#i miss orange she was so much fun to play. just this absolute bundle of nonspecific violence and glitter

[townofcrosshollow]

I was in a sparkly mood today (and a little burned out) so I decided to do a fun little nonsense drawing. I based my Glitter Hearts character from an old campaign (Her name is Orange!) on Vocaloid, so I thought it would be cute to draw them as various iconic Hatsune Mikus from classic Vocaloid song PVs! If you can name all the songs without checking the read more you're a fucking nerd, but sources for the OG images are below:

Original artwork this is based on videos for the following songs, left to right, top to bottom:

World is Mine, animated by rak_nico

No Thank You, animated by にぼし

Triple Baka, animated by LamazeP

Ievan Polkka, animated by Tamago

Po Pi Po, animated by 砂吹

Matryoshka, animated by Hachi

#i'm just v happy with these cute lil colours it was such a fun lil drawing to do gah #highlights are her teddy bear bag the bat charm that turns into a real bat and the shirt identifying her as one of her teammates biggest fa #they were named after the hachi album official orange but orange was like the one colour she never wore lmao #i miss orange she was so much fun to play. just this absolute bundle of nonspecific violence and glitter #GOD it was hard to source all of those images. some of em were easy (hachi did all his own videos) but some of em were IEVAN FUCKING POLKKA #it took so long to figure out who the fuck drew that little goddamn leek girl and then find a usable link to a social media platform #my art #vocaloid #hatsune miku #ttrpg

[animeomegas]

I read the Naruto Omega request with the alpha commenting about how their kid is just like their Omega (and I loved it so much) but what if the kid is just like their Alpha parent? Like the Alpha hit copy/paste of their kid and it's obvious to everyone, especially their Omega parent.

(Hehe, the reverse, interesting! I got a bit carried away in some places, but this was really fun to write! Enjoy~)

Naruto - Naruto knows his pup looks a lot like his alpha, but they're also like him!! He can see it just fine! You see the way they don't like reading kanji? He didn't like reading kanji when he was their age! You see the way they scratch their head sometimes? He does that too! As far as he's concerned there is lots of him in his child and he doesn't know why no one else seems to see it. He will definitely dress them in the worst orange clothes and style their hair like his to try and get everyone else to notice the similarities.

"No, Kakashi sensei, you don't get it! I had to walk past Ichiraku's the other day and my pup started to cry because we were in too much of a rush to go in. They have great taste, just like me, believe it!"

Sasuke - Sasuke didn't think he was the sort to care that much, but he's honestly a little shocked. Uchiha genes are crazy strong, and he's surprised that his alpha's genes are apparently stronger. He also gets kinda embarrassed because he spent his whole pregnancy telling you that the pup was probably going to look a lot like him and he was very obviously wrong about that. But in the end, he honestly kind of likes it. He doesn't have the best self-esteem and he definitely holds a somewhat subconscious belief that the Uchiha bloodline is cursed, so he finds it relaxing for his pup to look so much like his alpha. It makes him feel like they have a chance at a good life, something he didn't even realise he was worried about beforehand. He prefers his pup to look as much like his alpha as possible.

"Huh," said Naruto, giving Sasuke's pup a glance. "If you were an alpha, I'd say your mate cheated on you, but I guess the pup came out of you, so I suppose you're all good."

"Tch, idiot," Sasuke scoffed, gently brushing his child's hair (his alpha's hair that he loved so much) from her eyes. "Don't be so crude."

Shino - He doesn't really notice, not at first, too enamoured by the fact that his pup is beautiful and amazing and someone him and his mate created together. But after a few comments from others, he starts to realise how little of him seemed to be part of that creation, and he gets a bit melancholic about it. Don't get him wrong, he thinks his alpha has amazing genetics and he loves them both but... he's been excluded from a lot in his life and the fact that he appears to have been excluded from this as well. It hurts. Thankfully, as soon as the pup is old enough to start dressing in the Aburame clan clothes, everyone immediately starts calling them a mini-Shino, telling him how much like their father they are etc. He always puffs up in pride and it doesn’t take long for his friends to notice and they make sure to say that as much as possible to him. I imagine his alpha also picks up on it and goes out of their way to point out the similarities.

"I had to pull him away from exploring in the woods today," you inform Shino, having just walked in from a walk with your pup to allow Shino some peace to clean the kitchen. "He didn't like being told he wasn't old enough yet. Much like someone else I used to know~"

"Is that so?" Shino felt like his heart might burst from happiness that his child loved looking for bugs in the woods as much as he did. "I'll have to take him there tomorrow. Why? Because I want him to be happy."

Shikamaru - If his child doesn't learn to appreciate the beauty of a nap soon, Shikamaru may just have to disown him. He's joking, of course, but he's another one who firmly believed in the dominant genes in his clan, so he is shocked to find that there is now a tiny clone of his alpha running around their house. His pup and his mate gang up on him all the time… poor long suffering Shikamaru. Apart from missing valuable napping/cloud gazing time, Shikamaru doesn't care that much, although he finds it distantly amusing that the future clan head looks nothing like a Nara. Maybe they’ll gain more of his traits as they get older, maybe they won’t, they’re his precious little pup either way.

“If I promise to give you some chocolate later, will you come and take a nap with daddy?”

“No, no, no! Don’t want to! Want to play!”

Shikamaru just let out a long-suffering sigh and resigned himself to being awake for the whole day. Troublesome.

Neji – Neji is so fucking over the moon, he can’t even put it into words. The second he sees his child’s eyes for the first time, Neji starts to cry. They have your eyes. In other words, they have no chance of developing the Byakugan and therefore no need to be given the caged bird seal. The weight that lifts off his shoulders is massive. He has no room in his emotions for any sadness that his pup doesn’t look like him, because he knows how unbelievably lucky he got with this.

You sat by Neji’s bedside, pup cradled in their arms, as you waited for him to come to after the c-section surgery.

When Neji’s eyes finally fluttered open, he immediately focused on the bundle in your arms.

“It’s a little girl,” you answered, understanding his silent question. “Either a beta or an omega.”

Neji didn’t speak, simply holding out his arms to take his daughter from his mate. But just as they transferred him his pup, they whispered something in his ear.

“She has my eyes.”

An unremarkable statement to most, but Neji startled and checked immediately. You were right. She had your eyes.

Exhausted, Neji burst into tears, leaning on his alpha for support and mentally thanking every power that may be for this miracle.

Iruka – Iruka doesn’t have any strong feelings either way. He just wanted someone to love and nurture, what they look like doesn’t mean anything to him. In fact, he’s pretty happy that his pup and his alpha are so similar because it makes him feel like he knows how to parent successfully. He knows his alpha better than anyone after all, so a pup who has the same personality and motivations should be easier for him to parent. He acknowledges every comment about how much his pup looks like you with a laugh. It’s true and it is a little amusing how similar the two of you are. (Also, does Iruka take all your baby photos and then stage matching ones with your pup because he thinks it’s cute how similar you are? Absolutely.)

“Here, if you eat all your vegetables, you can have some of this afterwards,” Iruka promised to his pup, brandishing a plate of both his mate’s and his pup’s favourite food. Without even a moment of consideration, his pup started to eat his vegetables.

Iruka smiled to himself. Works every time. (On both the most important people in his life.)

Itachi – Much like Neji, he’s very relieved that his child is unlikely to be able to unlock the Sharigan. The sharigan has brought Itachi very little good and so much suffering, so knowing his child can avoid that makes him extremely happy. Not to mention, the elders pretty much discard his pup as unimportant immediately, just how Itachi likes it, and while they do start harassing him about having more children, he would much rather that they were bothering him than his baby. He doesn’t let himself be disappointed that his child doesn’t look much like him. He has a healthy and happy pup that he loves with all his heart, and who is free from the perpetual harassment from the Uchiha elders. That’s the best situation he could have asked for.

“They don’t look like an Uchiha,” a blunt twelve-year-old Sasuke said, tilting his head at the bundle in his brother’s arms like he’d never seen a baby before.

Itachi didn’t take any offence and laughed softly, still very weak from the birth.

“Well, technically they are only half-Uchiha,” Itachi answered, absently stroking his pup’s head. “And I think they’re perfect.”

#naruto #omegaverse #abo #a/b/o #reader insert #omega!naruto #omega!sasuke #omega!Shino #omega!shikamaru #omega!neji #omega!iruka #omega!itachi #alpha!reader #alpha x omega #gn!reader #alpha reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #sasuke x reader #naruto x reader #headcanons

[lexacoolfox]

How danganronpa characters act with kittens with their S/O.

Kazuichu Souda

I think he would like hanging out with kittens

I just think you would have to remind him to tone done his volume and excitement

You also have to tell him to be gentle with them

“Their so cute! I thought cats were just jerks. Looks like I was wrong!”

“Why did you think cats are jerks?”

“Well I see people talk or post about how cats are, kinda entitled or mean.”

“Hehehe well that can be true. Cats can be like that. It might be because of the breed or the way their raised. I should know I have had plenty of cats.”

“Ooh! Babe! How about we get a cat!”

“I don’t know you know their a big responsibility.”

“Please babe!”

“Fine I guess.”

“Aw thank you babe!”

“Which one should we get?”

“How about this one!”

“Yeah! What should his name be?”

“How about Garfield?”

“Basic.”

“Ok ok. Stripes?”

“Nah.”

“Ok.…Ginger!”

“I kinda like that name!”

“Ok, Ginger! Your coming home with us!”

You to leave the pet store with cat food, cat bed, a small scratching post, some toys, water and food bowl, litter box, and a collar that says ginger.

You guys absolutely adore the cat. He actually very well train, he uses the litter box, the scratching post, never scratches furniture.

When you get home from your part time job you find Kazuichu playing with the kitten or him petting it while it takes a nap on him.

Your friends were surprised that the two of you got a cat. Most of them thought Kazuichu was more of a dog person. He claims that he likes cat and dogs. But for now he had just a cat.

“Hey babe, thanks for letting me get ginger.”

“No thank you for convincing me to get ginger.”

“Hehehe, I love this little guy!”

“I just hope he doesn’t steal you away from me.”

“Of course not! I have enough love for both of you.”

“Good to know.”

Makoto Naegi

You guys decided to visit a friend who’s cat just had kittens. You guys just went to look at them but makoto got a little to attached to all the kittens.

“S/O do we have to go so soon!”

“Naegi we can’t stay here forever.”

“But their all so cute!”

“Naegi…”

“Oh come on! Just a little longer. Pleeeaassee!”

“Ok a little longer.”

25 minutes later...

“Naegi, my friend is saying we have to leave.”

“Nnnoooo!!!”

“Come on cutie let’s start getting ready to leave.”

“S/O how about we adopt them.”

The cat in question had 3 kittens.

“Naegi I don’t think that’s a good idea. If you didn’t know cats can be quiet a challenge to take care of. Not mentioning 3”

Your friend came in and said you can take them, but she just had to mention whatever kittens we didn’t take she would put in an animal shelter.

You mentally screamed in your head

“S/O! We can’t let them go there! These sweet babies wouldn’t survive!”

“Naegi-“

He had a cute sad puppy dog face. It looks like you have three kittens now

So when you guys got home you put some tuna on a plate and used a bowl nobody used for water. And used a blanket for them to bundle up in

“Ok naegi. How about you name the black and white one, I name the orange and grey one, and both think of a name for the gray one.”

He nodded his head in agreement

He named the black and white one ace

You named the grey and orange one mochi

And the gray one you both agreed on the name faith

Funny enough, you actually spent most the time with the cats.

Naegi would sometime joke and say

“I think you love those cats more than me.”

But then he would also lay down and play with them.

Faith was a very friendly cat, she got along with your friends fine, she loved affection, she often slept with you guys

Mochi was kinda territorial, she would growl at your friends at first, maybe fiercely scratch them or loudly meow at them, she was also a little adventurous, one time you guys couldn’t find her until you heard a meow from the window and saw she had a mouse in her mouth, still alive mind you. You quickly took it out her mouth and let it outside.

Ace was a very lazy cat, he only really got up if you had food or he wanted to lay in the sun, he would let you pet him. He would also lay in your lap if your not doing anything and would pet him.

You guys loved your cats and don’t regret your decision getting all three

Hajime Hinata

Hajime was a bit skeptical when you brought a kitten home and said “come on honey, let’s just take care of it for at least a week or two. You might like it.”

While your at your job he just took care of it, feed it, gave it water. That’s it.

For the first like three days

After a while the kitten would jump on Hajime’s lap and just curl up and sleep. He found it so cute.

He would also start petting it

Using a laser pointer and playing with it

He would softly laugh when playing with it.

You were starting to think Hajime didn’t like the cat. Cause you never saw him do anything with it when you got home.

You came home on the last day to take it back cause you thought Hajime didn’t like it. But you couldn’t find him or the kitten

To your surprises you found Hajime sitting on the bed and playing with it. With one of those dangling cat toys.

“So you do like the kitten?”

He turned to you surprised and then his face went a little red with embarrassment. He slowly nodded.

“So do you want to keep her? If not I can take her back.”

“No I really like her! She cute and fun!”

“Ok let’s decide if a name for her!”

“Hhhmm how about muffin?”

“I do like it. But what about other names?”

“Kitten, missy, misty, mocha, Roxie, muffin-“

You about to tell Hajime he already said muffin before the cat meowed and looked at both of you

“…Muffin.”

The cat crawled towards Hajime after he said muffin.

“I guess our cat name is muffin.”

After playing with muffin for a while, you both got ready to sleep and mitten sat in between both of your faces

Who knew Hajime would like cats

Kokichi oma

Kokichi was just walking around minding his own business when he saw a kitten, covered in dirt, crying and very skinny. Now Kokichi can be a jerk but he isn’t heartless. He picked up the kitten and ran straight home. He got some soap (the kind that is safe for animals.) and turned on the sink and washed it, not to hard to hurt but enough to get the dirt off. Then he got a towel and put him on the floor. Then got a plate put some tuna on it and then got then a bowl of water. He let it do it’s own thing but after it was done the kitten rub against Kokichi leg. Throughout the day the kitten would follow him wherever he went around the house.

“Kichi, babe I’m home.”

“Hey S/O look what I found in the in the alley!”

He came in and showed you pure white cat.

“Can we keep him please!”

“Kichi, I don’t know.”

He started shedding some tears. Of course they were crocodile tears. But the fact that he acted sad, must mean he really wants it.

“Ok kichi we can keep him-“

“YAAAY!”

“But we have to take it to the vet to get him nurtured, and make sure it gets all his shots”

Kokichi agreed to you term and the next day you guys go get him nurtured and make sure to get his shots. Well you did. He went to go buy some toys, cat food, a bed, etc. after you guys were done you brought him home and started thinking of a name for the pure white cat

“How about snowball?”

“No that’s too generic.”

“Casper?”

“No, he’s not dead.”

“Alaska?”

“If it was girl maybe.”

“Glacier?”

“No.”

“How about blanco?”

“What’s that even mean?”

“It means white in Spanish.”

“Blanco…blanco…blanco”

“I think I like it!”

“Alright blanco it is.”

Kokichi loved the cat. He always feed it, gave it water, and he loved to play with it.

Funny thing about blanco he was quite the mischievous cat. He loved to push things off shelves and scratch up furniture. But he was so cute

Sometimes Kokichi takes him to DICE meetings. he has him in his laps. While talking about whatever plans he pets him like a super villain

You and Kokichi also loves it when he cuddles up with both you when you prepare to go to bed

Kokichi sometimes walks around and on his shoulders is blanco.

As we all know mui and Kokichi. Hate each other. So anytime he walking around with blanco with his shoulder and mui insults him or something. Blanco will jump off his shoulders and attack mui until she runs away. Which Kokichi praises him for(even though you tell him multiples times it’s not ok for blanco to do that).

I saved the best fact for last. Kokichi had somebody make a mini scarf like the one he has. Which when you saw, it felt like you heart almost exploded.

You both love blanco so much!

Nagito Komeada

You were leaving for a trip in two months, and Nagito wasn’t too happy about that. He didn’t voice the fact that he was really gonna miss you. But you knew anyway. He was always kinda lonely when you go away. Sure he has…friends…or whatever he has with his classmates.

So you decided to get him a pet, you thought a dog might be to much. So why not a kitten.

A black kitten with yellow eyes caught your eye. You thought how funny it would be to get her since black cats are bad luck. You also wanted to get her cause the owner said that kitten would go to a different shelter soon.

You poked a holes in a box and put her in with a bow on top

“Nagi!”

“My hope! What’s that in your hand?”

“It’s a gift! For you my love!”

“Oh! My hope! Getting trash like me a gift. Your too good for me!”

“Nagi, my love, your not trash. Come on open it!”

He opened it and the kitten jumped right out onto his chest. He was quite surprised

“My hope! You got me a kitten!”

“Yeah! I know how lonely you get when I go away. So I got you this kitten! Do you like her?”

He picked her up and looked at her. He titled his head sideways and the cat copied him. Then he smiled and hugged the cat.

“I love her!!”

You squealed cause it was so cute.

“What do you want to name her?”

“Mmhhh…Lucky! I want to name her lucky!”

“Hehehe I’m not to surprised.”

Nagito was really happy. He wasn’t too sad when you had to leave.

Him and lucky were always together. He loves that kitten like his own child. He always let her sleep with him, eats with her and sometimes walks around with her.

His classmates notice the kitten and they asked question about it. He told them how you got him this kitten.

Lucky was a very interesting cat, he seemed to bring Nagito such good luck, but others not so much.

Like for example, fuyuhiko said something not to nice to Nagito, lucky was just there sitting on Nagito’s shoulders. When fuyuhiko walked away he tripped on some stairs. It was a lot of steps but it he was still kinda hurt. A couple of bruises and scraps.

He sometimes likes to pick up lucky and boop their noses together.

Ibuki took a picture of the moment and sent it to you. That picture become your new phone background.

He like to call lucky his good luck charm.

When you get back from your trip he at the airport with lucky on his shoulders.

“It’s seems you two got close.”

“Yeah! My hope! Lucky is the best gift I’ve ever gotten! Thank you so much!”

“Gotten any bad luck lately?”

“Nope quite the opposite!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! She’s my good luck charm!”

“I’m glad you that she brings you that much happiness.”

“Yup! now that your back and with lucky here. I feel on top of the world!”

“Heheh I love you nagi!”

“I love you more.”

*meow*

“We love you too lucky!”

You all got in the car and snuggled up together. Lying your head on Nagito’s shoulders and putting his head on top of yours. With lucky on top of your laps. How cute!

#anime #writing #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa 2 #trigger happy havoc #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #makoto naegi #Kazuichu souda #kokichi ouma #kittens #x reader #S/O x danganronpa characters

[artificialqueens]

Ever in Your Favor, Chapter Four (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: The Games grow closer, and so do Denali and Rosé as they start their plan, finally going public at the interviews.

A/N: I know it's been a while, but I'm so happy to be back to this fic! Thank you all so much for the love and support, not just on this fic but in general, with everything going on lately. It really means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please leave some feedback if you'd like!

Read on AO3.

Rosé is early to dinner that night, because Denali’s words had gotten to her. She wasn’t just letting Denali down. She was letting herself down, both the younger version of herself who wanted to protect Jan and go home, and herself now, who still wants to go home. She has to help Denali, or it could kill them both. Just because she couldn’t save the tributes she mentored doesn’t mean she can’t save herself now. She can’t go into the Games blind, as much as she wanted to hide behind her sword and snarky comments, and it took Denali—someone Rosé had mentored and given advice to—to help her see it.

And it’s brought them to pretending they’re in love for Capitol favor. It’s a good idea, admittedly. So good Rosé wishes she’d thought of it. There’s nothing the audience loves more than drama, and this is the best you could get.

But alliances are hard, and an alliance with someone she knows is even riskier. Maybe this isn’t a good idea, because what if they work so well together that they’re the last tributes standing? If Denali is the only thing between Rosé and home, can she kill her? Can she kill a friend, someone she’d tried so hard to keep alive in her last Games? Can she--

“Rosé. You’re…early.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Rosé mumbles as Denali sits across from her.

“It’s a nice surprise,” Denali says, and Rosé takes it.

“So, about this plan…” Rosé is ready to suggest calling it off. But Denali tucks her hair behind her ears, and it makes her look so young, so hopeful, and Rosé can’t take her hope. Not when the world has taken so much already, leaving the energetic, fun-loving Denali in the dust. However risky the alliance is, they’re stronger together. Her close-combat skills perfectly balance Denali’s bow and speed. Together, they could really do this, and Rosé lets the strangeness of hope bloom in her chest.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Rosé says quickly. “I think we’ll be great.”

Denali beams as they browse their menus, food rushing up into the compartment next to them.

Rosé grabs the pickle off her plate. “Want this?”

“Sure.” Denali crunches happily. “Why’d you get it if you don’t like it?”

“Because I was pretty sure you liked them.”

Denali points at Rosé in approval. “See, you’re already doing relationship stuff. We got this.”

Rosé nods, but she wasn’t thinking about the fake relationship. She just wanted to see Denali happy.

---

Denali goes to meet their stylist with dread pooling in her stomach at what horrible outfits they’ll be forced into. Each district’s outfits represent their industries, which means District 1 glimmers in jewels and District 12, shafted as always, resembles a coal miner. It’s the same every year. Today, though, a new stylist sits among racks of clothes in the dressing room. She’s young, with soft skin that absolutely glows. She introduces herself as Symone, and somehow Denali hopes she might not look like an idiot this year.

“First year as a stylist?” Denali asks while Symone takes her measurements. She does her best not to flinch, reminding herself Symone’s hands aren’t an attacker’s hands.

“Yep,” Symone says. “About damn time. I’ve been trying for years, but sometimes people aren’t ready for real talent, you know?”

Denali laughs despite herself.

“I hope so,” Rosé says. “Because no offense, Symone, if you want me to wear another coal miner outfit, I’ll go out there naked.”

Denali’s cheeks are on fire, brain short-circuiting at the image of Rosé’s words.

Symone just laughs. “Well, as fun as that might be, I’d never put you in something that ugly. I’m breaking the rules a little this year.”

“What do you mean?” Denali asks.

“I think the outfits should be less about the district and more about you, since this year’s Games are about the victors. Let the Capitol see not just where you’re from, but who you are.”

Where she’s from is who Denali is--the coal dust coating everything in town; the hungry eyes of nearly everyone she passes; the harsh winters burrowing in raggedy blankets--but she gets what Symone is saying. Instead of being another faceless statistic from a district the Capitol owns, let them see Denali and everything she is.

“What did you have in mind?”

Symone almost drops her sketchbook in excitement. “Well, you both had animal nicknames in the Games, did you notice? The Lion and the Fox. I want to play with that, do some animal-inspired stuff to reference your history and present you as a union. One, instead of two.”

Denali meets Rosé’s eyes. It’s almost eerie how it worked out, how easy it’ll be to present themselves as a pair in Symone’s outfits. Like it was meant to be.

“Do you not like the idea?” Symone asks in worry, mistaking their silence.

“No, I love it! It’s brilliant, Symone,” Rosé says quickly. She’s such a big sister, Denali thinks fondly. She always praised Jan and Lagoona for their drawings no matter how hideous they were. Symone’s sketches, though, are some of the most beautiful things Denali’s seen, and she has no trouble nodding her approval.

“Great.” Symone beams. “I have samples for you to try on, to test colors and stuff.”

Rosé goes first, disappearing behind a wooden screen and returning in a ruffly pink dress, arms twisting all over to find the zipper among the ruffles.

“I got it,” Denali says. She pulls the zipper, not breathing as her hand runs up the curve of Rosé’s spine, letting her touch linger.

Symone shifts ruffles aside and takes more measurements, continuing as Rosé tries on dress after dress, with sequins and stripes and even more ruffles.

“Do a spin!” Denali says.

Rosé rolls her eyes, but she does, her red hair waving behind her as she twirls.

“Faster!”

Rosé laughs and keeps going until she stumbles, and Denali doesn’t even think before reaching out to catch her, running her hands up and down Rosé’s sides.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Denali stammers as Rosé retreats behind the screen.

“This should be illegal,” Rosé mutters, emerging in a hot-pink zebra dress with matching hat.

Denali can’t resist her laughter. “You look like Manila!”

“Shit, Denali, don’t tell me that. Let me pretend it’s not that bad.”

“Trust the process, darling!” Symone says grandly.

“Easy for you to say,” Rosé grumbles.

Denali laughs again.

“Just wait, Denali. It’s your turn, and I can’t wait to call you Manila.” Rosé’s smirk is too adorable for Denali to care about what’s coming.

Sure enough, Denali’s paraded behind the screen and given a bundle of clothes. There’s a neon nightmare, with green pants and a yellow shirt, plus a glittery orange jacket with puffy sleeves. Rosé laughs and teases her and frees her from a skin-tight red dress, and Denali gives in to it. The Games are days away, and who knows if she’ll have fun like this again. It’s nice to have her biggest worry be dresses, and she finds herself striking ridiculous poses to hear Rosé laugh and see her smile. It’s been years since they've laughed or smiled this much, and Denali’s going to treasure each one.

Symone ushers them into a group hug, and Denali can’t believe how good it feels, arms intertwined, warm bodies pressed together. She’s really missed hugs all this time on her own.

“You two are perfect,” Symone says. “With my outfits, you’ll be the talk of the Capitol.”

“As long as there’s no zebra print,” Rosé says, and Denali spends the day wishing she could hug her again.

---

The days go too fast.

Rosé hates this place, but now she’d give anything to stay at the Training Center, working out and eating with Denali, rather than go to the arena. She feels like a kid dreading being dragged back to school after summer vacation. She’s been talking to Denali more, bantering back and forth, and she’s starting to like it. But this, like summer, has to end.

They prowl around the training room every day, getting stronger, faster, better. When Denali hisses for Rosé to watch her, make the contestants see how in love they are, the command is useless. Because Rosé already can’t look away from her arms pulling the bowstring taut, how she nods to herself as she aims and lets the arrow fly, a bull’s-eye in each target. Her cheer and hug are genuine, and she revels in the surprised looks on the tributes’ faces.

They eat together every day, passing food back and forth for each other to try, working their way down the menu. Denali laughs until she cries after tricking Rosé into eating chicken in a sauce so spicy Rosé gulps down a gallon of water, and Rosé gets revenge by telling Denali to press a shower button that produces fruity bubbles, bursting into laughter when Denali shows up to breakfast smelling like a perfume store exploded on her.

And it continues, day after day, until other tributes watch them in envy, until Rosé doesn’t have to tell Denali to fake laugh at something she said, because she trusts Denali enough to say it, and Denali likes it enough to laugh.

---

The first sign of the end is their private sessions with the Gamemakers, where they show their skills and get a score. The score doesn’t mean much--people average in the sixes, and a lot purposely act mediocre to fly under the radar. The arena is a great equalizer, and Rosé’s seen tributes score a nine and die the first day. She won with a score of seven. Part of her wants to beat that score now. Plus, with her and Denali playing the romance angle, all eyes will be on them anyway. What’s the harm in Rosé showing off, getting a high score that reinforces how good she is?

There’s no point appearing weak on purpose, and Rosé enters the training room confidently. A dozen Gamemakers have a long table set up on the track, food spread from end to end, forks in hand.

“Sorry to interrupt lunch,” Rosé calls to them. “Think you could make me a take-out box?”

The group jumps, and Rosé snorts when one woman spills wine on herself.

“Go ahead,” a man says, his gaze on the basket of rolls.

Rosé sighs, and she takes the anger boiling in her and uses it like Denali said. She annihilates a training dummy with her sword, then grabs three knives and makes three bulls-eye’s on the wall target. She does the same with three spears, the little red circle not even visible around her accuracy.

The same man dismisses her, and Rosé leaves without another word, annoyed and clueless on what her score will be.

Denali paces the hall outside. She looks expectantly at Rosé, who shrugs.

“They’re having lunch,” Rosé says. “They barely paid attention. But you make them pay attention, okay? I believe in you. Good luck.”

Denali smiles and heads in. Rosé can’t hear anything, but Denali comes out much faster than she did, breathing sharply.

“I fucked up,” Denali says, pacing circles and wringing her hands. “Shit, I fucked up.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Rosé soothes. “What happened?”

Denali mumbles something that sounds like shot an arrow at the Gamemakers.

Rosé blinks. “Did you say you shot an arrow at the Gamemakers?”

Denali hums miserably.

“What happened?”

Denali huffs, coming to a stop. “They weren’t paying attention! Someone brought out a roast pig, and they were literally slicing it while I practiced. So I took an arrow and shot the apple out of the pig’s mouth.”

Rosé bursts into laughter. “That’s so badass!”

“No!” Denali shakes her head, and Rosé sees fear in her eyes. “Rosé, I’m sorry. They’re probably gonna punish you because of me and make things extra miserable for us in the arena.”

“Like they aren’t gonna do that already?” Rosé asks, and Denali cracks a smile. Rosé’s touched that she’s Denali’s first concern, but she won’t let her worry. “Look, it’s fine. They’re supposed to watch you, and they didn’t. That’s on them. I’m not worried, Denali. It’ll be okay.”

Denali nods.

“How did they react?” Rosé asks, because Denali needs more cheering up, more reassurance that she hasn’t done any harm.

“Well, one lady dropped her wine glass. One guy spit out his roll. Another actually screamed and tipped over in his chair.” Denali cackles, and Rosé joins her, laughing until their stomachs hurt. It really is okay.

And when they each receive scores of ten that night, Rosé believes it.

---

Denali’s gotten so used to training that she could pretend the Games weren’t coming. Until it's interview day, with the Games the next morning. The countdown is officially at hours instead of days, and her stomach churns like waves.

She grunts her way through the prep, a trio of people waxing her and fixing her nails, like preparing a doll for the Capitol children. At least it keeps her mind off things. Like how Rosé feels like a friend again, like when Denali and Jan and Lagoona would run up to her after school, babbling about a million things and begging for gossip on the older kids. Like how they both earned the highest tribute scores, labelling them as threats, and how Denali almost likes being seen as a threat. Like how tonight, they’re going to confirm their ‘relationship’ on live television. There’s no turning back, and she almost wishes Rosé was here instead of in her own prep room. At least Denali wouldn’t feel as alone. It’s strange how quickly she’s come to enjoy talking with Rosé again, when they’ve barely talked all their years as mentors, everything they share just too wide a bridge to cross. But they’ve crossed it now, and having Rosé again was worth the journey.

Symone runs in, a beautiful turquoise dress flowing behind her, and helps Denali into her outfit. It’s softer on her skin than the scratchy burlap she’d worn eleven years ago, and Denali hopefully peeks in the mirror.

She’s gorgeous.

The dress is long and white, made of tiny strands of fabric that reflect the light and twinkle in every color of the rainbow, like sun bouncing off gleaming snow. Like the fur of a white fox.

“Do you like it?” Symone asks.

“Holy shit,” Denali mutters, and it’s answer enough.

“I’m gonna get Rosé,” Symone says, but Denali hardly hears her. She can’t look away from how beautiful she looks, with her dress and pale blue eyeshadow and her hair in its familiar braid. She’s the Fox.

And Rosé is the Lion.

Denali gasps when she sees Rosé’s golden dress, the fabric shifting under the light and revealing soft tones of amber. The lion pin over her heart is a little too beat-up to shine, but it does anyway. She’s beautiful, beautiful in a way Denali can’t ignore anymore, beautiful in a way that Denali never wants to look away from again.

“You look amazing,” Rosé says, watching Denali with wondrous eyes.

“So do you.”

Symone hugs them, and they head to their chariot.

Denali hated this last time. Her fellow tribute was bigger than her, and they were stuffed into this thing, Denali crammed against the side trying not to fall out. And she was in a hideous coal miner outfit on top of it.

Tonight, she’s in control, and she's beautiful. The chariots pull through the City Circle one by one, past masses of people. It’s the biggest crowd Denali’s ever seen, a blur of color and cheers. The crowd is screaming when District 1 pulls out, and they don’t let up for District 12. People are already rooting for them, and it’s so bright, so loud. Almost too much. Rosé stiffens beside her and Denali knows she’s thinking the same thing. But they have to do this. Denali squeezes Rosé’s hand, the touch easing the ringing in her ears.

“Don’t let go of me,” Denali whispers.

Rosé doesn’t.

---

After the chariots, they’re lined up by the stage. District 12 is last of course, and Denali has to listen to 22 other tributes be charming and witty and lovely. Nina West, the Capitol interviewer, is unavoidable in a rainbow dress, and Denali winces against its brightness. She wishes a quiet good luck to Rosé before she takes the stage.

Rosé waltzes on stage with the spin Denali made her do in the dressing room and becomes a star in an instant, joking about how the Capitol just had to have her back, about how she still presses the wrong shower buttons and filled the room with bubbles last night, and everyone rolls with laughter. But when Nina’s face turns serious, Denali knows the tide has turned.

“Now, you volunteered for your sister last time.”

“Right,” Rosé says quietly, and Denali remembers her saying that she didn’t want anyone using Jan against her.

“I see you’re wearing her pin again.”

Rosé nods. “I gave it to her as a birthday gift when she was a kid. When I said goodbye, she gave it to me and made me promise to bring it home to her. To me, it’s...it’s a symbol of love and home.”

It’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop. People volunteering like Rosé is extremely rare. Denali remembers how people back home had whispered about her last time. Some people called her selfish, said she was the oldest daughter and shouldn’t have left her parents. Some said she was an idiot and should have sent her sister to the Games, a pig to the slaughter, and counted herself lucky that she was spared. But many people, Denali included, thought that Rosé was brave, almost certainly saving her sister’s life even at the risk of her own. A kind of brave, a kind of love, that you don’t see much anymore. Everyone in the Capitol held the same belief, and it was why they loved her so much, in awe of her devotion and kindness. Why they love her still, if the adoring gazes are any indication.

“And did you make the same promise this time?” Nina asks.

“I did.”

Nina nods solemnly. “It’s wonderful to hear about your family.” Her smile is genuine, and Denali wonders how someone so nice ended up doing this. “While we're on the subject, is there anyone special back home?”

Denali holds her breath. This is it, practically served on a platter. All Rosé has to do is take it.

And boy, does she.

She smiles mischievously, fixing her hair while the audience holds their breath, wondering if she’s taken or if they somehow have a chance with her.

“Well, Nina, I do have someone. Except she’s not home.”

Nina’s eyes light up. “Are you saying--”

Rosé nods. “Yes. The woman I love came here with me.”

People actually scream. Some gasp, some cheer, while Nina tries to hush them and ask Rosé more questions. Even Denali smiles in surprise and she knows the camera catches it. Rosé is every inch the lovestruck woman she needs to be, and Denali listens as she explains how they’d gotten together.

“Denali was like a little sister to me, you know? She was best friends with my sister Jan, and they were always following me around. Little terrors,” she jokes, and the audience laughs. “She was always so funny, so strong and brave. I saw that firsthand when I mentored her. She’s amazing, isn’t she? Everything she does with her bow--I’d poke my eye out.” Another laugh, more smiles. Rosé’s face softens as she continues. “We lived nearby after the Games, but I always kept my feelings secret. I was just too afraid to tell her. But after the Quell, I had to. We stayed awake all night on the train here, and I finally told her. We agreed to work together for the Games, and Denali...she gives me a lot of hope going into them.”

The crowd is on their feet, clamoring for more, but they’re past the time limit, and Rosé exits to applause that goes on for over a minute.

By the time Denali takes the stage, they’re absolutely rabid. Nina asks her basic questions first, stringing things along and making everyone wait. Denali has no idea what she answers, because she’s still reeling from Rosé’s interview, goosebumps on her arms at how much Rosé admires her. She sounded so genuine. Someone hopelessly in love and afraid to confess her feelings, finally doing so in the face of danger. It didn’t happen, there was no love confession on the train, but Denali almost feels like there was, because Rosé made it that real. But this is just a game; she can’t forget that, no matter how in love Rosé seemed. They’re just friends.

“Now, I have to ask what we’re all waiting for.” Nina’s cheerful voice cuts through her thoughts. “Tell us about you and Rosé!”

Denali puts on a smile. “Well, like she said, me and her sisters followed her around all the time. We probably were little terrors.” Nina smiles, and the crowd follows. “I always admired her. I watched her Games all day and night, because I just had to see her win,” Denali says, heart tingling at the memory of her joy when Rosé won. “And then I had her as a mentor, and she helped me so much, with whatever I needed. She never gave up on me, and that respect and awe I had for her turned to love over the years. I didn’t know she felt the same way.”

The words feel real, simple and close enough to the truth to be believable. Denali smiles and bats her eyelashes, a woman in love. Nothing is a lie except for the love part, and Denali could leave it at that, but a memory pops into her head. One to really seal the deal, a thought she hates an instant later, because Rosé is her friend, not just some pawn.

“When I was eleven, my father got hurt. He was fine, but he was out of work for a few weeks, and things were...hard. I was really upset. And Rosé—I don’t even know if she remembers this—she stuck a cookie in my bag every day on the way to school. Just to help me feel a little better. She never brought it up, never wanted attention or thanks for it. She just wanted to help.”

Denali swallows as the audience awws. The camera is surely panning to Rosé, but Denali can’t look at her. The memory hit harder than she expected. She never lets herself remember it, because she hates even acknowledging that she’d needed charity. But it was never like that with Rosé. She never made it seem like charity, never wanted power over Denali by helping her. Rosé just wanted to help. She’s the only person who ever helped Denali when she was a kid, and real tears prickle in her eyes.

“I never forgot that,” Denali continues. “It shows how kind and caring she is. That’s why I fell in love with her.”

Nina wipes her eyes. Everyone is yelling their names, clapping and blowing kisses, and Denali knows.

They’ve won this round.

Game, set, match.

---

Rosé can’t sleep.

It should come easy, after how well the interviews went, how beloved they’ve become overnight. Yet it’s 1am and sleep isn’t coming. She can’t spend another minute in this room, staring at the ceiling and suffocating under thousand-thread-count sheets. She heads to the common room on their floor, and she’s not the only one awake.

Denali’s on the couch, watching footage from her Games.

“Can’t sleep either?” Denali guesses, turning off the TV.

Rosé shakes her head. “Okay if I sit?”

Denali nods, and Rosé takes the end of the couch, afraid to breach the gap between them even if she wants to, wants to feel someone human near her before tomorrow. But they’re not on camera, and maybe Denali won’t want that.

“Does it get tiring?” Rosé asks suddenly.

“What?”

“Watching the Games over and over. Your workouts,” Rosé explains. She never talks about the Games--hell, until this year she’s never talked about anything big with Denali. But something is coming undone in Rosé tonight. Maybe the threat of tomorrow. Maybe how close she and Denali have become. Maybe how everything she said about Denali on stage is lingering in her heart. Maybe how Denali remembered Rosé’s childish attempts to help her with cookies all those years ago, how Rosé’s heart warms at the memory. Whatever the reason, the words are flying out past everything Rosé uses to keep them inside.

“Does it get tiring trying to ignore it all?” Denali doesn’t sound mean, just curious.

“Yes,” Rosé says bluntly. “I just...wouldn’t know what else to do.”

She learned early on that the only way to get out of bed and function was to put all the thoughts and feelings and horrors of the Games deep inside herself, seal them tight, and pretend they weren’t there. They come back sometimes. In nightmares. In certain smells that take her back to the arena, muscles instantly clenching. In the time she got a papercut and was frozen in place when Lagoona found her, because of the blood, the blood. But for the most part, she has a handle on things. Living like Denali--going on runs, watching the footage, talking about it constantly--would just be inviting it in, breaking the seal on the memories. And that’s undoubtedly worse than Rosé’s method of dealing.

“It gets tiring for me too sometimes,” Denali admits, playing with the couch cushion. “I guess I’m trying to fight it. Like if I keep running, memorize the Games, then I’ll beat it and it can’t hurt me.”

“Does it work?”

Denali just shrugs.

“Sometimes I think they want us to forget,” Rosé says. She’s never voiced it to anyone, but she’s safe with Denali.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean …” Rosé tugs on her shirt, exposing her left shoulder. “In my Games, that boy’s axe got me here. I felt it, Denali. My shoulder was torn open, the blood was everywhere. I woke up in the hospital without a mark on me.”

“My knee too,” Denali says quietly. “I saw the bone when it happened, and now there’s nothing. Like it never happened. It just gets stiff sometimes.”

“It’s like the Capitol wants us to fear the Games, but forget how bad they were. They erase the scars and give us nice houses and expect us to be grateful. Perfect little victors,” Rosé spits. There’s an anger there she usually ignores, the deep hurt of the Capitol parading her around as a victor but not actually caring about her.

“I think it’s another way to control us,” Denali says. “Who’s gonna speak out against them when they fixed us up and gave us a nice house with heat and indoor plumbing, y’know?”

Rosé nods. “I guess I just want—“

“You want a life they don’t own. A life that’s yours,” Denali guesses. A guess that flies out so easily because it’s something she wants herself, something no one else understands. When Rosé left for the Games, Denali was still young enough to have that wish. She had the freedom to not know what she wanted to be when she was older. No one dreams of becoming a Hunger Games victor.

But somehow they both did.

“Yeah.” Rosé sighs. It’s something she never really lets herself imagine—a normal life with her family, with easy sleep and no Capitol obligations—but something she longs for just the same. And Denali understands. Rosé wonders if it could’ve been like this all the time if she had the courage to talk to her.

“Are you scared?” Denali asks suddenly.

“Fuck, how could I not be?” Rosé mutters, her honesty continuing. “I mean, I’m scared to go back, sure, but…but I’m also scared that if I come out, I might not be me anymore. I don’t want the Games to make me something I don’t want to be.” She doesn’t know how to explain it, only that she doesn’t want to lose herself to the Games, to what she might have to do. She never wants to become so soaked with blood that she can’t recognize herself.

Denali nods. “You still want to be you at the end. Not just a piece of the Games.”

The words strike Rosé’s heart like she thought them herself. “Yes.”

“It scares me too.”

It shouldn’t do anything. It’s just a simple confirmation that they feel the same way, recognize something in each other. But it proves to Rosé that she’s not alone, that someone understands her, and after she and Denali say goodnight around two, she falls asleep easily.

---

The sun dawns bright the morning of the Games.

Denali moves in a daze, stomach knotting over a silent breakfast with Rosé.

She needs to focus. She needs to let go of last night, of how real Rosé’s love seemed, of how she let her guard down and talked with her, of how close they’ve gotten. This is a game, and it’s about to start. Time seems to malfunction, and one minute she’s picking at her food and the next Manila’s leading them to the launch room. This is it.

Denali’s heart pounds as they get ready. She’s in all black--boots, pants, shirt, and jacket--and Rosé is dressed the same. Her lion pin roars on her jacket, while Denali has her mother’s necklace. She hopes it protects her.

Manila dabs her tears with a bumblebee handkerchief, and Denali would roll her eyes, but she’s pretty sure it’s genuine.

“Remember,” Rosé says hoarsely, “we get our weapons and run.”

Denali nods as they step on the plates that take them to the arena. Denali closes her eyes as the platform shoots up, her head spinning as she tries to breathe. Everything stops, and the announcer’s voice declares the 75th Hunger Games have begun.

Denali opens her eyes.

#rpdr fanfiction #denali foxx #rosé #symone #rosnali #lesbian au #s13 #hunger games au #ever in your favor #athena2 #concrit welcome #submission

[moth-and-raven]

CHAPTER TWELVE

I can’t sleep. And from my window, I see that Julian and Portia can’t either; the lights in the little cottage stay on long into the night. I hope they’re catching up, after a decade apart.

A piece of me wants to rejoin them. I felt so safe cocooned in the smells of Portia’s cooking and the laughter we shared. It drained away step by step as I returned to the palace. I trust both of them, but I miss them, too, even though they’re so close. It’s weird to be able to put faces to the holes in my heart.

I must’ve fallen asleep eventually, though, because I startle at the sound of a songbird greeting the dawn. We didn’t agree on an exact time to meet up again, but the earlier the better. With any luck, no one will be wasting the few days left before the Masquerade hanging around Lucio’s old rooms.

At least, no one but us.

The summer morning is cool and clear, buoying me down the garden path to the cottage. Julian emerges as soon as he sees me; Portia has to physically hold him back from running out to meet me. I laugh, seeing her strong, freckled arms wrapped around him from behind. She grimaces and releases him as I shut the door.

“Finally,” she grunts, though it can’t be later than six-thirty. “Nothing personal, but I’m already tired of hearing your name today.”

Julian pulls me into an embrace and spins around the small room, kissing my cheeks and forehead. “Good morning, my darling,” he murmurs. “What a sight you are.”

“Will you calm down, lover boy?” Portia rolls her eyes and swats at him, but I hear the smile in her voice.

He stops, raking his gaze over my face. “No,” he says softly. “I can't.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to.” She shakes her head and pulls a bundle of clothing from behind a chair. “‘Ian’ isn’t very excitable.”

“Ian?”

“Would you rather be Jules again?”

Julian looks closely at the clothes in Portia’s arms: a palace servant’s uniform, similar to her own, all cream and gold. “I need a different name?”

“Look, would you just let me have my fun?” she pouts, quickly turning it into a grin. “You’re Ian, my humble assistant for the day. That means you have to listen to me or I’ll fire you.”

“You wouldn’t fire me, would you?”

Portia eyes him up and down, as if thinking hard. “Yes I would,” she says. “You’re very fire-able.”

All three of us laugh. I can’t help but snuggle into Julian’s chest to feel the rumble of it. He nuzzles my hair, sighing contentedly as the moment passes. “I suppose I can let ‘Ian’ have the spotlight,” he tells Portia, taking the clothes from her. "At least for today."

“Good. I want to get up there soon. Did you have breakfast, Reyja?”

I don’t want to take her food, but I shake my head as she glances out the window at the sun.

“There’re some eggs on the counter, and an orange too, I think. I have some chores to do before we go, but they shouldn’t take long,” she says, moving to the door. “Ten minutes tops. Be ready by then?”

Julian nods.

Portia narrows her eyes at him, then at me. “Wait for me if you guys get done first, okay? You’ll be the least conspicuous if I’m around.”

Silence settles in the room after she leaves. I sit down on Portia’s perfumed couch; Julian starts to join me, then thinks better of it and ducks into the bathroom to change instead.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks. I can still hear him clearly.

“Not really. Too excited.”

“Nor did I."

I frown. "That's two nights in a row, isn't it? That you haven't slept?"

"Ahm… yes."

"Will you be alright?"

"This is nothing, truly. And I did sleep a bit. It'll tide me over, I promise."

I'm surprised by how fiercely I want to take care of him. I've never felt like that before. "If we get a minute, we should take a nap."

"Oh, darling, that sounds absolutely divine."

I lean on the back of the couch, resting my chin on my crossed wrists, watching the shadows he casts on the wall as he changes into his new outfit. Portia did the best she could finding clothes that would fit, but it looks like both shirt and trousers will hang loosely on him.

When he’s dressed, he reappears at the open door, doing up the last of his gilded buttons. “I was thinking about us.” He pauses, looking at me tenderly. “And I’m curious: would you have accepted my, erm, advances, from the beginning?”

“Like breaking-into-the-shop beginning?”

“Ha, had I not been so focused on tracking Asra down, I might’ve asked to stay.”

“Really?”

“I considered it.” He laughs. “You were in your element, my dear, with your spells and your blade. And in that robe too… I kept trying to think of reasons to come back, all the next day. If you hadn’t shown up at the Raven, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“Is that why you were so eager to talk that night?”

“What, when I asked you to dinner?”

That is what he did, isn’t it? A date I didn’t even realize we were on. “Yeah.”

“Circumstances being as they were, I did find myself wondering about that pendant. That you were carrying it only made me more interested.”

I touch the smooth silver moon hanging around my neck. “You still can't remember what it means?”

“No. I don’t mind, though. If all it did was bring us together, it means the world to me.”

My heart surges, swelling with affection. He grins and crosses the room, cupping my cheek as he kneels to press his lips to mine.

“I never did get to say what I pictured doing with you, did I?” he asks, more breath than sound.

He didn’t, though I can hardly regret what happened instead. I don’t have to encourage him to go on.

“Hm.” He sits down beside me. “Aside from the obvious, as I so vividly demonstrated, they're the most mundane things. Like— like taking you shopping, or doing laundry together. Is that… do you find that odd?”

I shake my head and nestle against him. It isn’t odd; it’s one of the most soothing scenes I’ve ever imagined.

“And, and settling down with you at the end of a long day,” he murmurs. “Just like this, or maybe in front of a fireplace. Anywhere, really, so long as you’re in my arms.”

I let my eyes flutter shut as I inhale the scent of his skin, his hair. “We could read together,” I suggest. “Or play cards.”

“We could, we could. Would you let me take you out to dinner again, too? Show you off?”

“If you wanted.”

“Oh, I want the whole city, the whole world, to see us and know we’re together. And we could even take Nurlan up on her offer of seeing a show, couldn’t we? I’m no stranger to the stage, you know. I used to be quite the actor. That’s where I met her, in fact.”

A slightly less peaceful thought burrows between his words, grinning slyly at me. “That could be fun,” I say. “Did you have your own dressing room and everything?”

His heavy-lidded gaze turns sultry as he follows where I lead. “All to myself.”

“Do they let audience members backstage if they really, really want to visit?”

“My darling, I wouldn’t let them keep you from me for all the gold in the Palace’s coffers.”

I hum contentedly, admiring the image in my head: I’m already in his dressing room when he comes through the door, flushed and exhilarated from a successful opening night. I stand up to greet him and draw him in for a kiss that turns rapidly from celebratory to sensual. I’m sure he can taste my intentions.

His chest moves with the sigh he heaves. “So much I want to experience with you,” he says wistfully.

“We can.”

“Do you think so?”

I peer up at him, throwing one leg over his thighs as I tuck myself into his side. “Yes.”

“Well, who am I to nay-say such confidence, hm?”

I don’t think anyone has ever described me as confident, but he’s right. I feel it. I’m tired, but excited, and hopeful, and determined to see what happens next. Maybe this will be beyond my capabilities, but I won’t face it alone.

“Oh, I could spend a lifetime kissing you,” Julian murmurs. “I want to spend a lifetime kissing you.”

“It takes two, doesn’t it? We’d be kissing each other.”

“So we would.” He grins. “Shall we start right away?”

He’s dressed and ready to go. Portia will still be a few minutes. We have time, but I won’t waste any of it by saying so.

We’re in a somewhat compromising position when she returns: sprawled along the couch, Julian laying against me with my legs wrapped around his hips, so involved in each other that I don’t even hear the door. I should’ve known better — it’s already apparent that his touch, his very presence, blurs my caution into action every time. Even the looming threats of the Plague and the Masquerade pale in the warmth he spreads.

Both of us scramble to sit up in response to Portia’s beleaguered sigh, but she just shakes her head. “Come on,” she says. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner the two of you can have some privacy. Wait, where’s your wig?”

“Oh, erm.” Julian gestures towards the bathroom.

Portia rolls her eyes. “Put it on. Everyone knows to look out for a redhead. They won’t be expecting dark hair instead.”

Julian offers his hand to help me up, dropping a final kiss to my knuckles before breaking away to collect the wig Portia found. It washes him out a little, but he doesn’t look half-bad with straight black hair falling to his chin, covering his right eye. He smiles bashfully and does his best to tuck his new bangs behind his ear, but they won’t stay. It’s for the best: he’d be even more conspicuous wearing his patch, and this way no one can see, and be tipped off by, his plagued eye.

We follow Portia through the sunlit gardens to the palace, swinging our linked arms. “We’re probably gonna have to go the back way,” she explains, tossing the words over her shoulder as she fishes for her ring of keys to unlock the same greenhouse we left through last night. “Carmeline was telling me that they’re blocking off the whole suite for the party, so no one wanders up there accidentally.”

“What’s the back way?” I ask.

“This, the servants’ passages. They run all over the building. Sorry about your neck, Ian,” she says to Julian, smiling cheekily. “You’ll have to crouch down.”

He sighs, resigned to his fate.

“Reyja can give you a massage later, right?”

I certainly could, and squeeze his hand to tell him so.

“What a reward,” he says dreamily. He’s about to lean in to kiss me again when Portia smacks his arm.

“No more of that. Not while we’re here.”

“Ah, of course.”

“And stay close. It’s easy to get lost, the way we’re going.”

I lose my bearings after the first three turns. How anyone can navigate these twisting halls with no indication of where they are in the broader scheme of the palace is beyond me, but every servant we pass seems to know exactly where they’re going. It’s for the best that they’re so focused, and so busy: no one gives Julian a second glance. Maybe his disguise was unnecessary, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.

We follow Portia single-file, past living quarters and storage rooms and kitchens and closets. At one point we pass an armory, full to the brim with weapons long neglected to rust. A tiny staircase gives us pause; it’s barely wide enough for my hips, and poor Julian is nearly doubled over to avoid the low ceiling. But we manage to squeeze up the tight spiral and crowd together on the landing crowning it while Portia feels for the door handle in the dark. I call a small light to my palm to help her, but our bodies cast shadows too dark to see through.

She finds it eventually, and we stagger out of the wall into ash piled high like snowdrifts. We’re on the other side of the suite now, opposite where Portia and I explored before. My heart catches in my throat when I realize that we’ve emerged in Lucio’s bedroom itself, untouched for the last three years, stirring cinders into the air with our breath and footsteps.

It’s so quiet. Eerily quiet, like sound is being eaten before it can escape. I close my eyes against the force of the silence.

And Lucio’s spark flares into view, white-silver and red, the vaguest shape of a man, blurred at the edges. His form disappears when I open my eyes again, but his presence remains, angrier than he was a few days ago. I wonder if he knows what time of year it is. The Masquerade was held in celebration of his birthday, after all, and from what I know of him, he’s probably pretty upset that people are ignoring its origins and partying without him.

At least that gives me an emotion to latch onto.

I rest one hand on Portia’s soft shoulder, holding her back before she can venture further in.

“What?” she asks. I can hear the excitement and concern mingled in her voice.

“He’s here,” I say simply.

Julian’s pressed so close to me I feel him tremble when I close my eyes again. I do my best to ignore him, weaving Asra’s old spells into careful nets to keep Lucio from vanishing when we call to him properly. He knows we’re here too, I think, but he can’t see us. I enclose the space around us, sealing up the room. Win or lose, here we go.

“Ready?” I ask quietly.

“We don’t have much of a choice, do we?” Julian whispers back, barely keeping his nerves at bay. Despite his eagerness last night, I can tell that this isn’t his favorite thing.

“Nope,” Portia says. “So let’s do it.”

“Okay.”

I call magical bindings to my fingertips, to hold him here when he manifests. I’d rather not use them if I can help it, because I know how much it will drain me, but needs must. Air mixed with fine particles of soot fills my lungs and I hold back a cough to call out to him: “Count Lucio?”

His aura flares red, searching through his former suite for the intrusion. But when he finds us, he recoils. Waves of fear and confusion replace his hostility even as he tries to stand his ground.

“Who’s there?” he hisses, but only I can hear him. His voice is reedy, a faint echo of what a living throat can make.

I ignore the question. He’ll find out soon enough. “We’ve come to visit you.”

“Uh-huh, sure. A palace full of toadies and not a single person comes up here until now.”

Not a single—? He’s been alone all this time? Three years, a floating consciousness with nothing else to do? How desperately lonely he must be.

“What do you want?” he adds peevishly. “I’m not really entertaining right now, y’get me?”

His presence is getting stronger, the more he funnels into communicating with us. He’s still unfocused, but I can almost see him when he moves. Behind me, Julian and Portia are frozen, holding each other’s hands, letting me work.

“That’s okay,” I tell him. “We won’t take long.”

“Hmph. Where else am I gonna go?” he pouts. “They’re shutting me up in here, away from the party.”

I wonder if he’ll manifest more quickly with flattery… “Locking you out of your own party?”

“Thank you! Finally, someone who recognizes how fucking stupid that is!” His shape roils like a thundercloud, smoke filling a glass vase until he almost looks solid. “The Masquerade is my baby! I may be dead, but I’m not gone!”

“That’s right,” I say, taking a hesitant step closer. “Um, speaking of… we had some questions for you.”

“Why d’you keep saying ‘we?’ There’s only one of you.”

Oh. “I… brought some friends. One of them might look familiar. He’s the one who wants to ask you about, uh…”

Lucio cuts me off. “Lemme see! Anyone who remembers me has shit to answer for, like—”

He stops dead the moment I take Julian’s hand. Both of them gasp, seeing each other for the first time. Julian’s skin is ice-cold, colder than usual, and his palm is damp with sweat, but he swallows bravely and raises his voice.

“Hello, Lucio.”

“Jules? ” Lucio says, the word dripping with incredulity.

“Now, you know I never liked that nickname—”

“Fuck my ass, it is you!”

“Erm.”

Lucio flows like quicksilver over the ash-stained carpet to shove his ghostly face into Julian’s. His eyes are the same piercing, plagued red, but his pupils are so pale as to be invisible.

“How fucking dare you?” Lucio shrieks. He tries to push Julian’s shoulder, but passes right through him. It only makes him angrier. “You fucking hack! I dug you outta the fucking trash to bring you here and wha’d’it get me, huh?! I trusted you, I gave you everything you fucking asked for! Why couldn’t you do what you said you would, asshole? This is all your fault! ”

I pull Julian back; he stumbles against me, flinching away from Lucio’s wrath. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“No! You fucking didn’t! You didn’t do shit and now fucking look at me!”

“Lucio, I—”

“Never should've trusted you. I thought we had somethin’, y’know? Since you were there for the arm thing and all. I should've called Naz-whatever instead.”

Julian swallows hard. “Nazali — erm, Doctor Satrinava — couldn’t have risked—”

“Don’t you dare fucking lecture me, Jules!”

Julian winces as Lucio launches into another tirade. I squeeze his hand; I could let go of him and he wouldn’t have to hear any of it, since it’s only through me they can communicate. But he squeezes back and draws a steadying breath.

“Look, Lucio, as nice as it is to hear your voice again—”

“And now you’re fucking mocking me? How dare—”

“— I really only have the one question. Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Lucio crosses his arms, looking for all the world a petulant child just told he had five minutes until bedtime. “I’m gonna make the same promise you made me,” he says. “I’ll do ‘whatever I can.’ And apparently, that means I don’t have to do jack shit.”

Julian sighs. “Did I kill you?”

“You sure as fuck didn’t fucking cure me, did’ya?”

“No, I mean… at the end?”

“Pfft. You might as well have.”

The crunch of ash fills the silence.

“... But I didn't?”

Lucio shrugs.

“I didn’t kill you?!”

“I don’t know, okay?” Lucio turns his back on us and floats across the room to the soot-stained curtains, pawing uselessly at them as he tries to open the window. He grunts in annoyance and stares at the wall instead.

Julian presses his point. “You don’t know who killed you?”

“Look, I was kinda busy at the time. Dying and shit.”

“Do you remember anything?”

He scowls. “I remember someone coming in… someone tall, and thin. And pale. But… but I don’t think it was you. They weren’t… they weren’t human …”

I could shout for joy. I won’t, but I could. Julian is innocent! I knew he had to be! If there was someone else in the room before him, Lucio might have been dead before he even got there. That’s a mystery of its own, but I can’t help the relief flooding through my veins. Whoever it was, it wasn’t him. And right now, that’s as much of a victory as I need.

But Julian’s still worried, and still deadly focused on Lucio’s nebulous form.

“Hey, uh. I got a question for you, too,” Lucio says, shaking himself out of his patchy memories. “You owe me one, anyway.”

Julian nods for him to continue.

“You still in contact with that Skylar guy?”

Julian startles. “Skylar? I haven’t seen him in years. How do you know him?”

“Duh, he was here. Cared about me more than you ever did, too.”

“I… don’t remember that.”

Lucio smirks. “I sure as fuck do. Damn, if I hadn’t been, like, dying… he could rearrange my guts any day.”

I hadn’t realized Portia could hear him too, but she stifles a snicker behind her hand. The other, I see, is still holding Julian’s. Julian himself blushes, and clears his throat.

“Erm, I’ll be sure to let him know.”

“ASAP. He’s here, y’know.”

“What? How do you know that, if you can’t—?”

Lucio preens. “My good doggies were playing with Salsa a few days ago. I heard them.”

“You heard…” Julian trails off, then turns to Portia. I can almost hear his mind racing. “Pasha, is a tall man with dark skin and green eyes staying in the palace?”

Lucio interrupts before she can answer. “Do you think I’d be asking if he was actually here here? I just know he’s somewhere in the city.”

And Julian laughs, his shoulders loosening. Whoever this Skylar is, his presence must mean a lot to him. “I bet I know exactly where.”

—————

Skylar belongs to @ollifree.

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#the arcana #the arcana fanfic #reyja north #julian devorak #moth & raven

[littlerose13writes]

Glitter and Snowmen by LittleRose13

Day 7, The 12 Days of Shipmas - Snowman☃️

In which some families are a little too competitive.  

Words: 1,933  Pairings: Harry/Ginny

23rd December, 2015

“It snowed! Everyone wake up right now, it snowed last night and there’s snow everywhere!”

Lily Potter’s dulcet tones woke everyone in the house up within minutes through her sheer excitement. The seven-year-old swung open both her brothers’ doors and she ran into Albus’ room first, jumping on top of him where he lay under his duvet.

“Is it really snowing?” he said excitedly, pushing her off him and jumping out of bed. He ran to the window and pressed his hands and face against it. “We have to tell James, come on!”

Albus grabbed Lily’s hand and pulled her from the room. They hurtled into James’ room and Lily repeated her technique of jumping directly on top of her sleeping brother. James was less impressed than Albus had been.

“Geroff me Lily,” he complained, pushing his face deeper into his pillow.

“But James, you have to wake up! It’s snowed!”

“It’ll still have snowed in two hours, goodnight.” He sandwiched his head between two pillows and turned away from them. Lily shared a disappointed look with Albus.

“Fine, I’m gonna wake up Tebby!” She rushed from the room and directly into Harry, who was waiting on the landing.

“Don’t wake Teddy up, Lil,” he said kindly.

“Daddy! Did you know there’s snow?”

“I might have heard you mention it once, yes,” Harry replied, picking his daughter up.

“James won’t wake up and play with us,” she said glumly, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder. From the ground, Albus could see the sly grin she was showing over Harry’s shoulder and he rolled his eyes at his little sister.

“It is a bit early for your brothers.”

“Albus is awake,” Lily said confusedly. “He’s a brother.”

“Well, as we’re the only three up, we get to make the first footprints.”

“Yes!” Lily cried, heading straight for the stairs.

“Stop. Not in pyjamas, your mother will have my head.”

It didn’t take long for Lily, Albus and Harry to be bundled up in coats, boots, hats, scarves and gloves. Lily was wearing James’ Gryffindor hat, which was sure to cause problems when he woke up, but Harry decided to let it slide for now.

“You can go first, Lily. You’re the littlest.”

Her brother was trying to be kind, but Lily resented being referred to as little. Harry could clearly see the internal battle she was undergoing, torn between not wanting to admit she was the littlest but also wanting to be the first out in the snow.

“Same time!” she cried eventually, grabbing Albus’ hand and jumping from the doorstep into the blanket of snow covering the garden. Her blue wellies sank into the surface with a satisfying crunch right beside Albus’ orange pair. He grinned down at his sister and they both sprinted off as fast as they could in the thick snow.

By the time everyone else was up and dressed for the snow, Harry had cast several warming charms over his youngest two children, who refused to come inside and warm up properly. Harry didn’t blame them; this was the first time it had snowed properly where they lived since Lily was a baby.

Snow always reminded him of Hogwarts and fond memories of snowball fights with the Weasleys; building snowmen with only a little magic help; sending Trevor the toad skidding across the frozen lake surface. Now stood here watching his children experience the wonder snow provided was just as delightful.

Despite now being a first year at Hogwarts and often too grown up to play with his little brother and sister like he used to, James emerged with a pure and childlike joy on his face. He came running out into the garden, immediately gathering a handful of snow and firing it at Harry, who dutifully allowed it to hit him full in the face. James cheered and went to scoop up more.

Teddy was a seventh year and Ginny a fully grown adult and yet they too were laughing hysterically, snow flying everywhere. There was something about snow that turned anyone into a child again.

“I want to build a snowman!” Lily exclaimed after a while.

“Me too!” Albus agreed, immediately scrabbling at the ground to make a start.

“Everyone should build one! A best snowman competition!” Lily cried in excitement.

“Wait, that’s not fair because the grown-ups can use magic!” Albus protested.

Lily considered this for a second. “Okay, put your hand up if you can use magic.”

Harry, Ginny and Teddy exchanged amused looks and obediently put their hands up. James’ hand shot up too.

“Legally, James. You’re a first year.”

James scowled at Ginny’s comment.

“Mum, you can build a snowman with James, Al can build one with Daddy and I’m going to build one with Tebby,” Lily announced.

“Come on Lily-Lu, it’s on!” Teddy grabbed her hand and ran with her to the other side of the garden where an untouched pile of snow sat. “I have the best idea, listen to this.” He whispered into her ear and she looked gleeful.

“I want to go with Teddy,” Albus sulked and Harry folded his arms.

“You mean, you don’t want to hear about my competition-winning snowman design idea, Al?”

Albus brightened up and turned to his dad. “What design idea?”

Harry cast Ginny and James a furtive look. “I can’t tell you here, come and see.” He took Albus’ hand and lead him to the corner opposite Teddy and Lily, who made a big show of turning their backs secretly.

“We’re not letting anyone else win are we, Mum.” James stated defiantly.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.”

An hour later, three snowmen stood in the Potters’ garden and everybody was freezing, despite the warming charms Harry had cast on his children’s coats.

Teddy and Lily’s was the most decorated out of the three, wearing not only a conjured hat and scarf but also a waistcoat and bow tie, which Lily had decorated liberally with glitter Teddy summoned for her. Its smile was made out of frosty snail shells Lily had found under a watering can.

Ginny and James’ snowman was the biggest, and probably would have survived a snowstorm it was so sturdy. James had insisted on using his wand (to remind his siblings that he had a wand and they didn’t) as the nose and it stuck out comically, too long for the snowman’s face.

Harry and Al’s snowman was the tallest but it also looked in danger of falling over at any point, and was held up entirely by magic which Harry kept topping up worriedly. It was wearing a conjured top hat, had a traditional carrot nose and looked a bit like a muggle magician.

“How do we decide who won?” James asked, his teeth chattering.

“Let’s discuss that inside where it’s warm,” Ginny said with concern.

Once the children were all bundled up in front of the fire with hot chocolates, the question of picking the winning snowman came up again.

“I think me and Tebby should win ‘cause ours had the most glitter,” Lily explained very seriously.

James and Albus protested instantly.

“It’s not about who has the most glitter!”

“Glitter looks rubbish on a snowman!”

“Glitter does not look rubbish,” Teddy pretended to be cross with James for Lily’s benefit and she nodded fiercely beside him.

“Well me and Dad’s was the tallest, so we should win,” Albus replied, ignoring Teddy’s response about the glitter.

“No! Ours was nearly as tall anyway!” James complained.

Harry, Ginny and Teddy exchanged glances, all silently regretting turning this into a competition.

“Can’t we all be winners? I had so much fun, I feel like a winner,” Harry said in a jaunty tone.

All three of his children looked at him like he’d just announced he wanted to become a professional opera singer.

“Didn’t think that would work…” Harry tailed off.

“We need someone who didn’t take part to choose a winner,” Ginny said, causing Albus to look around the room as if there might be someone else there he hadn’t known about.

As he looked at the fireplace, the flames turned green and Ron’s head appeared in the flames.

“Uncle Ron!” Lily exclaimed.

“Oh, hello all of the Potters,” Ron was taken aback by the reception. “Harry, do you have a minute?”

“Absolutely, come through.”

As soon as Ron’s head disappeared again while he prepared to Floo in, Harry turned to his family. “We’ll ask Ron to pick a winner. Don’t worry Albus, he’ll definitely pick his best friend.”

Albus beamed at this news and James opened his mouth to protest again but she was drowned out by Lily, who scoffed loudly. “Please. Everyone knows I’m Uncle Ron’s favourite Potter! He’ll definitely pick me.”

“Maybe, to make things fairer, we shouldn’t tell him who built each snowman?” Ginny reasoned, sensing another argument.

Lily went to speak but stopped herself. James and Albus were silent too. “That seems fair,” she said, after a pause.

Ron spun into the room and dusted himself off, accepting Lily’s rather violent hug and picking her up into the air. “How’s my favourite Potter girl?”

“Feeling like I really like glit-”

“That’s cheating, Lily!” Albus interrupted her.

Ron looked between them bewildered, then over to Ginny.

“Ronald, dearest brother of mine, we were wondering if you would do us a quick favour while you’re here and judge our impromptu snowman competition.”

Ron blinked round at the six expectant faces. “I have to judge who’s built the best snowman out of you lot?”

“We were in teams,” James explained. “Me and Mum, Albus and Dad, Lily and Teddy.”

“Three snowmen, but we aren’t going to say who made which one.” Ginny added.

“Okay, I can do that.” Ron shrugged and allowed the children to lead him away into the garden where the three odd snowmen stood proudly. Harry quickly shot another strengthening charm at their snowman and Teddy definitely enlarged the bow tie on theirs.

“These are mad, you know that right?” Ron grinned at the Potters who shared proud looks. “But if I had to pick the maddest out of the lot, then it has to be this glittery one. That’s yours I’m guessing James?”

James missed the joke, scowled heavily and grumbled “no, I hate glitter,” stamping his foot into the snow.

“Then again, if we’re talking about the best building of a snowman, then this one has a clear height advantage. A lot of effort has gone into the height of that.” He surveyed Harry and Albus’ snowman.

“But I also have a bit of a soft spot for snowmen with wands for noses.” He poked at James’ wand where it was firmly stuck into the compacted snow.

“So who’s the winner?” Lily said impatiently. “You sort of said all three.”

“All three are the winners,” Ron beamed and Harry groaned as the children started to complain.

“Lily, consider this a lesson in never relying on a brother too much.”

Lily saluted her mother, laughing, which was a relief as she was easily the most competitive out of the three Potter children.

They trudged back inside, leaving the three winning snowmen stood proudly in the garden.

Harry spoke when they were back by the fireplace. “Now that’s sorted, what did you need, Ron?”

Ron grinned. “I feel a bit silly asking now, but you couldn’t come and be an impartial judge for the First Annual Granger-Weasley Gingerbread House competition could you?”

#12 days of shipmas #HolidayHG #Harry Potter fanfiction #Harry Potter #Ginny Weasley #hinny #James Sirius Potter #Albus Severus Potter #lily Luna Potter #teddy lupin #Ron Weasley #12daysofshipmas #glitterandsnowmen

[you-andthebottlemen]

46 - HP AU

The long-awaited ‘sequel’ to my first Harry Potter AU!

There were many requests for this and my first HP AU received so much love, so thank you so so much!!

Requests:

@chestinfect-me - “PLS DO ANOTHER HARRY POTTER AU”

@swimminginthesequins  - “more catfish in hogwarts pls pls pls”

And anons:

“You should definitely do a part 2 to the harry potter story I loved it!!!”

“please carry on the Harry potter story :)) x”

“Can you do more of van and the boys at Hogwarts please?”

“Please do more Harry Potter au! Please, please, please”

“Please please please can you do more Harry Potter stories?”

Still travelling and still on the move so sorry this is kinda shit. More bits and pieces rather than a dramatic story. A little more Hogwarts + Catfish fun. But better than nothing maybe?? I miss this blog and all of you so much it’s insane.  Thank you for sticking with me, I love u xxxxx

And Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate it!

Evangeline x

************

“No, no...like this,” you instructed softly, wrapping your hand around Van’s and helping him with the wand motion. “Not up...down, like that.”

As always, Van’s hands were warm. Touching them felt like clutching a hot mug of tea.

“What would I do without you?” he smiled sweetly and swooped in to kiss your cheek.

As usual, your cheeks flushed soft pink and you could see Van smirking slightly out the corner of your eye. The warm, fuzzy feeling bloomed in your chest, just as it had when he kissed your cheek at the Three Broomsticks concert. Every time felt like the first time and you adored it, no matter how embarrassing it was; even Van’s teasing had started to grow on you.

Van continued to practice the charm. You sat and watched as he tried and failed, waiting for the triumph. His face contorted in concentration and flicked between confusion, frustration, and satisfaction. You suppressed a giggle and pulled your Hogwarts scarf up tighter around your neck, burying into any warmth you could. The courtyard was cold and empty besides a few students passing by. Any noise you made echoed into the wind. You and Van were huddled together in a corner, both bundled up. It was probably far too cold for you to be sat outside like this but neither of you cared. However, your hands were starting to turn blue so you pulled Van’s gloves out of his pocket and put them on in an attempt to warm your fingers. It was only November but it felt like high Winter.

“We can go inside, love,” he said, looking down at your hands before meeting your eyes.

“No, it’s fine. Keep practising,” you replied with a cheerful enthusiasm despite wanting nothing more than to go inside and have a hot chocolate to warm your insides. You were proud of him for working so hard and didn’t want him to break the habit.

You tucked your legs up underneath you and curled into a ball as much as you could, trying your best to suppress shivers.

“Y/n, let’s just go in?” Van insisted, his eyebrows raised in worry.

You tried to argue but Van wouldn’t have any of it. He rubbed your gloved hands between his own to add to the warmth and afterwards, looked at you with his sparkling eyes and a toothy smile. Always enough to make you giddy.

You still had half an hour or so before potions class so Van took you into his common room and propped you up by the fire to thaw out. The flames danced as if they too, were made of magic; all gold and orange embers that disappeared in the blink of an eye. They were mesmerizing to look at. Van continued to practice his charms on the couch across from you, as exams were the following week. Slowly, life returned to your cheeks and you could feel the tips of your fingers and toes again. The warm yellow light of the fire was reflected in Van’s eyes and you were mesmerized, even more so than you had been by the fire itself.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” he asked playfully, his mouth curling up at the sides.

“You,” you replied with a small, dazed smile.

“Are you feeling any warmer?” he questioned seriously and you nodded, giving him back his gloves.

“Right. Well, your lips look a little blue still. Think I have just the thing to fix that though,” Van winked.

He stood up and plonked himself down beside you. The couch dipped where he sat and he held your face in his hands before kissing you hard.

..........

You and Van bolted down to the dungeons hand in hand, your scarves flying behind you, and giggling like maniacs. You passed a ghost and vaguely saw him roll his eyes at you before disappearing through a stone wall. 

By the time you burst through the door to potions class, you’d broken a sweat and were out of breath. The professor gave you both a thick scowl as you scrambled to take your seats with Rhiannon and Bondy.

Bondy gave you both a knowing smirk and you focused on your textbook intensely to avoid further embarrassment. Somehow, Bondy seemed to always know. He didn’t even need to say anything, but he could give a look that just told you he knew. Whatever there was to know.

“Late again?” Rhiannon asked you with faux innocence. “Weren’t snogging again were you?” She teased, nudging you with her elbow.

Van grinned. His eyes peeked through his messy, windswept fringe and glowed with mischief, giving it all away. You bit your lip to suppress a smile. Who’d have thought you of all people would be late to class because you were too busy kissing your boyfriend? Even more shocking was the fact that your boyfriend was none other than Van McCann; the last person you ever thought you’d be interested in. But it was wonderful and you could feel yourself falling for him more and more every day.

Potions was always a mess, especially with Van in the picture. Together with Bondy, it was a disaster. They egged each other on and found the stupidest stuff hilarious; it was like watching children do dangerous science experiments. Rhiannon didn’t help either; fuelling their mischief with laughter and challenges.

“Bit o’ this and a bit o’ that...” Bondy hummed deeply as he poured ingredients into his cauldron without stopping to measure them or even check the ingredients list. The whole thing made you tense with anxiety.

“What do you think would happen if I put this in?” Van asked you all.

You looked over at him and saw that he was holding up something that looked like a small, dried scorpion though it shone a brilliant green.

“Is it on the ingredients list?” you asked and Van shook his head. “Then don’t put it in,” you warned.

Van just glanced at Bondy who gave him a devilish look, then at Rhiannon who grinned. Before you could blink, Van dropped it into the cauldron with a splash. You braced yourself, not knowing what would happen. You’d literally seen him set fire to a potion before; you had no idea how he’d not been expelled. 

“Oh,” you said, your shoulders dropped.

You were surprised there was no reaction.

“Nothing?” Rhiannon asked sceptically.

 Van shook his head and shrugged. He had a triumphant, all too pleased look on his face as he sat back down on his stool at the table.

“See y/n. It��s fine, don’t have to be such a worry wart all the time,” he chuckled smugly, playing the whole thing off cool.

“Yeah, well, don’t speak too soon.”

You peered over into Van’s cauldron cautiously and your eyes went wide.

“Um. I don’t think your potion is meant to be moving like that...on its own.”

“What?” he asked worriedly, standing and looking down into it.

Van watched as the thick brown liquid congealed into what looked like mud and began to gurgle. Then, any liquid evaporated and it slowly morphed into a small, uneven and grotesque looking mound. The potion had turned into some kind of gooey, faceless creature that bubbled and made an unpleasant noise. 

Suddenly, there was an awful smell, like rotten eggs as the thing burnt a hole in the bottom of the cauldron. It fell through the hole and squashed onto the floor. You and Rhiannon jumped back in shock and fright. You grabbed Van by his robes and almost pulled him over. Everyone began to flee from the room in a panic.

“Mr. McCann!” the professor roared angrily as he held the door open.

Van blushed a violent red but smirked anyway. You took his hand and tugged him out of the room before he could cause any more damage. The creature slid slowly along the dungeon floor and under the desk, leaving some kind of steaming acidic trail. Rhiannon stayed back and with her hand over her mouth and nose, looked down at it with curiosity.

“What is it?” she muffled, crouching down.

“Doesn’t matter just don’t touch it!” you called worryingly.

Rhiannon shrugged and followed the rest of you out the door.  

“That was cool,” Bondy smiled casually.

You could tell he was secretly impressed and you rolled your eyes. Boys. 

“Honestly...what am I going to do with you?” the professor sighed at Van, sounding exhausted.

“My sentiments exactly, Sir,” you replied shaking your head at your sweet but idiotic boyfriend.

.....

Quidditch was never your thing. Though you’d come to thoroughly enjoy attending matches with Van and the others. You’d all sit bundled up in the stands, sharing sweets and mugs of enchanted hot cocoa that never went cold. 

Today’s match was Slytherin vs Gryffindor. You felt sorry for Bondy as you knew he was going to receive an absolute onslaught of abuse from Van and Larry. You walked from the castle to the stands, hand in hand with Van. You both wore large fuzzy earmuffs and your house scarves wrapped tightly around your necks. Van clutched a little Gryffindor flag in his spare hand, ready to cheer on his team.

“Sorry in advance mate,” Van grinned at Bondy, flashing his large teeth that you found completely endearing.

“Yeah, we’re gonna destroy you. Slytherin can wave goodbye to the Quidditch cup this year!” Larry piped up.

Larry, smaller than the others, bounded along behind you, trying to keep up with Van. He was like a little puppy and very often the third wheel in your relationship. But you didn’t mind; he and Van’s friendship was utterly enviable and it filled your heart with joy to watch them interact. 

Bondy’s eyes rolled lazily and he held a cigarette to his lips not caring for Van and Larry’s competitive jabs. 

“Someone might see! Put that out!” you whispered loudly to him. 

“So?” he shrugged, taking another lug puff.

Bondy’s face was pale and his nose bright red as if he had a cold. He too wore earmuffs and his soft waves of brown hair stuck out at funny angles. He wore his dirty fingerless gloves and hadn’t bothered to put on his tie. His coat didn’t look nearly warm enough and you could tell he hadn’t washed his shirt in far too long. 

Van handed you his little flag and snatched Bondy’s cigarette. You hated it when he smoked but stayed silent. Though, to be honest, you had found it pretty adorable when Van tried to work out the muggle money at Kings Cross when he tried to buy a pack earlier in the year.

You let go of Van’s hand went to walk with Bob and Rhiannon while he finished the cigarette with Bondy. Bob’s earmuffs hardly fit over his enormous cloud of curly hair and they’d made his glasses go wonky. He looked so cute and dorky. The three of you talked about the latest Hogwarts gossip and Bob told you how glad he was that he wasn’t in potions when Van had created that thing.

“I don’t blame you, Bob,” you sighed. 

 The frosty ground crunched beneath your feet and sent a shiver up your spine. You clenched Van’s flag tightly in your gloved hand and shoved the other into the pocket of your coat. Rhiannon’s earmuffs were a bright, glittering pink to match her new hair colour. Lately, it was a different colour for every mood. You loved her creativity and expression so, so much. 

“Do you reckon the new seeker will be good?” she asked you.

Slytherin had recently acquired a new seeker and everyone was terrified that she would be even better than the one they had last year. The other houses couldn’t bear the thought of Slytherin winning the Quidditch cup for the third year in a row. 

“We’ll have to wait and see, I suppose,” you replied. 

“Glad there’s finally a girl seeker though,” Rhiannon added and you nodded in agreement. 

Once you were all in your seats in the rickety stand, Rhiannon and Larry went off to buy sweets. You were sat between Van and Bob as usual and were all huddled together like penguins. It was the last game of the season and you were worried it would snow. You always felt so bad for the players in Winter. It was bad enough being potentially gunned down by a bludger - they didn’t need the added stress of freezing cold air, rain, snow and foggy eye goggles. 

Van slid his ungloved hand into your pocket and entwined his fingers with yours. You sat in silence and didn’t even look at him. A smile crept onto your face and you warmed up instantly. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze and you squeezed back. Sometimes the sheer cheesiness of the pair of you made you feel queasy. But you adored it. 

Before Rhiannon and Bob could settle back into their seats, Gryffindor had scored. 

Van and Larry stood up and roared with such a force that they almost knocked Rhiannon clean off her feet. 

“Watch it mate,” Bondy, said to Larry sternly, not caring about the game at all. 

Rhiannon sat tucked up under his arm, smiling both at the protectiveness of her boyfriend and the goal her team had just scored.

Larry apologised and Van cheered loudly with both hands in the air, completely unaware of the situation that had just occurred. You feebly waved the Gryffindor flag about. You were happy with the goal but the cold was starting to hit you. 

“Would you like some cocoa?” Bob asked you quietly, pulling a large metal flask out from his robes. 

“Yes please,” you beamed. 

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

The end of year feast was always spectacular. The Great Hall was decked out beyond anything you could ever imagine. The floating candles weren’t even the half of it. The atmospheric ceiling shone with stars, the tables decorated with holly, tinsel and tiny little Christmas elves wandered up and down softly singing carols. The walls were splashed with tapestries, flowers, and wreaths that glittered elegant gold and silver. The Hall was filled with loud chatter and you could feel the excitement radiating off every person in the room; even the ghosts joined in on the occasion.

You’d all decided to disregard the rules and not sit on your designated house tables. You sat with Rhiannon while you waited for the others to show up. She sat with a small elf perched on her hand and smiled as it sung to her. You looked at her in the light and watched as the colours of her hair changed like a beautiful watercolour palette. Your stomach growled. You’d been anticipating the meal you were about to consume for months now. Though for some reason, you weren’t as hungry as you should be. Your stomach felt unsettled and your chest fluttered with nerves. You sighed and Rhiannon gave you a confused look.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you responded a little too defensively as you yourself weren’t even sure what was wrong. She shot you a disbelieving look.

You sighed again and rested your arms on the table. The little elves ran up to you and sang even louder, trying to get you to smile. Their pointed noises were so cute and the apples of their cheeks were soft red. They wore hats with tassels and bells and they had shoes that curled up at the ends.

“I think it’s Van,” you admitted.

“What about him?”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, fearing that you’d sound stupid.

“I’m worried about what’s going to happen now. You know? This is our last year at Hogwarts. We have a week or so left and then it’s over...” You could feel your eyes begin to prickle. “I just don’t know where we will go from here, if we will last or if he even wants to...”

“Oh y/n, no. Don’t think that way...” she began but was interrupted by a stream of boys cramming themselves noisily onto the benches beside you.

Van snaked an arm around your waist and leaned in for a kiss. You sat up straight, kissed him back and pretended everything was okay despite the fact that now you’d voiced your fears, it definitely was not. You made knowing eye contact with Rhiannon as Van continued to grip you but talked enthusiastically to Larry beside him, not sensing your change in behaviour. You sat quietly but smiled, feigning joy and happiness. You hoped the good feelings would return to you as the warmth in your fingers did by the fire all those weeks ago.

Van laughed as the elves danced around the table in front of him. Larry had one sat on his head and Bondy was busy plucking them off his robes in distaste. You wondered where they came from and where they’d all go once food was served.

Speeches were made, last minute house points given out and as always, the house cup was awarded. Ravenclaw had won and Benji was beside himself with joy, you thought he might start crying; it was their first win in quite a while. Everyone was beaming and even those disappointed they’d not won had massive smiles on their faces. These only went wider when the food appeared.

The sheer amount of food shocked you every time; the desserts most of all. Van sat with eyes wide, staring at the massive trifle in front of him. He and Larry glanced at each other, grinned and grabbed at the sickly sweet dessert, filling their plates and their mouths shortly after.

Van turned to you and you didn’t fight the impulse that brought your hand to his chin to wipe off the sticky remnants of trifle. The action felt bittersweet and melancholy and you couldn’t shake the thoughts in your head that floated around telling you that the next few days would be goodbye.

“Thanks, babe.”

He looked at you, waiting. Though you weren’t sure what exactly he was waiting for. Van looked at you longer and you felt your insides crumble a little bit. When you didn’t respond or say anything, his eyes flickered and he shifted in his seat. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his big blue eyes flooding with worry.

“Yeah.”

“No you’re not,” he replied; he knew you too well. 

You shrugged. 

“Come on,” he said, swinging his legs over the bench and taking your hand. 

He led you out of the loud and bustling Great Hall and out into one of the many empty corridors. You were anxious that a professor would follow you and take away house points but Van clearly wasn’t fussed. Van sat cross-legged on the floor and motioned for you to join him. You quietly folded your legs under yourself and sighed, feeling like an idiot for ruining his feast. 

“What’s going on y/n? You’ve hardly said anything all night.”

“You’re gonna think I’m being stupid,” you replied with one of those smiles that meant you were trying not to cry. You looked at your feet.

“Babe, no I won’t,” he insisted, gently holding a hand to your cheek and bringing your gaze back to him again. 

While Van was a clumsy, boisterous mess most of the time, he had this side of pure love and softness that you couldn’t explain. You sighed and looked him in the eyes.

“What’s going to happen after all this? Where is this, where are we going, Van?”

“Whatd’ya mean?” he asked innocently. 

“Fuck. Okay, well....do you want to be with me after Hogwarts?” you questioned desperately. Van’s face contorted into something that looked like shock and confusion.

“Of course I do, y/n,” he replied without hesitation. Van leant in to kiss you but you moved your face away. He looked hurt and it pained you to see that on his face. Your eyes prickled and you took a deep breath.

“Is that all you’re going to say?” you replied, feeling bitchy but you needed more reassurance than that. 

“Y/n I’ve never wanted to be with anyone as much as I have always wanted to be with you. Don’t be daft, of course I want to stay with you after Hogwarts. We’ll make it work. Promise,” he smiled genuinely, taking your hand once again.

You sighed and nodded, keeping your eyes glued to the ground. You felt slightly better but you still had the nasty feeling of doubt swirling around in your chest like a whirlwind.

“Van, I-” you began. 

“Y/n, I’m in love with you, okay? I like really fucking love you,” he blurted out, his eyebrows creasing ever so slightly. 

Your eyes snapped up to his and your mouth dropped open. You felt your heart rate shot up to a million miles an hour and your whole body filled with a feeling you couldn’t possibly explain. You knew deep inside that you loved Van too, you were just too frozen with shock to utter the words back to him. You sat there with his hand clenched tightly in yours, not able to move a muscle. 

“Y/n...?” Van whispered, sounding more nervous than ever before. 

You shook your head as if waking yourself up and gripped his hand tighter. 

“Uh-I...sorry, shit,” you fumbled, panicking. 

Before the words found you, you grabbed Van’s face with your hands and pressed your lips to his. As you kissed him, all the fear that harboured in your chest melted away and was instead replaced with a fire that felt stronger than ever. You loved this boy with everything you had.

And that was the most real magic of all. 

#van #van mccann #hogwarts #Harry Potter #fan fiction #fanfic #larry lau #johnny bond #bondy #benji blakeway #Bob Hall

[jestdrabbles]

Every Hurdle, Every Chasm - Chapter 05

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia

Warnings: canon-typical violence Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Iida Tenya, Uraraka Ochako, Asui Tsuyu, Todoroki Shouto Relationships: Dekusquad friendship | Pining Tododeku & Tsuchako Other info: Dekusquad Roadtrip AU ; Fun times ahead but also some emotional times so I should definitely warn about that!; MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS.

Words: ~8,300 | Chapter: 05/? | Language: English

This was a busy month, so sorry for the delay! Because it’s been so hectic, my editing may have suffered a bit so I’m sorry for any confusion. If anything needs clarification, I’ll gladly go back and tweak it!

Also on AO3!

Day 05: Glass  [December 28]

They rise well-rested enough to only nudge Shouto’s blanket bundle a couple times before he stretches and follows their lead to get ready. Tenya opens the window with relief when a clear sky greets them as opposed to yesterday’s overcast. The day’s plans consist mostly of indoor activity with evening reserved for Otaru’s Snow Story display, and Tsuyu decides to lessen her layers accordingly. Ochako stuffs an extra jacket of her own into Izuku’s bag under the guise of just-in-case, but he sees right through her strategy despite playing along.

He isn’t entirely without some attention to himself, however. Shouto packs up his medical kit to leave in the car because he knows some of them have a tendency to get injured without intention, and Tsuyu laughs when he forfeits defending himself and accepts the truth. With all precautions accounted for, they begin the day after a quick breakfast and hit the road toward the university for a morning with the indoor botanical garden.

“I’d love to see all of it someday,” Tsuyu says as they bypass the leafless trees, traversing across the snowy path on their way to the greenhouse. She glances around at others still enjoying the gardens in their most dead season, and she taps her finger to her cheek. “Have any of you ever thought about university after graduation?”

“I’ve considered it, but at this point, I would have to wait until next year to begin the application process,” Tenya answers, hand at his chin. “I want to work and see if I’d be able to balance both heroics and academics, since I wouldn’t ever want to risk falling short on either.”

“That’s true! I never really thought about it since I want to start working as soon as I can.” Ochako folds her arms behind her head, lacing her fingers at her neck as she walks. Her lips purse as she side-eyes the rest of them. “Besides, I’m not the studious type like the rest of you.”

“I don’t really consider myself studious either,” Shouto says with his hands in his pockets.

“You say that, but you’re still in the top five,” she pouts.

“That’s because I pay attention in class.”

“Hey! Are you implying I don’t?”

“Ochako’s notes are cute,” Tsuyu interjects, and her arms abandon their relaxed position as she straightens out in her fluster. “Besides, I don’t think grades have much to do with your capabilities as a hero so long as you know how to apply it.”

“I agree with that.” Izuku points with his face turned back slightly toward them. “Togata-senpai was at the bottom of his class, but he was still in the top three. And as Lemillion, he’s considered one of the best out there right now!” He almost mentions how he wishes Lemillion had been a hero when he was young; maybe then he could have had more confidence in his abilities as a quirkless kid with heroic aspirations. The secret settles in the back of his mind, alongside the memories. “But going back to what we were talking about… I didn’t think I’d get into U.A., so I thought I’d have to consider other occupations. So who knows, maybe I would have been a university student.”

“True, your quirk wasn’t… polished at that point,” Tenya speaks on the exam as politely as he can, “but I’m sure you would have been able to get into General Studies with your grades.” Shouto casts his eyes down, checks his phone, and walks ahead at his own pace. Tsuyu notices his avoidance of the conversation, and she decides to catch up with him to ask about it underneath a whisper.

“Maybe, but I didn’t consider that an option,” he says in earnest. “For me, it was heroics or nothing, you know?”

“Thank goodness for that! Can you imagine Deku as a pencil-pusher with a quirk like that?” Ochako jokes and pats his back, his own chuckle mingling with hers. She looks up and notices how Shouto and Tsuyu have created more distance, and she calls out to the two of them, dragging both Izuku and Tenya by their arms. “Hey, you two! Wait up!”

It’s then that Izuku notices the residue of Shouto’s solemn expression, already working itself away from distaste. Whatever nerve they’d struck, he tries his best to avoid any possible repetitions as they approach the greenhouse. He holds the door open for the rest to shuffle inside, pleased with the scarce crowd scattered about. Tsuyu exhales with her arms out, warm air cradling her face as she nuzzles into it. Ochako readies her camera for a shot, quietly cursing for it to load quicker so she won’t miss her chance, and Tsuyu catches on just as she zooms in a bit closer.

“Are you filming this?”

“Maybe,” she snickers, and Tsuyu aims her tongue at the camera’s lense to blacken the screen as Ochako declares a louder-than-intended holy shit. She clamps her mouth shut behind her gloved hands, and Tenya gestures profusely in apology to anyone disturbed by their antics. While Ochako’s focus is consumed entirely by her clear favoritism, the others take in the lavish greenery within its glass cage as they adjust to the seasonal change. Vines hatch through the lattice fences leading them through the west wall of the garden, and Tsuyu notes how it used to be far less intricate.

They bypass various plants, some far more interesting than others, but Izuku catches the girls snickering to themselves over by the shrubs. Ochako waves him over, and they extend their hands as if framing the hedge to inspire something within him. Clearly confused, he thinks of something to say.

“It’s… a nice bush?”

“No, look! It’s totally you!” she points to the dark coloration of the mock-orange’s leaves to its lighter underside, then to Izuku’s own bushy hair. He steps back at the comparison unsure how to feel about it. “Small and durable, like you! Plus it’s salt tolerant.”

“Wait, what does that have to do with anything?”

“You were friends with Bakugou,” Tsuyu explains, “so you’re pretty tolerant of salt.”

Shouto turns to look at the maple with his hand masking his own amusement, and Izuku pulls back his hair as he laughs. How can he argue with that? Part of him worries about the name in his contacts shooting across his screen in scorn at them talking about him, but he knows it’s impossible. Tenya attempts to correct them on speaking ill about those who cannot be present to defend themselves, but his case closes soon as they shrug and claim it as less insulting and more speaking the obvious.

“Iida’s gotta be a tree,” Ochako looks around the garden trying to pinpoint him, “but you’re the type that’s too big to be in an indoor garden like this. One with a sturdy trunk and totally upright!”

“I can’t say I disagree, but why?” he asks, and she smiles wide.

“I mean, obviously because you’re an upstanding citizen!” She places her hands on her hips proudly in her proclamation, and he is visibly moved by her compliment with his hand at his heart. “But also! You’re reliable and protective, so you have to be big enough to give people shelter.”

“When they cut you down, I bet they’ll print a rulebook,” Shouto comments, and Tenya waves his hand down, passionately at the ready to defend his tree’s legacy.

“One that I hope you’ll read thoroughly!”

“Oh, oh! Let’s see, what would Todoroki be,” Ochako says and taps her finger to her chin as she devises appropriate revenge for Tenya’s sake, but he speaks up before she has a chance.

“I’ve already been through this. I’m the fertilizer.” Shouto provides the answer himself, and she spits in her laughter because she would have never thought of that on her own.

“Wouldn’t you rather be mulch in that case?” Izuku leans over and asks, nose scrunched in amused disgust at the comparison. “At least be plant still!”

“Technically, I could still be a plant even as--”

“Please, I’m begging you not to elaborate on this.” Tenya pinches his eyes beneath his glasses, and Ochako agrees for different reasons: she prefers all of this without context. Still, she offers up her own sentiment to his new floral identity alongside the others by saying they have a greater chance at survival thanks to his help, and he distracts himself elsewhere without knowing how to react.

While they could easily circle the whole garden twice over with the amount of time they have, they decide to take it at a leisurely pace and allow Tsuyu to soak up as much of the warm, pocketed spring as she can. For a moment, they forget about the bitter cold waiting for them beyond the windows. Izuku and Ochako shed themselves of their coats and tie them around their waists with the latter at an absolute loss how the others aren’t sweating in their sleeves.

They stare down the entrance, confrontational as a final boss, and brace themselves for the cold by huddling together and moving as a single unit. They shuffle back to the car with muffled yelling toward the harsh breezes, some truly combatting the cold, others for the sake of playing along.

Locals listening in steer clear of the ten-legged monster screaming at snow.

A little over an hour on the road has them arriving in Otaru past noon, and with all the outdoor exhibits closed for the winter, the interior remains fairly empty thanks to most tourists favoring a full experience over partial. The group appreciate the elbow-room to venture around the aquarium as they please, and Izuku marvels at a fish passing overhead while they walk through the glass tunnel toward the darker room.

“This is making me miss the beach back home.”

“The beach or the morning jogs?”

“A little bit of both,” he says and stretches. “I’m not used to slacking like this. Maybe tonight we should use the gym back at the hotel before bed.”

“That’s not a bad idea. I doubt we could get away with more impromptu sparring,” Tenya recounts the previous occurrence. “In that case, should we try to head back earlier so we still get plenty of rest?”

“I say we just take our time,” Ochako recommends with her hands raised. “If we finish early, then I’m down, but we can always squeeze it into our morning routine if we want.”

“That’s true. I wonder if they have an indoor pool, too.” Tsuyu watches the fish swim about, and they can tell part of her looks ready to hop into the waters and join them. Izuku imagines for a moment that she’ll dive headfirst into the hotsprings once they reach them, but he quickly shoves it aside since he would rather not spend his thoughts on the girls’ half.

They carry on in conversation while looking through the various tanks at all the different types of fish and creatures they don’t have back at their own aquarium. Ochako tries to quiz herself on a few that she recognizes, and she cheers for herself triumphantly when she guesses correctly, crediting all her success to spending the car ride on her phone with Animal Crossing.

Tsuyu had been looking forward to all the aquatic life, but she finds it hard to tear her eyes away from Ochako’s enthusiastic chestnut gaze as she smiles brightly toward the back-lit glass. Tsuyu watches as her mouth moves over her words, how she can hear heart in each sound, and how nicely cool colors compliment her despite the fact that she usually dresses in warmer tones.

She must have been staring a little too intently because the usual petals of Ochako’s cheeks bloom broader, spreading up to her ears.

“A-Am I being too loud?” she asks bashfully, and Tsuyu hurriedly shakes her head.

“I was just thinking that…” you looked cute, but she can’t bring herself to finish it this time as opposed to other times she’s offered the same compliment. Without a means of finishing her thought, she turns to the others for possible back up only to find that they’ve journeyed further along to discreetly give the girls some time to themselves. She ribbits and lowers her face on her finger, hoping the dimly lit room hides her own blush. “I was thinking that I’m lucky.”

“Huh? Why’s that?” She smiles, hoping that Tsuyu isn’t dwelling on a worrisome mindset given the tone, but she’s grateful for the space apart from the others in case.

“Ochako, do you like fish?”

“I like eating them, yeah!”

Tsuyu snorts and loses herself in her own laughter, shaking loose the previous embarrassment. The other doesn’t understand what’s so funny, but she tries to figure it out with escalating scenarios: I wouldn’t eat a pet fish or anything! And I’m not getting hungry being here! Do you think I’m seeing them all cut up on a board? Her own imagination tumbles out her mouth with rising distress, and Tsuyu quells her easily with her hand on her arm.

“Even if you’re not all that interested in coming to a place like this, you still enjoy yourself. That’s why I’m lucky,” Tsuyu explains, and Ochako’s lips freeze in a smile as she listens to the compliment. “I guess I got a little lost in thought watching you, Ochako. Sorry for making you think you did anything weird.”

Ochako giggles, shaking her head. “I guess it’s like this… if I took you to a planetarium, rambled about constellations and all that, would you still have fun?”

“Well, yeah. With you, even boring classes are fun.”

She smiles wide, teeth shining sweetly. “See? It’s the same for me.”

“Hey, we’re going on ahead to the next room,” Shouto stays behind Tenya and Izuku to call out to them, and they quickly catch up without paying the last few tanks much mind. He looks to Tsuyu for a brief moment as silent apology, having only wanted to tell them where they went, but she shakes her head.

Tsuyu knows that if she wants to spend time alone with Ochako, everyone will respect that; however, she doesn’t want either of them to miss out on enjoying time as a group. That’s something she values in her balanced affection, and she’s comfortable knowing that Ochako never seems disappointed when their time together comes to close. It gives her hope that together, they have stability in each other and those around them.

Of course, Shouto cannot read her mind, and he walks on ahead with the other two in case. Both girls share a glance and smile, bumping arms and catching up quickly to cluster together again since they’re the only ones in this area of the aquarium. Without having to worry about disturbing anyone else, they resume sharing their observations with each other in excited bursts. After a few exclamations, Tenya has to shout his own concerns about disturbing the fish or employees, but they tease that he’s being louder than both Izuku and Ochako together.

He offers his sincerest apologies to the sectioned seas and their inhabitants.

Tenya parks a few blocks away from the Music Box Museum, and he jots down the street sign and obvious landmarks in a note on his phone so they could find it easier past sundown. With temperatures dropping again, Shouto offers his arm to Tsuyu, and she takes the opportunity to chain both herself and Ochako to him. While the others don’t necessarily need the extra warmth, they can’t help but envy how comfortable she looks pressed against his sleeve.

Wooden floorboards creak beneath their feet when the bell chimes to welcome them inside the old, brick building. Dangling ornaments decorate the spacious interior, various trinkets lining shelves on display amidst the vast collection of music boxes attracting them further inside. Had they come just a few days sooner, they wouldn’t be surprised to find gingerbread houses accompanying other decorations atop the tables.

“It’s so cozy in here,” Tsuyu says as she rubs her gloves together. An employee brings their attention to the complimentary hot cocoa, and she takes it upon herself to pass the paper cups down to her friends for them all to enjoy. Now that they have a better view of the place, they notice it more akin to a specialty shop than a museum, but some antique items still qualify well enough. “So… do you think any of them are haunted?”

“Why would you even say that?” Ochako shudders, and Tsuyu pats her.

“With this many, I suppose at least one has to have that sort of history linked to it.” Tenya entertains the idea with his own speculation, and Ochako shifts her pouting toward him. “Can you not handle ghost stories, Uraraka?”

“I mean, I’ve gotten better,” she grumbles, “but only because Tooru found out and started pulling pranks on me.”

“Hagakure can be pretty dangerous like that. Hang in there, Uraraka.” Izuku offers her his condolences while she nods her head in feigned hurt. They keep in a line the best they can as to not crowd the aisles while they work their way around each display. With so many music boxes chiming together, they have to hold up one to their ears to really listen in on the melody, but recognizable songs have them humming along in nostalgia.

They wrap up the first floor quick enough without much interest to the duplicated displays, but the second floor shows them a new perspective with antiques from across the world. Phonographs and photographs call back to times before quirks, and Izuku’s namesake tugs him toward faces he’s never known, time he’s never seen, but can relate to. He holds one by its metal frame, peering into the grainy texture toward a familiar landmark until he nearly drops it from the sound of an old record filtering in.

“Incredible,” Tenya interjects as an employee tests the phonograph from his request, but they shut it off soon enough as to not disturb the others listening to quieter tunes. Out of the three stationed, only one still operates consistently while the others either need a bit of extra love or have long since died. Izuku can see in his eyes how he’d love to tinker with the mechanics, but Tenya knows how to keep his curiosity in check.

They wander further and find the other three admiring some antique music boxes with an employee seated nearby to make sure they’re handled with the utmost care. He has to practically sit on his hands when he watches Ochako raise one of them to her ear, but he breathes a sigh of relief when she holds it still without shaking it. Izuku can tell he’s seen some shit.

“Is it just me, or do music boxes seem melancholic?” Ochako sets one down after listening to it closely, careful of her fingertips.

“I always thought they were creepy, especially when one starts playing in an empty room.”

“Maybe you’ve seen too many horror movies.”

“Hey! I thought we moved on from that topic!” Ochako shushes them before they can conjure up the ghosts listening in, and they make sure to filter their thoughts better. “But really… listening to music box versions of songs can make me cry. I wonder why that is.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Izuku finishes off his cocoa, and she answers him in a sardonic grin.

“That’s because you cry over everything.”

“That’s not true!”

“It’s pretty true,” Shouto adds without turning around from where he’s listening to other boxes, his empty cup atop the counter. Izuku’s face descends in its dramatics, his soul mimicking et tu Brute?, but even he can’t deny that they’re right. Rather than linger on teasing Izuku, he returns the toy to the table and rotates around to face them. “Do you really think they’re sad and creepy?”

Something about the way he asks has them searching for a way to reconsider their initial reactions, but Tsuyu speaks up first. “What do you think about them?”

“I like them.” He takes another from the shelf, this one a wooden jewelry box with a glass cover. He opens the lid and closes it soon after hearing the first few notes, setting it down again as if it already failed some sort of test he’s given it. “I think we used to have one, but I don’t know what happened to it.”

“And you think you’ll be able to find a similar model here?” Tenya asks, and Shouto shakes his head.

“I can’t even remember what it looked or sounded like. I didn’t even really remember it until we got here, so I doubt that I’d even recognize it.”

“Well, maybe you don’t have to visualize it! If hearing other boxes reminded you that you had one, then there’s still a chance something else can jog more of your memory. Why don’t we try looking around?” Izuku offers as a suggestion, and Ochako pumps her fist at the mission plan.

“If it’s here, then we’ll definitely find it!”

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“What else are we going to do here, Shouto?” Tsuyu sticks out her tongue. “Besides, the longer we’re in here, the longer I get to avoid the cold. Let us know if you remember anything else about it.” She smiles and takes his empty cup, then accepts anyone else’s as she takes the opportunity to toss them into a small trash can and returns with both her hands ready to work through other boxes.

Over the course of their travels through the second floor, Shouto surmises that the box they had was an actual box and not a wind-up music statue, so they narrow their search further. Tenya offers his advice that judging by Shouto’s room and what he’s shared about his house, the style was most likely eastern rather than western. They continue trying to narrow their searches down until he stops at a dark, cloisonne case with simple flowers decorating the walls and a more intricate tree adorning the top. He lifts it with his fingers searching for a dent-- no, a scratch along its side-- but he only feels a smooth surface. Judging by how long he’s held it compared to the others before it, Izuku leans over.

“Closer?”

“This one,” he begins, inspecting the back for its wind-up key, “might be the same kind. Or at least close, yeah.” He turns the key and opens the top, and they shuffle closer to listen in on its melody, gentle and calming. Shouto closes his eyes to try and recall the sound filling his and his mother’s room, but no matter how hard he concentrates, nothing solid arises. That may be the nature of it, he supposes. It isn’t like metal box could float anyway.

“So what do you think?” Tenya asks a moment after the song finishes, and he closes the lid.

“Even if it isn’t the same exact one, she might still like it.” Shouto lifts the tag accompanying it and taps his finger against the edge as he contemplates his funds. Ochako glances at the price and keeps her worry to herself, but she takes it upon herself to grab the attention of an employee once he’s made the final decision to purchase it.

Once he’s taken care of the packaging, he tucks it safely into his bag, adjusts his strap, and looks to the rest of them with a word at the tip of his tongue. He lets himself soften at the hypothetical look on his mother’s face when he tells her about the team effort, all for something that may or may not resemble a piece of their past. She knows their names, their faces for the most part, but he knows the day he can introduce them all at once is still far beyond.

“Thanks. I’m sure she’ll appreciate that you all helped me find it.”

With the cold, nightly winds slapping them sharp in their departure, Ochako promptly reaches her entire arm down into Izuku’s bag to retrieve her extra hoodie and passes it to Tsuyu with little fuss. She tugs it over her sweater and tugs the sleeves over her palms as she keeps her hands huddled to her chest. Thankfully, they adapt to the cold after its initial greeting and find themselves amongst the foot traffic leading over toward the canal.

Deciding that they would rather have less crowding on the way, they slip into a side street and gravitate toward a quieter path even if it takes longer to reach their destination. Tsuyu takes to Tenya’s side rather than Shouto’s, perhaps to give the latter a break, but Tenya takes his responsibility very seriously as he offers to encase her in his arms should she need their protection. She laughs it off with gratitude, and she presses her sleeved palms to her cheeks as she lets him know that she’s warm enough like this.

Tenya can’t help but smile down at her. They carry on until Ochako joins at her other side with her phone ready for pictures with street lights offering just enough lighting to take passable shots, even if they don’t hold the same quality. Tsuyu and Tenya pose accordingly for the frontal camera, and once she’s content with one, she thanks them and slips back.

Ochako sidles up beside Shouto’s right and sneaks a photo of herself pointing toward him, then she slips behind again to remain inconspicuous. So far so good; she captions the picture and prepares herself for round two, much to Tsuyu’s gentle knock against her forearm to play nice when she passes her. She lifts her finger to her grin and waits a moment until she’s ready to catch his left, and as she snaps the picture, he glances back at her and finally speaks up.

“Can I help you?”

“Busted,” Tsuyu ribbits, and Ochako adds the caption and considers her mission successful. She shows the set to him, and he cracks a fleeting grin: He can be your angle… or yuor devil. He snatches her phone and sends both to his own.

“You actually want to keep those?” Ochako snorts, and he shrugs.

“My mom asked for pictures of me.” he pockets his phone and keeps his hands snug inside. She shakes his arm in exaggerated panic, Tenya and Izuku chuckling behind.

“Do not!” she gasps. “Don’t you dare show those to your mother! Let me take real pictures!”

“Things like this are fine. Besides, she’d agree.”

“Todoroki, that’s,” Izuku stammers on how to address the comment when he says it so casually, but the guiding blue lights bordering the canal summon their attention forward. Quickening their pace, they reach the border of the canal to see how the surface glows under gentle brightness, reflecting off their eyes and skin. The lights stretch down the canal, decorating posts and boats, even glittering across the Asakusa bridge.

“It’s beautiful.” Tenya follows the path upstream, wistful in its whisper. Groups and couples pass them, chattering on their way through private conversations and shared smiles. He can see why the simple serenity would attract this sort of crowd when he adjusts the bracelet on his wrist. “Shall we?”

“Wait, I want to get a real picture of us all on the bridge!” Ochako smiles excitedly, flitting around each of them until they surrender to her whims. She drags them further south the canal to the bridge and takes it upon herself to set them all in place. However, when she tests it out and adds herself, she notices how Izuku loses himself behind her and Tsuyu.

“I can stand off to the side in front of Iida?” he offers while she compromises her initial vision. It hits her suddenly, and she snaps with a wink.

“How ‘bout this? I can make you float so you fit perfectly between us!”

“Oh, yeah that works!”

She raises her hand, and he meets her in a high-five, immediately weightless and grabbing onto her shoulder for anchorage. They let Tsuyu grab the attention of passerby to take it for them, and Tenya keeps Izuku upright by placing a hand on the small of his back. Once everyone’s in place with Ochako wrapping her arm around Tsuyu, they all attempt to smile perfect on the first try as to not take up more of this stranger’s time.

Even so, when she retrieves her phone to see the results, she finds four versions. One catches her attention in particular, and she quickly swipes past it when Izuku looks over her shoulder to see for himself. As much as she would love to uncover him, she doesn’t think Shouto would appreciate how they managed to catch him eyeing Izuku on camera. She shares her favorite with everyone and allows them to actually start the walk now that her very important task has been checked off the list.

They cross the bridge to the other side of the canal and carry on toward the center plaza. Tsuyu twitches when a breeze blows past their legs, sending the chill up her spine and bringing her hands to her arms. Izuku starts to offer his jacket for yet another layer, but she takes both his and Ochako’s arms and keeps herself linked in the toasty center.

“Don’t they set up candles at some point?” Izuku asks, keeping his attention toward the canal after accidentally locking eyes with a couple passing them.

“I’ve heard about that,” Tenya adds as he tries to recall when exactly, “but unfortunately, I don’t think we’ll be able to see it.”

“Sounds romantic.” Ochako sways in her steps, and Shouto lifts his finger to set a tiny flame at its tip. While she understands his gesture after the fact, she squawks at the imagery of a canal decorated in finger-flesh candles and fans the flame until its out. “Nevermind! Not romantic at all!” He slips his hand back into his pocket and turns his head toward the canal where Izuku’s study still lingers. Either there’s something on his mind, or he’s fixated on the twinkling over the water; Shouto drifts closer to the stone fencing lining the canal and peeks over the edge.

Thanks to the lights, his reflection vaguely stares back at him in the dark water, obscured by the blues and golds from the lamps. He sweeps some of the piled snow aside, pieces toppling over into the water and rippling him out of watery existence. Shouto readies to catch up with the others, but when he looks back, Izuku is standing just a lamp post away with the others having gone ahead. He thinks back to the aquarium and worries about separating from the others.

“Sorry, I got distracted,” he carries on, but Izuku doesn’t try to rush them.

“That’s okay! I was getting caught up in it, too.” He takes Shouto’s idea of brushing the snow aside and uses the exposed stone to rest his arms. “I told them that we could meet up later.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well no, but I kind of wanted to talk to you,” he confesses, and Shouto’s chest tightens. “I never got a chance to ask you about what you wanted to say last night. I thought maybe you forgot or didn’t want to say it in front of everyone.” Izuku watches as he confirms it with the puzzled face Shouto wears in return, and he chuckles. “Did you really forget?”

“I just didn’t expect it to come up again.” He sets himself beside Izuku against the stone, thankful to tune out the other people walking onward behind them.

“You know me,” Izuku speaks with a mocking tone at his own habits, “I can’t just ignore stuff like that.”

“That’s true.” His lips crack a natural semi-smile, and Izuku worries about it shattering if he’s prolonging the talk like this. He finds it unusual given how the past two years haven’t left Shouto as a mysterious person to him; the only thing he hasn’t touched on again is detail in his upbringing, and Izuku knows better than to force it out of him. “But to be honest, this might be better than what I had in mind.”

“What do you mean?”

Shouto’s hands find one another, draped over the stone, and he tears his eyes away from Izuku beside him to watch down into the water below, stilled since dropping the snow earlier. He thinks back to his conversation with Tenya, how he knows what his words and actions weigh. “I wanted to ask if we could do something,” Shouto says as he focuses all his excess energy on cooling his face to hide how it heats, “apart from everyone else. Maybe go looking for souvenirs for All Might and your mom. Something like that.”

Oh. Relief washes over Izuku as his nerves loosen from having to worry. That’s all. From the way he’s been keeping on his phone, how he knows who the majority of the news is following, he’d assumed there was something more to the story. He relaxes and readies himself to respond, but it suddenly slams into him like a swinging hammer.

Oh.

He should be grateful he’d never inherited his father’s quirk or else Shouto may have to deal with a face full of flames caught up in his own fluster. Izuku winds himself down the best he can, but when he looks back to Shouto, his face is turned away and his shoulders bounce. The puffs of foggy breath give away his snickering, and Izuku drags his hand down the back of his head.

“Listen, I thought you were about to unload something serious!” His voice wavers as he speaks, embarrassed but recovering.

“I am serious.”

“You know, I really can’t tell what you’re thinking sometimes.” He leans back from the barrier, balancing on the heels of his sneakers. “But I guess if you ever need to talk to me or ask about something like that, you can text me, and we can make up some excuse to break off. I don’t think anyone would notice since I’m on my phone a lot anyway.” And so are you, he thinks but holds his tongue.

“You’ve been keeping in touch with All Might?”

“As much as I can without bothering him,” Izuku says and brushes his nose with the back of his glove, “but I’ve also had to text my mom since she worries if I don’t. I actually called her when we were on the ferry, but otherwise just in the morning or at night. I made sure not to tell her about Yutapa though.” He knocks lightly on Shouto’s arm, content with friendly exchanges despite how his heart buzzes in his chest. “I don’t know if you’d get off without a scolding.”

Shouto doesn’t mirror his grin; if anything, his lips tug taut between his teeth. He wonders if he’s said something wrong, reminded him of a shortcoming he’d rather move past, and he thinks to reassure him that his mother is overprotective and wouldn’t hate him or anything, but Shouto places his hand on his shoulder. Izuku really should know better than to trust himself to the silence, and he apologizes.

Shouto hates that he has to take his hand back, hates that he’s waiting for any natural chance to touch in the first place. He can see Inko Midoriya’s worried eyes reflected in the way Izuku stares back at him, something at the tip of his tongue but unable to say, even after one of his muttering spells. If he were anyone else, Shouto would shrug it off and take the opportunity to start walking back toward the others. Instead, he finds himself at the cliff of his resolve, another reflection over the canal just waiting to be seen. He parts his lips, name waiting in his mouth, but the noise falls victim to flashes and roars ahead.

Shrieks resound as the night sky bursts in smoke and violet flame.

The calm atmosphere surrenders itself to the frantic rush of civilians evacuating the area, running past the two frozen in their feet. Both Shouto and Izuku abandon their conversation without remorse, eye one another, and sprint toward the plaza. Where they’d promise to gather at the ukidama tree, the glass shines and shatters across the pavement in the chaos. Izuku’s gaze darts across the fleeing crowd, searching for anyone responsible for the destruction, but Tenya tugs him by the shoulder before he can act on impulse with Shouto having gone through.

“We’re getting to the van. Now.” Ochako and Tsuyu are at his sides, unable to ignore their rescue instinct to search for anyone in need even with Tenya’s tone harsh in their ears.

“But--”

Another explosion bursts from the bridge, wind skidding their lighter bodies as arms shield them from possible debris. Tenya raises his voice to repeat himself above the screaming, but Tsuyu acts quicker than any of them when she spots a civilian caught between one of the brick warehouses and blazing fire, blood soaking his knee where he lay.

Without restraint, she darts toward him and slips through the crowd, low to the ground in her movements as she braves the heat and extends her tongue to capture the young man  paralyzed in his fear before further wreckage can reach him. Just as she pulls him back, another surge of fire strikes and threatens to blast through where he’s tugged, and she quickly leaps to finish closing the space between them.

Her smaller frame wraps around him and protects him from the oncoming blow, sacrificing her left side to the flames’ touch before they tumble out of its terrain. Beneath her, his breath hitches on its gratitude, even as he writhes in pain from burns and blood. She pulls back swiftly, still shielding him the best she can.

“You’re going to be all right,” she reassures, “was there anyone else with you?”

“N-No, they never showed up,” he strains in his speech, and she nods.

“Tsuyu!” Tenya calls out, rushing to her side in an effort to remove them both from the crossfire. She raises her head, cheek red from the concrete’s scuff, and props the young man up with a hand on his back. He clutches his leg in her hold, teeth dry in his hiss.

“I don’t think he can walk,” she tells him, fast and on the lookout for another array of the villain’s quirk. No sign of him, especially through the dark smog he’s created. “Tenya, we can’t leave him.” He grits his teeth and turns toward the others, only spotting Izuku and Ochako through the smoke with their backs against one another on alert while they wait for their plan. “Tenya!”

“I know.” He struggles to mask his frustration as he contemplates his actions and repeats, “I know! But we can’t get involved any more than we are.” Tenya whips around to Izuku and Ochako, voice louder as he yells over the noise. “You two! Where is Todoroki?”

“I’m right here!” he shouts when he comes barreling out the smoke and lowers himself to both Tsuyu and the injured civilian. “I can create a barrier so we can--”

“No! We’re getting out of here, now,” he snaps back with everyone now near enough to hear. He reaches into his pocket and tosses the keys to Shouto. “You four, head back toward the van. I’ll rendezvous once I’ve brought him to the hospital.” Tsuyu assists in easing him onto Tenya’s back, and she does her best to reassure him that he’ll be safe soon with the engine hero-to-be. They instruct him to hold on as tight, and Tenya takes off without threat of immediate acceleration. Even with his usual running, he would be faster than the rest of them.

A whistle splits through their ears, another bout of purple embers scattering the cracks in the cement. Izuku’s eyes glare off in its direction, rage building in his blood where he has to fight himself more than the villain to stick to the plan. “Let’s go. Now!” he roars over the embers’ howl, and Tsuyu staggers as she returns to her feet, left leg limp. She winces, ready to force her leap, but Shouto quickly bends before her.

“Get on! We gotta go,” he states without giving her a choice, and she obeys as the three sprint from the plaza and back down the canal, passing a team of pros on their way to handle the turmoil. She squeezes her eyes shut at the sounds still booming in her ears, arms tightening around his neck while her body tenses. It isn’t that the attacks frighten or even surprise her; the opposite spits a truth they all know by now:

There is no such thing as a day off.

“Uraraka! Are you all right?” Izuku calls after her, noticing her distance from the two of them still running on ahead.

“I’m not as fast as you two!” she yells, trying her best to keep up with them. Izuku turns on his heel and darts back toward her, concentrating on his Full Cowl to make lifting her and sprinting far easier than without. She yelps from his sudden grasp, but she thanks him while clutching on close.

They always say the journey back is quicker than the arrival, but Shouto and Izuku cut it down by half. Charging past the newly lifted blockades, they ease off the urgent speed so Izuku can set Ochako back down, and they continue through the streets until finally reaching the museum landmark. Just another block, and they spot the van alone and parked right where they’d left it. They could be grateful for that, at least. Had they taken the train into Otaru, this would have been even more of a nightmare.

Shouto unlocks the car and prioritizes Tsuyu by setting her down in the back seat with her legs facing out, getting a better look at her leg under the car’s light. “I don’t think it’s that bad,” she says and starts to pull at the fabric where the flames had burnt through to free more of her skin, but he grabs her wrist to stop her.

The sky still carries with it thick clouds of smoke and a thunderous echo of eruption.

“Uraraka or Midoriya, can you get my bag?” he asks without facing either of them, still concentrating on the problem at hand by releasing hers. “You’re right, it’s not as bad as it could have been, but we still need to treat this,” he insists and notes her shivering, “fast. Sorry. It’s best if you don’t try to pull the fabric from it.”

“Here.” Ochako holds his bag for him, carrying it in a way that he could open it without worrying about anything spilling out. From it, he fumbles his hand around, feeling for a specific item until he pulls out a plain wash cloth.

“Hold this for a second,” he places it in Tsuyu’s hand, then goes back to his bag for a small set of scissors from his medical kit. She has to will her eyes away from the process while he carefully cuts the fabric loose from her burn, catching Ochako’s worry as she visibly fidgets in her footing. Izuku offers to take the bag-holding duty, but she shakes her head.

Shouto steps back from her for a moment to ice the towel, then holds it away from himself as his fire melts the ice without evaporating all its moisture. Once it’s doused, he wrings it damp and brings it back to her, cool without the intensity of ice. “We can rinse it when we get back. Does it hurt anywhere else?”

“No,” she croaks, holding the damp cloth to her leg and resisting the chattering in her teeth, “this is the worst of it. I should have been more careful.”

“You did the right thing.” He blinks up to her face, earnest despite his frozen expression. She can see how he takes a longer look at her cheek, and he retrieves a cotton swab and disinfectant from the bag to dab at her scrape, just to be safe.

“Here, Deku,” Ochako finally takes him up on his offer and passes Shouto’s bag to him while she carries herself to the other side of the car and lets herself inside. Scooting down the seats, she sets herself in the middle, “We should have her raise her leg, right?” She looks across to Shouto for approval, and he nods. “Okay, then here, Tsu. Go ahead and prop it over mine.” She crosses her legs, grabs a pillow from the back, and creates more elevation.

“Are you done with this?” Izuku asks, and Shouto answers by zipping it shut and taking it from him. “Iida should be back any second. Let’s start the car so we can leave as soon as he gets here.” Otherwise, I might not be able to stop myself from running back. He doesn’t want to imagine any possible casualties caught up in the crossfire.

“Yeah.” He tosses his bag in the trunk and shuts it, walking around the right toward the front seat where he finds Izuku already occupying the passenger. They shut all the doors to keep the wind away, start the car, and soon enough, Tenya comes into sight. Hurriedly, he shifts out of park, and Tenya swings the door open to hop into the back seat, slamming the door shut and prompting Shouto to start heading back toward Sapporo.

Instinctually, Shouto switches on the radio to fill the silence, but all local stations prioritize the outbreak at Otaru Canal. The only immediate knowledge he holds onto is that the roads toward Sapporo are closing in order to deter any villain activity from spreading to the major city. He leaves it be as he asks Izuku to reroute his mobile map, halfway listening and eyes tunneling down the road as he squints through the layer of fog on the windshield. He eventually has to lean forward in his seat to rub at the glass with his sleeve, and Izuku takes it upon himself to set the heater on the front window and shut off the radio.

As much as he wants to know what’s happening, to hear that the pros have it under control, the reporters’ voices continuously add layers to the air until it crowds his lungs.

The road expands as Izuku swallows back the rush of words threatening to lunge from his throat, and he turns around to face his friends silent in the back seat. Ochako has her hands pressed against Tsuyu’s thigh as she holds the damp towel in place and whispers apologies to the other girl’s shivering reassurances. Izuku’s eyes trail to the other end of the backseat to Tenya staring out the window with his glances darting behind them and an obvious unrest pestering him in his jittering leg.

A conversation no one wants to confront, not yet.

Green eyes linger on them a moment more, wanting so badly to upturn his tightened lip and offer them peace of mind. Be their Symbol of Peace. Yet here he is, trapped in quiet with his fingers digging into the seat until he turns to face the front of the road again.

Shouto’s silence doesn’t warrant his concern, not initially. Mismatched eyes blink to snatch glances from the rearview mirror, ears keen on the shivering and knowing full well he should focus on warming the car. Instead, nothing leaves the vents, nothing breaks the domain of shuddering breath and sighs until Izuku’s attention finally surrenders to the thin layer of ice dusting over their driver’s right hand. Following up his arm slowly, Izuku watches the chill form on his neck and bring his breath visible in a light display of shivery smoke.

His voice finally finds him.

“Pull over.”

“We can’t,” he answers, tone level and low as always, but there’s a distance to it that summons the others’ eyes. Tenya’s hand reaches for the seat in front of him, and he leans over to inspect their driver.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

“I’m not the one who got hurt.” He glances back through the mirror to their injured companion, reminding everyone of the urgency of their situation. His grip on the wheel tightens as he tries to keep collected and focus on putting more distance between them and the danger possibly following suit.

“You’re shaking, Todoroki,” Izuku whispers despite the fact that everyone can hear, and he can see Shouto’s jaw clench down as another puff of smoke leaves his nose. Visible frustration, but he doesn’t let it sway his resolve when he repeats himself with steadiness, this time stern. “I’m not asking. Pull over.”

“He’s right, Todoroki,” Ochako echoes softly with her hands loosening her hold on Tsuyu before they could potentially argue. “We’re all shaken up and need to take a break. What about the next exit?”

Shouto knows better than to try and cling to stubbornness with multiple people ready to dispute, so he bites without another word and keeps his eyes out for the next available lodging while trying to balance his nerves. He knows he’s only worsening the cold in the car the longer he drives even with the heater running, and he chooses to ignore the stare accompanying his left.

Even with this much distance between them, Shouto sees the smoke in his peripheral.

It almost clouds the exit, but he catches it in time to merge off the highway, toward the mountains.

#long post / #it's nearly 2AM I'M SORRY FOR THE WEIRD POSTING TIME