel laughed and Sigrid pouted as she stuck her key in the ignition and started her car.

“You like him then?” Tauriel asked.

Sigrid resisted the urge to bang her head on the steering wheel, settling for groaning as she shifted into reverse and backed out of their parking spot. Somewhere behind her, she saw a sleek, red sports car pull out behind her. Fili and Kili? “He’s amazing!” she told Tauriel. “He trains dogs in his spare time, did you know that? Dogs Tauriel. Sweet little puppies. Grandfather’s going to kill me because I’m going to have to break the rule for this guy. He’s too perfect!” She pushed in the clutch and shifted into first, easing onto the accelerator as she released the clutch.

“I told you you’d like him. He’s absolutely perfect for you,” Tauriel said smugly as she settled back into her seat. She dug into her purse and pulled out her phone. “Should I ask Kili what Fili thinks of you?”

“No!” Sigrid shouted and resisted the urge to slam on the brakes. “At least, not right now. If it comes up in conversation later, you can ask, but not until-”

Tauriel’s phone dinged. “Fili thinks you’re amazing,” she said, “and before you get in a snit, I didn’t ask. Kili’s volunteering the information. Should I tell Kili what you think of Fili?” Tauriel wiggled her phone at Sigrid with a smug smile.

“Don’t ask me things like that,” Sigrid said, “especially when I’m driving and trying to figure out how to get around Grandfather’s rule without getting disowned.” She shifted again and picked up speed, heading through town to the theatre.

Tauriel laughed and turned her attention to her phone, texting back and forth with Kili for the rest of the drive. At some point, the red sports car passed them. Sigrid didn’t have the courage to look over to see if it was Fili and Kili in it.

They pulled into the theatre’s parking lot. Sigrid unbuckled her seat belt and paused when her car door opened without her doing anything to it. She glanced up. Fili stood there with a smile, holding a hand out to her.

With thoughts such as “I’m so screwed,” “Grandfather’s going to have a massive fit,” and “he’s too perfect” running through her head, she took his hand and let him help her out of her car. Behind her, she heard Tauriel and Kili exchange a quick kiss. Fili closed her door once she was out of the way and offered his arm again. She took it and they went inside.

Tauriel had apparently paid for tickets in advance and they took their seats.

“I didn’t take the chance earlier,” Fili said as they settled into their seats, “you look lovely. I hope you don’t mind my saying so.”

“I don’t mind,” Sigrid said. “Thank you.” Deciding to take a calculated risk based on what Tauriel had said in the car, she added, “I was a bit taken aback when I first saw you. Tauriel wouldn’t tell me anything about you or your brother. I wasn’t exactly prepared for how handsome you are.”

Fili ducked his head and his nose scrunched a bit as he smiled. His dimples reappeared too. “Kili wasn’t exactly any help either. He only told me I was meeting his amazing new girlfriend’s roommate for a blind date. No other details until we were in the car and then it was just to tell me to go to the Barge and Barrel.”

“They’re so unhelpful,” Sigrid said and smoothed her skirt down over her legs. Part of her wished she’d worn something a bit longer, but not a very big part.

“Hush you two,” Tauriel said, leaning around Sigrid. “The lights are dropping.”

Right on cue, the theatre went dark. Sigrid settled in to watch her favorite play.

The play gave her two things. First, the time to calm down and relax after she’d admitted to Fili that she thought he was handsome. The other, well, she heard him give a deep, bright laugh at all the right parts. She enjoyed the sound far too much for comfort.

She was sunk.

At intermission they stood and leaned on the backs of the seats in front of them, laughing about the play so far. Sigrid caught Fili watching her closely with a smile when she laughed at Kili’s reenactment of one of the characters charging up the stairs.

They sat through the rest of the play and enjoyed every moment. When it ended, they left the theatre, still talking and laughing. The sun had set at least an hour before and there was a distinct chill in the air.

“Anyone for coffee?” Tauriel asked as they approached the parking lot. Kili agreed quickly and Fili shrugged his indifference.

“You’re a bad influence,” Sigrid said fondly to her friend. “Coffee it is but you’re getting decaf of whatever sugar sludge you drink. You’re not keeping me up all night again with your bouncing around the apartment.”

They piled into their cars and headed to Tauriel’s favorite cafe, Dori’s Tea Shop. The owner was working late that night and because he knew Tauriel and Sigrid (his favorite regulars, he said), he gave them their drinks for free, claiming he was closing up anyway.

They left the shop, drinks in to-go cups. Tauriel led them across the street to a park. She winked at Sigrid and led Kili down the path, away from her and Fili, talking animatedly with her boyfriend while she sipped her cup of sugary decaf something or other while Kili drank a decaf black coffee.

Fili, seemingly ever the gentleman, offered his arm, sipping at his cup of herbal lemon tea as they walked. Sigrid held her hot chocolate and took the occasional sip, enjoying the night and letting the heat from her drink warm her as much as it could. They’d only gone a few steps when Fili stopped and set his cup down on a park bench. He released her arm. “Here,” he said and started taking off his coat. “You look cold.”

“Are you sure?” Sigrid asked.

“I always run a bit warm,” he said and draped the coat over her shoulders.

She slid her arms through the sleeves, discreetly inhaling the smell of leather and that had better be his cologne because if he naturally smelled that good she might as well just crawl into her grave right then and there. Too much perfection in a single body would be the death of her. She took his arm again after he picked up his tea and they started walking again.

“I’ve really enjoyed myself,” he said after a time.

She looked over at him out of the corner of her eye. “Me too,” she said. “More than I expected too.”

“That’s encouraging,” he said. “Does that mean you wouldn’t mind if I asked you out on another date?”

She cursed her grandfather’s rule and threw caution aside. She couldn’t let a guy this amazing on a first date slip away without seeing how things could possibly turn out. “I’d like that,” she said and took a sip of her hot chocolate to try to keep her nervous shaking at bay. Could she blame it on the cold even with his coat? Her legs were still bare from the knee down so probably.

Fili smiled and they continued on. She waited for him to say something more if he wanted, content to just enjoy his presence for the time being.

“There is something I should tell you first though,” he said as they neared another bench. He led her over to it and she sat when he indicated. He set his tea aside and held out a hand. She set her cocoa on the bench behind her and set her hand in his. He laced his fingers through hers.

“What’s that?” she asked. Apprehension and relief fought each other for dominance. Apprehension for what he was about to say and relief that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as perfect as he seemed and thus a little bit less of a god to her mere mortal status.

He took a deep breath, paused, and tried again. “What do you know of Erebor?”

“It’s the kingdom to the north,” she said. “Dale trades with them, mostly food and textiles for metalwork and fine gems and such.”

“And the royal family?”

Her eyebrows knit together. “King Thorin? I’ve heard he’s a good and fair ruler. Bit of a temper at times but nothing that has endangered relations with any of the nations though Tauriel says he’s not fond of King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm.”

“Anyone else?” Fili asked.

“I know his nephews are his heirs. Prince Phillip is his heir apparent and Prince Killian, the younger brother, is in line after him. Their parents are Princess Dis and her husband Duke Vasile. Why?”

Fili fidgeted, scratching at the back of his neck and then his jawline, fingers rasping in the short strands of his beard. “Have you ever seen a picture of them?” he asked.

She thought for a minute. “I’ve seen King Thorin’s picture,” she said, “and Princess Dis’ and her husband’s. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the princes though. Why?”

“There aren’t many photos,” he said. “Dis has tried to keep it that way.”

“I’d imagine she would want her boys to be able to grow up as normal as possible, without everyone fawning over their very presence or paparazzi chasing them everywhere. Why? Are you connected with the royal family? You said your uncle was in…” She trailed off as something occurred to her. He didn’t say anything, just watched her with an odd look in his eyes, almost pleading. She swallowed against the sudden surprise. “I don’t suppose Fili is short for something, is it?”

He nodded.

“And Kili?”

He nodded again.

“Short for Phillip and Killian?”

He seemed to cringe a bit but nodded. “Yes.”

She took a deep, steadying breath. “Why tell me this now?” she asked. “It’s a bit much for a first date. A blind date at that.”

“Kili and I decided a long time ago that we would never lead anyone on under false pretenses. Tauriel knows-”

Sigrid snorted. “Of course she does. No wonder she refused to say anything at all about either of you.”

Fili gave her fingers a small squeeze. “I’m sorry. I should have told you from the beginning but…”

“There wasn’t much of a chance in a crowded restaurant and theatre,” she said.

“No, there wasn’t.” He shook his head and looked down at their joined hands. Tauriel glanced down too but felt no reason for drawing away.

“Thank you for telling me now,” she said. “I really do appreciate it.”

He looked at her from beneath his lashes, head still ducked down a bit. “Would you still consider a second date?” he asked, his fingers tightening on hers just a bit.

She smiled. “I’d best come clean too,” she said. “My grandfather is King of Dale. Girion Bowman III.”

Fili’s jaw dropped. “Sigrid Bowman,” he said quietly and then started to laugh. “How did I miss the connection?”

“Bowman’s a common name?” Sigrid asked.

“Balin’s had us learning the names of all the royal families we’re allied with,” he said. “He went over your family last month. Why do you design clothing and teach Aikido if you’re a princess?”

She raised her eyebrows at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “Why are you a jeweler if you’re a prince?” she asked.

“Touché,” he said and propped his arm on the back of the bench, leaning his head on his fist. “So, second date?”

“Absolutely,” she said and grinned at him. And yep, there were those dimples again.

“Good,” he said and his nose did that little scrunching thing again. His eyes darted around them and he sat straight again, his arm still along the back of their bench. His fingers brushed against her hair resting on her shoulder, winding it absently around his fingertips. “This is going to be very forward and I hope you’ll forgive me but… Geez. This is ridiculous. I’m not a teen anymore. Can I kiss you?”

Sigrid’s jaw dropped in disbelief just slightly even as her grin widened. “Well, considering your royalty and thus probably on Grandfather’s approved list of people I can date seriously, I think you probably can.”

His fingers curled into her hair at the back of her neck and he pulled her forward into a gentle kiss. When he pulled back a moment later, Sigrid couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her. He chuckled and stood, pulling her up with him.

“I never thought I’d go on a blind date that didn’t end in utter disaster,” Sigrid said as she leaned against him a little for just a moment.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Every blind date I’ve been on has turned out pretty well.”

“Oh really?” Sigrid asked as they started their way back toward the cars. “And just how many blind dates have you been on?”

“Just one.”

#my work #hobbit #figrid #prompt fill #blind date #silly drabble #kiliel #unbeta'd #one-shot

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hellas-himself · 4 years

Text

Crack Ship Holidays- Interlude

Rhysand’s Birthday

It’s our favorite High Lord’s birthday *heart eyes forever* This bit is in his POV because why not. I’m feeling a tad better so hopefully I’ll have the nessian fic up later on. I wasn’t happy with what I’d written and I don’t want to put out something if I don’t feel good about it. ANYWAY.

Happy Thursday/Happy Rhysand day everyone ;)

“You know, I was only kidding about wanting breakfast in bed,” I say as Lucien approaches the bed with a tray. He sets it over my lap and leans in to kiss me.

“Happy birthday,” he says to me and I smile.

“Thank you, Luce.”

“We have a busy day as it is. The last thing we need is you getting grumpy after we spend more than an hour at the DMV.”

I groan. “Don’t remind me.”

He chuckles.

“Well, eat up. The sooner we get that nonsense out of the way, the sooner we can do something fun.”

“More fun than how you woke me up?” I ask with a grin and he rolls his eyes.

“Rhys, you’re insufferable.”

“Hm… But you love it.”

“Maybe.” He sighs and sits down beside me. I offer him some of the food but he declines with a shake of his head. “I ate already. Enjoy it, love.”

After breakfast, Lucien joins me for a shower and we leave the house later than intended. The DMV is busy as always and I reply to all the well wishes and spend twenty minutes talking to my mother until my name is called.

“So,” I say as we finally leave the damned place, “Where to now?”

“You’ll see,” he replies with a smirk.

Lucien takes me shopping at the mall and we leave with new clothes and shoes.

“Are we going where I think we’re going?” I ask as I notice the street that we’re on.

“Do you want to go where you think we’re going?”

“Lucien, is that truly a question you have to ask?”

He laughs and turns the corner. Lucien usually leaves the bookstore for last on my birthday, but I don’t mind the change. It means I can be here longer.

“Would you mind if I grabbed a coffee, love?” Lucien asks as we walk into the store.

“Not at all. Besides, there’s a cup I had my eye on. I want to get one for Feyre and I to match.”

Lucien chuckles. “I expected nothing less.”

Once we’re properly caffeinated, I lead Lucien around the store. We spend the most time by the science fiction and fantasy, and after I grab four books, I decide to find myself a basket before we step into the young adult section. Then, like every year, Lucien and I pick one of the books and find a corner to read the first chapter together. It is something we have done since high school, at first to make sure we would like it but then because it gave us more time to be together.

“You’re staring,” Lucien says playfully and I smile.

“It cannot be helped. You’ve seen yourself in the mirror, you are divine.”

Lucien rolls his eyes but I notice the way he blushes. I reach over and brush my fingers over the scar on his face before I lean in and kiss his cheek.

“I love you,” I say softly and Lucien turns away from the book and smiles.

“I love you, too.”

“My love, I’ve made plans for dinner tonight. Feyre will meet us there,” Lucien says as we leave the craft store. I’m carrying bolts of fabric while Lucien has the bag with my new sketch book and pencils. He reaches into his pocket for the keys to the car and opens the trunk. It looks like we’ve gone Christmas shopping.

“Are you going to tell me where?”

“Of course not.”

“Formal? Casual? Nude?” I wriggle my eyebrows and he rolls his eyes.

“I was thinking of wearing that midnight blue button up shirt you like so much,” he says as he makes room in the trunk for the rest of the bags.

“With the grey pants?”

“I refuse to wear grey pants around Feyre. Or you, for that matter. You’re both utterly perverted.”

“She’ll be too busy staring at Cassian’s… ass.”

“You’re sick.”

“I’ll remember that later,” I quip and lay the bolts down flat in the trunk before I close it.

At the house, Lucien brings the books to his office upstairs where our bookshelves are. Across the hall, I bring the fabric and sketchbooks to the craft room. There is an unfinished bodice on the dress form that will eventually be a gown for Mor.

“You should wear this and roll up the sleeves,” Lucien says and I turn to find him holding up the long-sleeved black button up shirt we’d just purchased this morning. “Maybe with some chinos or something.”

“Plan on staring at my ass all night?”

“Perhaps,” Lucien responds with a grin.

“What incredible incentive,” I say and walk over to him. I take the shirt from his hands and give him a kiss.

“We’ve never been here before,” I note as Lucien parks the car.

“Precisely.”

“Feeling adventurous, are we?”

“Rhysand, every day is an adventure with you.”

“Do I push you out of your comfort zone?” I tease and he flicks my nose before we both get out of the car.

“You’ve kept me out of my comfort since the day I met you.”

I laugh and reach for his hand. The smile on his face betrays his attempt at sounding serious. I tease him the entire way into the restaurant but when he gives his name, the host guides us in the complete opposite direction of the tables.

“Plan on checking off something from our list?” I whisper in his ear and Lucien laughs but doesn’t answer my question. I almost take it seriously until we come to a stop before a set of double doors and the host turns to face us.

“Happy birthday,” he says and gives me a smile before opening the door.

“Surprise!”

“Holy shit,” I say and hope no one noticed how startled I am. Everyone is here- even my parents. Even Lucien’s parents and-

“Elyse?”

My sister pries herself from Morrigan’s hold to run over to me.

“Happy birthday, Rhysie,” she says with a laugh and throws her arms around my neck.

“How are you here?”

“You know I couldn’t miss the big three-o. Plus, I’m on break.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I hug her tight and she laughs.

“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise. Duh.”

Elyse fixes her blue-eyed gaze on Lucien.

“Hello, foxy boy.”

My sister steals my boyfriend away as the others come to say hello. Amren and Varian usher me over to the table where Elain stands- There is lembas bread in a wicker basket and an array of fruits and fingers food that look eerily similar to the food in the movies. The cake looks like Bag End. It’s Bilbo’s house at the top of three layers of cake made to look like Hobbiton.

“The only thing I forgot was the ring but-” I hug Elain tight.

“I can’t believe you!”

“Thank Feyre, too,” she says when we pull away. “She drew it all up for me.”

I look around and find her with Lucien, the two are holding hands. Elyse is on Cassian’s back, ordering him to bring her to the dessert table.

“Babe!” I shout and Lucien and Feyre both look my way. “Look at this!”

I wave him over and Lucien brings Feyre with him.

“Get over here,” I say to Feyre and pull her in for a hug. “This is amazing.”

“Well, your boyfriend was very specific in what he wanted for you,” she says to me. I look at him and he seems flustered by the attention.

“Can I eat this?” I ask Elain as I show Lucien the lembas.

“I would hope you do,” Elain replies. “Just don’t eat the leaves.”

Lucien takes me to get a drink while I eat the lembas bread, not giving a shit that Mor and my mother are taking pictures. I offer some to Lucien who takes a bite just as we’re blinded by flash. Amren surprises me with a bottle of my favorite wine which I happily share with Lucien until he is whisked away by his mother.

Iliana waltzes over and I take her up in my arms as Kallias and Viviane catch up with Amren, Varian and Tarquin.

“Happy birthday, tio. I have a present for you.”

“Do you?”

“Mhm. But mommy said I can’t give it to you until after we have cake.”

“Shall we cut the cake now then?”

Iliana laughs at me.

“No. Wela said we have to eat dinner first.”

“But it’s my birthday.”

“Tell that to your mother then, tio. I don’t make the rules.”

I excuse myself from my friends and set my niece down. I muss up her hair before I go pester my mother. Once she sees me, she pulls me in for a hug before kissing both sides of my face.

“Mi vida,” she says and pinches my cheek. “You’re making me old.”

“Cassian made you old. I’ve never done anything wrong in my entire life.”

She snorts. “Paquetero.”

“So, Adela, what’s this about me not being allowed to have cake?”

“My name is mami to you. And don’t be ridiculous, estoy segura that you and Lucien haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. Mira que flaco esta. I can’t with the two of you.”

My father laughs and throws an arm around her shoulder.

“Adela, let them be.”

She tsks and pokes his side.

“Don’t start, Vinny.”

“Anyway,” I say and kiss my mother on the forehead, “I’m happy you’re here, mami. And you too, papi.”

I leave my mother smiling and my father teasing her for it.

I sit at a table with Lucien and Az as we eat our dinner and watch Cassian stumble over his words as he tells our parents that Feyre is his girlfriend and that he had no idea Mor was going to put them on blast before he said anything to them. I know my parents are just fucking with him, but it’s worth it. Our parents adore Feyre, and she’s a blushing mess at Cassian’s side while she comes to his rescue, singing praises of him for all he’s done and how happy he’s made her.

“Do you ever wonder about it?” Lucien asks me quietly and I look at him with a raised brow.

“Wonder about what?”

Lucien gives a nod towards Feyre.

“I used to,” I reply. I had loved Feyre enough to picture that future. But we were young and I was stupid and never took the risk. “But once I was with you… I could never look back. There is no future without you in it, Lucian.”

Lucien gives me a smile when I look at him again.

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugs. “No reason.”

I make to speak but Iliana skips over to our table and Az completely lights up. His smile is contagious.

“Daddy, will you dance with me?”

“Of course, princess.”

“Two songs, please. Then I’m going to play barbies with Titi Elyse.”

“As you wish,” Azriel says to her and she squeals with delight. She has made Lucien and I watch Princess Bride so many times, I can quote the damn movie on command.

“Want to dance?” Lucien asks me and I look back at him with surprise.

“With you? Always.”

“I really don’t want to cut this,” I sigh, and everyone laughs. They have sung me happy birthday twice; once in English, once in Spanish.

“It’s okay, I’ve taken plenty pictures of it,” Mor says with a wink.

“Oh, before I forget!” Elain blushes at the sudden attention on her. “There’s a ring in there. So… Be careful.”

“Why didn’t you say that! I would’ve torn into this thing sooner!” I take the knife from Elain and she laughs.

“You’re an idiot, Rhys.”

I cut the first piece and happily pull the chocolate and wafer door off the cake and bite into it. Both my mother and Aurelie tell Elain to go sit and they help one another cut the cake. I am disappointed there is no ring in my cake and Lucien laughs at me.

“You’re pouting,” he teases.

“I am not.”

“I’m certain you’ll enjoy your gifts more than a toy ring.”

“But it’s the One ring…”

Lucien leans over and kisses me. “Well, if it is any consolation, I did not find it either.”

He holds out his plate to me.

“You didn’t eat the little windows.”

“I saved them for you.”

“Lucien, Lucien… What are you up to?”

“Whatever do you mean?” he asks and kisses me again.

“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”

Lucien flashes me a mischievous grin. We hear someone shriek and before we can panic, we realize it’s just Feyre pulling the ring from her mouth and waving it at Cassian.

I am not surprised when my mother has Cassian and Azriel to drag me to the table covered in gifts. True to form, she and Elyse come and put a crown on my head and help into a ridiculous birthday sash. I open present after present, from video games to clothes to graphic novels. There is a nice pile of books going beside me and I realize I may need another shelf.

Iliana happily makes her way towards me and hands me a small box tied with silver ribbon.

“This is your surprise,” she says.

“Thank you, Lia.”

I untie the ribbon and set it on the table. I raise a brow when I see the little black box inside and Iliana is failing at containing her laughter. I take the black box out and open it but it’s empty, though there’s clearly a space to hold a ring-

When I look up, I see Lucien standing there with an almost unreadable expression on his face. Everyone is standing around us, and our mothers are already in tears. I take off the crown and pull off the sash and set them down as Lucien takes a few steps towards me. He takes my hands and kisses them both before he looks at me again.

And without a word, Lucien gets down on one knee. He reaches into the pocket of his shirt and holds out a gold ring inlaid with black tourmaline. It’s perfect.

“Rhys… Will you marry me?”

I somehow remember how to breathe. How to speak.

“Yes,” I reply and pull him up to stand. I kiss him, ignoring everyone else in the room. Lucien is blushing when we stop to breathe. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Lucien.”

He breathes out and smiles. Lucien slides the ring onto my finger and this time, he kisses me. Everyone around us is cheering and clapping, I’m pretty sure that it’s Cassian whose whistling. But when I look at Lucien, all of it fades away.

“I love you, Lucien,” I say, my voice nearly a whisper.

“I love you, too Rhys,” he says and kisses me once more. “Happy birthday.”

Rhycien is everything I need in life. Truly.

I finally found names I felt okay about for Rhysand’s parents. And Elyse is the name I gave her in WTAS but I decided to have her not be dead/completely absent from this fic. If we’re going to be cheesy, we’re going to go all out.

There are a few phrases in Spanish that I used here.

Mi vida- means ‘my life’ and is a term of endearment

Wela- grandmother is abuela in Spanish and that ‘bue’ part is where we get wela from, another way of saying grandma

Paquetero- in Spanish, the word paquete means package but also means bullshit/a lie so his mother is calling him a liar here lol

Mami and Papi is literally mom and dad

Estoy segura means I am certain

Mira que flaco esta is what you hear every Latina mom say during holidays. LOOK HOW SKINNY HE’S GOTTEN. which is always an exaggeration, they just can’t not tell you to eat. idk why.

If anyone forgot/is reading this before all the others- Rhys is a tattoo artist in this AU and also sews and all that like in canon. I am horrible because I still haven’t decided Lucien’s profession.

#crack ship holidays #friendsgiving interlude #Rhysand's birthday #rhycien #cassian x feyre

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mayve-hems · 5 years

Text

One Moment At A Time

Type: IMAGINE | ONE SHOT | MULTI CHAPTER

Summary: Delaware has been in and out of the foster care system for the longest time until she docks with the Hemmings. Through harassment, playful actions, and a few received slaps, Michael Clifford has decided to make her time there incredible and unforgettable.

Word Count: 16.0k

Note: If you would like to request a one shot / imagine / story prompt then I am accepting requests currently and I would love to take them! This took me a while and I didn’t have much time to proofread it, but I hope you’ll like it! Alng with that, Mali-Koa is younger than she would’ve been at this time, and the age difference between her and Calum is a lot less than real life.

Warnings: Sadly, none :)

She was proud of her name throughout grade school, the middle years of uncomfortable pubescence, and the first weeks of high school, but after her last foster family, she couldn’t help but hate every syllable and letter among the long word. The last house she was at, the woman that acted as a mother told her to come up with a nickname or something else to be called rather than Delaware because that’s such a stupid name. “Della,” the fat woman told her before tucking greasy strands of hair behind her large ears. “That’s much better than Delaware. If you stay for a while, we’ll get the paperwork to change it to Della entirely and you’ll never be disgraced with the idiocy of your birth mother.” Then, she stroked Delaware’s shoulder with an inconsiderate hand and commented on bleaching purple hair dye from her long locks so she’d appear more presentable.

After a year of living in an abusive foster house, Delaware cringes when somebody even whispers her real name. She’ll flip around when she hears that word, no matter the conversation, and tell them that it’s Della, and if you dare say, Delaware, she’ll smack you upside down and backward. She said that to her teacher on accident, just a few days before packing up her bedroom, causing a suspension and the demand for her to be removed from the Karlsen household ASAP. She didn’t realize Mr. Lund had been telling another student about his trip to the state Delaware the summer before, and he wasn’t forgiving from her threat.

Mrs. Hemmings- sorry, Liz, was very considerate and made a point to ask Delaware what she’d prefer to be called. She’d fostered a kid that preferred to go by Styles, his last name, then Harry like everybody else had taught him. Delaware mumbled ‘Della’ before tucking long box-bleached hair underneath her grey hoodie. Liz carried a bag up the stairs for Delaware so she could idle in the living room with a mess of boys.

They all looked exactly alike- and that majorly fucked with her head. Liz hurried back down the stairs and captured Delaware’s pale hand in her own and lead her to her new bedroom. A white-walled room with shaggy carpet that would scratch your skin if you fell asleep on top of it. Liz sat Delaware -the girl frozen in fear of being snapped at- on her new bed and pulled five different pillowcases from the top shelf of the closet and asked her to pick the one she liked best. Delaware pointed at a jersey sheet with purple and gold planets swirling around a peach background. Liz walked out of the room to grab the bedsheet set that Delaware picked out, and Delaware finally had a moment to take in the look of the room.

A stripped mattress on a black bed frame against a wall, with just a few inches in between the left side of the bed and a large windowsill. Then, there are two black box shelves underneath the white sill that seem to be onto a foot tall and a foot wide each. That interests Delaware. What in the world could be put there? On the other side of the sill sits a blank desk with a brand new stationery set and plain notebooks. The sliding closet door is a mirror and a few feet away from the desk. Delaware can’t see very well inside of the closet, but she notices clothes. Like shirts, and a few pairs of jeans, and a black flowy dress that would be something she’d have to dream for.

“Here,” Liz says, setting down the bedspread Delaware picked out. “I can put this on for you. Unpack your stuff the way you’d like, okay? Make this room the way you want to feel at home. Even if that means buying posters, and I have some Christmas lights downstairs if those interest you, and whatever else you say your room needs. Ask for it, and we will get it just for you.”

A warm feeling spreads through Delaware’s body, from her neck down to her frozen toes. She opens one of the bags she’d brought from the Karlsen house and pulls clothes from inside. They’re wrinkled, and most of them haven’t been washed since the week before she’d left. The Saturday after her suspension was laundry day, meaning nothing had been cleaned before that. She thought about it for a second. Should she ask if these can be washed first, or should she wait until Liz asks her?

“Is there a laundry basket I can use?” Liz barely hears. Delaware is so soft, so quiet and unheard that she’s surprised by her behavior. Her other foster child is so loud and outgoing she half expected Delaware to be that way. Though, she should have expected that almost all of the other kids she’d had been closed off and emotionless. He’s only an exception because he and her youngest son had been best friends for the longest time until his mother gave up, and Liz took him without a second thought. She pushed and pushed for adoption to come through fully, but his mom kept trying to clean up from her drug addiction and every once in awhile she’d say that she wanted her son back from Liz. No matter what, Liz will still adopt Ashton in a heartbeat.

“Of course, Della,” Liz gripped the bedsheet onto one of the corners and let the others sit as she reached underneath the bed frame for a large white basket. “Here. I’m going to do a load of laundry in a little bit. Feel free to put whatever you need in here, and if there are any special instructions for things just let me know.”

Delaware threw things in the basket and hung clothes in the closet, dividing the clothes that had been there and hers with two plastic hangers. Inside the closet, she was given a small dresser that she stuffed with her pitying amount of clothes. The clothes she’d left in the laundry room and the shirts Mrs. Karlsen’s daughter had borrowed are still there, waiting for somebody to take them to Delaware, but she’ll never be given them back. She’d given Madison Karlsen, the eldest of the children, a shirt from her first foster family. One with her name on the back of it in large black letters that looped together. On the front was the family’s brand -her first foster family lived on a farm- on the left breast. Delaware had to leave that family because her father was granted custody for two weeks before getting another DUI. It was to prove that she’d always have a residence there if she wanted to go back, and even though she’d fought for that family again, the social worker said no.

It didn’t take Delaware long to unpack her clothes and the few sketchbooks, reading books, and shoes she’d brought. Liz was still busying herself to make sure the corners of Delaware’s bed were tucked with love. She wiped her hands on her blue jeans after tucking the corners and looked over how Delaware placed things. All the books she owned on the box shelves underneath the windowsill, a pair of black Converse on top, and the closet closed quietly behind her.

“Would you like to meet the boys? They look like they bite, but in reality, I’ll kick their butts.”

Delaware giggled with her hand covering her crooked teeth. “Sure.”

Liz leads her down the carpeted stairs and into the lounge. Her sons, all four of them were playing Fifa on the flatscreen and the voices of Calum Hood and Michael Clifford were coming out of Luke and Ben’s phones on the coffee table.

Liz and Andrew have two living rooms- one where the boys play their video games and hang out with their friends, and the one where Liz and Andrew can watch TV in peace, without listening to the constant bickering of four boys arguing over who gets to control the remote. A lot of times, the boys will take up every inch of space on top of their leather couch, and one of them will have to plant his butt on the hardwood, just to watch TV with their parents. Liz finds humor when Luke and Ashton have to argue over who gets to sit on the floor and who gets to sit on the couch, and the occasion Ashton sitting on top of Luke and crushing him.

“Sup, mom,” Ashton greets Liz, looking over his shoulder at her. Just an attempt to get on her good side after refusing to clean his room.

“Hey! Mom!” Calum screams through Luke’s phone. “What’s up! I gotta’ come over for dinner, right? Because you love me more than Mike?”

“Hell no, Calum!” Michael screams in Ben’s phone, overhearing Calum’s convincing plea to Liz. “Mom, you love me, right? Like, more than Jack, obviously, but you’ll give me the pizza instead of Cal? I’m really hungry over here and my mom hasn’t fed me today and-”

“-Don’t guilt-trip her Michael Gordon!” Calum interrupts. They start to bicker over who will get pizza from Liz. It’s not like they have to ask anymore- they can show up unannounced and she’ll fill their bellies as if they were her other children. Except, she kind of prefers Ashton over all of them- he’s the one she chose.

“Anyways,” Liz ignored the boys arguing through speakerphones, speaking low enough for her sons to hear her. “Della, that’s Luke, and over there is Jack -he’s the oldest so he won’t bother you much-, and that’s Ben, and he’s Ashton.” Delaware follows Liz’s finger from a boy in a black tank top and a quiff that reaches the ceiling, to one with a hoodie covering his head and staring right at her, to the one that looks like a replica of the hoodie boy, to one that seems to be apart of the brotherly bunch with a few different facial features. “This is Della. Be nice or I’ll hit you all.” Liz wags her finger threateningly to her sons. They all drop their controllers and put their hands up in surrender. “That’s what I thought. Tell Michael and Calum that I will give them both pizza if they just shut up.”

“Got it!” The arguing boys confirm at the same time.

“I’m putting on pants right now, Mom, and I’ll be there in five minutes!” Calum screams. He ends the call before Liz has a moment to tell him that they have company. She drops her head into her hands.

“Hell no! I’ll fucking get over there before him, Mom! Bet my ass-”

“-Michael!” Liz screams. She grabs onto Delaware’s hand to lead the short girl into the other living room to meet Andrew.

“What?”

“Language!” She turns to Delaware. “They’re Michael and Calum.”

“The only reason we put up with them is because of Luke,” Jack yelled over his shoulder.

Luke shoves his older brother. “Liar! You brought Calum around here when you were trying to get with Mali-Koa!” Liz pretended to not hear her youngest and continued to lead her new favorite kid through the house.

“So your name is Della?” Michael Clifford asked through a mouthful of pepperoni pizza and Pepsi. Jack knocked on the younger boys’ head when he walked past his spot at the table, grimacing at Michaels’ poor table manners. Michael flipped Jack off in response, so Jack puffed his chest out quickly to make Michael flinch. “Jesus Christ, dude! Calm your tits.”

“Yes, my name is Della,” Delaware answered. Her nimble fingers picked at the slice of cheese pizza she’d picked straight from the box and set on a napkin, and still hasn’t taken a bite from. She pulls small pieces off the crust and lays the bread in her mouth, rather than taking bites. With different foster families, she had to learn quickly that you let everybody else fill up on food before taking seconds. She’s had one family that starved her for two days because she took seconds, so one of the biological children didn’t get to take an entire serving for lunch the next day.

“Like Delaware?” Michael swallowed his pizza to avoid another slap from Jack. One thing Jack Hemmings hates about still living at home is his little brothers’ friends constantly playing video games, eating food, or just lounging around the house. He avoids bringing his friends home in embarrassment that Michael will be standing among the dining room table, in just his underwear … again. “How weird would that be? Naming your kid Delaware. Like could you imagine naming your kid Delaware,” laughed Michael. He prepared to shove the rest of his slice into his mouth. “I’m going to name my kid Kansas. That’s a cool name.” He shoves the rest of it into his mouth, stuffing the crust past his stretched-out lips and practically down his throat. “I should write a song called Pizza!”

Delaware stared at the atrocity happening at the table. “Gross.”

“This shit is normal,” replied Ben. They’d run out of chairs, not taking into consideration that Delaware would be joining them. Rather than getting out another chair for her, Ben gave up his and sat his butt on the round wood. Liz barely walked in before turning straight out of the dining room. She’d given up on it all. “Isn’t your name Delaware? Like, Mom told us to call you Della, but your real name is Delaware?”

Delaware took her stare from Michael and turned it to her napkin. Her cheeks and ears were beginning to burn a dark shade of red. “Yeah,”

“Wait what?” Michael said, choking down the carbs in his mouth. “Your parents named you Delaware? Like the state?”

“Shut up, Michael,” Calum slaps Micahel’s arm, resulting in a high pitched whine from the blond fringe sitting next to him. “Your middle name is literally Gordon!”

“Your middle name is literally Gordon!” Michael mocks in a high pitched, girly voice. “Whatever, Thomas.” He flicks Calum’s ear. “What’s your middle name, Delaware? Is it Boston?”

Delaware doesn’t look up from her food. She just stares at it and ignores Calum and Michael’s argument over whether or not Boston is in Delaware or New York, ignoring Luke’s gripes that it’s in Massachusetts and that they’re both idiots. Delaware picks at the crust of her pizza again, but she doesn’t place any of it in her mouth. Her poorly-manicured hands just shred the crust into tiny pieces until she physically can’t tear them anymore. She jumps when she feels a nudge in her ribs.

“I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to eat pizza, man,” Ashton laughs, taking a small bite of a cheese breadstick. Delaware doesn’t understand what he’s meaning; desiring more information about what he’s inferring, she just stares at him. She’s not putting anything into her mouth, so why would that make any sense. “You’re supposed to actually eat it, Della. You’re not a freak and can’t like … eat, right? We have a blender if-”

“-I can eat. I’m just not hungry.” She wanted to say his name, to amend the sentence, just in case somebody thinks she’s talking to herself. She’s never been around so many people at once, sitting at a single dinner table and not tied down into a seat and listening to chewing the scraping of forks against plates. Most foster homes she’s been to, you sit, you eat, and you don’t speak. You eat with their parents, sit next to your 'siblings’, and finish your plate by the time you leave the table. Delaware wonders if people that don’t finish their plates -actually, napkins- of pizza will hand off to Michael and he’ll be a human garbage disposal.

“Wanna know a funny story? Luke wanted caramel popcorn this morning and he put maple syrup on buttered-”

“-Ashton I swear if you finish that story, I’ll finish you,” Luke warned with a smile on his face, distracting from the pizza sauce on his cheek. Jack grabbed the bottom of Luke’s shirt and tore it up to Luke’s face to wipe the sauce from his oblivious brother. Luke swatted his brothers’ hand away from his face, and smack Jack’s forehead. These boys seem to be really into fighting.

“That is one weird daddy kink, Luke”

With wide eyes, Delaware stood from the table and turned on her heels to face the staircase just feet away. She sprang towards the stairs, not wanting to know the rest of what the bumbling idiots have to say. That’s just one weird conversation, especially for brothers. How in the world does Liz put up with all of this?

Of course, only the Delaware Williams would end up suspended on her first day of school. She’d asked Michael three times to stop calling her Delaware and to call her Della as everybody else had been, and he continued, saying it was her first name so that’s what she shall be called. She turned around and slapped him- didn’t even leave a mark, just stunned him for a few moments. Liz decided that Delaware shall serve her detention sentence, finish her suspension, and would be okay. She’d asked Michael to stop, but if she does it again then she’ll get in trouble at home.

Delaware was so thankful for the Hemmings taking her in, and not treating her like a criminal for something she didn’t even have time to think about doing. Though, she felt like she was a terrible person and a disgrace to everyone around her. She sat down in detention silently, sitting next to a girl with long dark hair, and plugged in headphones.

It only took a few seconds before she was pelted in the back of her head with a ball of paper. She whipped around to the girl with dark hair and shot her an angry look. “What?”

“Nothing,” the girl smiled and laughed a little bit. “Just wondering what little miss princess is doing in detention. Don’t you know, Luke, Ben, and Jack haven’t gotten single detention in their lives. Now, what’re you going to do?”

“Sacrifice children,” Delaware answered before rolling her eyes and laying her head on the desk. “Who even are you? Why do you know me?”

The girl smiled. “I’m Calum’s big sister, Mali-Koa. But, you’re the talk of the school. Now tell me, did you really give Michael Clifford a shiner like everyone says you did?”

Delaware rolled her eyes at Mali-Koa. Still, she didn’t reply verbally, just a little bit pissed off. She shoved her earbuds back into her ears, but Mali-Koa snatched one of them away. “What do you want?!” Delaware screamed.

Mali-Koa laughed. “You’re a blonde-haired beauty, and you’re listening to Slipknot? What the fuck?”

Delaware grabbed her earbud from the older girl. “Yeah, I know. I need a fucking makeover. Are you done now?”

Mali-Koa’s grin dropped into an actual smile. One that kind of frightened Delaware- the one that you see when someone has a good idea, rather than a sadistic one. She’s used to seeing people with sadistic smiles, ready to destroy everyone around her. She didn’t know people could actually be genuine. “Are you serious about needing a makeover? I’m studying cosmetology. I’d be willing to help.”

Delaware sat up. She noted how Mali-Koa’s got dark eyes that seem as if she put contacts in to darken them. Underneath sunlight, Delaware wonders, they’d probably be a beautiful shade of brown turning into pools of honey. She wishes she’d have an eye color that cool. She’s been stuck with a basic forest green that she’d never been taught to appreciate. “Are you being deadass?”

“Why not?”

“How do I know I can trust you to not completely fuck me up?”

“C'mon, I look like Calum. And Calum wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Fine, when?”

“When detention gets out, sweetheart,”

They barely stopped at the store, picking up a two-dollar box of a natural-colored hair dye so Delaware wouldn’t be forced to dye her hair back just because their school doesn’t allow odd colored hair. She opted for a boxed black, ready to no longer be a bleach blonde her ex-foster mother forced her to be. She’d sit her down in only a sports bra and shorts, and would bleach every part of Delaware’s hair with extra strength bleach so she’d fit in with their family. She never did.

Delaware drug Mali-Koa up the stairs, feeling the boots of her brand-new school uniform creating blisters on her feet as she hopped two steps at a time. Liz laughed and asked what they were going to do. Noting the hair shears shining through the plastic bag is Delaware’s hand, she figured somebody was going to have a change.

That happened with a lot of the foster kids she’d gotten. Originally, Ashton had a long fringe, and when Liz took him to get a haircut for school, he cut it all off and let his curls grow out the way he liked. She smiled, fit him in the family Christmas photos, and even helped him keep his curls healthy. Liz just wanted to love all of the children that came into her life and support their logical decisions. Her mission with Delaware includes letting her know that people love her, and she’s not as lonely as everyone’s made her think.

“Your daughter is getting a makeover!” Mali-Koa laughed and followed Delaware into the bathroom she shares with Luke and Ashton. Ben and Jack have bedrooms in the basement, creating their own space for their college-manliness instead of video games, stuffed penguins, and Cheetos. They both closed the bathroom door and locked it. Delaware glowed after hearing Liz tell them to have fun instead of letting Mali-Koa know that Delaware technically isn’t her daughter. Mali-Koa found it precious. “How short do you want your hair?”

Delaware stripped off her polo shirt so she’d be in only her undershirt and skirt, and not get little particles of hair and hair dye on the expensive fabric. She threw the polo into a laundry basket full of men’s pajama pants and the shorts she’d changed out of that morning. Her fingers grabbed the ends of her dead hair, sliding her thumb over all the split ends and rotten strands. “You think I’d look cute with it to my shoulders? And like, bangs too?”

Mali-Koa envisioned Delaware with bangs and short hair. She has a small forehead, meaning that her bangs would be very short and look a little bit odd. With short hair, though, her face would look slimmer and angular, and you’d be able to see the skin tearing itself on her collarbones a lot more. She wouldn’t be able to hide the birthmarks behind her ear and along the top of her spine and the tattoo she pretended to never get right above her left breast. “I think you’d look great, but the bangs … not so much.”

“Then just cut it, man, cut as much as you think needs to be cut.”

Mali-Koa sectioned Delaware’s hair into two sections with hair ties showing where to place the scissors. Delaware closed her eyes and listened for the sound of hair shattering in half, and when she heard it, she felt like a million pounds had been lifted off of her shoulders. Her eyes opened wide when Mali-Koa told her to open, and she was surprised by her looks.

After being a young child, she wasn’t allowed to cut off her hair. Whenever her biological mother or biological father had met her foster family, they’d told them to have her hair grow as long as they could manage, because otherwise, she’d look ugly. They all went along with her parents’ requests and ignored Delaware’s pleads for short hair that she wouldn’t spend countless hours taking care of. They all just wanted to please her family, instead of pleasing her.

“Do you like it?” Mali-Koa asked Delaware after feathering out some layers of her hair and brushing the little pieces of hair off her shoulders. Delaware’s eyes were as wide as green saucers as she nodded her head. She couldn’t speak out of amazement that she went along with cutting her hair off and that she liked it. “Ready to dye it?”

They dyed her hair black, shoved a sewing needle through her septum in an attempt to open the piercing she’d had previously -and it worked but with a lot of blood, did charcoal face masks together, put a lipstick on Delaware’s lips, lined her eyes with eyeliner, and Mali-Koa had Delaware take out her contacts and put her round-framed glasses on instead. Delaware couldn’t recognize herself, couldn’t remember who she was besides a blonde girl with no taste in boys. Mali-Koa watched Delaware stare at herself in the bathroom mirror, watching in amazement and humming along with Jaymes Young. Delaware smiled, and so did Mali-Koa.

Luke pounds his fist on Delaware’s white wooden door, trying to capture her attention. “Della!” Luke yells out, still pounding the side of his hand against the wood. “I heard that you have Cal’s sister! We need her!” From behind the door, Delaware and Mali-Koa giggle at Luke’s yelling and a video they’re both watching on Mali-Koa’s phone. One thing that Delaware still doesn’t have- a phone. But she doesn’t mind. It just means that she doesn’t have to deal with people’s drama and manipulation of text messages. “Della!” Luke drags out.

Delaware decides to finally open the door up, running a hand through her hair. “What?” She demands, opening the door wide for Luke to see her and her new friend. She adjusts the uncomfortable septum ring in her nose just a little bit. Surprisingly, Liz didn’t mind Delaware repiercing through her septum, breaking the scar tissue open from a few years ago. Luke has a lip piercing, and Jack and Ben got their ears pierced on a bet together not long before Delaware arrived, so she’d given up on the no piercings rule.

Luke lets out a high pitched scream. “What did you do with my sister, holy shit!” From downstairs, they could hear Liz stammering about Luke’s language. Luke stares at Delaware with wide eyes, not realizing he’s even staring. “What did you do to her, Hood?”

“What do you want, Hemmings?” Mali-Koa sits up from Delaware’s bed and makes her way to the boy in the doorway, holding a comb and a pair of kitchen scissors in one hand near his face. She grabs both of them out of his hand but has to pry his fingers away.

“Michael wants his hair cut, and I fucked it up so I was … ” Luk’s distracted by Delaware moving around the ring in her nose. She stares back at him angrily. “You look so weird. Like … what the fuck? What the hell did you do with my sister?”

“I gave her a makeover,” Mali-Koa shoves Luke away from staring at Delaware, pushing him fully into the hallway. She shoves past him and towards his bedroom. “I swear if you messed up Michael’s hair, then you’re paying. And if you touched Calum’s-”

“-Ugh, I didn’t touch Calums! Just fix Michaels, please!” Luke looks back at Delaware just standing in the doorway, watching Mali-Koa walk down the hallway and shoving herself into Luke’s room. “Aren’t you coming?” Luke asks. Delaware looks at him in surprise, wondering why he’s calling her his sister, why he’s asking if she’s coming with them to fix Michael’s hair, and why he’s just… being so calm. It dawns on her that he’s being so calm and collected, but still freaking out over his new little sister cutting off her hair, is because he thinks of her as family.

Delaware bites down on her lip. “Of course,” she follows Luke to his bedroom.

The view there is horrendous; clothes were strewn everywhere, Michael’s fringe all over the floor, dishware and cups left on Luke’s desk for whatever reason, and messy cords littering his entire TV set up for a gaming system. Michael, though, was just sitting on a dining room chair, with a towel tied around his neck, a caramel apple in one hand, his phone in the other, and half of his fringe cut in the wrong direction.

“Della, can you go get the hair scissors?” Mali-Koa requests then hand the kitchen sheers to Delaware. Delaware nods her head and leaves the room.

“Holy shit, that’s Delawa- ow!” Michael screams loud enough for Delaware to hear when putting the kitchen shears into the sink. She giggles a little bit at whatever must’ve struck Michael and feels a sense of belongingness at their protection of her. “Calum Hood I swear to God I will not hesitate!” Delaware slides past Liz at the stovetop, starting a dinner of chicken, and hops up the stairs.

“Remember, he’s ticklish!” Liz calls after her new daughter. Delaware confirms that she heard and runs back into Luke’s room, almost landing inside of Ashton’s just before Lukes, then handing Mali-Koa the proper scissors.

“Now, Micahel, what do we call her?” Mali-Koa threatens, holding Michael’s caramel apple in her nondominant hand. Michae looks back at her scared. One hand, with the caramel apple he’s about to cry over, and the other hand with a sharp pair of scissors, and a face full of determination. He should really answer this question correctly. “Michael? What do we call Luke’s little sister?”

“We call her Della,” Michael mumbles, holding onto his biceps. “Not Delaware because she doesn’t like Delaware. She likes Della.”

“Exactly,” Mali-Koa says as if she’s talking to a small child. She hands Micahel his caramel apple back and he takes a huge bite of the sticky fruit. “Now, what do we not let Luke, Ashton, and Calum do?”

“We don’t let them cut my hair because they’re stupid fuckers that can’t cut a straight fucking line!” Michael flips off the group of boys sitting on Luke’s bed.

“Shut up, you’re not even straight!” Ashton whines, feeling offended at what Michael and Mali-Koa are agreeing on. Nobody knows if Michael if straight, bi, gay, or whatever other sexuality he’s questioned upon himself. The week before he started high school, he’d called Luke crying because he thought he was only attracted to witches. They all put it off to the fact he’d stayed up three days straight watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone over and over again, trying to memorize the entire movie. He doesn’t even remember calling Luke that day.

“Suck my dick, Irwin,” Michael bit into his caramel apple again, basically breaking his jaw. “I want to buy a onesie, but I don’t know if it’ll suit me.”

Mali-Koa halted attempting to section off her younger friends’ hair correctly to give him a soft rasp upside his head. “You’re an idiot.” Mali-Koa started feathering out the long strands to match the shorter ones the boys created and tried to match their cutting style. His fringe would be fine… but he doesn’t have to know that. “Yeah, dude, I’m going to give you a quiff.”

“What? No! I don’t want to be gay like Luke!”

“Oh shut up, Gordon!” Luke whined.

“That brings me back to something,” Michael chews the sticky caramel stuck in his teeth and shoots an uncharming smile towards Delaware. “What’s your middle name? Is it Boston?”

“Boston is in Massachusetts, you fucking idiot!”

“Well, let Delaw- Della answer us. Is your middle name Boston?”

Delaware shook her head, laughing as she did so. “I can promise you that my middle name is not Boston.” Delaware tucked a few strands of hair behind her head, coming out of her shell just a little bit. “I think we should change yours though. I hear Carol is really pretty.”

“Oh hell no!”

“Michael, you are yelling!” Ashton informs Michael, using a hand gesture commanding that he brings his volume down just a bit so they don’t have premature hearing loss. “We could change it to Mary. I used to know a Mary- she played the piano.”

“I don’t play the piano, idiot, I play the guitar,” Michael wiped his mouth quickly to remove the sticky sugar, and just like Luke the night before, he had it on his cheek. “You guys make no sense. You’re all supporting 'we should all be unique together!’ and it turns out that we’re all the same. My middle name is cooler than all your stupid ones, so suck my dick and choke on it.”

“Language!” Liz screams, barely hearing Michael.

“Sorry, Mommy!” Michael screams back. “I am Gordon. And I am so much cooler than all of you!” Mali-Koa had to hold Michael’s head in place when she continued snipping the ends of his hair. “What type of person looks at an almond and thinks, 'Look at those titties’?”

“Does that mean that you look at a cow and you think 'Look at those titties’?” asked Ashton.

“Yes,” Michael answered. “Because you’re the cow.”

Ashton picked a ball of socks from the floor and threw them at Michael. “You look like a fish.”

“You are a fish, bitch,”

“I thought I was a cow?”

“You’re the whole zoo. Thick as hell,”

“Only for you,”

Delaware pointed towards Ashton and Michael, conversing over… God knows what and looked at Luke. Knowing what she was asking, he shook his head. But still, she’s convinced that the two of them are dating somehow.

Delaware ripped open her door. “Benjamin Hemmings if you don’t give me my bra back I swear to God!” She ran after Ben, supporting hot pink A cups over his One Direction shirt- both stolen from Delaware. Her feet hammered against the ground.

“Delaware Williams if you don’t shut up!” Ben mocked, running away from his little sister. She followed him down the hallway, past the kitchen, and into the living room where they’d argue in front of a sleeping Liz and a tired Andrew. “Give me my headphones back!”

Delaware held up Ben’s earbuds with a pair of scissors threatening to end its life. “I won’t hesitate! Take off my bra!”

“Woah!” Andrew called out in an attempt to calm the boiling situation. Both teenagers turned their attention towards the stretching man, scared for a punishment. Andrew just couldn’t comprehend the scene in his living room without busting out laughing fits. His nineteen-year-old son, standing in his daughters’ bra. Lovely. “What the hell is going on? Why are you… ” Andrew pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why are you wearing a bra?”

“Because I want to be beautiful, Dad!” Ben replied with a sassy snap at the end of his sentence.

Andrew sighed. “Give Della her bra back. Della, aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for the Homecoming game?”

Della looks to the side and drops the headphones/scissors mix to the floor. “Maybe.” She touched the curls that Mali-Koa’s pinned to the back of her head. Just half of them are ready, and she still has to wait on the other half. Della wasn’t excited for the homecoming game, though. Yes, she’d been elected for the homecoming queen, but she still wasn’t too thrilled about standing in the rainy wind for half an hour while her heart breaks over losing. “Can’t I just skip it? It’s not like Luke was elected so everybody doesn’t need to go and with nobody there for me-”

“Delaware Williams, we are all going, and so are you. Go finish getting ready before I kick you,”

Delaware retreated to her bedroom, carrying her hot pink bra in her right hand, and continued with Mali-Koa’s hair violations. Curling irons, hair gel, hair spray, hairpins, tiny rubber bands, and the occasional clip-in flower was stuck to Delaware’s scalp and she flinched at the feeling. Mali-Koa braided two sections halfway down Delaware’s hair before tying them off and curling any pieces she could manage. She took as long as she possibly could to make the perfect hairstyle, and after two months of being best friends, Delaware appreciated Mali-Koa being there for her.

“Dude, do I have to cover my tattoo?” Delaware asked, staring at her reflection in only a strapless bra and spandex. She pointed to the baby handprint in a bed of sunflowers right above her left breast that her best friend’s mom tattooed on her underage skin last year. Delaware’s biological mother had a daughter before Delaware, but she hadn’t survived after several complications with their mothers’ pregnancy and died just a few hours after birth. The girl, Adelaide, took her last breath and placed her hand right above her mothers’ breast, where Delaware eventually got a tattoo of her handprint.

“Yeah,” Mali-Koa sighed before pulling a bottle of foundation from her makeup box. “Lay down, it’ll be easier.”

Mali-Koa worked quickly on blending the tattoo away underneath a pile of foundation and powder. Her purple beauty blender pound into Delaware’s skin, hitting a sensitive nerve she didn’t realize existed, causing Delaware to flinch. Mali-Koa laughs and slathered a layer of powder above the drying foundation and relished in the fact it was hidden. However, Delaware looked like a completely different person without solid black lines and yellow shading taking up her skin.

A knock on Delaware’s door interrupted her confusion about how different Delaware looked. “Password?” Delaware asked, sitting up and pulling a shirt in front of her boobs.

“Luke sucks balls,” Michael replied and opened the door. Not the proper password- but it’ll manage. “Your mom says your report card is in and you’re in trouble and holy shit you’re shirtless.”

“Thanks, Einstein,” Delaware replied. She and Michael locked eyes for a few minutes. “Can you leave now? I’ll be downstairs when I get into my dress.”

Mali-Koa ended up pushing the staring boy out of Delaware’s room so she could dress in the apparel. A dress she regretted even buying- luckily, it was cheap. A two-piece dress with a strapless black floral top, and a black flowy skirt that ended mid-thigh, and started above her belly button. She looked gorgeous, obviously, but Michael managed to have a staring problem again when she walked down the stairs. Luke smacked the side of Michael’s head.

Liz had agreed with Delaware that she’d sign the paper for Delaware to become a cheerleader, as long as Delaware had good grades at the end of the grading quarter, unlike Luke and Michael. Delaware gladly agreed, especially after trying out for cheerleading, and worked her small butt off to achieve her short term dream. Every time she went to a foster house, she’d have one request: to be put in dance classes or some sort of physical labor including costumes and smiles. Liz would oblige as long as Delaware continued with school work and chores, bettering herself for a nice future.

Delaware skipped towards Liz and grabbed the document with her name on it to read the grades. They were all exceptional- 100s in every class, and extra credit in most. She’d talked to her teachers about finishing her tenth-grade year in one semester, and starting her eleventh in the next. They drew up worksheets, made after school lesson plans and attached them to a flash drive that she’d learn off of. But, she did it. Finished half of her tenth-grade year in a quarter, and amazed her foster parents beyond extreme. Luke was just barely passing the classes she’d been excelling in, and Ashton was scraping by his twelfth-grade year with D’s and C’s.

“So, does that mean I get to be a basketball cheerleader?” Delaware asked with a hopeful tone, handing Liz the paper again. Liz smiled and continued looking it over. Her grades were amazing, she went to school every day and never skipped class, she’d been a teacher’s pet too. Originally, she’d started her school year with an F in biology and no determination to get it up. Then she learned about cheerleading, made the deal with Liz, and had it up to an A in twenty-four hours. “Please, please, please, Mom!”

Liz shook her head jokingly and looked to Delaware. She was glowing; a beautiful girl with a highlight on her cheekbones and hair pulled back delicately. “Give me the paper and I’ll sign it.”

Delaware squealed, jumped in the air, and wrapped her arms around Liz’s neck. Happiness and excitement were radiating off her bones and blinding everyone in the house. Even Calum, playing video games down the street while he’s supposed to be in football practice could feel her excitement. “Thank you so much! This means everything to me!”

“Just don’t fall behind in your studies, okay?”

“Got it.”

Liz signed on the dotted line, and Delaware almost ruined her makeup with tears.

Delaware shivered and waited for the ceremony to start. She began regretting not taking Luke up on the offer of his letterman jacket but cuddled into her best friend Calum’s side instead. He’s a football player, in their ugly gold and black uniforms, and his large letterman jacket. He wrapped her inside of the fabric and shivered with her. A long speech from the announcing lady made them both groan in unison while she continued blabbering on and on until every homecoming candidate was frozen.

Finally, she told everyone she’d begin announcing. Mali-Koa was nominated for the senior homecoming queen alongside a boy Delaware didn’t know. The boys’ little sister, Florine Knapp, was nominated alongside Michael for the junior king and queen. Calum and Delaware were for the sophomores, and freshmen candidates failed to show up. Less competition, honestly.

The homecoming floats were ugly and faulty. The football field was soaked through and would create a muddy Calum Hood. Everybody outside was freezing underneath mountains of blankets. It just wasn’t turning into a good last football game for their town. Delaware was completely unimpressed but still walked to the track when her name was called.

“Delaware Williams, foster child to Liz and Andrew Hemmings, foster sister to Luke, Ben, and Jack Hemmings, future basketball cheerleader, and scholar,” The lady stated, causing Delaware to bite her tongue. In their house, you don’t throw around the word 'foster’. It’s all or nothing, even when it comes to talking about genetics. Delaware feels like if she could, she’d turn into a Hemmings instead of a Williams, just to feel apart of a family that loved her. That obviously loved her. Another thing, you don’t leave out Ashton. Ashton is just as much of a Hemmings as the boys, and Delaware. “She’s accompanied by Calum Hood,” and the list went on. “And our homecoming queen and king are,” a drumroll from the marching band started. “Delaware Williams and Michael Clifford,”

How the hell did I manage that? Delaware wanted to scream out.

She stepped forward, closer to Michael Clifford in a tacky suit and harder hair than normal, and took his hand in her own. Thick rings dug into the skin between her fingers, and the ring with Delaware’s birthstone sat a little crooked on her middle finger and dug into his. It was a mutual thing; ruining each other’s fingers with rings. Delaware smiled and stepped closer to him so they’d stand together and receive their crowns. Delaware smiled, waited for Liz and Andrew to snap photos, then kissed Michael on the cheek.

Yeah, she could get over being called Delaware all the time, but now it's just an attempt at embarrassing him in front of the bleachers full of school supporters. Michael blushed and tried to hide his face behind his other hand, but Delaware grabbed it away from him. Michael giggled, and walked her off the field, to their positions as King and Queen of the New Broken Scene.

“Give me my burrito!” Delaware squealed, grabbing the tinfoil out of Michael’s hands, having to climb a little bit to grab it from above his head. Michael laughed, pulling it further away from the beautiful girl across the booth, but ended up throwing it onto her plate. “You’re a whore, you know that right?”

“Hoe,” Michael corrected. “I’m a hoe for any and everybody. Sleeping with sirens and piercing veils, babygirl,”

“Just kidding. You’re stupid,” After ditching their homecoming dance, they walked in the rain to an indoor mini-golf arena, playing a few games before skipping to the local Mexican restaurant for delicious food. Liz laughed when Delaware told her she wouldn’t be at the homecoming dance, and to tell Jack to not wait to pick her up. They all guessed she’d find ways around the dark gymnasium with sweaty kids and two smoke machines; she’s just not that type of person.

Michael opened his straw partly and shot the plastic-wrapped at Delaware’s nose, causing her to flinch just a little bit. She balled it up quickly and threw it back at him. “Hey!” Delaware yipped when a plastic fork hit her in the boob. “I swear I’ll get Ben to beat you up.” She slipped off Jack’s letterman jacket as to not cover it in food.

After complaining of being cold, Mali-Koa stole Calum’s jacket from him, leaving Delaware without anything to cover her reddening arms. Her limbs were beginning to go numb. Jack ran home quickly, dug around in the basement, and pulled his old letterman jacket from a box he’d forgotten about. He handed it to Delaware and told her to use it as long as she’d like- even if it meant forever. Hemmings it across the back of the golden fabric, with letters for several different sports and manager pins. She was amazed at how it fit her just a little too big but still looked nice on her. She sat atop Michael’s shoulders, watched the game underneath a large jacket, and took photos with all of the boys as much as possible. It was a night she’d remember forever.

“What’s your tattoo of?” Michael asked, pointing to the black lines starting to peek through the foundation. He took a huge bite of his soft taco.

“It’s my sisters’ handprint when she was born,” Delaware dismissed before digging into her food as well. It tasted like the perfect burrito; meat, rice, beans, queso, avocado, and whatever the hell else was added. She was in love with a two-dollar burrito that was made in minutes. Nobody could ever top that burrito.

“Was she in foster care like you?”

Delaware went silent. She didn’t have an answer. How do you tell someone that your sister is dead? How would you answer that question if she was alive- yes, she is in foster care like I am but we were split up because the system is bullshit. Or- no, she isn’t because our parents actually wanted her or she was adopted quickly because she’s perfect. Even though she’s quite open about foster care, it can still be a somewhat touchy subject for her.

“Della?”

“No,” Delaware answered quickly. She didn’t want to reply, she didn’t want to think, she just wanted to relish at the moment she was given. Tacos in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant with a boy that was nominated homecoming king, while she was the queen. She was nominated for homecoming queen after years of being bullied, and she had a huge crowd cheering her on, taking photos of her making cute faces next to her brothers, and two adults claiming her as their child. She had a family that loves her, one that bought her a phone and helped her sign up for cheerleading. One that doesn’t want to give her up when the time comes. “So your middle name is Gordon, right?”

“Yeah. What’s yours? Boston?”

“I’ve told you several times! It’s not Boston!”

“Then you have to tell me it,” Michael says before taking a long gulp of soda. “It’s the law.”

Delaware chews her burrito and swallows before answers. “You have to guess the letter it starts with.”

“It’s either M or N,” replies Michael. Delaware is stunned- he’s right.

“How do you know that?”

“Because, D is four letters from the beginning of the alphabet, and W is four letters from the end. M and N are equal distances between the two.”

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“Because,” Michael says. “I got bored in chemistry today. Basic knowledge, you know.” Delaware stared at him in amazement. “So am I right?”

“You’re spot on,” Delaware’s mouth hung open. How had she never put two and two together? Also, her biological parents are idiots. “It’s May-Nova.”

“Delaware May-Nova Williams?” Michael asked. He didn’t wait for a reply. “Your parents must have really hate you.”

Delaware continued staring, not knowing how to answer. Yes, they did. That’s why I’m in foster care. Or, no, they didn’t. They’re just idiots.

They ate their food, conversing over Delaware’s odd name, Michael’s stupid middle name, and the fact that Mexican food will forever be Delaware’s first and only love. At the end of their meal, Delaware got Jack on the phone for a ride home in the rain, rather than walking. He obliged and drove to them quickly instead of partying as he’d planned. Delaware jumped into the shower the moment she walked through the door, pulling pins from her hair and forcing Luke to unzip her dress.

“Mali-Koa Hood, get your ass up here now!” Delaware screamed out, entering her room in only a towel, and ready to watch sappy movies and talk with her best friend. “Mali!”

“She’s at the dance!” Michael yelled back.

“Language, Della!” Liz screamed, wishing to break the habit of her children cussing constantly. She’ll do it, you know. She’ll end the cussing eventually.

“Then somebody get up here and watch movies with me!” She locked her door, though, before a stampede of teenage boys killed her while she’s naked. She slipped into Nike shorts and a random shirt she didn’t realize she owned before opening her bedroom to her male friends waiting for her casually. “Is there something you’d like?”

“You said Disney movies,” Calum mentions, motioning to her TV sitting on the black desk. It’s small, but it suffices.

“I did not say Disney movies,”

“More importantly you said Lilo and Stitch,” Michael states, eyeing her hand-me-down XBOX. Luke gave it to her because he’d gotten a new one for his birthday before she’d arrived, and now she can play video games with Calum, Micahel, Ashton, and Luke without having to sit in somebody else’s room.

“I did not say Lilo and Stitch,”

“And you also said popsicles,” Ashton laughs.

“I didn’t say popsicles but if you brought me a red popsicle-” Ashton hands over a red popsicle he knows she loves. He’s studied that she’s the only one eating them, devouring them in moments of the first taste. All of the others aren’t too fond of them, but she’s a cherry fiend. “-I love you forever.”

“So Lilo and Stitch?” Michael asks.

“Yeah, no,”

“What about The Emperor's New Groove?”

“No,”

“On The Road To El Dorado?”

“You have to have the password.”

“It’s Luke sucks balls,”

“You’re absolutely correct. Grab a blanket, homies,”

Calum, Ashton, Michael, Luke, and Delaware all fit on her twin bed, laying on top of one another, but paying attention to the TV with such intent they forgot that they had a pizza in the oven. Michael cried when Liz informed them that the pizza was burnt- he didn’t know it was in the oven, but a burnt pizza broke his heart. Delaware fell asleep on the makeshift bed Michael and Calum had created out of their bodies to make her comfortable. It was just a good night for her.

For their first basketball game, Michael and Delaware agreed upon wearing matching spirit clothes, supporting their schools’ black-out game. They obviously had to wear the given black polo required, but they paid five bucks to wear jeans that Tuesday. On days of games with themed student sections, you’re allowed to pay for different trousers, as long as they’re appropriate. Michael and Delaware stayed up late, listening to GreenDay on the sound system Delaware was borrowing from Luke, and created patterns on ripped skinny jeans with neon paint. The class with the most supporters in the student section wins frozen yogurt during lunch the next day.

Liz took pictures of Delaware and her friends, almost causing the brunette to be late to school. The typical photo of Delaware sitting on Luke’s shoulders, leaning against Michael’s front with their arms woven together, and the weird poses Calum and Ashton thought up on the spot. Michael and Delaware also colored their friends’ skinny jeans and paid off their debt to the administration. Delaware would have tons of photos to reflect on whenever she leaves the Hemmings house, and it breaks her heart to think that eventually, she’ll have to leave the best friends that she'll ever have.

Michael and Delaware kicked their legs up onto their uncomfortable desks to show off the jeans. Delaware stared back at Ashton, Calum, and Luke sitting a row behind the pair. Luke sighed and copied them before Calum and Ashton replicated them too.

“Thank you,” Delaware shook her head. “Rude, am I right?”

“Downright disrespectful,” Michael answered.

In her small cheer uniform, Delaware waved at the crowd gathered for the basketball game, more specifically her family. Liz and Andrew snapped even more photos of her. She’s a flyer, meaning that she’s thrown into the air a lot, and had to ask Liz to pull her hair back into double dutch braids. Though, Michael kept drooling during the basketball game and couldn’t focus on the fact he’s supposed to be dribbling a ball, not staring at the cheerleaders.

“Clifford,” His coach called, pulling him from the game and sitting his butt on the bench.

Michael didn’t mind- even more of a chance to stare at Delaware. Her cheer uniform was long-sleeved, covered her from her knees to her neck, disregarding her hands, and had gold lining along the hem. She was exactly like every other cheerleader; uniform, hair, and small golden bows tied with ribbon. But Michael knew exactly which one she was, even in a group huddle of screams and chants. He knew that she was Delaware Williams instead of some prissy cheerleader that wouldn’t talk to him. He just knew.

At the end of the game, Delaware pulled Jack’s letterman jacket on her shoulders and posed with cheerleaders wearing the same outfit she was. The only difference between all of them as she had a lot more letters than they did and the last name on the back wasn’t correct. That didn’t discourage anyone from turning every cheerleader around and taking photos of their last names. Their school takes photos like that as a promotion to families and showing off a kids’ heritage.

That means that Luke, Ben, Jack, and Ashton have photos with their last names shown off in photos. Hemmings- every single one was a Hemmings. And now, Liz had her daughter with the Hemmings name glowing in the center of the photo. She couldn’t help but immediately create a photo collage of them all together. Ashton had been a football player and a wrestler for a couple of years. Luke, Ben, and Jack were all football players with the occasional basketball season and a few track and field meets. She chose the photos of them all during tenth grade; Delaware at her first basketball game as a cheerleader, Ashton during wrestling season right after breaking his arm, Luke just a few weeks before at a football game, Jack just finishing a 3200-meter dash, and Ben when he’d gotten a concussion during a football game and kept playing with tears running down his cheeks. She smiled and showed Andrew who adored what she’d done with the photos.

“I deserve ice cream!” Delaware screamed with a fist in the air and her other hand on top of Calum’s head. It was normal for her to be sitting on their shoulders, rather than walking. Liz and Andrew occasionally worried that she would fall and break something, though. “I deserve some good oreo ice cream with white chocolate chips on top and cookie dough pieces on the inside!”

“Dude you literally ate an entire package of Oreos earlier,” Michael replied, cuddling further into his own jacket. “And like four cupcakes, and we even got hamburgers for lunch. Are you trying to die?”

“Mali-Koa and I are having a competition to see who can reach 100 pounds first,” Delaware answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It never dawned on the boys that the reason Delaware was so light, was because she’d been underweight. “I’m at eighty-eighty pounds and I’m determined to beat her!”

“Jesus Christ, you’re tiny!” Calum laughed. He unlocked the side of his car with keys in one hand, and helped Delaware off of his shoulders by practically tossing her in the air and catching her with a key in her side. “So, ice cream?”

“Please!” Delaware whined. She looked around at Liz and Andrew, searching for an answer she already knew. “Mom? Please?” Liz wanted to say no, she wanted to tell Delaware that eating too much is unhealthy, even if you’re attempting to gain weight. Delaware has a small form of lactose intolerance so a mass amount of ice cream will mess with her body, and Liz knows this. Still, she stares into Delaware’s forest-green eyes and nods her head sadly. “Yay! Where can we go? What’s good around here?”

“There’s an ice cream shop just down the road,” Michael said, pointing in the direction of a corner store he’s always wanted to try. They advertise cherry ice cream with chocolate chunks, cookie dough without salmonella, and sticky caramel apples dipped in peanuts. “My mom says they’re pretty good.”

“Wow, you have a mom?” Delaware asked, referencing the fact that Michael seems to be at the Hemmings house all the time, and never goes home. She swears he’s there when she wakes up, goes to sleep, and tries to shower at 3 AM. “What do you say? Ice cream shop? That’s what I thought.” Delaware climbs into Calum’s car without an answer, sitting in the passenger’s seat and hooking her phone up to the aux. “Come on guys! They’ll close before we get there.”

Practically everyone is wrapped around Delaware’s finger.

Michael knocked on Delaware’s bedroom door. She stood up from her bed, the room illuminated by fairy lights Mali-Koa and her had hung around the creases of the ceiling. Michael opened the door when she took forever to answer it and stared at her.

Delaware had asked Michael to come over- said that it was too dire of a situation for just Calum and way too much for any of her brothers. She needed Michael, the boy that seemingly understood her. But before he could ask her what’s wrong, she crashed into his chest, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. She had given up to just listening to her hammering heart exploding in her chest, bursting her eardrums with every pop. Delaware was embarrassed- hurting, even when Michael shushed her sobs in his chest and shoved her further into her room, closing the door behind her.

“Della- shh, Della what’s wrong?” Michael asked, pulling Delaware into his lap. Normally her bed is made, pristine sheets folded at the corners and an extra blanket sat at the end of her bed with a fleece interior. Liz had made it. Now, underneath him, the sheets were messy and unruly, not even tucked between the bed and the wall, as if somebody had a fit and tried to rip the seams apart. “Delaware, you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

She sobbed, let the tears roll down her cheeks and land on Michael’s black shirt. Michael didn’t care that he could feel tears pressing into his skin, or Delaware’s messy braids rubbing the underneath of his chin, or a few hiccups that erupted from her throat. Delaware tried to stay strong, to suppress the tears before they released and whisper that everything was okay. She just couldn’t. “They’re sending me back.”

“What?” Michael asked abruptly. He let go of her side to wipe his face before he started crying. There’s no way he heard that correctly- absolutely no way that she’s going back into the foster care system, away from the Hemmings family, away from him! That’s not allowed. He won’t stand for it and will go out with a fight. “Delaware?”

“I got a letter in the mail today,” Delaware hiccuped before digging her face into Michael’s chest. It hurt, so he pulled her away so she could see him. Maybe he’d be able to read her face to know that it’s a lie. Haha, he’d answer before shaking his head jokingly, of course, they are. But he couldn’t. Delaware wasn’t lying, and she certainly wasn’t going to pull a prank like this. “It says my permanent residency will be enforced the day after Christmas, and I’ll have to live with my legal guardians. Which means, I’m going back home. To my biological parents. Where I’ll die!”

Michael laid back so Delaware would have something softer to lay on besides him. But she still laid on top of his chest, wrapping her legs in his. He remembers when he made friends with different foster kids the Hemmings had. Styles- the boy with curly hair that taught Michael how to kiss a girl. Or every time Ashton’s been sent back to his mom, only to end up with Liz and Andrew once again. There’ve been more kids that broke Michael’s heart, when their parents’ decided to shape up and want them, or the ones that were too much of a hassle for their school and ended up expelled, meaning that Liz and Andrew wouldn’t be able to send them anywhere else.

Michael reached for the blanket and pulled it over both of them. Delaware began to calm down a little bit. “It’s going to be okay. Things like this can change and-”

“They don’t change, Michael! Once you’re sent back, you’re sent back until they fuck up again. My mom values being able to say she straightened up and got me too much to fuck up before I get there!” Delaware spat. Michael ran his hands through the ends of her hair and grabbed the thick hair ties to release all of her hair. She didn’t argue when he pulled the rubber bands out and combed his fingers through her soft locks. “I don’t want to go back.”

“I don’t want you to go back either, Delaware,”

Delaware was so upset, she didn’t correct him about calling her Della. She just wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear for good. “I finally got a family, and now … they’re just sending me back.”

“Hey, Della,” Michael said, trying to make her a bit perkier. “How about we just … have the time of our lives before you go? Like do a bunch of fun stuff or something or just … try to make it okay before you go?”

Delaware shrugged.

“What about right now we just go to sleep?”

Delaware nodded.

“Want me to play some music or the TV? I can go get a blanket and lay down on the floor and-”

“-No,” Delaware cut off. “Lay right here and sleep. Please, Mikey?”

Michael rubbed his hand along her back. She shivered a little bit. “Of course.”

Delaware closed her eyes and began to drift into unconsciousness, right on top of Michael. He ran his hand through her hair, let his other one lay right underneath her dark grey shirt, and just stared at the ceiling for a little while, pondering life. His heart was breaking, shattering into small pieces that nicked his insides. Everything just hurt and he cried silently, as to not disturb the girl sleeping on him. Her hand moved up his side, and he caught a glimpse of her left arm covered in sharpie tattoos.

While she slept, she was beautiful. Not just a beautiful teenage girl but the goddess she deserves to be, and the pain on her face seemed to disappear when she settled further into sleep. Michael’s heart healed itself, broke again, and kept on the routine until he finally fell asleep. His eyes closed, lingering on the thought of being in love with Delaware.

Something he’s never thought of before.

“You okay?” Ben asked Delaware. She nodded her head and stared at the drawing she’s creating on Jack’s bareback. “Are you sure? You seem really off.”

“I’m fine,” She dismissed and pressed the cool tip of her favorite black sharpie into his skin to further her design. She was running off envisionment before copying it onto his skin. So far, she’d created a snake uncoiling with a blank belly, but the back of daisies and sunflowers. Around the mouth of the snake, she outlined a sun that connected to its closed jaws. She didn’t know what she’d do with the rest of the sun, but she was going with whatever she felt.

Jack didn’t mind- it was like a miniature back massage as he played COD. “He’s right, sis,” Jack whispered before killing Luke’s character. They heard a scream resonating in Luke’s bedroom. “You’re off lately. Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” Delaware outlined the snake and sun with a light hand and began to make mandala designs outside of the lopsided oval. “Just a little stressed.” Half circled went along the oval as small flower pedals. Should she put even smaller half-circles inside of them or stack them on top of one another to make fish scales? She decided on the fish scales route.

“How’s your boyfriend?” Luke respawned, and Jack killed him immediately.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,”

“What do you call sleeping next to Michael Clifford then?”

“Nothing. I’ve slept next to Calum before, and Luke, and Ashton, and you guys.”

“No, Della, you like him,” Ben answered for Jack. “We aren’t stupid. How do you think Luke and Ashtone ever got girlfriends? Certainly not with their good looks!”

“You and Luke look exactly alike,”

“Shut up your opinion is irrelevant,” Ben rolled his eyes. “All I’m saying is, ask him out.”

“I don’t have a crush on him,” She switched from scales to large spirals that took up a lot of space and had a thick tail. Around the first spiral she made, she created daisy petals all around the object, then a circle to cut the pedals off from everything else. That was the design she liked. “He’s just a friend.”

“Bullshit.”

Delaware elected not to inform anyone besides Liz and Andrew about the letter she had gotten. They said they were going to try and put an appeal in for Delaware to stay with them, and to prove that her biological parents aren’t fit to take care of her. Liz held Delaware the morning after she got the letter and promised they’d get it sorted out. But they both knew that it was almost impossible. Liz told her to wait until Christmas to pack up, just to make sure she had room for every she’d gotten for the joyous holiday. Delaware persisted that she didn’t want anything; she didn’t want anybody to spend money on her, to buy gifts, or include her on their normal holiday traditions. Liz told her that her argument was stupid, and she’d always be family.

“Ask him out, Della, or I will,”

“Didn’t know you swung that way, Jack,”

“Oh shut up, you know what I meant!”

Delaware laughed. It was a relaxed Saturday morning for them. Though, in her head, she kept remembering that she had only three weeks before being sent back to a home she never wanted.

After that morning, Jack stopped allowing Delaware to draw on his back. She could draw anywhere else, just not on his back. Luke woke up one morning to Delaware running on coffee and snacks, trying to finish the sleeve she’d been creating for Jack. It ranged from the sleeve of his tank top, down to his fingers, and included several flowers, a lions mane, the outline of bones in his hand, a sword he’d found a picture of online, a blackbird, five pairs of small feet walking towards his hand, five skull rocker hands, a copy of his favorite cartoon character, and the planets swirling down his forearm.

“If you take a shower within the next twenty-four hours, I’ll kill you,” Delaware told Jack before passing out in her bed, next to Michael, who had been asleep for several hours already. Seemingly, after they had less than three weeks, Michael stayed over just about every night to comfort Delaware. She couldn’t sleep without him anymore. Her best friend jumped from Calum to Michael.

Michael threw a pair of black Converse at Delaware. “Get up you’re learning how to skateboard.” Delaware didn’t react. “Delaware May-Nova!”

“Fuck you!” Delaware screamed and pulled the blankets above her head. “It’s like two AM.”

“You didn’t even go to sleep until two AM,” Michael snapped back and tossed a pen in her direction. They stayed up late, FaceTiming since Michael was on a family vacation for a weekend. Delaware knew he’d be home early in the morning, but she didn’t think she’d be attacked by high tops. “It’s seven. Wake up!”

“No!”

“I’ll make you coffee!”

“I hate coffee!”

“I’ll get you cotton candy ice cream out of the freezer!”

“Will you put gummy bears on top?”

“Of course,”

“Okay,” Delaware threw the blanket off her body, thinking that Michael was out of the room. He was hit with a sight of a girl in her underwear and his hoodie and swooned over the view. “Get out.” Delaware hopped to her closet to pick out an outfit. Liz took her shopping several times, allowing her to choose all the clothes she wanted, regardless of the price. If they fit and be used a lot, she could get them.

“But my hoodie,” Michael protested, not wanting to let go of the vision of Delaware engulfed in fabric reeking of his cologne. Delaware pulled it off in a swift motion and threw it at Michael’s face. He didn’t get to see what was underneath before forcing himself out of the room. “Hurry up!”

“Get my ice cream,” Delaware replied before pulling tight black skinny jeans onto her legs and up her thighs. With Delaware and Mali-Koa’s weight gaining competition, she was starting to learn that she couldn’t fit into kids’ jeans anymore. Not that she actually cared; it would be easier to buy adult skinny jeans with rips in the knees and the lack of jewels on her butt. That’s if she ever gets to go shopping again- her biological mother isn’t a good provider and forced Delaware to wear clothes from her childhood, starving the growing girl to make sure they’d fit.

“Ice cream isn’t a good breakfast!”

“Then we aren’t skateboarding,” Delaware searched for a warm shirt, or even a large hoodie that would look good on her while she skated to her death, but nothing went. She walked to her door, opened it up and gave Michael a full view of her black sports bra. “There’s nothing to see. Give me your hoodie.”

“No!” Michael hugged his hoodie close to his body. “Mine. Get your own.”

“Fine. Luke!” Delaware screamed. Luke and Ashton had been getting ready too, after being pelted with Vans and Converse until they sat up, with direct instructions to teach their little sister how to stand on a skateboard. They tried to teach her once when she first arrived, but she ran straight into a curb and ripped a perfectly good pair of jeans. “Bring me a hoodie!”

“Get your own, Della!” Luke yelled back.

“See,” said Delaware. “Now you have to give me your hoodie or I’m going to go around shirtless and catch a cold and-” Michael cut her off by shoving his hoodie into her small belly. She smiled and slipped it back on. Michael was blinded by the sight, admiring Delaware when she sprayed perfume all over herself. “Stop staring. It’s creepy.”

“You’re creepy,” replied Michael. “Pull your hair back or something.”

Delaware raked a brush through her curly hair. “Just because you said that I won’t,” They met Luke and Ashton in the hallway and skipped down the stairs together. “Michael? My ice cream?” Michael groaned and cut into the kitchen to rip open the freezer. He pulled the carton out while the other two boys made themselves something logical for a good day of skateboarding. Michael scooped some ice cream into a bowl, added a few gummy bears on top, and presented the decorated bowl to Delaware that kissed his cheek.

“See, told ya’ Della,” someone said. Delaware jumped around to Jack, shirtless, and standing next to Luke. His back was to her, and she could suddenly see why he could no longer be her canvas; he’s gotten the snake she drew tattooed on his spine, coiling up more professionally than she drew, with the same blank belly and flower-clad back. Above the snake were five symbols; a football, a beaker, a drumset, a guitar, and a daisy. Delaware poked Jack’s spine, right where the snake was tattooed. “Fuck! You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“So. Got something to tell me, Jack Hemmings?”

Jack scrunched his face up. “Oh shut up, it’s a cool design.” Jack poked Delaware’s nose with the tip of his pinky. “Eat your ice cream and make out with Micahel Clifford before I punt you.”

Delaware enjoyed her breakfast from the countertop and argued with her brothers over who’s turn it was to fold laundry. Everybody including Michael claimed it’s Luke’s turn, but Luke protested that it’s obviously Delaware’s turn because she’s wearing Michael’s hoodie. Michael threw a frozen waffle at Luke and informed him that he needs to get clothes folded because Michael will start running out of clothes if he doesn’t.

“Then stop giving her clothes, dude,” Luke answered and shoveled a heaping spoonful of cheerios into his mouth. Michael laughed, told him that when a girl steals your clothes then you don’t ask for them back. “Then quit being in love with Della. It’s easy, dude.”

“I’m not in love with Delaware,”

“Well, she’s in love with you,”

“I am not in love with Michael!” Delaware squealed. She finished off the last of her sugary breakfast and hopped down from the counter to rinse her bowl.

“The fact he can call you Delaware, the fact that he bribed you with ice cream, dude,”

“You’re stupid,” informed Delaware. “And anybody can bribe me with cotton candy ice cream, gummy bears, and red popsicles. Now, let’s skate!”

“Yeah, no,” Ashton said. “Let me eat in peace, then I’ll deal with your high energy. Did you drink like seven five-hour energy?”

“No, eight, actually,” Delaware clapped her hands. “I just have naturally high energy.”

“Yeah,” Liz said before stepping into the crowded kitchen. “And if you don’t take your meds, then you’ll be bouncing off the walls. Delaware May-Nova, take your medicine, now!”

“Your middle name is May-Nova?” Luke asked before taking another bite. Delaware turned around to the medicine cabinet to grab down the two orange pill bottles with her name on the front and grabbed the capsules she’s required to ingest. She held both pills in hand and filled a cup of water. Delaware downed the whole cup. “That’s weirder than Delaware.”

“Your middle name is Robert,” said Michael.

“Yeah, and yours is Gordon,”

“Touche,”

“I happen to think Gordon and May-Nova are nice names, Luke,” said Liz. Michael looked up at his mom with wide eyes, scared that she’ll have some snarky remarks for him. “Now if they’d just start dating, I won’t have to hear about ‘oh my gosh you’ll never believe this!’ from Michael all the freaking time.”

“Exposed,” Ashton drags out.

“Ashton, take your medicine too or I’ll kick you,”

Ashton sighs and replicated Delaware’s movements. “I swear, Delaware and I are so threatened around this place. It’s like we’re never free.”

“You’re freer than I am!” Luke whines.

Liz rolls her eyes. “That’s because you got caught sneaking out, so I locked your window. Della, Ashton, if I find out you guys are doing that, I’ll do the same thing to you.”

“Don’t worry, mother,” Delaware said. “Not the party type. Never will be.”

Michael taught her how to skate, how to play the guitar, how to dribble a basketball and lose to him. Michael taught Delaware as many things as he thought he could in the two-week period until her departure back to hell and away from the people that loved her. He just didn’t teach her how to live without him.

Delaware became dependent upon the blond, needing to talk to him somehow before she went to sleep, sneaking out to go on 3 AM dinner dashes to McDonald’s or somewhere cheap, stealing his clothes just have a nice scent before she falls asleep. Delaware was in love with Michael- hardcore in love with him to the point she didn’t realize it.

The fateful day was coming closer, but on Christmas Eve, Michael planned an entire night out for Delaware and him, getting special approval from Liz and Andrew to keep Delaware out later than her curfew for the night of her life. Liz agreed, as long as he’d keep her safe, have her home before dawn, and would call her while bringing Delaware home. Liz was afraid that something would happen to Delaware; that she’d get hurt, or she’d be kidnapped, killed, tortured, but Liz knew that Delaware had been stressing for a long time and needed a night out. After dinner, Delaware and Michael played video games until everyone was on the verge of sleep, then Michael drug Delaware out of the house to skate to the nearby park.

“Is this seriously it, Clifford?” Delaware asked, hoping off her board before hitting the curb. Black converse hit the ground, shattered the paint on the bottom of the shoe, but still braced her feet. “A park? How lame.”

“Would you shut up?” Michael asked, grabbed Delaware’s free hand to jog behind him. They ran to a dark spot in the park, and Michael left her alone for a few seconds. She was scared but thought being killed would be better than going back to her biological parents. Honestly, going home is the worst Christmas present the foster care system could have given her. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Delaware groaned. Christmas Eve is cold, with a large chill in the air and a long burst of wind. But Michael plugged something in, and white Christmas light illuminated the spot around them. He’d set up a blanket, with ice cream and gummy bears inside a picnic basket, and some stray paints Delaware knew disappeared, and a large canvas. “What’s this?”

“Thought we could have fun tonight,” Michael shrugged, stuffing his hands inside his pockets. “We can go home if you w-”

“-No,” Delaware dismissed and settled herself on the blanket. It's the one she’s never seen before; one that smells of Michael, with red flannel patterns, and IDIOT printed on the back like a marker drew it. “Let’s paint.” She picked one of the three bottles of paint from the ground and shook it a little bit. Even with the lights, she could just barely tell it’s an iridescent blue. “Did you grab any paint brushes from my bedroom?”

Michael looked down. “Shit.”

Delaware laughed. “It’s fine. We have fingers for a reason,”

“I could make a dirty joke out of that, you know? I could be the wisest-”

“-You’re never the wisest so don’t even finish that.” Delaware squirted some paint onto her pointer finger and dabbed it on Michael’s nose. His eyes crossed to look at the blue dot staining his skin. “Look, Michael the Blue Nosed Idiot.”

“I am not Michael the Blue Nosed Idiot, you’re Delaware-” Michael picked the pink bottle from the ground and popped off the cap. “The Pink Nosed Beauty.”

“That took a turn,” Delaware turned her attention from the dot of pink on her nose to the canvas in front of her. It’s one that’s large and probably cost a pretty penny. She squirted a bunch of paint out onto it in a swirling motion and started to spread it out with her finger as a tye-dye. “So. Do you like bread?”

“Yeah,” Michael replied, joining in on Delaware’s technique. He added a swirl of pink inside of the large blue one, and began spreading it with his fingers. It’s a messed up tye-dye of course, but whoever ended up with the canvas would remember the cracks of Michael the Blue Nosed Idiot. “Do you live too far from here?”

Delaware’s throat began constricting. “Yeah, actually,” She choked out and coughed to cover a suppressed sob. “It’s a few hour drive. It took us two days to get here.”

“Did you stay in a hotel?”

“Uh … yeah.” She didn’t want to answer, she just wanted to paint and cry and scream about how much she loved living in this place. “It was a cheap one. I had to sleep on the floor because there was only one bed. There was a pool, but it closed before we arrived.”

“Did you have a good breakfast there?”

“I didn’t eat breakfast. We were in a rush to get here,” Delaware sniffed, trying to forget how she’ll have to go through all of that again. She wants to stay with Liz! She wants the mother she never got that dried her tears countless times from trauma that flashed through dreams, hiding everything from the other teenagers, and reminded Delaware to take her medicine every morning, bought her appropriate clothes for different seasons, and allowed her to cheer. Liz supported Delaware at every basketball game she’d had so far, taking photos of her like Delaware requested, and tried to understand cheerleading terminology just so they could talk. Liz was the perfect mother, and Delaware wanted to do everything to not leave. Delaware laughed to hide her crying. “The foster care woman told me that I would be here until I graduated. I wouldn’t leave again unless they wanted me out, and not once had Mom and Dad voluntarily kicked a kid out.”

“It’ll be okay,” Michael whispered in a low voice. “We’ll all keep in touch. Calum, me, and your brothers will all come visit. A lot. I’ll move out where you live and we’ll go to school together. My parents’ don’t really miss me much, and I just turned seventeen so I mean-”

“-God, you’re such a weirdo.” Delaware wiped her nose and sniffed again. “Never, and I mean never live where I’m going. It’s a poor neighborhood, and my parents barely work. It’s full of low-lives that have no jobs and scrape by on food stamps. I want better for you, no matter what!”

“Then you have to come back after high school,” Michael told her. “You have to get into college here- or I’ll have you live with me next year! You can come to my birthday party and just not go home. You’ll be sixteen by then, so you don’t have to go home.”

“You’re an idiot, Gordon,”

“And you’re beautiful, Delaware May-Nova.”

“Why do you call me Delaware all the time? Why not like … Della? Everybody else calls me Della, but you always call me Delaware, even after I hit you.”

“I did it to annoy you because you were so cute when you got worked up over your name,” Michael confessed, adding more paint onto the canvas. This time, purple. Delaware took a scoop of purple onto her finger and slide it across Michael’s forehead. “Gross!” Michael laughed. “After a while, I just … I love Delaware so much more than Della. Like- you’re a Delaware, not a Della. As Luke is a Luke and not a Lucas. You understand?”

“Kind of like you’re a Michael Gordon?”

“Like that.”

“But even you said that Delaware is just so peculiar, and not at all normal.” Delaware laughed a little bit. “Who names their kids Delaware and Adelaide? That’s so fucking stupid.”

“It’s not.”

“Yes, it is,” Delaware looked to the sky. The clouds were gathering, but still, she could see the constellations. This would be the last time she’d see them in this park- she expects to be packing everything up tomorrow, and not going outside besides whatever they do as a family. “I was born in Delaware, and my sister was born in Adelaide. I guess my mom needed a reminder of where we were from or something.” Delaware rolls her eyes and shakes her head back to the canvas. “I wish I had a logical name, like Michael or Luke or … anything that’s not Delaware.”

“Like Jayde?”

“Yeah,” Delaware shivered. “That’s what I told mom I wanted to change my name to. Just something simple to blend in with my brothers. Not be a complete maniac and be named Delaware,” Delaware looked around to park. “Can we go elsewhere? It’s really cold.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think that through,” Michael closed the cap of the paint he was using and stood up. “I’ll make Calum clean all of this up. Want to get something to eat?”

“We just ate dinner, Micahel,” Michael hoists Delaware up by her right arm, pulling her into the air before she crashes to her feet. “The competition between Mali-Koa and I is over. I’m not eating that much again.” Delaware won, by the way.

They watched a movie in the cinema downtown, walking there and back to the park. Then, Michael stripped himself of his jacket for Delaware and appreciated how she looked. A goddess; she’s always the goddess in his world and the only one that could win his heart. Three-day-long Harry Potter marathons, Pokemon competitions, and favorable anime aside, Delaware Williams was Michael’s first love, and he’d only admitted it recently.

Michael took pictures with Delaware, afraid he’d forget what she looked like after she left. They smiled, snapped goofy photos with odd faces, then he pointed the camera at her. They weren’t on a blanket anymore, but when he stood above her for a photo of a sprawled-out Delaware in the grass, he got the perfect moment. She put on makeup for him- curled her hair, wore brand new skinny jeans, and a shirt she knew he liked. She even thought to doll herself up with a matching bra and underwear set, though, he wouldn’t see it.

“Delaware,” Michael breathed before tripping over a rock and landing right on top of her. They were close- so close they were breathing the same air at different times and staring. Green eyes hit a reflection of a different hue, waiting for something to happen. Nothing happened. “Dela-” Delaware pulled Michael close and pressed her lips to his. It was tongues and teeth, cherry lip balm mixed with cold air and goosebumps, relishing in the dewy grass and warm jackets. Michael held himself above her, but Delaware grabbed his collar and pulled the older boy even closer, just wanting to feel the warmth and comfort of a human being.

“You kiss like a bitch,” Delaware giggled, releasing her grip on his shirt but just lingering a little bit, with his lips touching hers.

“You surprised me,”

“Noob,”

Christmas morning; Delaware was not ready for it. Ben, Jack, Ashton, and Luke woke her up in matching pajamas, disturbing her two-hour-long nap. Delaware and Michael walked all over the town, kissing, hugging, and sitting to watch the stars collide and connect. She almost screamed at her brothers, sleep-deprived and wishing to wait a little bit longer before facing the day, but she sat up, took the pajama set they gave to her, and closed the door to change.

Ashton and Jack had stayed up until Delaware was brought home with blood-red lips and eyes full of twinkles. Ashton stayed up with Delaware and talked about the night with her, and stayed in the room until she passed out. Delaware couldn’t complain about having such little sleep, especially since Ashton got much less. She felt bad, but wanted just a few more days with this family. Just a few!

“Morning,” Liz said, wearing the same pajamas everyone was wearing. Including Calum and Michael. Black flannel pants with a short-sleeved grey shirt. Delaware observed everybody; everyone except Liz and Andrew had a symbol on their left breast. Jack had a football, Ben had a beaker, Ashton had a drumset, Luke had a guitar, and Delaware had a daisy- just like Jack’s tattoo. Delaware stepped out of the room, towards the downstairs bathroom for a small mental breakdown. It’s tearing her apart- she can’t leave this place.

“Babe,” Michael whispered, pulling his new girlfriend into his arms. They’ll find ways to contact, to visit each other, and more importantly, to stay happy together. “It’s going to be okay. You’re not leaving forever, just a few years. That’s all okay?” Delaware cried harder in his arms. “Hey, shh,” Michael cooed. “You have Christmas presents to open.”

Michael’s family didn’t do much for Christmas, and Calum’s family does their Christmas celebration the night before, rather than that morning. Liz always invites them over and hands them a small stocking full of candy and a single ornament each. They’re her kids too.

“Yeah,” Delaware answered and nodded her head. Michael dried her tears and the tear stains next to the guitar symbol on his shirt. It’ll be okay- they all understand how emotional Delaware is going to be for a little while. “Let’s … let’s go open things.”

Liz gave every single person in her living room a stocking with their names stitched on the top. They got equal amounts of treats, an ornament, and a surprise iTunes gift card. Delaware smiled, thanked her, and kept it close to her body.

They began to dig into the presents scattered underneath the Christmas tree. Delaware opened her first present and looked over the package of canvases like they were her babies. Four of them- four pristine canvases wrapped in plastic wrap and sealed underneath a piece of cardboard to keep them all together. She opened another one; the same, but the canvases were black instead of white. A box of paints, new jeans, hoodies from her favorite bands, and expensive paint brushes she’d been wishing for her entire life. Slowly, she began breaking down. She can’t keep all of these things! It’s rude to steal from these people, to take their money from them that they earned with hard work. She swallowed and set everything into a pile. Her brothers were still digging into presents, and Michael was sat behind her, with her in between his legs and her back pressed into his chest. She leaned back further, as to grab comfort from him. If her biological mom were to find any of these things, she’ll pawn them for money, take them and give them up without guilt, or destroy the things she won’t get money for. Delaware isn’t allowed to have nice things.

Nice things are for good children. Delaware is not a good child.

“Della, are you okay?” Liz whispered, inching closer to Delaware to make sure she wasn’t dying. Delaware shook her head and looked at the mom she’d always wanted with tears rolling down her cheeks. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t keep all of these things,” Delaware shook her head. “I just can’t. You guys- you guys are my family but I just … I can’t keep these things. It’s not right. And Jack, you got a tattoo, including me, and I feel so sorry because I’m not going to be around-”

“Hey, you’re always our family, Della. Okay? Did you get that? You are my little sister? Don’t be ridiculous.” Jack answered, pushing aside a new laptop he’d gotten. He wrapped his arms around his little sister and held her for a few moments. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Della, you still have a few more gifts. And don’t worry about a single thing. These are all yours,” Liz said and took a box from the back of the tree. She sat it in Delaware’s lap and waited for her to tear the green wrapping paper with Delaware written across the top. Delaware ripped it a little bit, caught a glimpse of golden fabric, and tore the paper even more.

A letterman’s jacket, specially made for Delaware, with Hemmings written across the back and her letter for cheerleading pinned on the breast. Delaware held it close, cried right above the fabric -so she wouldn’t ruin it- and told Liz thank you a thousand times. She slipped it over her pajamas; it fits just right. Not too big, not too small. Just enough room for her, some thick clothes, and her phone. That broke her heart even more.

Everyone finished opening their gifts, and packed the wrapping paper up in the recycling bin. For breakfast, they had pancakes with bacon and eggs, orange juice, and Liz made sure that Delaware took her medicine. When she goes to her mom, she knows that she’ll go without medicine, as her mom doesn’t believe in taking Delaware to the doctor, especially for medicine that helps her function. Delaware took her plate and cup into the sink, rinse off the both of them, and stared right at the Christmas tree. It’s in the boys’ living room, so she can see it perfectly.

Tucked underneath all of the branches was a green box, one that hadn’t been there when they were cleaning up wrapping paper. It’s thin, maybe half an inch thick at most, but had a lot of surface area. Delaware pointed to it.

“There’s another gift,” She whispered, but everyone heard her.

“Who’s it for?” Jack asked. He looked over at it. “Go grab it, Della.”

Della walked to the box, picked it up and carried it back to the counter. It was perfectly wrapped, without a single crease in the tape. “It says Jayde. Who’s Jayde?”

Liz pointed to Delaware. “That’s what you wanted your name to be, right? Jayde May-Nova?”

Delaware nodded her head.

“Then it’s for you.”

Delaware looked down, and began to tear away at the paper, but it was wrapped a lot. Her entire body was shaking, even though she’d taken her anxiety medicine to calm her nerves. She shoved all of the paper off; every last bit. She was left with a picture frame. For a moment, she hesitated turning it over, afraid to be cut by the large frame. Shakily, she flipped it, but she couldn’t read it through all of her tears. She wiped her eyes and stared at the frame in front of her. The writing was fancy, but it was obvious what it had said.

Certificate of Adopting for Jayde May-Nova Hemmings finalized for 12/26

Delaware pressed her hand to her mouth, suppressing a sob, ready to scream out until her voice was empty and cracked. She fell to the floor, practically fainting from seeing the document. Michael picked her up. A camera was recording her reaction, seeing that this was something very important to her.

She looked at her brothers. Luke, Ashton, Ben, and Jack were smiling, with tears in their eyes.

“You didn’t think we would actually let you go back to your moms, did you?” Jack asked before standing up to engulf his little sister in a hug. “We’ll never let go, Jayde.” Delaware looked around, at her family- the real family that chose her, changed her name, and legally adopted her. Her biological mom, somebody that doesn’t deserve life. But Liz Hemmings- God, she’s an angel.

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raendown · 5 years

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Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 3594 Chapter: 5/? Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

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Chapter 5

The sun was barely up over the horizon when Tobirama slipped passed the wards around his brother’s home and let himself in through one of the living room windows. It was always easier to figure out which window Hashirama had forgotten to lock the night before – because he always forgot to lock at least one window, the forgetful clod – than it was to spend fifteen minutes picking his way through the seals Mito left on their doors overnight. He wanted to find breakfast, not to get his face fried off.

Once inside he made sure to keep his footsteps silent and avoid the creaky parts of the floor that he had memorized in the first week after the house was built as he snuck down the hall to the kitchen. Even without flicking on the light or raising the blinds he still found his way unerringly to the fridge. When it opened he smirked.

Apparently they’d had stew for dinner last night. Which, of course, meant he would be having stew for breakfast this morning. He hadn’t been back here in almost two weeks, not since the last time he attempted to steal their food only to be rebuffed with unwanted reminders of his own failings, so it was only fitting that he reinsert himself in his brother’s life with more food theft. What else were siblings for?

The stove lit easily and Tobirama had already thrown the leftovers in to a pot and heated them up by the time anyone else in the house made it out of bed. Mito found him hunkered over the stove with a spoon eating his meal out of the pot like an uncivilized beast. Long used to such early morning displays, her only acknowledgement of his presence was a quiet hum and a soft reminder that he had agreed to accompany her for lunch that afternoon. He nodded but chose not to answer with his mouth full. Some manners were just too important to cast aside.

Hashirama stumbled in fifteen minutes later with his hair still in disarray and his pants on backwards, fingers reaching for the coffee pot and then pausing just when they reached the handle, staring blearily down at the empty insides with a sad little pout of betrayal.

“Someone drank my coffee,” he complained.

“You haven’t made any yet, dear.” Mito calmed sipped her own cup while Tobirama hid his amusement by shoving more stew in his face and heading over to take a seat.

“Oh. I should make coffee. Need coffee.”

“What an excellent idea.” Mito took another sip. “You go ahead and make some coffee for everyone.”

He nodded and fumbled for the beans with one hand while his other snatched up the grinder. Tobirama watched him as he ambled around poking his head aimlessly in to cupboards until finally the coffee was done and he settled at the table with a mug and an apple. Such a healthy breakfast for the one who would lead their clan someday.

Both Tobirama and Mito paused when Hashirama saw her mug steaming away right next to his own – and then did their best to cover their laughter when he grinned, still half asleep.

“Oh wow, you got that so fast I didn’t even see you pour it!”

Mito chose not to comment on that. Once Hashirama had consumed his first cup of coffee and made it about halfway through the second he was much more alert, enough so that he was able to prattle on about all the things he planned to do that day, asking both of their advice on how to handle the meeting he had with Butsuma later. As heir he was required to spend a certain amount of time with his father learning how to perform his future duties but ever since the village had been built it was growing harder for Hashirama to separate the duties he should be learning and the duties Butsuma was trying to slip in without anyone else’s notice.

Their father had ever been an ambitious man. Peace and the protection of life may have been the original motive behind creating this village with the Uchiha but the more Butsuma worked side by side with Uchiha Tajima the more it became clear that his ambitions were rearing their head once more. Hashirama was finding it harder and harder to keep his mouth shut as he slowly realized that Butsuma wanted him to become the sole leader of Konohagakure someday, no matter that it was ruled by oligarchy right now. He listened calmly to both of their suggestions on what to do when Butsuma started trying to nudge him in a direction he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with, thanking them both for their help. Then he cast about for a change of subject and Tobirama narrowed his eyes suspiciously when that bright gaze landed on him.

“What?” he asked flatly.

“Nothing! It’s just-”

“So it’s something, then.”

Hashirama gave him a frustrated look with Mito smiled.

“I was speaking with Madara the other day, just after I saw you actually, and from what he was saying I gather that things between you two are much worse than I thought.”

“Oh for- not this shit again.” Tobirama rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair, aware that he probably looked like a moody adolescent but since he was still only nineteen he didn’t particularly care. Nor did he care for the reprimanding finger Hashirama was shaking at him over the table. Just when he thought it was finally safe to come back here, the first thing he got was a lecture on the same subject that drove him away before.

“Don’t do that, we need to talk about it! And more importantly: you need to talk to Madara! I know you two got off on the wrong foot but he really is a good person, I promise you would see that if you just took a little time to get to know him.”

“Look”-Leaning forward again, Tobirama took a turn pointing across the table-“keep your nose out of my marriage. Just because yours turned out all sunshine and rainbows doesn’t mean it’s that easy for everyone else. Madara wasn’t chosen to be compatible for me, I was chosen for him because I was still unmarried and that is the only reason! We don’t work and we never will!”

Hashirama frowned in a way that made him look disturbingly like their mother and drew himself up in his seat, regal despite his early morning state. “Giving up won’t help anything. You need to do better than that, Tobirama.”

“Excuse me?” Even Mito winced at the ice in Tobirama’s tone but Hashirama did not back down.

“I said you need to do better! Try harder, any kind of effort at all! You know as well as anyone why this marriage has to work but you don’t even seem to be trying anymore! It’s been four months and things only continue to get worse. Maybe if you made an effort to see things from Madara’s point of view-”

“Maybe you can kiss my ass! Why should I be the one to put in all the effort? He’s the one that – no. No. You know what? Fuck you. Thanks for the stew, now don’t fucking talk to me for the rest of the week unless you somehow managed to get your head out from your own ass. Mito, I’ll see you at lunch. Don’t bring your husband.” Tobirama sent his brother the best sneer in his repertoire as he hurled himself away from the table and stormed out of the kitchen.

Ignoring the offended voice calling after him he slammed out the front door, almost daring the seal wards to try something even though he knew that Mito could deactivate them from a distance and had probably done so the moment he stood up. Never in his life had he been more angry, more insulted, never had he felt so betrayed in all his life. Hashirama was his brother and by rights that should mean he was on Tobirama’s side. Yet here he was listening to some asshole neither of them had known as more than rumors until a couple of months ago instead of his own flesh and blood.

Yes it was his duty to put effort in to this marriage and make it work. Hashirama was not wrong about that. But was it so hard to understand that he already had made his efforts and grown tired of being rebuffed? For a sympathetic man Hashirama could be supremely hardheaded at times. He was starting to sound like their father.

So angry was he that Tobirama had made it almost halfway across the village before he slowed to ask himself where the hell he was actually going. He couldn’t go home, of course, because in his mind he had no home anymore. All he had was a place to rest his head at night while praying the hostile man beside him chose not to use the kunai he knew damn well was hidden underneath the pillow beside his own. This wasn’t his day off so technically he should have been heading for the administration tower but there was still another hour before anyone could say he was actually late for anything and he would rather spend as little time as possible away from any place he might run in to Madara. That really only left two places for him to go and it wasn’t a hard choice between them since they were actually located one on top of the other.

Turning on his heel, he headed back towards the Senju district at the same pace he had run away from it.

At least this time he didn’t have to slip through any windows, letting himself in through Touka’s front door with the knowledge that she had keyed him in to her wards when she first set them up. His cousin was already sitting in her living room with a half empty mug of tea beside her and her sketchbook spread out across her lap. Tobirama felt a tiny sliver of his anger slip away at the welcome sight of her; if he were anyone else he knew damn well that she would have sent that sketchbook flying at his head and denied that she’d ever set pencil to it herself. Not many people knew what a good artist Touka was, though that was mostly because she didn’t trust very many people to see what she used as a method of deeply personal self-expression.

Most Senju were pretty crap at expressing themselves so it wasn’t like she was alone in that. As a whole they tended to scoff at the fact that they had somehow been nicknamed the Clan of Love. Emotions were meant to be private things, expressed only to those one was close to. Hashirama was an incredible exception, tossing his emotions in every direction without a hint of shame for his uncouth openness, but his intentions were so genuine that not many among them had the heart to tell him off for going against their traditions with such garish behavior.

Still dragging her pencil across the page in long arcs, Touka jerked her chin absently at the couch across from her own seat, waiting until Tobirama had flopped down before looking up and spinning the sketchbook to show him an incredibly detailed rendition of an eagle in flight.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I think I’m jealous,” Tobirama grumbled. “Your bird gets to just pick up and leave whenever it wants. Must be nice.”

Touka hummed and didn’t even bother to guess at what he was talking about, something he was very grateful for. Without further reaction she spun the book around again and bent closer to add more detailing in the feathers. “I got a package in the mail today.”

“Fascinating,” he replied in a deadpan voice.

“Not many places sell this color of purple ink, rare ingredients and all that. I was planning to use it for the finishing touches on the mural I’ve been working on in my bedroom but if it’s required somewhere else…” Her eyes flickered up to meet his own. “You know I’m always willing to take part in a good prank if I’m needed.”

“Ah. That’s not necessary but it’s generous of you to offer.”

She nodded and they both pretended not to know the truth underneath her vague words, the offer to protect him, to support him in the face of whatever barrier he had run up against this time. Tobirama loved his brother more than life itself but it was his eldest cousin that he would name as the one he was closest to. It was Touka to whom he had run when he was young and trying to understand the world. She was the one who had guided him when his own father was too busy with his first son to pay attention to the second.

“Will you be attending the meeting later for the new security outline?” he asked, desperate for something new to occupy his mind.

“Nope. It’s confidential now. Dear old Butsuma doesn’t think it beneficial to let his security officers in on the whole plan for whatever reason. Apparently all we need to know is our place.” Touka rolled her eyes and Tobirama sneered.

“It gets harder and harder every year to pretend I don’t hate him.”

“Your brother still loves him,” his cousin pointed out.

Dragging both hands down the sides of his face, Tobirama sighed. “Yeah well Hashirama feels too much for too many people and he’s never understood what it means to not forgive.”

Touka snorted.

“Besides, I’m not particularly interested in what Hashirama does or doesn’t feel right now. The moment he gets his overly large nose out of my life then I might be inclined to give a damn but until then…hn. I’ll be downstairs.” Tobirama offered a perfunctory wave on his way passed the couch, to which Touka replied with the same.

“Don’t forget to come back up for work,” she called after him.

He made it all the way down the stairs before snarling and turning around to storm back up to the first floor where he intercepted Touka just as she was getting up, presumably to go get ready for the day herself. “If you’re not going to the meeting then who is?”

“You’re not going to like it…” The look of understanding pity in her eyes told him all he needed to know but still he asked again.

“Just say it. Who is going to the meeting in your place? There has to be someone to represent the security officers or at least to pass on the orders.” Something his father had said in passing several days before came back to him and he waited with horror to hear what he realized he already knew. The security teams were all set up to be equals; the only way any one person could be chosen to stand above the others was if someone were finally put in charge of that division as Tobirama had been advocating for over the past month.

“I’m sorry little cousin but the news only came in after you left the office last night. Your husband has been named the new Head of Security. There was talk about a centralized police force that would report back to him as well but nothing solid yet.”

“Those were my ideas,” Tobirama ground out from between clenched teeth. “My fucking ideas and they give it all to him like some prize he hasn’t earned!”

Without anything constructive to say, Touka chose to shrug helplessly and say nothing. Tobirama appreciated that. Empty platitudes wouldn’t help him and they both knew that. With a snort of disgust he turned away and waved for his cousin to go about her day, heading off towards the front door instead of the lab as he had planned to. If he was to find no peace in any of the places he thought would afford him a pleasant morning then he might as well channel his misery and get a head start on some of the endless paperwork waiting on his desk in the tower.

At the very least the weather was pleasant, one small mercy after such an awful start so early in the day. Tobirama appreciated the lack of screaming winds that had plagued their village the day before as he stomped down side roads and kicked rocks through back alleys. It was always best to get his temper out as much as possible before showing up to perform his duties. His own father wasn’t the only set of eyes watching every move that happened in the tower; Tajima never exactly activated his Sharingan but the sharpness of his gaze always left one with the impression that he remembered everything he saw anyway. It was actually pretty creepy. When they all first got together Tobirama had thought perhaps Tajima would be reasonable enough to balance out his father but the more he worked with the man the more he despaired.

Both clan heads were exact echoes of each other, both of them born with blades in their hands and bellies that hungered for the blood of their enemies. Both cursed with such a lust for battle that when no enemies stood before them they simply created new ones in unexpected places. A terrible partnership that was bound to fray at the edges, leaving the next generation to repair what they could when the time came.

The rage burning inside him had cooled down to at least a simmer instead of a raging inferno by the time he drew close to the tower but Tobirama was stopped just before he stepped out on to the main street, falling back in to the shadows when he spotted Madara up ahead. Seeing the man who stood at the center of all his worst personal problems certainly did nothing to help him put a lid on his anger but Tobirama was a true Senju and well trained in the art of self-control. He forced himself to keep still and watch as Madara stopped walking to look behind himself as though hearing someone call his name.

Kagami’s curls were easy to identify by their bounce alone even without the megawatt smile on his face as he stumbled to a halt at his clan heir’s feet, bouncing on small toes and swinging his arms forward and back restlessly. Watching them, Tobirama felt his heart wither a little. He’d run in to Kagami again twice since the first time they met and the boy had taken quite a shine to him. Some part of him had started hoping he could slip in a bit of training under the radar and maybe lay the foundations for a teacher and student relationship before anyone else caught on, earning the boy’s trust while at the same time finally finding a way to appease those around him with a grand show of good will. Surely the Uchiha as a whole would ease up on their distrust of him if he could demonstrate how willing he was to be kind to one of their young.

Now those half-baked plans seemed like so many wasted daydreams. If the boy was close to Madara then there was much less chance of any potential training slipping under everyone’s noses until he was ready for others to know. As if this fucking idiot wasn’t already ruining every other aspect of Tobirama’s life already, here he was worming his way in to yet another one.

With a derisive snort Tobirama folded his arms and leaned against the brick wall beside him to wait until Madara was farther away. Public interactions and all the forced good will that came with them were far beyond his patience at the moment so instead he settled in to watch as Madara listened to whatever Kagami had to say with a surprisingly patient expression. If anything he would have thought Madara to start tapping his toes and checking the position of the sun, not to bend down and laugh at something the child had said before ruffling dark curls in a manner one would expect of an older brother or a beloved relative. Tobirama couldn’t think of a single person other than Hashirama who had ever dared to try and ruffle his own hair.

Instead of coming away from the experience terrified and sad Kagami launched himself forward to deliver a quick hug to Madara’s waist, the tallest part he could reach, and then hurtled off down the street at breakneck speeds, weaving in and out of people’s legs without a care in the world for all the misconceptions he’d just defied. Tobirama watched him go and turned his eyes back to see Madara smiling ever so slightly as he continued on his way towards his own office.

Stupid idiot with his stupid cheerful mood. One act of kindness did not mean he was suddenly a good person. Tobirama sneered and spun on his heel to walk back to the other end of the alley he’d been hiding in. No one would notice if he took a slightly longer route to work today. It seemed he was going to need a little more time to settle his thoughts after bearing witness to a scene that had almost convinced him Madara might not actually be the devil walking.

#rae writes #madatobi #tobirama #hashirama #mito #touka #fanfiction #crawled my ass out of bed just to post this #i hate being sick #bedridden for god damned days #crawling back in now ugh

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rcssian-rat-blog · 5 years

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hiya !! my name is kayleigh (est, she/her) and i like my cat, mystic messenger, and avoiding real life by reading fanfic and playing the sims 4 because my corporate publishing job sucks out my soul. because i love all things angsty and anastasia is my favorite animated film of ALL time, i bring to you, dimitri! !!

below the cut are my head cannons from the app and you can check out my pinterest board for him here. i’ll be adding more as we go along and i’m so excited to be here !!

(x) Deep down, Dimitri is tired. He’s bitter as the black coffee he drinks like his life’s blood and would much rather be reading Tolstoy than talking to you about your day. You’d never know it though, because he wears a mask of smooth confidence that oozes charm. He’s tired of the life behind the mask and secretly wishes he could abandon his life and live honestly; but the dirty dealings pay the bills and he’s just so damn good at it. He promises himself that when he pulls the ultimate job and makes it big, he’s going to travel around the world until he finds a place he truly belongs. However, pulling scams are like a drug; he can’t quit cold turkey--at least not yet.

(x) Dimitri always carries a leather bound sketchbook and charcoal pencil in his inner coat pocket. Dimitri taught himself to draw as at as a child in St. Petersburg after swiping a sketchbook and pencil from an art student in a street cafe. He traced a famous statue from an art book the library until it was perfect, made copies on the copier when the librarian wasn’t looking and smudged them with eraser marks. With his stack of newly “sketched” works of art, he began setting in the Greek wing of the Hermitage Art Museum, sitting on a bench with his sketchpad and pencil. He found it was remarkable that people would stop to watch him, offering to buy the sketch he was making. Dimitri always put on a smile and said his current sketch was for his sick mother (when in actuality, she’d been dead for five years) and he offered a sketch he’d already completed. It didn’t take long to sell through his entire stack. He began doing this weekly, hitting every museum in the city, and gave the money to his father for food, as he’d been instructed. His father rarely used the money for necessities; he turned to vodka instead. After finding his father dead in a ditch, Dimitri soon found solace from his orphan life by turning to his stolen sketchbook. Now, Dimitri uses his sketching to blend in when out on a grift. Marks alway trusted the sensitive artist in the nice jacket tucked into the corner of a quiet cafe or at the bar of a hotel. His journal is his most prized possession, and inside it he hides the majority of his money and his real ID. His wallet contains a fake id, reading Dimitri Swabb.

(x) He finds it ironic he chose to live in a train station. He hates trains and always will. Well, he doesn’t exactly live there. He’s squatting, but in his world, the abandoned train station of Hundred Acre Woods is his and his alone. Named “The Depot”, Dimitri has furnished it with pieces of furniture he’s found around the station, Craigslist, and the local thrift stores. He’s turned the station manager’s office into his bedroom, the glass windows overlooking the lounge area he’d built for company (not that he ever had any) and business deals (he’s had quite a few successful meetings in his humble abroad). He’s not the best housekeeper and it isn't rare to find abandoned takeout containers peppering the tables. String lights are powered by a small generator and he uses camp lanterns at night. He likes the anonymity and serenity of the living in the woods. Eventually he hopes to finish rewiring the building so he can have real electricity.

(x) On the inside of his left forearm, tattooed in black ink, are the coordinates 27.7676° N, 82.6403° W. Despite loving the freedom to do as he pleases in America, Dimitri will always love St. Petersburg, even though the city was his harshest guardian. He’s always felt like an outsider everywhere he goes, especially now that he’s residing in Carthay. In St. Petersburg, he grew up on and off the streets, stealing what he could and selling fake souvenirs to tourists in front of the Winter Palace. This, combined with his art scam, allowed him to save up enough money to buy a train ticket out of Russia. He’s not been back in years, but one day, he hopes he can return with his name cleared and money in his pocket. The last time he cried was when he boarded the train to leave, but he’ll never admit to anyone that he’s home sick.

(x) Obsession drives him; and he’s always felt a deep itch that he’s looking for something, but he doesn’t know what. Once he has an idea in his head, he doesn’t stop until he’s either profited or had to run from capture more than three times. He’s prone to bouts of anxiety, always trying to think two steps ahead of everyone else. This often manifests as insomnia, and he doesn’t get much sleep at night because of it. He’s happy if he grabs three or four hours, mostly running on black coffee and stolen cat naps.

(x) He stole a music box from a peddler in St. Petersburg as a teenager, but has never been able to open it. He always keeps it on his person, just in case he needs to sell it for survival, and when it’s not in his bag, he uses it as a paperweight. Dimitri thinks it might be cursed, and wonders what would happen if he were to open Pandora’s Music Box. He’s tried everything from a lock pick, a wrench, and every key he finds at antique stores. None of the keys have worked, so now he has quite an impressive collection. He considers the box to be his lucky charm now

#carthaystarter #ғυɴɴy нow α вoy cαɴ ɢrow || мυѕe #hi i am feeling weirdly shy and anxious and i hope you guys like dimitri!#вαreғooт oɴ тнe lαwɴ wιтн ѕнooтιɴɢ ѕтαrѕ || ooc

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bookishnerdhero · 5 years

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ROTBTD - OUAT AU Episode 1 (Part 3)

ROTBTD - The Big Four – OUAT AU

Present Day

“You must've got the wrong address, kid. Also, do I look like I'm old enough to have—how old are you?” Jack squinted at the boy who clung fiercely onto a book, which seemed the width of a shoe box and the length of a typical Encyclopedia volume. It was as if the book was precious and important but Jack had been too preoccupied with wondering why this kid just said what he’d said to think much of it. You don’t get told someone is your son out of the blue every day, after all.

“Ten.”

“A ten year old kid?” Jack placed a hand on his hip while he held the doorknob with the other, eager to close it. “Unless you mean my step dad. Oh, boy. Now there's something I never expected. No. You must be mistaken.”

“Wait, no, Jack!” the kid slid his foot through the space of the doorway and kept it from closing. Jack pulled it open a fraction by surprise.

“Seriously, how did you know my name?”

“Your name is Jack Frost. And I'm telling you, I'm your son. I'm Jamie. You have to remember.”

Jack’s facial expression was a mix of a frown, a scowl, and all shades of what-the-heck-is-going-on?

“Is this a prank? Or one of those game shows where someone’s taking a video of this?”

The kid muttered something to himself, but Jack had been blessed with good enough hearing so he was able to catch something along the lines of “The author did say it might be this way.”

“What?”

“Here!” the boy shoved the book through the doorway and towards Jack’s hands. “This book. This book has it all. Your story! And mom's and the Big 4. You've got to remember!”

He shoves the book into Jack's hand and Jack held it up, looked at the cover, and skimmed through the pages. It was a storybook with illustrations but he didn’t get what was happening so he was quick to close it shut. He continued to frown at this strange kid, but then the boy’s expression changed from wide eyed confusion to tearing up.

“Whoa there. Hey. Are you crying? I don't understand what's going on. I’m not your dad. I can’t be your dad.” He stepped out on the porch so the kid could see him better, because truth be told the lights were dim in the hallway anyway. “See? I’m sixteen. Not that much older than you. Are you lost? Do you need help finding…your actual dad? Maybe you got the wrong address?”

The boy wiped away his tears with the back of his hands and his wrists. He sniffed and looked back up at Jack, who was tall and lanky even when he was just wearing socks. For a moment the boy seemed to be considering something as he took the book back from Jack, smoothing the cover with his damp fingers. “I…yes, I’m sorry. I must be lost. I don’t know what got into me. I just really needed to find my…real dad. I thought it was you. That I finally found him. I…just thought he’d be here and needed to see him for myself and I got lost on my way home from school.”

“Seriously, do I look that old?”

Okay. Now that made sense. He could actually do something now. Jack kneeled down to be face level with the boy as he talked, using a gentle voice. “Do you have an address? Maybe I can help you find it. Why were you looking for your dad?” he said it even though he should’ve picked up on the hint earlier on – divorced parents, absent father, or maybe…? It was too late to stop himself though.

“I'm adopted.”

“Oh. I see.” Jack stood up. “So that’s what you meant by real dad. What was his address?”

“I…The, er, houses just look confusing and…I used Google Maps. I just know he’d be here.”

“Well, it's a small enough town. You’ll find him eventually.”

“No that's okay. I live in this town too…just more uptown and I never been in these parts,” the boy said, then he said with a shake of his head and a forced smile, “I changed my mind. Maybe he won't be glad to see me after all.”

“Oh come on. What kind of a father wouldn't be glad to see his kid? Oh.” Jack winced at another thing he maybe shouldn’t have said. He, more than anyone, should’ve known better. There was obviously a reason why someone wouldn’t want to be found.

“Could you help me find my way back to a Cafe? Lucky Cat Cafe? I was supposed to wait there.”

Jack glanced back at the empty living room with its open television and train set littered on the floor, the feint smell of pizza wafting in from the kitchen microwave. He couldn’t just let the kid wander off on his own to get more lost and it wasn’t like he had the number of the sheriff to ask for assistance.

“Yeah, sure. It's just around the street from here,” Jack said. “Just give me a sec.”

***

“So, Jamie, huh?” Jack said, walking side by side with the boy as more snow started to fall from the sky. He had his hood over his head and his hands in the front pockets where he kept the house keys. “How’d you find out that a ‘Jack’ lived in my house anyway?”

“Tried to ask around. A nice old lady with the swimming pool in her yard told me on the way. It’s easier to talk to old people sometimes, they have to be nice to me because I’m a kid.”

“Ah. You must mean Glo. She is nice.”

On the way to Lucky Cat Café Jack found out more from Jamie that he's been a loner himself and doesn't really like his school when he asked him why he wasn’t with his friends. The kid had been cradling the book in his arms the whole time and he said something about it ‘having it all’ and remembering. He couldn’t resist asking about it.

“So what’s with the fairytale book?”

“What? Oh. It’s…” Jamie considered. “A story my dad used to read to me before we…got separated.”

Touchy subject, Jack thought. It could explain why he’d tried to make Jack take the book earlier, but he pressed his lips back and simply nodded, still not fully getting what that was about. What could he mean by separated?

But Jamie continued to say something, “He was really like Jack Frost. From the book.” He added when Jack gave him a confused look. “All the adventures of Jack Frost in this book, he’d always tell me about them. You do kind of look like him.”

“Who?”

“Jack Frost.”

“All we have in common is the first name but—oh, man.” He was caught off guard at a glance of a page. “Well, that is weird.”

“Yeah.” He held the book up to Jack and opened it to a page with an illustration of a guy in a long blue winter coat, designed with intricate silver snowflakes at the hems and collar. He was holding a staff with an end that crooked in a way that almost made it look like a letter ‘G’. His hair was white as snow. “He was a Guardian.”

“Guardian?”

“Guardian of Childhood. And a part of the Big Four.”

“The Big What?”

“You should read it sometime.”

Jack smirked in amusement. “Sorry. I don’t know much about this fairytale stuff. I didn’t know Jack Frost was even in fairytales. I thought he was just part of that Christmas song. ‘Chestnuts roasting on the fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose’?”

The little boy snickered. “He’d hate that song.”

“I can’t imagine. Anyway, I’ll take it as a compliment that you think he looks like me, but obviously the hair’s a bit of a stretch.” He picked at a lock of his own brown, which is just the same as the kid’s. “Is that why you thought I was your dad?”

“Hey!” the boy stopped walking instead of answering and Jack paused to look back at him. “Does this mean we’re friends now?”

“What?”

“I-I’ve never made a friend near my age before.”

“I’m 16.”

“Still.” He hopped and then jogged after Jack who started to walk again. “No one really liked to listen to me talk about fairytales before.”

“You’re allowed to talk about whatever interest you have, kid. Don’t let em’ get to ya.”

“So what do you say? Are we friends?” he caught up with Jack.

“Sure, why not?” Not that anyone tried so hard to be his friend before, but the way Jamie said it so easily it doesn’t seem like he’d want to say no. Who would?

When they get to Lucky Cat Café it seemed empty, apart from the owner, a woman named Cass, and one of Jack’s classmates, Hugo. Cass was on the phone behind the counter, eating a muffin as she laughed and simply nodded in greeting to the new customers. Hugo was sitting in a table by himself with his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he squinted at his sketchbook; his coffee halfway empty and probably cold. He seemed to be drawing a dragon. Jack and Hugo were actually project partners for a report due next week, and Hugo just jerked his chin up a bit in an attempt at greeting. Jack always thought that they respected each other's boundaries, one loner to another. They weren’t exactly what you would call ‘close’.

“Well. This is it kid. Who’s supposed to pick you up here?”

“My adoptive parent. Uhm, but don't you want to wait and see if they do?

“Uh-uh. None of that. You're not exactly my responsibility anymore.”

“But you said we were friends!”

“Yes, but this friend’s got plans. Besides you'll be fine here. Plenty of people around.” Hugo coughs in his sad little corner, reached for the remaining of his coffee and it spilled when his hand missed. Cass’ laugh echoed a bit too loudly at something someone said through the phone.

Jack walked over to the counter and regarded Cass. “Miss Cass could you make sure this kid finds his parents?”

Cass didn't seem to hear him because she was talking in her cellphone. Jack shrugged. In any case this is where his parents would meet him.

Right on cue, a man in a black business suit came in and rushes over to Jamie.

“Thank goodness. I came here half an hour ago and you weren't waiting for me. What did I say?”

“Oh. Good. The parent is here…” he was facing Cass and turned his head slowly as he said, “Guess that means my job here is done--aaaand, it’s the Principal. Principal Pitchiner. That, too, was unexpected.”

Jack decided he had to explain what happened to the Principal anyway. Jamie looked sheepish and guilty the whole time, but Jack tried to smile dismissively since it really was no big deal.

“I'm terribly sorry for my son he's a bit too…imaginative,” said Pitchiner in his usual fancy low tone. It sure was a shock to find out the Principal who, truth be told, hardly ever felt like a presence in the school actually had an adopted son. Maybe it was common knowledge, but since Jack was such a wandering spirit he missed the memo. Still there was a part of him that felt maybe Pitchener was aware of Jack’s tendency to skip classes and all the subtle pranks he’d pulled on the Faculty. Like Principals knew everything.

“Nah. Kids, am I right?”

Pitch told Jamie he had to do get in the car because they had to go to his tutor, which caused such a sullen look on the boy that Jack raised an eyebrow. Jamie went back to Jack first and told him “You're my friend now, right?

“Sure. Absolutely.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” he said excitedly, giving Jack a quick and unexpected hug before leaving.

Pitchener lingered. “You’re one of the students in my school, correct?” Jack winced.

“Yeah…Love what you’ve done with the place so far. School’s the best.” He tried his best innocent face, and then it occurred to him to mention it so he did eventually put on a real one. “Hey, er, not that it's any of my business but...you might want to talk to him.”

“Excuse me?”

Jack scratched at the back of his head. “He came to my house looking...well, looking for his real father. He said he was adopted.”

Pitchiner seemed stunned for a split second but remained calm in disposition as he said, “I am his real father.”

“Of course!” Jack nodded at the Principal. “He just said he's been having trouble fitting in, and I kinda know what that's like. I'm just saying maybe he just wants to know the guy--but hey, none of my business.”

“I see.” It really was hard to read this guy. “I apologize and...thank you for bringing him here.”

“No problem.”

He left and after he did Jack was able to breathe easy, which made him realize there was something in the air when the Principal entered, some sort of tension. That’s what you get for playing the delinquent card.

He noticed Hugo was looking up from his sketchbook with his chin on his knuckles. His gaze was to Jack but his thoughts were way beyond him. Jack sat with Hugo for a while, since he was already here.

“Hey.”

“Oh. Hey.” Hugo came free of his thoughts. “I didn't see you in class today.”

“I was there.” Jack shrugged.

“Really? It's like I hardly see you in school at all. Where do you go?

“Alright, half of it, then. I was late. Besides no one really notices.”

Hugo shrugged too, without questioning. He took up whatever there was remaining in his coffee cup and downed it, leaving his sketchbook exposed to Jack’s curiosity. Hugo closed the sketchpad without looking at it.

“Hey, that looked good. What was that?”

“It's for another class,” he lied, obviously since he picked at strands of his hair over his forehead which he did when he tells the teacher he was fine with his report getting cut so short to make time for the varsity members to leave class and practice. “So, I take it you didn’t know Pitchiner had a kid?”

“Nope. Weird how small this stupid town is and everyone expects us to know everybody. What are you doing here?” Jack said, avoiding the subject.

“Avoiding my dad and his precious Fearsome, Grusome, Band of Vikings.” Hugo's Dad was a Hockey Team Coach. “No point in hanging around where I clearly don't belong.”

“That's tough, buddy.” Jack stood up, because he and Hugo would only really exchange sob stories about being social outcasts and that’s really the last thing either of them needed. Not that he think Hugo deserved it, he just didn’t know how to help the guy. So what was the point of being useless? “Well, better get going. Got places to be and things to do.”

“I'll send your half of the report later,” said Hugo, adjusting his glasses.

“Report? Oh, yeah. Wonderful.”

Jack stopped for a while and thought. “Is this the first time we ever had to do a report together?”

“Nope. We end up getting paired up at least once every year.” Hugo’s voice was monotonous, as if bored. “And each time you skip class on the day of the report, so I’m making sure you at least get more of the research work just in case.”

Jack smirked. “Mighty generous of you.”

“I compromise.”

“I’m impressed.”

“See ya’.” Hugo waved.

Jack made a salute.

That's the thing about Hugo, Jack thought, he never pries and just shrugs things off. He wasn't sure if they could consider each other friends, but sometimes maybe they were just too different to try. Hugo was…eccentric and Jack was well on his way to be a delinquent. If he actually did get anyone's attention. This really wouldn't be the first time they ever had to work on a project, because usually no one else was available, though most of the time Hugo hangs out with that other nerdy kid, Freddie. Still, Jack thought about Jamie asking him to be his friend and wondered whether a lack of friends his age was problematic.

He was just about to go and was only turning back to Cass because it occurred to him to buy him and his dad some cookies when the door smashed against his back with a sharp ting.

“Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't see anyone there!”

Against the table he bumped into, Jack mumbled, “'S alright. Wouldn't be the first time.”

Except here he saw this girl for what should’ve felt like the first time…but wasn’t. Was it? She was wearing a light blue hoodie over her head and a white scarf, bits of snow decorated the bits of her hair that trailed out of the hood. He realized it was snowing even harder outside now. Another girl, who kind of looked like the first but with different, brownish-red, hair, burst in more excitedly and carefree.

“Two gingerbread lattes stat, Miss Cass! We are gonna build ourselves a snowman!”

The first girl stood over him, about to offer her hand but stopped since he was already halfway standing. “Really sorry.”

He smiled. “It’s fine.”

She turned her back at him and continued on to the counter. Hugo was looking at him from his seat, giving him a questioning thumbs up.

Jack returned the thumbs up. “I’m good.” I think. And then he left.

Who was that girl? Jack thought as he walked back home, making a mental note to ask Cass who that girl was but then shook his head remembering his introverted nature. She was cute but he didn't believe in love at first sight among other things he didn't believe in.

PAST

Jamie was born on a snowy evening. Jack had been worried sick, pacing outside the bedchamber while Merida and Hiccup stood guard on either side of him. It was partly because he worried Pitch might try to steal the child now, and partly because, in general, who wouldn’t be nervous about the first born?

But when Anna came out to call on him because he had to be there, it was happening, he didn’t waste another moment.

And then, suddenly, the boy was born. Crying and living and breathing into their world and lives like a little miracle. Jack placed an arm around Elsa’s shoulders as she cradled the child; both parents were just a moment away from tears. When it was his time to hold his son for the first time, Jack carefully lifted him up to see his face. He was so small and yet so full of hope. It was like holding a little glow of light.

He opened his eyes, wide and brown like the way Jack’s looked in that last memory before he first died and became a Guardian. A new life, once again.

“Hi. Hi. Oh…Jamie,” he said breathlessly. “Can you see me? I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.”

They watched him sleep in the nursery and Jack promised Elsa they would never have to let any harm fall to their child. He wrapped his arms around her as her eyes glanced from the mobile of snowmen and elves over the crib, to the baby sleeping with a stuffed red-nosed reindeer on one side and a doll of a boy in all white they’d taken to call ‘Nightlight’.

“We'll protect him.”

“I just hope this fear of the curse won’t mean we might have to keep him hidden from the world too.”

Jack kissed the top of her head. “Hey, you’ve got the Guardian of Fun as a husband. Do you know what that means?”

She snorted. “Alright, what does it mean?”

“Not a boring moment in any of our lives. Ever. And that Fun takes away the Fear of anything.”

She breathed a sound that told him she smiled.

“And if there's anything I believe in it's that love is a strong enough force to break any kind of spell, able to keep us safe from any kind of bad dream.”

They kiss Jamie goodnight. Then Jack looked up at the moon. The words "I believe" unspoken but felt in that one significant look.

Present

The moon is bright and full.

Jack had received a text message from Nicholas saying he might come home a little late and not to worry, just leave me a plate of cookies and a glass of milk like somehow he knew Jack would make a stop at Lucky Cat.

He thought about Jamie wanting to be friends and wondered whether he looked, to the universe, as if he desperately needed more people in his life because he was a conflict of wanting people to notice he existed and yet shut people off when they got too close.

Hugo's message came up when Jack opened up his laptop.

Jack responded with: Cool. I'll start working on this now. -ish. Thanks, bud.

Seen.

Then. Sure you are, pal.

He laughed just imagining the sarcasm in Hugo's message.

(End of Part 3)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Tag List: @rose-sparks13 @beautifulslimezonkpaper @rosesnvines @jewishicequeen @hiddenwriterspirit

Just let me know in the comments if you want to be tagged!

Thanks for reading!

#the big four OUAT AU #the big four #rotbtd #rotbtdau #jack frost #hiccup horrendous haddock #hiccup #rise of the guardians #httyd #guardians of childhood #william joyce #fanfiction #rotbtd fanfiction #the big four fanfiction #jelsa #jack and elsa #jelsa fanfiction #jamie #pitch black

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fictionalnormalcy · 5 years

Text

The Boy with a Strange Name Ch.2

Modern Day HTTYD AU

Blurb: Living in practically every city in the Archipelago. Dad tells me that Berk seems to be the place to stay. New high school, old bully, actually making friends, but my unknown secrets are bound to catch up to me. It seems to me…that this move is going to be one of the most hectic I’ve had in 16 years of life. (Mix of book & movie univ.)

Lot of High Schools

The next few days passed by in a blur. The moving truck had arrived the next day around 5 in the afternoon, and Hiccup had helped his father arrange his office before unpacking his own things. The movers had just left everything in the living room, because both of the Haddocks were set in arranging the furniture how they desired. Neither wanted to inconvenience the movers by having them stay and help them settle in. It had taken him most of Friday evening to figure out how to set up the television and connect it to the proper outlets.

Saturday was spent with him and his father cleaning out the kitchen cabinets and organizing the kitchen utensils and decorations they carried from when Hiccup's mother had been alive. The oven had needed cleaning as well, so Hiccup set his father to the task, claiming he would have better elbow grease than himself. He had taken to polishing the kitchen island, which was a black marble that had a chip on the top right edge. By the time he had finished, the marble practically emitted a dark light as the overhead lamp light hit the island.

The cabinets and drawers were painted white, but yet had dirt streaks and gray fingerprints, as if someone had dipped their hands in mud and then proceeded to drag their fingers across the cabinet and drawer doors. There had been a partition for the refrigerator, and luckily they had managed to fit in the large appliance after clearing out about five spider egg nests. Hiccup had needed to chip away at the frost on the window with a screwdriver to ensure that the kitchen window was actually able to open.

Cleaning, organizing, and arranging helped him get his mind off of the fact that he would be attending yet another school. It had been a total of ten schools he had attended. It would be at random times, because the way his father moved, it was never in a predictable pattern. He was always on edge, for his father would always announce the move a month before they would leave to travel to another city. Hiccup had been in enough homes to have developed an attitude where he didn't care about the conditions.

Somehow, Berk felt... different. He was in his ancestral home. His father had given him the freedom to change the house to how he deemed fit. At times during the day he was tempted to ask his father how the house had been back when chiefdom had still existed. Then he remembered that if he really wanted to convert the home back to its original design, he would need to procure shields, spears, swords, axes, and maces to display in the home. That would sure get some strange looks when they would begin to have company.

The dining room table had been small in comparison to the large space. Since it had just been Hiccup and his father, there wasn't really a need for such a large and spacious table. The past houses never offered enough space for an extravagant table either. The ceiling above the dining room would need a repainting, because the stains left by water damage unnerved him. The night before he would start to attend Berk High, he turned on the small blue lamp in his room, and made a few bullet points on what would need immediate attending to.

He still had no clue how his father's work schedule would be this time around, but he knew that once he gave the list to his father he would start to make plans so they could refurbish the house. Hiccup needed to start somewhere, and both he and his father would have schedules that could be very heavy and strenuous.

He cast a single glance back at his new room that morning. He had been through several bedrooms, and each one he had decorated differently, but this time was different. He had chosen not to decorate this room. He left most of his items in their boxes. The only items he had taken out were necessities. He still didn't believe his father. If he could bet money, he definitely bet that his dad would say they were moving again right before the school year ended.

He threw his backpack over his shoulder, then realized he would need a thicker coat. He tossed the backpack on the bed and picked out a coat from the closet. He was about to exit the room once again, when he decided he needed one last accessory. He may be the new kid at Berk High, but he certainly didn't want to make a spectacle of himself, not anytime soon.

" Son, is the beanie really necessary?"

" Yes, it is." He said curtly. " I don't want to be a target again."

" I really don't think you will be targeted because of your hair."

" Wanna bet?" Hiccup scowled. " Back then, I was held down by three boys while a fourth hacked off my hair. We were lucky to have found someone who was able to fix it. I'm not taking any chances with this new school."

" Magdella is truly wonderful with hair. Which reminds me, we should send her another care package."

" We'll talk later. I want to pay her a visit," His scowl turned into a smile," I told the kids in her care that I would give them some new sketches."

" You mean new coloring books." His father scoffed.

" It isn't my fault they like my sketches," He plugged the coffee maker into the outlet, spooning in a few scoopfuls of coffee grounds.

" Those sketches always come with a story as well. How many dragons are in those sketchbooks Hiccup?"

" No this time I took their requests. Aside from what they asked I included Rumblehorns, Thunderdrums and Night Terrors."

" How many?" He asked again.

" About two of each."

" Those kids are going to have a fun time coloring them in."

" Maybe we should visit them before Snoggletog?"

" I'll see what my superiors have to say on the matter. I don't think they'll give me a vacation when we just returned to Berk."

Hiccup had taken off the beanie while he was still at home. The Thorston twins had managed to see his hair on the first day, so he had to hope they wouldn't try to tug it off when he arrived. His hair hadn't always been as wild. It was when he became a teenager that his auburn hair began to grow thicker and more wild. He had gone through an assortment of hair products and combs in efforts to make his hair appear almost normal. Then on the one day he had slipped and let his hair be as is, he lost it in an ambush.

A group of boys who always had their hair overgelled had stalked him for the entire morning. One had offered to style it for him, Hiccup had refused. It was only going to be for a day that his schoolmates would get to see his actual hair. That day his father had managed to make it home before he did. Hiccup had stayed after school to help make posters for an upcoming fundraiser, and he never expected that the boys would lie in wait for him.

Ever since the whole ordeal, he didn't bother with the extra hair products. He just wore the beanie on his head and growled at anyone who would question the fashion choice. He just went on the hope that Berk High would allow their students to wear caps and beanies. He had let his hair grow to the point where it reached his nape, so the dark brown locks peeked out of the beanie no matter what. He had stopped caring what he looked like, but he did have to take precautions to ensure he wouldn't be targeted.

He swallowed the last bite of toast and poured himself a second serving of coffee. He wanted to stay awake for his first day of classes.

" All right Dad, I'm off. See you at dinner, at least?" He shouldered his bag once again.

" Hiccup, where do you think you're going?" His father never even looked up from the book he was reading on the device.

" Umm, Berk High? Your alma mater?" He made steps to get into the hallway.

" It's your first day. I'm not going to let my son make his way to school alone on the first day. I'll drive you."

Hiccup's jaw must have hung open for a good solid minute because his father tapped on his own chin to snap Hiccup out of his stupor. He dumbly nodded before climbing back into his seat and plucking small pieces of bread apart and into his mouth. He took careful sips of his coffee, staring at his father in shock. It wasn't until they climbed into the truck that he found his voice had returned.

" I think Berk has changed the both of us."

" You're learning what home feels like."

Stoick had usually let his son walk to his new school. It wasn't of his own choice, sometimes Hiccup would be so stubborn that all he did was hand his son the address and the boy would set out on his own. To be frank, he was surprised Hiccup hadn't fought him this time around. It had been three moves since he had suggested to take his son to school, and he found that Hiccup had reason. The both of them were growing more comfortable around each other, enough that Hiccup had allowed to take him to the school he had attended when he was Hiccup's age.

" Once you find out your schedule, we'll figure out what days you can drive me and which days I'll walk. Thanks for the ride Dad. I'll see you later." He quickly gave his father a firm hug and exited the vehicle.

He felt the cold hit him like a splash of water on his face. He adjusted the beanie, and avoided the students as he headed toward the entrance of the school. No one had stopped him, no one had done lingering stares. Maybe he would get through this school year without being targeted! He loosened the scarf around his neck as the blast of heat calmed him down in the slightest. Students swarmed the expansive hallways, doors outlining classrooms, and on the other side there were lockers as far as the eye could see.

Now was the time for indecision. He would often ask a random stranger where he could find the office, and that would result in word about the new kid spreading amongst the student population. Other times he wouldn't ask and try to find it on his own, and then wound up being late to his classes, which meant the new kid was pegged. A hand settled on his shoulder, and he turned to see Regina offering him a small smile.

" Hey guys," She called to someone out of his vision," I found him. Let's give him his welcome."

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13183339/1/The-Boy-With-A-Strange-Name

#httyd #book universe #movie universe #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #cressida cowell #dreamworks #how to train your dragon #toothless #night fury #Stoick the Vast #astrid hofferson #book characters #books vs movies

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strayscenarioskids-blog · 5 years

Text

Bad Influence - Bang Chan [M] Part 1

Stray kids Scenario

After a fight with her parents the quiet and reserved Roxeanne decides to rebel and get a tattoo.

The last thing she'd expected was to win over the interest of the tattooshop owner, bad boy Bang Chan and his gang.

____

Title: Bad Influence

Pairing: ( Roxeanne x Chan )

Word Count: 1.6k

Genre: gang, romance

Warnings: Later on, Violence

____

______________

Bang Chan

Two days ago

"Hyung.." I.N whispered while quietly handing me the book.

The police were suspicious of our actions and had ordered a search in the tattoo shop. That's alright, they wouldn't find anything anyways.

Before I.N could give it to me a officer put out his hand motioning for me to give it to him. I smirked before I handed it over.

"What's with this book?" The officer asked directly to Jeongin

I smirked and gave our youngest a pat on his shoulder, giving him the go to speak.

"Just a book with sketch ideas." He answered. The officer eyed me suspiciously before he looked at Jeongin again.

"So why did you gave it to him now?" He questioned.

"This book once belonged to my father, it's something personal I would rather not allow anyone to touch." I explained.

The officer scoffed and flipped through the pages, obviously hoping to at least find something.

This same man had been here at least once a week. It was obvious he was some sort of head from the police department and wanted to do the job himself seeming his men couldn't do it.

"And?"

"Found what you're looking for?" I asked.

The officer rolled his eyes before handing me over my sketchbook.

"Obviously not, because there's nothing to find here." Changbin spat out standing in front of me.

I laughed and told the younger boy to calm down. The point was obviously to not come off as aggressive.

The thing is that it weren't sketches at all. It were pieces of the map of Seoul. Valuable pieces to the gang whether they were for business, hiding money or hostages.

"Come on guys, we'll get them another time!" The officer spoke before giving us all a look and walking out with the others.

"I want you to find out everything about him." I told Minho.

"Already on it!" He answered. As expected Minho was a hard worker and did stuff without me having to ask him. That was his personality.

"What now?" Felix asked.

It was no surprise the guys were wondering how we could forward our business with the police breathing in our necks.

"Continue as usual, just watch out." I warned them.

The boys all nodded their head before going back to doing their daily tasks.

__________________

Roxeanne

Present

"You have to work harder." My father scolded while looking over my report card.

"90 percent is to weak for you, I expect at least 95".

"I'm sorry dad, I will work harder." I spoke. It were a few words but they did not mean anything. It only meant that I heard him, but I would not obey. I never did.

The last thing I wanted to do was cause a scene at dinner.

"How is it going with your ballet?" My mom asked.

"Good, it's going great." I answered politely. My mom proudly nodded her head.

"Work has been rough." My father spoke.

Nobody asked

Deep down I knew my mom was not interested to begin with, but my father was her money bank which meant she had to obey.

"Oh, how come?".

My father sighed. Here it comes.

"We went into the shop once again, but we still haven't found anything."

"These guys might be young but they know what they're doing. I think there might be a higher up." My father spoke.

What could he be talking about?

I don't wanna know and don't care either way.

"Roxeanne, you should sit up straight." My father scolded. I rolled my eyes before sitting up straight. Could he not leave me alone for once.

"Don't roll your eyes at me." He almost growled.

"I wished you'd put that same kind of energy in learning." He continued.

This man was driving me nuts.

"And I wish you would just shut up for once!" I yelled before getting up from my chair.

"Roxeanne, sit down, NOW!" My father commanded.

Instead I took a few steps back and shook my head.

"Roxeanne sweety, please sit down." My mother kindly asked. We were both aware of my father's bad temper and what would happen if we wouldn't listen.

"When I count to 3 and your ass is not on that table I promise you, you will be sorry." He yelled.

"One."

I'm not gonna do it.

"Two."

He can smack me to death for all I care.

"You know what, fuck you!" I yelled before walking away. I heard my father get up from his chair but before he could get to me my mom was holding him back.

"Roxeanne, go to your room." She spoke calmly while my father was making a scene. My father did a lot but one person he would not touch was my mother. He loved her and treasured her.

She did not had to tell me twice, but instead of running to my room I quickly grabbed my coat, my phone and stormed out the front door.

If I would be in that house a second longer I would probably go nuts. The best thing would be to go back home later, when my father was fast asleep and calm.

Luckily for me it was not that dark yet, but it probably would be in a hour or so. Perhaps I should go to a coffee shop and wait until my father calmed down.

Because we had just moved back to Korea I did not know the neighborhood very well, and it was actually the first time I would explore the neighborhood. The only thing I did not expect was to do it like this.

I opened google maps on my phone searching for the nearest coffee shop and started walking. This would not be hard right?

I thought. But after ten minutes of walking I noticed the path on my phone had disappeared and not only the path but also my surroundings.

This was not the same luxe neighborhood I lived in, perhaps I should ask for directions before I got completely lost.

Luckily for me there were no people outside, and the streets were quiet. I was not the one for

I walked into a street where I noticed a couple of stores. I was not the one for prejuidice but with the way how I dressed from head to toe in designer clothing it seemed as if there were any people they probably would bother me.

On the opposite side of me there was a tattoo shop that grabbed my attention. It was the only shop with the lights completely on. Stray kids, I read on a banner.

Maybe I could ask them for directions. I thought.

Or maybe, just maybe I should just get a tattoo instead.

Get it out of your head Roxeanne, why on earth would you.

Fuck it.

I crossed over the street and stood in front of the shop, second guessing whether I should really enter.

No Roxeanne, your father will murder you.

Just as I was about to walk away the door opened, making me bump into someone.

"Oh, sorry." The guy spoke with the unlit cigarette in his mouth. His eyes that were starring down at first looked into mine as he got a smirk on his face.

The guy looked legal but rather young. The smirk on his face made his cheeks go up giving him a squirrel 🐿 look. His dark brown hair was perfectly parted in the middle.

"Do you want to get in?" He asked rather surprised. I nodded my head before he smirked and stepped aside.

Before I could get in he gently grabbed me by my shoulder and starred in my eyes again. Flustered I quickly looked down.

"Are you here for Chan?"

"Who?" I questioned. Who the hell was Chan.

The guy laughed before he let go of my shoulder and put his cigarette back in his mouth.

"Stop bothering her and close the door, it's cold!" A voice could be heard from the inside.

The guy laughed before he bowed his head at me and walked past me. Flustered I walked inside of the shop.

"So, are you lost?" Another guy asked me. It was the same voice of the person who had told the other guy to stop bothering me.

He was standing behind a counter. This guy gave me statue vibes, but even then also he was very handsome.

In response I shook my head at him while still being shocked over his handsomeness.

"Aah you're here for a tattoo then?" He asked. I nodded my head.

"Do you already have an appointment?" He asked. Once again I shook my head.

"In that case..." He spoke as he smirked.

"Do you have a tongue?"

I choked in my own spit and nodded my head. Shit I'm doing it again.

"I mean yes, I do." I smiled.

The guy flashed his perfect white teeth and leaned over the counter to get a good look at me. As he looked at me I looked back at him, but all sudden we were interrupted by the ringing of a phone.

The guy chuckled before pushing some sort of button for a intercom.

"Chan, since it doesn't look like you're picking up that phone anytime soon, can you help this sweet customer?" He asked through the sound of the phone that was still ringing.

"On it." The voice spoke.

The guy gave me a wink before picking up the phone and walking away while still eyeing me with a smirk on his face.

What was wrong with him?

_________

You can continue reading this story on Wattpad. Link below.

#straykids #chan #bangchan #jisung #hanjisung #hyunjin #I.N #Jeongin #Seungmin #Woojin #Felix #Minho #ChristopherBang #jyp #gang #scenario #imagine #fanfiction #smut #kpop

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entomjinx-reblogs · 6 years

Text

I mentioned I would post those one shots on here too so here you go: July Seventh

Prompt: "Do you want me to leave?"

The warm summer sun shone down on a lone figure's back, warming but never burning. Natsu Dragneel hadn't bothered to go into Magnolia that day, instead choosing to stay at home. His guild mates new better than to come here today. They knew better than to bother him on July seventh.

"The day Igneel disappeared." The somber thought tore through the slayer's heart and made him wan to cry.

In all honesty, they didn't bother him that entire week.

The pink haired mage was sitting cross-legged in front of the wall, staring intently at nothing as the memories of his missing father plagued him. They played in his mind like a move, and just like every year, he watched. He re-memorized the detail as he brought them up, silently praying that he'd never forget them.

At some point during the day, he'd moved. An old sketch book sat delicately in his lap, pristine white pages becoming blacker as he smeared the charcoal across them. He didn't know how long he'd sat there, but by the time he'd finished, there were several drawings of Igneel in both dragon and human form with detail that Redus would be jealous of.

Natsu scooped them all up and stacked them neatly. He moved an old floorboard, and slipped them underneath.

"I need to buy a binder for them."

The next year he did the same thing.

And the same again.

Until the year he didn't.

Natsu had always hated this time of year. He hated the anger that came with his father's disappearance. He hated the sadness that ripped through him like a hot knife.

"It's almost been six years now..."

The thought startled the dragon slayer, and for a moment, he wondered if he would ever find Igneel. He pulled up a picture of his father in his mind, panicking when it took much longer than it should have. He immediately reached for one of his hidden sketchbooks and began to draw.

"I won't let myself forget." Natsu became frantic, lines smearing in his haste. "I can't forget. Please don't let me forget."

Black eyes welled up when the charcoal grasped between his fingers repetitively refused to recreate the images from his memories, now blurry from time. The tears smeared the charcoal down the page, turning the beautiful drawing into a nightmarish recreation. He jumped up from his spot on the floor and threw the sketchbook across the room.

Natsu swayed where he stood, the sudden movement dizzying him, and after a moment, he collapsed to the floor atop his beloved drawings, a single thought running through his head.

"When was the last time I ate?"

It was a few hours later that Natsu finally woke up. The dragon slayer nearly jumped into a fighting stance the second he laid eyes on the unfamiliar surroundings, but he stopped when the smell of pine and peppermint assaulted his nose.

"Gray?"

The ice mage was sleeping in an old wooden chair beside the bed Natsu had been placed in. His soft snores echoed throughout the room, breaking what would have otherwise been silence.

After realizing he was in safe hands, Natsu drifted back to sleep.

Sunlight streamed in through the window and landed softly on Natsu's face. He rolled over and grumbled, which seemed to startle Gray.

"Natsu's a morning person. He's always up with the sun, not the crack of noon." Gray had been wondering that for the past couple of days, but pondering never changed the fact that he didn't wake. "Maybe it has something to do with the date?"

The raven-haired male stared at the sketch book in his hand, flipping through page after page of drawings. Some were familiar people and places, like everyone in the guild hall, while others were people he didn't know and places that seemed to come straight from a fantasy novel. They were all so realistic that they would look like portals if they had color. As if the universe had read his mind, he found pages with color on them. Several dragons were depicted, and even if he hadn't spent years listening to Natsu rambling about Igneel, he'd have picked him out instantly anyways. His best friends father towered over the other dragons by twice their height and had terrifying scars all across his body.

"It definitely has something to do with the date," There were too many drawings of the dragons, too many pictures of the place he called home, and too many pictures of people he had probably called his family. "I didn't know he could draw, let alone this well."

A muffled groan brought his attention back to the pinkette in his bed as it startled him. Natsu was was staring dazedly at Gray, as if trying to shift through what was real and what wasn't. In a single second his eyes refocused, and he tensed rather noticeably. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish for a moment, and Gray waited for him to collect his thoughts. "How did I get here?" The question came out rasp, and the slayer grasped at his throat after forcing it out.

Gray handed him the water bottle on the bedside table, choosing to wait until Natsu was done before speaking. The bottle was handed back to him after Natsu had downed about half of it. "Happy found you passed out in your house." He began quietly. "We don't know how long you've been out, but you been here for two days."

Gray chose that moment to raise the sketchbook, which caught the attention of the shorter male immediately. He tensed even more than he already was, and he snatched the old binder, hiding it beneath his body like it would cease to exist. "I know I probably wasn't supposed to look at these, but they were scattered everywhere. I put them all back in the binder for you. Well, the loose ones anyways." Some of the drawings were still attached to the sketchbook that had been within the binder, after all.

Natsu had slowly relaxed as the ice mage spoke. "I think I just forgot to eat." He mumbled. Natsu's fire magic caused his metabolism to reach insane heights and burn more calories than a normal person could ever intake in a week over the span of a day. When he skipped a couple meals, it was likely that he'd pass out.

Gray was barely able to make out was the fire mage had said, but after a moment of contemplation, he was sure of the words. "Sometimes I forget how ridiculous your metabolism is, Flame-brain."

Gray stood up and left the room to what Natsu assumed was the kitchen, and a thought struck the dragon slayer, "Since when is Gray this nice to me? And why the hell did Happy get him instead of someone else?"

Despite them being light, Gray's footsteps echoed in Natsu's head as he made his way back with what smelt like pancakes. "I made them this morning, so they're still warm." a small laugh escaped the ice mage as he continued, "After all, morning for me is after ten."

Natsu tilted his head at the statement and gingerly took the plate, "After ten A.M or ten cups of coffee?" Gray shoved his shoulder for that, but the fire mage just laughed softly. "How do you even drink that shit? It's disgusting."

"I guess I'm used to it," Gray responded."By the way, the drawings are really good." Natsu nearly chocked on his pancakes, which he'd been eating slowly to avoid making himself sick, and that's when Gray noticed something he hadn't ever seen the dragon slayer do. The pinkette's face had turned a brilliant shade of red that reached all the way to his ears, and he looked like he was trying to drown himself in his scarf. "It's probably way to much to ask, but um..." Gray got really quiet, and his own cheeks darkened slightly, "Could you tell me who they all are?" When Natsu didn't respond, he panicked and tried to correct himself. "You don't have to," he blurted, ¨it was a dumb thing to ask.¨

Natsu mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like ¨Gray,¨ and the ice mage wanted to bury himself alive.

¨I´m so sorry." He really hadn't meant to do anything that could make his friend more upset over Igneel, but when did either of them get anything right? "Do you want me to leave? I can leave. I'll come check on you again later." He nearly bolted out of embarrassment the second he turned, but Natsu grabbed his arm and yanked him back onto the bed.

"You uh-" Natsu paused as if choosing his words carefully, "You don't have to leave." He tentatively reached for the binder and pulled it on to their laps. Natsu's voice had gone quiet again, still sore from not talking for days on end, "Um, ask whatever. I guess." His face was still blaring red, but he wasn't trying to hide in his scarf as much as he was before. Gray took that as a good sign.

After a while, Natsu became much more comfortable telling stories about the dragons that he never shared in the guild. Stories of the other Dragons he's met and why he knew so many. Igneel hadn't just been the king of fire dragons, but the king of all dragons, and he used to drag Natsu around during anything that involved diplomacy. Because of this, Natsu was way more involved than the other slayers, and he didn't like people knowing that.

"But why?" Gray asked carefully. "What's so wrong with people knowing that?"

Natsu smiled, but it was more bittersweet than happy. "I'll tell you eventually, but it's a bit of a mess."

Gray nodded, accepting the answer for the time being.

The two of them stayed there for hours, Natsu just talking about some of the things that he saw and did as a child, and eventually, they fell asleep against each other.

Natsu was never alone on July seventh again

Words: 1,741

The rest will be posted exclusively on my secondary blog: Jinx13GXA2.tumblr.com

#gratsu #natray #Natsu x Gray #Gray x Natsu #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #one-shot #Natsu likes to draw #Natsu misses Igneel #Prompt one of one-hundred #natsu dragneel #gray fullbuster #fairy tail

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lfthinkerwrites · 6 years

Text

Regarding Jonathan Crane, pt. 2

Title: Regarding Jonathan Crane

Fandom: Batman

Rating: T

Warning: Mentioned Character Death

Summary: The different threads of Edward’s life, past and present, finally meet.

Previous Chapters: 1

AO3 Link

Saturday, February 3rd.

12:00 pm

Ra ra Rasputin, lover of the Russian Queen! There was a cat that really was gone! Ra ra Rasputin, Russia's greatest love machine! It was a shame how he carried on...

Ellen tapped her colored pencil to the beat of the song on her sketchbook as the bus continued down 24th Street. She'd gotten just about all the sketching she was going to get done on this trip, considering how empty the bus was. Apart from herself and the driver, the only other people on board were a mother and baby in the back of the bus, a group of high schoolers up front, and an annoyed looking middle aged man sitting in the seat across from her, glaring at the music coming from Ellen's earphones. Ellen ignored him, after she had added him to her collection of caricatures she drew of people she saw on the bus. She thought the Old Man would appreciate it. He usually did, as long as he wasn't getting caricatured.

Ellen felt the bus come to a stop and she looked up. This was her stop, 24th and Fleet street. She shoved her sketchbook into her bag, hopped out of her seat and darted out the side door as soon as it opened. She didn't usually come out by herself to this part of town, preferring to stick closer to home or going into the glitzier parts of downtown Gotham, but today was special. The Old Man said when she'd had dinner with him Wednesday night that she could come by his apartment to hang out with him today. Ellen quickened her pace as her father's apartment building came into view. She'd never admit it to the Old Man, but she did like getting to spend time with him, even if there were super villains involved. Actually, especially if there were super villains involved. Seeing him in action against Tut and that weirdo dressed as the Krampus had been pretty awesome.

She walked into the building and up the three flights of stairs that led to his apartment. From just outside, she could hear the sound of his TV. Ellen smiled. Gramma was working a double shift and wouldn't be home until late. Maybe she could convince the Old Man to let her stay long enough to watch Prime Minister's Question Time with him. She took off her headphones, raised her fist and rapped on the door. "Pops!" she called out. "I'm here!" There was no sound other than the TV. Ellen knocked again. "Wakey wakey Old Man!" Still no response. Ellen frowned. Was he in the bathroom or something? She turned the handle on the door and it opened. Well, he had to be home, didn't he? Why else would his door be unlocked? Ellen walked in, shutting the door behind her. The TV was on, and there was a box and newspapers on the coffee table, but there was no sign of the Old Man. "Pops?" Ellen called out again. "Where are you?" Ellen crossed the living room and went down the hallway to his bedroom. It was empty. There was no one in the apartment but her. Ellen began to pout as she walked back to the living room. "You better not have ditched me Old Man!" She muttered. She pulled her cell phone out of her bag and dialed her father's number. "This is Edward Nigma, Private Investigator. I'm either with a client or otherwise preoccupied. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back you."

Straight to voicemail? That was a little odd. The Old Man never had his phone off. "I'm here Pops," she said into the answering machine. "Where are you?" She hung up and flopped down on the couch. She looked at the scattered papers on the coffee table and began to go through them. Ellen soon realized that they were all articles about the Scarecrow. She shuddered a bit. She'd never liked that guy. He was a complete creep. She'd never heard the Old Man talk about him though. He'd mentioned a lot of the other Rogues when she'd asked, but he never talked about Scarecrow. Ellen figured he must have really hated him, but if that was the case, why did he have a whole box of stuff about him? And why was it out on his table? Wasn't the guy dead? Was the Old Man investigating something about him? Was that where he was?

Ellen leaned back and grabbed the remote. Dumb Old Man had probably gone to his office for something. He'd be back. And then she'd ask about all this stuff he had.

2:30 PM

Ellen had eaten through the meager snacks the Old Man had in his kitchen and was now getting very irritated. She pulled out her phone and dialed his number again. "This is Edward Nigma, Private Investigator. I'm either with a client or otherwise preoccupied. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back you."

"You're a real piece of work Old Man," Ellen hissed. "Can't you call me back at least?" She hung up and continued to surf through the television channels. Where the Hell was the Old Man? Whatever he was working on, she sulked, it better be worth making her wait.

4:30 PM

"This is Edward Nigma, Private Investigator. I'm either with a client or otherwise preoccupied. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back you."

Ellen swallowed thickly. "Pops, it's been over four hours. You're starting to scare me. Please call me back." Ellen hung up and took her face into her hands. It had been four and a half hours and no word from the Old Man. This wasn't like him. Something was wrong. Ellen looked down at her phone. She needed to do something, call someone. Who though? She couldn't call the cops, not after what happened with that Tut guy. Ellen's eyes flashed. Selina! She should call Selina! Maybe she knew where the Old Man was! She dialed the number he father had given her a month ago. Her heart beat faster each time she heard the phone ring. Please pick up, please please please...If Selina didn't pick up, Ellen didn't know what'd she'd do. Finally, she heard a familiar voice pick up. "Hello?"

Ellen nearly shrieked in relief. "Selina? It's Ellen. Remember me? Edward's kid?"

"Ellen? Hey kiddo, what's up?"

"Is the Old Man with you?"

"No, why?"

Ellen took a deep breath. "We were supposed to meet up at his apartment today, but he wasn't there, and he's not pickin' up his phone, and I know he's a jerk, but he wouldn't just ditch me like-"

"Whoa kiddo, slow down. What time were you supposed to meet up with him?"

"Noon," Ellen said. "I got here and his TV was on, but he wasn't here! I've tried calling him three times and it goes straight to voicemail."

"Wait. How did you get in?"

"His door was unlocked."

"Did it look like anything had happened? Is the place ransacked?"

"No," Ellen answered. "There's a bunch of papers on his coffee table, but other than that, everything looks normal."

"Are you there now?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause before Selina spoke in a hard tone, "Stay there. Lock the door and don't open it until I get there. I'm on my way."

Selina hung up before Ellen could respond. She quickly got up and put the deadbolt on the door, and sat back against the couch, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Something bad was going on. She knew it. Ellen sat in the apartment for about half an hour until she heard a knock on the door. "Kiddo?"

Ellen got up and looked out of the peephole. Sure enough, Selina was standing outside the door, in her catsuit. Ellen opened the door to let the older woman in. Selina walked into the apartment. "Hey Ellen," she said, giving her a look over. "You OK?"

Ellen nodded, rubbing her arm. "I'm getting kinda freaked. It's not like the Old Man to just up and disappear like this."

"I know," Selina said. "Believe me, I know." Her green eyes caught the papers on the coffee table. Ellen watched as Selina crossed the room and leaned over to pick one up. Ellen saw her eyes soften as she read the contents. "Spooky?" Ellen heard her whisper. "Oh Eddie..."

There was something someone hadn't told Ellen. "Selina, what's going on?" she asked. "Do you know where my Dad is?"

Selina put the paper down and shook her head. "No," she said. "Come on. We need to talk to Dr. Young."

Ellen frowned a bit. "Who's Dr. Young?"

Selina looked a bit surprised. "Your Dad hasn't told you about Dr. Young?" She shook her head. "Anyway. She's a friend of your Dad's. They meet up on Friday mornings to talk about cases they work on. She might know where your Dad is."

Ellen nodded, then followed Selina out the door. She took one last look at the apartment before shutting the door behind her. You'd better be OK, Old Man. You'd better be.

...While Charlotte has made a great deal of progress in maintaining boundaries with her family as we discussed in our last session, Andrew is becoming increasingly impatient during our sessions. I've had to remind him that while seeking counseling is an important first step, it is just that: a first step. He cannot expect all of his problems to be solved after only three sessions. I'm beginning to suspect however that he only sees our sessions as an opportunity to air his grievances against his former wife and his employer, instead of as an opportunity to do anything constructive. It's times like this that I wonder why I didn't decide to go into pure research, as my former undergraduate adviser suggested. Penelope chewed the top of her pen for a moment before she continued to write, Then I recall who my undergraduate adviser was, and realize it probably was for the best I didn't take his advice.

Penelope shut her journal, put down her pen and checked her watch. It was 6:00 pm. That was enough about work for now. She got up out of her lounge chair and walked towards her kitchen. Just a quick dinner, and then she'd pick up where she'd left off in her latest Psychology journal. A fairly typical Saturday evening for her. After she'd placed her soup container in the microwave, she pulled out her phone. Edward still had made no attempt to contact her after she'd called him yesterday, like she suspected he wouldn't. Penelope sighed. She'd really thought that after what happened with Victor Goodman, that they had made real progress. He freely shared information with her, he listened to her opinions, even if he was vocal about when he disagreed and he'd actually followed her advice and kept a lower profile in the month since Sharp assumed office. He was still combative and arrogant, but Penelope had begun to accept that as just a part of who he was. He was doing a better job of keeping those aspects of himself toned down in her presence at least. And yet, it felt like after yesterday, they were back at square one.

The microwave beeped and Penelope waited a moment before carefully removing her soup. She sat down at her kitchen table and idly stirred it. Alright, she conceded. It was first and foremost a work relationship. He'd never pried into her personal life and she never volunteered any information, so perhaps she couldn't expect him to talk about everything that was going on in his. Frankly, she wasn't sure she wanted to know some of it. Whatever was going on though was serious, potentially compromising. As she took a few sips, Penelope thought about what Joan had told her a few weeks ago and what she'd seen in Tetch's hideout last summer. Whatever personal issue Edward wasn't dealing with, it was connected to what he'd said. 'The person I needed the most....' Who had that been? Where were they? Penelope shook her head. If he wasn't willing to talk about it, she couldn't force him. All she could do was wait until he trusted her enough to open up about it. If he ever did.

A frantic knocking at her door almost made Penelope jump out of her seat. "Doc! Are you there?"

Penelope's eyebrows raised. That was Selina Kyle. What was she doing here? The last time she's been here had been-oh no. Not again. She should have pushed Edward harder, she should have gone by his home, she should have called Joan-Penelope rushed over to the door and opened it. Selina Kyle barely waited until the door was open before she came in. Penelope's heart sank when she realized the other woman was wearing her catsuit. "What is it?" she asked, following Selina into her living room. "What's happened?"

Selina looked at her with a serious look on her face. "Eddie's gone," she said and Penelope felt her stomach drop. "He wasn't in his apartment and he's not picking up his phone."

"Excuse me?"

Penelope sharply turned at the new voice and realized she'd left her front door open. There was a red-haired girl standing in the open doorway, her large green eyes looking beseechingly at her. Penelope's jaw dropped as she looked at the girl's face. It was like looking into Edward Nigma's face twenty years ago. The girl, dressed in an old turquoise coat, awkwardly rubbed her elbow. "Selina said you know my Dad?"

Dad? Penelope gasped, grateful she wasn't holding anything for she would have dropped it. This girl was Edward's daughter? He had a daughter? Why hadn't he told her? Realizing the girl was still standing in the doorway, Penelope awkwardly waved her in. The girl shut the door behind her and joined the other women in the living room. Selina looked at the two of them with a raised eyebrow. "Eddie never told you about her?" she asked.

Penelope shook her head. "No...we don't really talk about our personal lives."

Selina shook her head. "Well," she whispered. "This is a bit awkward."

That was an understatement. Penelope directed the girl to sit in her lounge chair. She did so, continuing to look at her. "What's your name?" Penelope asked.

"Ellen," she answered. "Ellen Dixon."

There were so many questions Penelope wanted to ask this girl, but she quickly realized she needed to stay focused on the matter at hand. "Ellen, what happened?"

Ellen took a deep breath. "I was supposed to meet up with my Old Man this afternoon, but when I got to his apartment, he wasn't there. His door was unlocked, the TV was on and he had a bunch of papers out, but he was gone."

"Papers?" Penelope asked. "What kind of papers?" Had Edward been abducted again or was this about a case?

"It was bunch of articles about Scarecrow," Selina answered. "Doc," she asked in an almost desperate tone. "You saw Eddie yesterday right? Was there any case he was working on that he told you about?"

Penelope shook her head. "No. He was preoccupied about something though. He wouldn't talk about. He left my office when I tried to ask about it. I tried calling him twice yesterday, but he didn't pick up."

"Yesterday!?" Ellen cried out. "You mean he's been gone for a whole day!?"

"We don't know that Ellen," Penelope tried to reassure her. Ellen's face remained stricken, while a dark look came over Selina's.

"He wouldn't..." Penelope heard her murmur. "He didn't..."

Penelope walked up to her. "Selina," she whispered. "Do you know what's going on?"

Selina shook her head. "Not here," she whispered, gesturing back to where Ellen was sitting, watching the two of them with narrow eyes. "I don't want to freak out the kid."

"I'm not stupid you know!" Ellen shouted. "And I'm 15 years old! I'm not a little kid! If you know where my Dad is, tell me!"

Selina looked from Penelope to Ellen, then she sighed. "I think Eddie might have gone after Croc."

Penelope gasped. "Croc? Waylon Jones? Why would-"

Selina pushed past Penelope and walked towards the door. "We need to tell Ozzie. Come on. We'll drop Ellen off and-"

"No!" Ellen shouted. She sprang out of her chair and glared at the older women, the look on her face leaving no doubts in Penelope's mind that she was indeed Edward's child. "I'm coming too!" She stomped her foot for emphasis.

"Ellen," Penelope said carefully. "This is an extremely dangerous situation. I'm sure your father wouldn't want you to get involved-"

"He's my Dad! I already am involved! And I'm not just gonna sit around at home by myself waiting for you guys to call me!"

By herself? "Where is your-"

"My Mom's dead," Ellen cut her off, anticipating the question. "My Gramma's always at work and I hate my aunt." She looked up Penelope then and her eyes were glassy. "I'm not a stupid little kid. I know who my Dad was. I know he's into a lot of dangerous stuff. But he's my Dad. I can't just do nothing."

Penelope wasn't a child psychologist, but she could see how much there was to unpack in whatever relationship there was between Edward and Ellen. She couldn't think about that now though. They needed to find Edward first and they couldn't leave his daughter alone. If she were anything like her father, she'd try to look for him herself. "Alright," she said. "You can come with us to the Iceberg Lounge, but that is as far as you go. No matter what we find out. Understand?"

Ellen nodded. "Yeah, I get it."

Selina nodded. "Alright. Let's go."

The three women had passed the car ride in silence, Penelope driving, Selina looking forward, occupied by her thoughts, and Ellen looking wistfully out the car window. When they'd arrived at the Iceberg Lounge, Penelope and Selina were ushered into the backroom, while Ellen was kept in a waiting room, to her loud protests. Selina and Penelope recounted what they'd learned the past day to Cobblepot. As Selina mentioned the newspapers articles that Edward had out, Oswald's face darkened.

"Selina dear," he said. "Are you implying what I think you're implying?"

"Ozzie, there's no other explanation I can think of. Eddie went after Croc."

Cobblepot groaned and took his face into his hands. "Edward, you fool."

Something was going on that Penelope wasn't aware of. She hated that feeling. "What is going on?" she demanded. "Edward doesn't go after other Rogues. Why would he go after Jones?"

Cobblepot looked up at her with surprise. "You-you really don't know?"

Penelope furrowed her brow. "Know what? What aren't you and Selina telling me?"

Selina and Cobblepot exchanged a long look. "I assumed, given how closely you and Edward have been working together, that you already knew," Cobblepot continued. "But if Edward hasn't told you, I don't know that it's our place to-"

"Listen," Penelope interrupted harshly. "It might not be any of my business, but Edward's daughter is sitting outside this room, almost out of her mind with worry. She deserves to know what's happened to her father!"

Selina and Cobblepot exchanged another look. Finally, Selina sighed. "Doc," she said. "You remember last year at Tetch's hideout? When Eddie and I were talking? When Eddie was going on about 'the person he needed the most'?"

Penelope felt her heart begin to pound and nodded. "Yes."

Selina took a hand through her short black hair. "That person was Jonathan Crane."

For the second time that evening, Penelope's jaw dropped. "Edward and Professor Crane? They were lovers?"

Selina look wide eyed at her. "Professor-Wait. Don't tell me. Crane was your professor!?"

Penelope nodded, barely registering the question. "He was. Briefly." It had been her sophomore year at Gotham University. Crane's class on Fear and Phobias was considered by most other students in the psychology program as the most difficult and disturbing class the school had to offer. She hadn't been able to resist the challenge. She'd known the man before he was a Rogue. She'd even respected him. She'd felt regretful when she'd heard what had happened to him during the riot- She sank into a chair in front of Oswald's desk as the realization dawned on her. Edward and Crane had been lovers. Crane had died while Edward was in a coma. Edward had woken up in a hostile world, with little to no memories of his past, and his lover was dead. That was the past event that Joan had noted. Everything about his distant behavior made a horrible sense to her now. It was a Delayed Grief Response. He'd been using his work as an excuse to not deal with his emotions about Crane, and hearing the news about Jones' escape must have been the spark that had set him off. "We have to find him," she said. She looked up at Cobblepot and Selina. "We have to find Edward. He's not behaving rationally. If he confronts Jones in the state he's in, he'll get killed!"

"Not that I don't agree Dr. Young, but that's easier said then done," Cobblepot said. "Croc could be anywhere underneath Gotham. I'll certainly send my men out, but it will be like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"Ozzie," Selina said, giving him a sharp look. "You and I both know there's only one person who has any chance of finding Eddie in time."

Cooblepot scowled and Penelope knew who Selina was referring to. "Batman?" she asked.

Selina nodded. "I know you don't like it Ozzie, but we really don't have any other choice."

Penelope agreed. Edward would be furious, but that was better than him being dead. For a long moment, Penelope sat deep in thought, her mind going over every interaction she'd had with Edward over the past year, now that she had this new information. She was a trained psychiatrist. Why hadn't she seen this? She remembered too back at the Asylum, before the riot. After Edward had fallen into his coma, there had been a period of time when Crane had been even more uncooperative in his sessions with his doctors. He'd even physically attacked an orderly before being put into solitary. It had passed after a few weeks and no one thought any more about it. Had he been in mourning for Edward? He must have been, the timing fit. Why had no one made the connection? No one had thought Crane or Edward capable of being in a romantic relationship probably, let alone be in one with each other. Penelope sighed. Between this and the discovery of Ellen's existence, one thing was becoming clear to her. For all the time she'd spent with him in sessions at Arkham and working with him now, she really didn't know Edward at all.

The sound of the door opening drew her out of her thoughts. One of the restaurant managers poked his head inside the office. "Mr. Cobblepot? The kid's having a fit about being in the waiting room. She says she's going to walk out. What do you want us to do with her?"

Penelope got up out of her chair and answered before Cobblepot could respond. "I'll talk to her." She turned to Selina. "Do what you need to do. Call me as soon as you find out anything."

Selina nodded. "Will do."

Penelope walked out of the office and followed the manager down the hallway towards the waiting room Ellen had been left in. She heard Ellen arguing with another manager as she approached. "I don't care what that fat ass said, I'm outta here! I'm gonna go find my Dad with or without you morons!"

Penelope reached the room just as the other manager stormed out. "You here for that brat?" he asked as he passed her. "Good luck!"

Penelope ignored him and almost walked right into Ellen. Ellen calmed down only slightly when she saw her. "Well?" she asked. "What's going on? Are we going to go find my Dad?"

Penelope sighed. "No," she said. "Selina's going to call Batman. He'll find your father, I promise."

Ellen's eyes widened at the mention of Batman, then she finally relaxed. "OK," she nodded. "OK. "

Penelope felt relieved. At least Ellen wouldn't be tempted to run after her father now, she hoped. Ellen looked quizzically at her. "I still don't get it," she said. "Why would Pops go after Croc?"

Penelope bit her lip. "Ellen," she asked. "How much does your father talk about his past with you?"

Ellen shrugged. "Not much." She scoffed. "He doesn't really talk to me about his cases either. He thinks I'm 'too young' to hear about it."

It seemed Edward kept a fair degree of separation between Ellen and his work. Penelope didn't think she'd do any differently in his place, but it would make this conversation awkward. "Ellen," she said. "We think your father went after Jones because of what he did to Jonathan Crane."

Ellen looked confused for a moment. "Scarecrow? Why would he-" Then she seemed to make the same realization Penelope had earlier. "No way. Pops and Scarecrow-That's why he's got a box of stuff about him? They used to date?"

"That's a conversation you'll have to have with your father when Batman finds him." Batman would find him. Penelope had to believe that.

Ellen's face fell. "Pops ran off to try to kill Croc, didn't he?"

Penelope didn't know. She wasn't sure if Edward had gone after Jones for information, or for vengeance. She hoped it was the former, but..."It's almost eight. I should take you back home."

Ellen nodded. Penelope went to lead her out of the restaurant and back to her car when Ellen suddenly said, "My Gramma's not getting back until really late." She looked up at her plaintively. "Will you stay with me for a bit? I don't wanna be alone."

Penelope didn't need to think about her answer. "Yes." She owed Edward that much.

#pi verse #regarding jonathan crane #riddler's daughter

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