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superhero--imagines · 4 years ago

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Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here!

A/N: Shout out to @ideas-for-you-to-adopt for inspiring/writing a lot of the headcanons used for the “Bella Suspicion” part of this chapter!

I’m posting this a day early, because, well I’m flakey like that

* You spear another piece of pineapple, your teeth grinding together

* “I think that sounds perfect!” Lauren squeals lightly grasping Bella’s shoulder, Bella gives a small smile in return.

* You know what isn’t perfect?

* The fact that nothing is going according to plan.

* It’s already a month in and NOTHING has happened. You stab another piece of pineapple, sticking it into your mouth

* You’ve hung back in the school parking lot everyday for a MONTH, you were even late to cheer practice once, just to see if the “Tyler Van Accident” happened.

* Only it never did, and you didn’t know why until Lauren confided that she and Tyler had been hooking up lately.

* As in hooking up at her house after school before her parents came home.

* Of course it’s not going to happen when Tyler’s ditching his last period to drive to her house

* What a mess

* You chew the pineapple carefully, just like a human would. Because even though Bella knows LITERALLY NOTHING. She somehow suspects everything.

* You watch her from the corner of your eye, making polite conversation with Angela about biology next period.

* The amount of questions she has about you is ridiculous

* How did you meet Edward? How does your family know the Cullen’s? Where are you adoptive parents now? If they’re back in the states why haven’t you gone to live with them?

* It’s literally never ending. And that’s just her trying to poke holes in your story.

* You’re not even going to start with all the stuff she’s commented on your physical appearance

* “Hey don’t you think it’s weird they all have gold eyes?” You had heard Bella quietly ask Jessica when she thought you couldn’t hear

* “Not really, they’ve got like six kids, so when one kid needs something more of them do too. (Y/N) told me Alice wanted color contacts so Dr. Cullen just bought some for all of them.”

* And then the week before that, while you were doing a stunt at a basketball game Bella said:

* “Aren’t they like, too strong?” You were lifting up a girl all on your own.

* “Oh yeah- I guess you never saw the video, apparently they’re jacked.” Conner says, with a shrug.

* “Yeah they heard working out helps with stress when they were like 12 and just never stopped.” Mike adds absentmindedly

* And if that wasn’t enough she’s even said this a few weeks before that:

* “Don’t you think it’s weird how beautiful they all are?” Lauren wrinkles her nose, at the time she had gotten used to Bella but she still doesn’t seem to like her very much

* “Not really, I remember (Y/N) wasn’t all that pretty freshman year, they used to wear these really dorky glasses.”

* You had almost started to forget how good you had it, after you did all the leg work in the last two years to establish that you were normal -just kinda quirky- you had just started to enjoy the pay off. A little more lax with your appearance, wearing clothes you liked, doing more solo routines in cheer.

* Only for little Miss.Curious to show up

* Now you have to try extra hard to look human again. And not just you, the entire coven does, because when one of you falls under suspicion you all do.

* Rosalie’s been making her hair look messy every so often to give the illusion that she’s having a bad hair day, Alice wears a retainer every so often, even Emmett pretends to need the bathroom more than he usually does.

* This morning you even had Rosalie do a fake pimple on your jaw.

* If Bella wasn’t going to be your best friends’ future wife, you think you might just hate her.

* You kind of sympathize with Rosalie in the book now.

* “Hey (Y/N) are you in?” Conner asks nudging his elbow against yours.

* “In for what?” You mumble, spearing another piece of pineapple. Another downside is now you have to eat at lunch. Otherwise Bella starts asking why you never eat and everyone gets really concerned and starts force feeding you

* God, all those years of establish you have low blood sugar and acid reflux induced nausea for nothing

* “La Push beach, we’re all going this weekend.” You perk up at the mention

* Finally, something’s getting back on track

* “Can’t, cheer stuff.” You mumble, shoving your food around your plate with your fork.

* You don’t miss Bella’s meaningful glance on your mostly full plate.

* Oh great, you can practically see the question “don’t you think it’s weird how they never eat anything?” Forming in the inner corners of her mind

* “What about you Edward?” Lauren flutters her eyelashes and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

* Lauren’s still annoyed that even though they’re hooking up, Tyler hasn’t made anything official yet

* Alice told her flirting with another guy might help.

* “He’s not going either.” You say before Edward can even open his mouth. He doesn’t say anything just gives you a questioning look and a smile.

* Looks like he’s finding everyone else’s thoughts more interesting

* “Are you guys going on a date?” Jessica waggles her eyebrows and on the other side of the table Bella sputters.

* You roll your eyes

* “No Jessica, but if I can’t go have fun neither can he.” Technically you both are forbidden to go on tribal land but whatever. “Best friend code.”

* Also you’re pretty sure Edward and Emmett are going to Yellowstone to eat bears or something, like a couple of heathens

* The thought of eating straight out of bear, no idea what they’ve eaten or where they’ve been doing their business, makes you shudder.

* You did mention to them both that if they happen to find an orphaned bear cub somewhere to bring it back. You’ve been wanting to experiment with bear blood.

* “Best friend code.” Edward repeats slowly, and the look he gives you makes your stomach flutter. And it’s not because you just ate half a salad.

* You’re knocked out of the look when Conner bumps his knee against yours

* “Well that’s a shame, I was looking forward to seeing you in a swimsuit.”

* So Conner’s been flirting a lot with you lately. Kind of weird, your best guess is that he was hoping to date Lauren, but now that she’s kinda seeing Tyler, you’re starting to look good.

* “Maybe you should have a pool party at that fancy house of yours then.” The group laughs but Conner just smirks

* “Whatever you want babe but-“ the bell cuts him off and you give him a consolatory pat on the arm.

* You move to throw away the leftover food on your plate, walking with Edward

* “We’re ditching right?” You ask him as you toss the plate into the trash.

* “Yeah Mr. Barnes is doing his blood type experiment today.” Like he even needs an excuse to skip school. “Do you want to go to the bookstore or something?”

* You shake your head, that won’t do, when Bella faints Edward needs to be there so they can fall in love

* “Wanna just hang out in my car? We can listen to that new Debussy CD I got.”

* Edward gives you a small smile, like he’s not really happy

* “Whatever you want.”

* Wait what’s up with that.

* “Hey, (Y/N)!” Bella calls out for you and Edward grimaces.

* “I’ll meet you at your car” wait he’s not going to stay here? If this was a dating video game he’d be the kind of player that wasted all the capture flags and then complains when they end up all alone.

* He leaves just as Bella gets to you. She spares a fleeting glance in Edward’s direction, almost looking sad as she watches him walk away before she looks to you

* “Are you heading over to biology?” She really is cute, like a puppy. She must have been hoping to get a little closer to Edward.

* You almost feel bad for not warning her what with her issues on blood.

* “Nah I’ve got to finish my trig homework so I’m going to skip.” You fake a yawn.

* Oh, before you forget

* “I actually got you something.”

* You hand her a carefully wrapped gift bag, compliments of Rosalie of course

* “Vitamins?” Bella asks, her eyebrows threading together

* “Yeah, it’s like a vitamin powder, you just add it to water. We bought a big family pack so I thought I would share some with you.”

* Also because you’re 100% sure she’s anemic.

* Part of the reason you like the way she smells so much is because of her anemia, if it’s just the peach scent you can probably contain yourself.

* You wave goodbye and Bella looks down at the package in her hands with a goofy expression. She hugs it to her chest before her expression pinches.

* “I should have offered to let them copy my notes” Bella murmurs to herself. Smacking her forehead and walking to biology.

* When you manage to sneak out to the parking lot through the gym doors, you see Edward leaning against your car, looking bored as he looks to the tree line

* “Why didn’t you sit inside? You look like a douchebag.”

* “I would have if someone had given me the keys”

* Like that’s stopped him before

* You unlock the car, letting it start with a hum before you pull out your trig homework

* You weren’t entirely lying to Bella, you really hadn’t finished you homework

* Edward pulls out a book from his bag, you’re not ashamed to say you’ve gotten him super into “The City of Ember” series

* “Hey why did you walk away when Bella came over?” you’re only half curious, mostly just trying to make conversation. “You don’t hate her do you?” You add with a laugh.

* The mere thought of Edward Cullen hating Bella Swan is laughable.

* “Yeah I do.”

* You find yourself coughing from the sheer shock.

* “You mean she frustrates you because you can’t read her mind.” Edward has spared you a concerned glance when you started coughing, but has turned his attention back to his book

*” No I mean I don’t like her, and I don’t like being around her.” He doesn’t look up from his book as he says it.

* “But why?” Yeah she’s a little plain, and she’s still pretty shy even though you’ve been hanging out for a month and all those damn questions

* But she’s got good taste in books, and she’s pretty straightforward.

* She’s not the type of person to go behind your back, if you did something to upset her she’ll tell you straight to your face.

* Honestly she’s a lot like Angela, minus the hidden cunning nature.

* Edward eyes narrow and a heavy sigh escapes him. His head tilts back to rest against the passenger seat headrest.

* His neck is so long and white. The color of freshly fallen snow. You can’t help but think of how pretty it would look covered in hickeys.

* Like poppy’s blossoming in the snow.

* Can vampires get hickeys? Would it just be like black instead of red since none of you really have blood anymore.

* “I just don’t like-” He cuts himself off when his eyes meet yours, they seem to shine brighter for a moment, and you tilt your head. This feels like a meaningful look.

* Edward sighs and looks away.

* “I just don’t like her vibe.”

*”Vibe? Are you an Edward shaped imposter?” you see him mouth ‘Edward Shaped Imposter’ as you both laugh.

* “Where did you learn to say these things?” He asks between laughs. You mock gasp.

* “The real Edward would never ask me that because he’s too afraid to know! Who are you really? What planet are you from?” Your hands move to his face, his face is as smooth as marble, lingering warmth. You leaned in without thinking about it, only a few inches away from him.

* You’re so close you can smell him. He always smells good, like something ancient and profound. Rosemary and argon oil.

* Your hands are still on his face and he’s grinning.

* You gulp

* You’re trying to think of another ridiculous imposter joke you can make wen you catch a familiar head of blond hair through the window.

* “Is that Mike and ... Bella?”

* This is a lot sooner than you thought, it hasn’t even been ten minutes yet.

* Edward looks almost bored as he follows your gaze.

* “Yeah, looks like she made herself sick, she’s - what’s that word for when people are afraid of blood?”

* “Hemophobia?”

* “Yeah, that’s what she has.”

* You wait for a second, releasing his face from your hands, but instead of moving to open the door he slumps back into his seat, eyes focused on his book.

* “Don’t you think we should go help them?” He shrugs.

* The f*cking criminal just shrugs.

* WHAT THE F*CK IS GOING ON?!?!

* Human or not, there’s no world Edward wouldn’t at least think about helping someone who’s in trouble.

* You’re starting to think this really is an Edward imposter.

* You watch Bella lean on Mike, stumbling down the crosswalk to the nurse’s office in the next building.

* You can’t watch anymore

* ‘You know you-” You words finally get Edward’s attention as he looks up from his book. “You are wasting all the capture flags!” You shout before sliding out of your car and jogging over to Mike and Bella

* “Mike! What happened?” He’s so surprised to see you his grip on Bella goes slack and she falls out of his side hold.

* “Oh crap!”

* You rush to catch her, swinging her into a princess hold.

* What was Mike struggling with so much? She’s not very hea - oh right you’re a vampire.

* “Are you alright, I know she’s kinda heavy.” Well that’s not very nice to say about a girl, besides she’s pretty skinny. Can’t be more than 120 pounds.

* “It’s no problem, I do it for cheer are all the time.” You do a fake grunt as you pretend to get a better hold on her.

* The movement jostle her awake, her eyes fluttering open. She’s still in a dreamy state, her eyes are unfocused.

* “(Y/N)?”

* “Hey buddy, looks like ya fainted, squeamish around blood huh?”

* “How do you know we were doing the blood type experiment?” Mike asks.

* Oh crap. You were skipping, you weren’t supposed to know that. Even worse you brain can’t seem to come up with a valid excuse.

* “Alice told us about it, (Y/N) used to be squeamish around blood when we were kids, didn’t want to take any chances” You let out a sigh of relief when you see Edward walking towards you. At least he’s not completely heartless.

*”Then why were you skipping?” Mike asks scratching his head. Edward shrugs

* “They can’t go to class, then I won’t go either.” And then the criminal looks you straight in the eye and says with the cheekiest smile imaginable:

*“It’s the best friend code”

* Oh f*ck off Edward.

* You almost want to scoff when he takes Bella from your arms and into his.

* SO now he wants to care about the capture flag.

* You let him take her though, You swear you see her stiffen and frown when he holds her.

* That can’t be right, she seemed super relaxed when you were carrying her.

* “I-I’m fine I can walk.”

* “No you can’t.” Edward bluntly says.

* Even when he gets to capture event, he says all the wrong things. You sigh as you walk behind him. Only to notice another set of footsteps by you.

* “You can go back if you want Mike, Edward won’t kidnap her or anything.�� He might throw her into the lake though.

* Mike shakes his head. “No it just seems wrong to not make sure she at least gets to the nurses office.”

*You smile, he really is a kind boy.

* “Also I’ll be damned if Bella gives Edward all the credit.” Well mostly kind.

* You get to the nurses office, who seems incredibly flustered with both you and Edward in such a small space.

* She seems so preoccupied keeping her wits about her as she checks out Bella and deals with your presence that she never asks why three people had to escort one person to the nurses office.

* “Well your blood pressure is a little low, since you fainted I would suggest you go home. If you want you can take a nap in here until school’s out.” Wow, where was a nurse this generous when you were in school.

* Bella, the beautiful moron, shakes her head.

* “No it’s okay I’ll go back to class, I don’t want to take a zero for the assignment” Well that’s noble and responsible and all. But what does she think is going to happen when she goes back to class?

* She’s going to see some blood again and faint. Not that you can be mad, you would probably have to go the the nurse too if Bella ever managed to prick her own finger

* “Bella you really shouldn’t,” You settle your hand on her shoulder pushing her back onto the chair. “You just fainted you should lie down, or go home or something.”

* Her eyebrows thread together, mouth pulled in protest.

* “I don’t want to impose on any-”

* “It’s not an imposition, I want to!” Her mouth parts, then closes, stretching into a fine line. You look to Edward who’s avoiding your gaze and seems very irritated.

* Enemies to lovers trope it is.(Though you’re not sure if this counts as enemies if only one person dislikes the other)

* “I’m going to drop you off home, come on.” You pull Bella up by her hand, leading her to the parking lot.

* “Wait what about my car?”

* Oh you hadn’t thought about that.

*Hmmm in the original book Alice drove her home. But Alice doesn’t really do anything unless there’s something in it for her, or if she wants to.

* Also you’re pretty sure when she ditched today when she found out that people were pricking there finger on campus. She claimed it was for Jasper, but you’re pretty sure there’s a sale in the Nordstrom in Seattle.

* Edward would rather get the flu than drive Bella’s ancient truck.

* Which leaves only one option.

* You toss your keys to Edward who catches them with one hand.

* “Edward will drive you home in my car, and I’ll drive your car behind him.”

* “What about Rosalie?” He grumbles.

*“What about Rosalie?” Why is he being so difficult right now? Doesn’t he realize you’re doing this all for him!

* “You’re driving her home since Emmett and I are leaving for Yellow Stone as soon as school lets out.” Oh right the bears. Cr*p.

* “It’s not a big deal, I’ll drive back to school after we’re done and you can go your way and I’ll go mine.”

* You can tell Edward doesn’t like it, but he just sigh’s climbing into your car and then promptly getting out of the passenger side and sitting in the driver’s side.

* The dork forgot he had to drive the car.

* You’re dying laughing as Bella leads you to her car.

* “It’s the blue one.”

* Her truck isn’t all that bad. It’s old, but in a kind of retro way. It’s powder blue, with only two doors and no backseat.

* You climb in, turning the engine and hearing it purr. Well it’s more of a roar, but it’s not terrible.

* You’re surprised when Bella climbs through the passenger side door.

* “Um, you’re not going to drive with Edward?” She looks at you like you just asked her to recite the Fibonacci sequence.

* “Why would I go with him when you’re the one driving my car?” Okay, that’s fair.

* You sigh, why does nothing ever go according to plan.

* Maybe it’s for the best, Edward doesn’t seem to be in the best mood. Not that this is good either, she’s sitting so close to you, her peachy scent fills the small space of the truck and you feel lightheaded.

* It’s less than a ten minute trip, no need to get dramatic. You’re pretty sure you won’t kill her just because she smells nice.

* “Soooooo... what do you want to talk about?” You ask as you turn out of the school, this car is super slow compared to yours, you’re pretty sure it won’t go over 50 mph.

* Bella fidgets beside you, playing with the ends of her hair.

* “So are you and Edward...dating?”

* You laugh so loud you actually start coughing. And then you laugh again.

* “No-pfff- no We’re uh- we’re not dating.” You finally manage.

* “Why is that so funny to you?” She asks, genuinely confused.

* “Well it’s just outrageous you know?” How would that even work? You can’t even picture it. Edward getting all hot and bothered because you’re wearing an oversized sweater and glasses. You flirting with him all over the house in front of Carlisle and Esme. Edward signing up for a sport just so he can see you in his letterman.

* It’s all...impossible.

* And yet, there is one thing you can picture.

* Edward by your side, he’s almost golden brown, his eyes bright green. He points to the living room, and in there are Alec and Jane, both of their eyes blue as they argue over who’s turn it is to watch TV.

* Maybe if you were human, if you had met in a different world or a different time, that would be something you could have.

* But it is what it is

* “Edward and I have been friends for a really long time, we’ve just seen too much of each other to find each other attractive like that.”

* Bella looks like she doesn’t believe you but she doesn’t say anything.

* Wait what are you doing? This is the perfect chance to talk Edward up!

* “But you know Edward is a real stand up guy!” It leaves a little too forcefully, a little inauthentic.

* “Oh is he?” She doesn’t sound too excited to be talking about this.

* “I know he’s got one of those face-”

* “Obnoxiously handsome?” She spats

* “Like he thinks existence is a curse, and the world is evil and everything is terrible -” Wait you’re getting off track. “B-but he really is a good guy!”

* You bite your lip, as Bella tells you to turn into a subdivision.

* “You know after- after I was adopted,” After your parents died. “I was really lonely, I had a family that loved me and anything I asked for but I didn’t really have anyone to talk to” Oh god, why did you choose this story to pick? “Edward was probably the only friend my age I had for years.”

* She straightens up a little bit, a curious glint in her eyes.

* “Really?” You nod.

* “Yeah he would come by every Monday and Wednesday,” You still remember the crunch of the snow under your feet as you both walked to the barn. He always asked why you didn’t just run, and you always told him because you liked the way you could see your breath hang in the air,

* “He could have been out that time, hanging out with other people,” More well adjusted vampires, who hunted instead of harvesting small amounts from animals they raised. “or chasing girls and playing sports, but he stayed with me.”

* “He always made me feel safe, and I’m sure whoever is lucky enough to end up with him will feel that way too.”

* “I think you’re giving him too much credit” Bella finally says, you smile at her

* “what do you mean?”

* “Well, who wouldn’t drop everything to hang out with you?” You can’t tell if she’s being genuine or if she’s bitter. Your eyes meet hers and there’s a twinkle in them. ”My house is the one on the left, the one with the magnolia tree.”

* You come to a stop in front of the house she mentioned, shifting it into park, and handing her the keys.

* You don’t say anything as you climb out of her car. You see Edward stopped a few dozen feet behind her truck, your jeep still on.

* “Thanks for driving me home” She smiles at you, a real smile that reaches her eyes. It’s nice.

* “No problem, it gave me an excuse to ditch school too haha.” You both stand in awkward silence. Neither of you moving.

* Well damn what are you supposed to do now?

* “Oh, hey do you want me to bring you your homework or anything?”

* She perks up at that, reaching into her pocket

* “If you don’t mind, could you text me what page he homework is on for trig today?”

* “ Oh for sure! No problem at all” You take her cell phone in your hand. It’s a white sidekick, with a picture of a cactus on the back. She must have gotten it when she moved.

* You can’t help but wonder if she has any friends she misses. She spent her entire life in one community, sure Phoenix is a pretty big place, but she must have had friends, people she sat with at lunch everyday, girls she had known since childhood, sleepovers where they whispered about boys they had crushes on.

* As you hand her phone back, your contact information saved in it, you can’t help but wonder who this person in front of you is. You know her, but at the same time, you know absolutely nothing about her.

* “See you Monday!” You wave goodbye as you get into the passenger side of your car, and Bella waits on the porch until you and Edward leave.

* Edward’s got that look on his face.

* “Edward why are you mad?”

* “I’m not mad.” He grumbles and you raise an eyebrow. He sighs.

* “You’re going out of your way an awful lot for that human.” He says as he turns back onto the highway.

* “It’s just the right thing to do Eddie.”

* He shakes his head, his mouth pinched into a frown

* “Just be careful, I don’t know what that one’s thinking, she could be planning to burn our entire coven for all I know.”

* You roll your eyes, yeah you bet Bella who weights exactly 115 pounds, and has anemia is single handedly planning to bring down the entire vampire race.

* “How about we make a deal, I’ll promise not to rock the boat while you and Emmett are gone-”

* “Why do I feel like I’m going to regret not covering my ears?”

*” If you promise to bring me back a bear cub - an orphaned one.” He gives you a look you don’t quite care for.

* “You want me to kill a mother bear so you can have a bear cub?”

* “No of course not! I’m just saying- Emmett doesn’t really look before he kills so if he kills a mother bear, just make sure you bring me the cubs.”

* “Why do you even want a bear? How are you planning to take care of it with all those deer around, they need a lot-”

* “Yes Dad I know it’s a big responsibility, don’t worry I won’t make you take it on walks or anything.”

* Edward gulps hard, one hand detaching from the steering wheel to cover his mouth.

* Wouldn’t it be positively sinful for you to be underneath him, whining ‘daddy, please’ in that breathy voice of yours and-

* Edward.exe is broken.

* “Dude you really need to get your shit together before you go on your trip, we’ve been parked for fifteen minutes and your foot is still on the brake.” You say as you get out of the car

* He hits his head against the steering wheel.

* “Yeah, I really do need to get my shit together.”

Tags: @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796 @moose-squirrel-asstiel @hotmessgoodness

#twilight #twilight imagines #twilight headcanons #twilight reader insert #twilight saga #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen #bella swan #bella swan x reader #bella swan headcanon #midnight sun #superhero--imagines

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ka-writes · 3 years ago

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Notes: I was at camp. Sorry for posting late... in return I gift a long chapter!

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In Case you missed it:

Chapter 1:

Chapter 2:

——————

Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Warning: Characters being trapped, mentions of IVs, Cussing, yelling, characters being restrained, nightmares, mentions of murder, a guy being arrested.

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“Humans are [add text here]”

Chapter 3: A Wild Crow Father has Appeared

Phil wasn’t expecting to be returning to Planet A112 so soon but Wilbur had sent a distress signal and that was the Dream Team Craft’s next stop.

The planet itself stood as a port market place. There were many of these planets around the galaxy, but it was probably the more popular ones for criminal ships and such. Poachers and Scientists alike came here to get supplies to take the biggest beasts in the galaxy, Humans.

Phil never understood the appeal, but both of his sons had gained that sort of adventurous aspect that he had lost so many celestial years ago. He assumed the only reason people ever chased the creatures was to fill their pride.

That was the exact reason Techno had joined the poacher ship three years ago. He only returned when it had crashed three months ago. To this day he has yet to reveal what horrors had gone on the ship.

Wilbur had another reason to go after the infamous creatures. His crave for knowledge was eating him up as was for most scientists. He joined the Dream Team Craft only six months ago and was already heading back to the SBI Craft.

Techno was pacing around the marketplace studying different weapons and supplies. Phil had been standing off to the side, leaning on one of the building walls. Every once and a while he would check his communicator to see where Wilbur was. Thankfully he had turned on his location so Phil could easily watch as he made his way through the maze-like market.

“Is he getting close?” Techno asked running low on patience.

“He’ll be here in two minutes or so.” Phil bit his lip, “You can head back to the ship, I don’t mind waiting for him.”

“I am not leaving you. Prime knows what Wilbur brought back this time.” Techno replied. Wilbur always had a knack for bringing back things he found interesting. This wasn’t the first time he had left the SBI Craft. This would be the 37th since he turned 14. Now he was 24 and the Craft had been designed to handle whatever he brought back. There was a holding room fit for literally any species, a mechanics room full of technology he gained an interest in. A garden and a gardener which was also retrieved by Wilbur. And of course Wilbur’s pride and joy, the laboratory.

“If you want mate..” Phil said, shaking his head.

Not even two minutes later he saw Wilbur coming from the middle of the crowd. He was carrying what looked like a hurt child.

“Well this should be interesting.” Techno mumbled as he spotted Wilbur.

Once the phantom saw them he strode over and they made their way over to him.

“What do you have this time mate?” Phil asked, curiosity filling him to the brim with questions.

“Someone I can’t explain till we get to the ship.” Wilbur states with a tone he had never heard from his son.

After a second of standing awkwardly they had come to a silent agreement to head to the ship.

It took less than five minutes. Wilbur was half sprinting to the lab before Techno’s assistant had even registered that Wilbur was back. Phil gave a quick greeting to the gardener and assistant before following Wilbur to the medical part of the lab. He almost fainted when he saw what was laying on the medical bed.

“I know it looks bad, but I couldn’t help myself.” Wilbur said apologetically, “I know you’re gonna want answers but I really don’t have a lot of time before serious damage is done to him. I’ll explain after I fix him up.” He glanced up with a face full of sincerity.

Phil sighed pushing aside any fatigue and collecting his thoughts. “How can I help?” He states without an ounce of shown-fear in his voice.

Wilbur took a moment before answering. Prime the silence was loud. “Keep everyone out of the lab, and set up another room.. that would be great.” Wilbur said. The worry in his voice was apparent, but Phil said nothing of it. Instead he started on the tasks that came with being the captain of the craft.

——————

He woke up to LED lights blinding him. Tommy blinked a bit before sitting up.

He was sitting on what appeared to be a hospital bed. An IV was attached to his wrist and there were strange alien restraints attached to his legs but not to his wrists. That would be a mistake if he knew how to take the sticky black cuffs off. Which he didn’t. Plus he was too weak to attempt.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and looked around. The bed was pushed into the back corner directly across from a window. There was no glass or plastic covering the window, only a shiny force-field looking thing. The window also was the length of the wall. To the right of the window was a little slot and shelf, clearly used to deliver food. To the left of the window was a place for a door. The only thing was there was no visible door, just more of the light blue painted wall. To the left of the space was a bunch of shelves with a bunch of weird toys, games, books, and puzzles. Across from that was a card table and two comfortable chairs. At the end of the bed was a bench looking thing in which the lid lifted up.

All in all the room was clearly used to keep people occupied while keeping a close eye on them. The inhabitants of the ship had prepared it so it could withstand most things. The furniture in the room had been nailed to the floor. The chairs could move either closer or farther from the table with whoever was sitting down using a strange contraption. None of the toys on the lower shelf could be eaten and all games and puzzles were on higher shelves. The books were also all hard covered. There were even plastic bookmarks in a small container next to the shelves. The window was clearly impossible to get through and looked like it would absorb whatever you threw at it. The food shelf had three mechanisms that wouldn’t be easy to get through. There were no vents or places to hide. It was very apparent they had done this sort of thing before.

The last thing Tommy looked for was a light switch. By some sort of luck he spotted it. It was a weird sort of dial thing that was right by the IV stand. It was currently at 100 and he then dialed it down to 35. It was dim enough to sleep but bright enough to see everything clearly. Not even five minutes later he fell into a deep sleep.

——————

“YOU BROUGHT A HUMAN?!” Tubbo yelled, fluttering his wings furiously, making him hover ever so slightly.

Ranboo swiftly put his hand on Tubbo’s shoulder pushing him back onto the ground. The enderian shifted anxiously making Techno ponder if he was also gripping Tubbo to keep himself grounded. Phil stood near Will expectantly. Wilbur shifted from foot to foot and rubbed his arm, yet kept his head up to look at everyone. Techno was leaning against his security desk, side eyeing the now asleep human.

“I knew you were stupid, I just didn’t know you were this stupid.” Techno stated without a hint of remorse. Wilbur scoffed before attempting to collect himself.

“I couldn’t just leave him there! It was a mission built for researching humans. Meaning they would be doing nasty experiments for prime knows how long!” Wilbur snapped, with a seriousness Techno hadn’t seen since Wilbur brought back the other children on the ship, “He is a kid. Not an adult that had nowhere to go and was doing prime awful things. He is a kid with no family, no home, and barely making it through the day. I read through his file and he has gone through awful shit. I wasn’t gonna let him die in misery too. If you don’t want him on the ship, then I will get myself my own ship.” Wilbur threatened with a tone not to be questioned. Techno took a moment to think through Will’s response before coming up with an answer.

“He can stay. As long as you keep him in line and take care of his rations. He is not to leave his room until we make sure he can do no damage. If anyone wants to visit him, you are either outside the window or I am present. No excuses.” Techno finished satisfied with his answer. Phil may have been the legal captain of the ship, but when it came to rules Techno was always the one to make them.

Phil nodded in agreement. The two children nodded aggressively, both of which clearly had no intention of going near the human’s holding cell. After a minute Wilbur nodded.

“Fine. If those are the rules I will comply.” Wilbur said, “I need to adjust some things, I will assume Techno will be coming with me?” He asked reluctantly.

“Yes.” Techno bluntly said.

“So be it.” Wilbur snapped. Techno just brushed it off as they headed towards the lab cells.

——————

Tommy was running through the forest on the edge of town.

It was his favorite trail and the only one his parents let him go on alone. Which cost a long series of promises and supplies he had to go with.

Usually he would be running on the trail for fun but this time it was a sprint home. He didn’t know what was wrong but he knew something was wrong. Especially when he saw the blue and red lights light up the evening sky.

“I didn’t do anything you bastards!!” His dad yelled over the sirens. They had him in cuffs repeating the Miranda rights to him as they pushed him into the back seat.

“What’s going on?” All Tommy could manage his throat was tight and he was struggling to hold back angry tears. He caught one of the officers' attention. She smiled softly.

“He got caught doing something bad to his wife.” She said sadly.

“What did he do?!” Tommy cried even louder this time tears slipped down his face. At this point the officer got more serious.

“I am not obligated to say.” She bit her lip before continuing, “Why don’t you go back to your parents?” She replied softly. This was the first time Tommy got angry, not annoyed or that childish angry. The kind of anger that makes you wanna burn the world down. It was a quick flash but enough to make him snap.

“You took my dad…. What did he do to my mom?” Tommy answered coldly. His answer clearly shook the officer.

“Aw kid, I- .. I am sorry.. he killed her.” Tommy already knew the answer. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. He heard someone scream from far away. Maybe it was him, maybe someone else. They pushed him through a series of questions all of which he could barely answer. His mind was somewhere else. He couldn’t calm down. Everything was too much.

He woke up in a cold sweat. Tears were running down his face. His breath was rapid and uneven. He hadn’t had a dream like that for a couple of months, granted he barely slept. After a few shaky breaths he calmed himself enough to grasp where he was. He wiped the tears just in time for the spot where the door was to open.

In stepped Wilbur along with a really tall alien. The tall alien stood in front of the door as Wilbur rushed to Tommy’s bed. Tommy lost control of his breathing, barely calming down.

Wilbur grabbed his hands to which Tommy snapped his head towards the alien. “I want you to breathe with me okay?” Wilbur said softly. He moved Tommy’s hand to his chest and started taking deep breaths. After a minute Tommy managed to even his breath to Wilbur’s pattern. “Good, good. I am gonna take off your IV since you don’t need it anymore. After that I can get you some food and water, then we can talk alright?” Wilbur said, keeping his tone soft and slow. Tommy rubbed his eyes and nodded.

Wilbur took his arm, there was a small pinch then the IV was off. Wilbur quickly left and came back after about two minutes. Within those two minutes Tommy got a better look at the other alien.

The alien had light pink ruff skin with neat pink hair tightly braided. They were wearing a puffy cream shirt that was tucked into dark brown pants, which were tucked into black boots that went up to their knees. Their knees bent backwards and the boots were shaped weirdly, like they were built for hooves. They had hooves where their hands would be, that somehow had thumbs. They also had tusks poking out of their mouth. Along with blood red eyes that had white pupils. Their ears poked out of their hair and were both torn and pierced with gold earrings. They also had a gold chain necklace with a stone that resembled an Emerald. They also wore a black belt with a gold clip. Attached to the belt was an alien sword leaning against their right hip, on the other side was what resembled a gun.

Tommy swallowed down food that was threatening to come up. He waited patiently for Wilbur to come back, trying his hardest not to stare at the other alien.

“My name is Techno. He/him. Same with Wilbur and most of the crew. The only one who has other pronouns is Ranboo who goes by he/they.” Techno, stated bluntly. Tommy collected himself before responding.

“I am Tommy Innit, er- he/him.” Tommy finished with a shaky voice.

Luckily the awkward tension didn’t last long as Wilbur practically sprinted through the door, shoving Techno out of the way. He pulled a tray that was neatly folded out of the wall and put a glass of water and some food on a plate.

“Some parskey with hatatoes. It tastes good I promise.” Wilbur explained. He then went to grab something he left outside and sat at the card table. He put two plates down and Techno joined him. The door closed after that. There was no button or anything, it just closed. Tommy was a little baffled by it but looked towards the food put in front of him.

It was a white meat, similar to chicken, with a brown version of mashed potatoes. He looked over to the other two who were talking in a different language while eating the same food. With that Tommy decided it was okay to eat. Just like what it reminded him of, it tasted like chicken and mash potatoes with small differences. Like the meat was dryer and more salty and the potatoes were a little sour. Either way it was still good. He then drank the water. There was no odd taste this time so he assumed it wasn’t drugged.

Once he finished he attempted to listen in but was only met with a series of strange sounds. He gave up and pushed the tray away. Almost too quickly he fell into a deep sleep. He didn’t even notice when the visitors took their stuff and left.

——————

Ranboo poked at his food glancing up every once and awhile. The two crew members had returned from the human’s room and decided to finish their food with the rest of the crew. Everyone sat in a tense silence.

“So,” Phil clapped his feathered hands and turned towards Wilbur. “What do we know about the kid?” He asked.

“His name is Tommy Innit, pronouns he/him. He is 14 and was living on the run for six months. No family according to him and he’s allergic to nuts.” Wilbur answered.

“From what I can tell he isn’t super dangerous, just fearful. He already trusts Wilbur, somehow. Though I think it is due to Wilbur saving his life. It will be harder for the rest of us to gain his trust.” Techno added. Ranboo swiftly wrote the responses down, making sure to keep major notes.

The rest of dinner was uneventful and everyone awkwardly washed dishes and went to bed. Assumingly to sleep. Everyone except Ranboo that is. He couldn’t wash dishes due to his biology and he didn’t really sleep. Every time he tried the void would wake him up or he would go into a half-conscious state that the crew deemed as enderwalking.

So for what felt like the hundredth time they stayed awake laying in bed. This time however their mind was racing with thoughts. Traveling through situations that used to seem impossible before the human boarded the ship. Still curiosity was eating their insides.

With a half made up mind Ranboo shot up in bed. They stalked over to where the human was being held and peered into the window.

Almost instantly the human sat up. After yawning and getting into a position he was comfortable in he just stared at Ranboo making them incredibly uncomfortable.

“Who are you?” The human asked, Ranboo couldn’t remember his name.

“Oh! Uh, I am Ranboo.. I am kinda like an assistant, I-I guess.” Ranboo said, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Ah cool. I am the biggest man! Tommy Innit. You should be grateful to be in my presence.” The human practically flowed with confidence making Ranboo question if all humans were like this. He shook off the questions and turned back to the human who was now playing with the light monitor.

“So… what was your planet like?” Tommy asked, startling Ranboo a bit. “I-I mean you don’t have to answer of course.. just wondering..” the human stuttered. They took a moment to go through their thoughts, narrowing down what they could.

“I guess it was peaceful.. in a way.. no one really fell out of line. It was unified, creating a peaceful haven. It wasn’t like people couldn’t fall out of line it’s just they didn’t want to. M-most of them were content with the way they were… but if there was something wrong they would absolutely take any measure to destroy it.” Ranboo finished bitterly, trying to shake off his old hurt of how they treated him. “W-what about your planet?” Ranboo asked.

“Ah.. Earth is interesting to say the least… We don’t all follow the same rules. And there is a lot of falling out of line… But I guess that’s what gave it a certain charm and a certain aspect that made it brutal.” Tommy finished his serious tone melting in an instant, “But that’s there not here! I wanna know what everything is like.” He said looking at Ranboo with curiosity.

That’s how Ranboo created a bond with the strange blond creature. They bounced from topic to topic mainly ending with one of them going into a deep explanation of one thing or another. They talked until both of them ended up passing out sitting next to the window.

——————

Chapter 3- End

Words- 3,212

——————

Techno- “Don’t go near the human without my presence.”

Ranboo- ._.

Ranboo- Ima do it... >:p

——————

(That was a bad one but oh well..)

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End Notes: I got carried away a bit... I have a few more filler chapters before we start actually getting into the plot.. also after this should I start a super hero AU?

Ignore minor mistakes... I did reread through it this time so there shouldn’t be too many...

As always likes are nice but reblogs are better! Please share this with people of you enjoyed, I hope you did!

Go get some water, sleep, eat food, and stay safe!! Love y’all <3

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Chapter 4:

#dream smp fanfiction #tommy mcyt #tubbo #ranboo #wilbur soot #philza #techno #sbi au #alien au #my fanfic tag #my writing #reblog

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.15}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.5k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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When the door fell closed again and Robin was left standing in the hallway by herself, in her pajamas, she sighed to herself. What a way to start a birthday… But then again, a part of her (an unsurprisingly large one) was also quite excited to have a very good reason to go find Snape once more. Not that she planned on staying longer than necessary, but the prospect of seeing him at all brought a smile to her lips and thus she started making her way towards the office. Still in her pajamas, much to her discontent. Not that she minded Snape seeing her in flannels and her Queen shirt at this point, he'd had that pleasure far too often already to pay mind to it by now, and it was rather the act of walking through the castle in her pajamas that she wasn't too fond of. But it was in the middle of the night, which made it unlikely that anyone would even see her at all. Thus she made her way out of the common room and through the dark hallways until she arrived in front of the office, where she unlocked the door only to find the room behind it dark and empty. Odd… didn't he still have those essays to grade for Monday? After checking the classroom as well and finding it in the same state, she went to the lab next, but it also proved to be vacant. He can't seriously have chosen this one instance to actually listen to her suggestion of going to bed early, can he? Insufferable idiot… but it wasn't his fault that she was trying to save his arse from some pathetic prank.

Robin groaned under her breath, putting her head into her neck for a moment before she made her way back down the hallway and towards where she believed his private chambers to be. It honestly wasn't too difficult a task to find the right place once she actually tried to, and before long she found herself in a hallway she had never been in before. It literally only had one single door going off to the side, and that made matters rather easy for her. As she stood there, trying to decide if she should knock or speak, she couldn't help wondering what the professors' rooms looked like in the castle in general, and Snape's room in particular. Certainly it was more spacious, and probably a lot more comfortable than the dorms as well. Would it have the same dusty and gloomy aesthetic as his house back in England? But then again, he spent way more time up here, he had said so himself… so his rooms here might just as well look entirely different.

Shaking her head to herself to put an end to her useless string of thoughts, she finally decided to knock. Three times, certain, and firmly as always. Generic as it could be. It took a few seconds but then she could hear movement, and finally the door was ripped open with a force that had her taking a step backwards instinctively. As soon as his dark eyes fell onto Robin however, the scowl on his face was gone in an instant and his entire demeanour changed from sheer furor and annoyance to question and concern.

"Robin! What-..." He started in mild surprise, but cut himself off after a second as he took in her appearance, then glimpsed down either side of the hallway, and finally just pulled her into the room before shutting the door behind them again.

Of course Robin's heart wouldn't miss the opportunity to start racing again, and for a moment she allowed herself to inspect the room she now found herself in. It was similar to his house, and yet entirely different in a way. First her eyes were drawn to a fireplace with a sofa in front of it, as it was the brightest spot in the room, lit up and tinted in a faint orange glow. The walls around it were lined with shelves, filled with books and quite a few other things actually, which she didn't have the time to inspect right now. But there was a small table with two chairs along one of those walls, hiding some of the books and objects from her vision, and she allowed her eyes to linger there for a moment only, before the next curiosity caught her attention. On two walls there were surprisingly large windows for a room in the dungeons, which could only mean that they must be in one of the corners of the castle that were facing the cliffside instead of the black lake… There was no water behind the glass, after all, unlike the common room on the other side of the dungeons. Robin frowned for a second as she thought; she didn't know a single other room down here with a windowed corner. Obviously being the only professor who lived in the dungeons had its perks; he got the very best room of them all. Honestly, she wouldn't even be surprised if he had the nicest room of all the professors. So her eyes wandered on, over the large desk which was even more meticulously organised than the one in the office, and over the wall of ceiling-high shelves that separated the room and shielded off the far right corner. Her gaze fell onto a four-poster bed that looked much like the students' ones, but about double the size, with the softest looking duvet she had ever seen, and dark green sheets that seemed almost black in the candlelight… she quickly looked away before she had the time to blush. Geez, it was just a bloody piece of furniture; get a grip, idiot! As she averted her eyes, she also saw a closed door other than the one to the hallway, and she simply assumed that it would lead to a private bathroom. Finally when she had roughly taken everything in, her eyes returned to Snape only to find him observing her in obvious amusement already.

"Are you done with the inspection?" He asked with one raised eyebrow, and now Robin did feel the heat creeping up her neck after all. Thank god it was quite dimly lit in here.

"Not nearly. But that will have to wait until a later point in time." She replied honestly, despite being called out for her undeniable curiosity.

"What brings you here then? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine… I thought you would still be in the office, to be honest. I didn't think you would actually take my advice about getting some sleep."

"I do take advice, occasionally, but only when nobody can tell that I do." He replied almost easily, and Robin had to smile in return. "But I would still feel a lot better if I knew what brings you here."

"It's nothing of any gravity, really… But it couldn't wait until morning."

"Building suspense as always, are we?" He quipped, and motioned to the sofa, before sitting down himself. Robin followed the example, and crossed her legs beneath her like she always did. For some reason, she felt no less comfortable being here now than she was in the lab or the office. All three rooms were very much Snape, in their neatness and calm and familiarity, and perhaps that was the reason why she loved either of them so much.

"Yes, no suspense, I'm sorry." She said as she shook her head to herself again, and finally started explaining. "I'm here because tomorrow morning some kids want to put salt into your coffee."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Snape started laughing, actually laughing, and Robin didn't know if she should laugh too, feel offended, or stare in awe. Either would have been an appropriate reaction, and since her brain couldn't settle for one, she did all three at once, which must've looked odd enough for him to stop laughing at last. Instead, he looked at her with a small smile now, which Robin still couldn't really put much meaning to. Why was this so amusing to him? He hated these things, all those imbeciles and their childish jokes… usually, at least.

"I don't understand what's funny about it." She decided to voice her thoughts at last. "I spent an hour being mad about it and trying to find a way to prevent it from happening, and you just… laugh?"

"I can see how that seems unreasonable, yes." He replied, and his amusement now toned down a bit. "Believe me, I wasn't laughing at you. Neither about the issue itself."

"Then what's so funny?"

"For one, I'm simply relieved that you are only here about a practical joke, and not about another situation that might end with you being hurt. Then of course there is the absurdity of the entire situation… I hadn't imagined that it would be salt in my coffee that would bring you to my room for the first time."

"But you did imagine what exactly would?" She quirked an eyebrow at him with a smirk, deciding that humour would be a better way to deal with his words than turning into a flustered mess again would be. He probably hadn't meant anything by it in the first place. But still, for a moment, she was sure to see an actual blush on his cheeks for once, a faintest tint of crimson, but it might as well have been the light of the candles, a mere shadow. It made her heart skip a beat nonetheless.

"Tell me more about that practical joke." He said a moment later, not even trying to hide the fact that he wasn't answering her question. "How did you come to know of it?"

Robin sighed, and did them both the favour of ignoring the previous conversation indeed. "I don't know much… Some sixth year by the name of Parker planned it with his friends. They're going to put salt into all the drinks for the head table in general, and obviously everyone finds it hilarious. Cas heard from Simon, and she told Jorien and me about it just an hour ago. But no matter how stupid of a predicament that puts me into, I couldn't let it happen without telling you. To save your morning, at least."

"I imagine you wouldn't want me to put an end to it then, before the disaster ensues… That would certainly reveal your involvement."

"I would appreciate it if you didn't. I know it's probably a stupid situation for you too, to know and not tell your-..."

"I don't particularly care, actually." He shrugged, with an almost humoured expression once again. "I will certainly undo the damage before enjoying my own coffee, but my colleagues' fates are their own. And I wouldn't put your relationship with your roommates at risk over something as imbecile as this."

"Thank you! Really, I appreciate it. But I have another favor to ask of you, one that's not entirely my own." Robin replied with an apologetic expression. "Can you please tell McGonagall about it too, before breakfast? And ask her not to spoil it either? I know, that's going to be incredibly hard, but it is really important to me."

"I certainly will tell her if you'd like me to. However I am curious to know why your mixed sentiments for her seem to have changed enough to warrant such concern about her now."

"They haven't changed at all… It's about Jorien. She wants McGonagall spared, but can't reveal it as her own intention for various reasons, so I told her I would do what I can."

"And why don't you simply tell her yourself like you are telling me now?"

"Well, I don't think McGonagall would've been happy to find me in front of her door at this time of night." Robin said with a humoured smile, then had to snort. "Especially not in my pajamas."

"Indeed, I don't think she's particularly fond of Queen." He mused, and Robin had to laugh even more at his tone. "If your apparel is the problem, you could have warned both her and me in the morning. Not that I would dare to complain, but why did you choose to do it now instead?"

"Finding you in the morning was my plan, originally, but I was made aware that I won't be able to. I was just about to go to sleep actually, hence the pajamas, when Jorien told me that I wouldn't get a minute to myself before breakfast because of some plans they have made for my birthday, and-..."

"What time is it?" He asked and his voice was suddenly rid of every humour at all, as was his face.

"Eh… around one thirty at night, I think? Perhaps two already?" Robin frowned at him, in confusion about the sudden question and abrupt change in his demeanor. "Why? Is something wrong? I mean, I know I probably shouldn't be here at this time of night and all that, but-..."

"Then it is your birthday already…" The edge was gone from his tone immediately, leaving only a quiet statement with a tinge of sadness.

"Yeah, it is. What's wrong with that?" She asked in return, her expression a mirror of his own right until he got up from the couch and made for the other side of the room without a word. Robin's heart squeezed together for a second, then she jumped up as well, out of sheer nervousness, but stayed standing between the sofa and the fireplace, feeling lost as her eyes followed him through the room. Had she done something wrong? Or said the wrong thing, perhaps?

Snape merely picked what looked like a piece of paper out of a stack of documents on his desk, then returned to Robin without any ado. Her eyes didn't leave him once, but only met his at last when he stood in front of her again. All the small tells of emotion on his face showed guilt, a hint of annoyance perhaps, both directed entirely at himself as it seemed.

"I tend to forget about time and such trifles when I am in your company. I apologise for the delay." He said after a few seconds, then held out the paper to Robin, an envelope that once again had his own name written on it. "Happy birthday, Robin."

The nervousness that had churned her guts seconds before was replaced by a soaring wave of warm adoration with a start, at both his words and the fact that all he had been upset about was forgetting to congratulate her. If he wanted it true or not, that was incredibly sweet. In Robin's eyes at least. With a smile she yet again had to tone down a little, she took the envelope from him, but instead of opening it right away, she merely held his gaze.

"Thank you. And don't worry, time is entirely irrelevant to me; I am happy that you remembered at all." She said sincerely, still in a fight with herself to not reveal too much of her own adoration. "If it wasn't for the entire 'celebrating into the day' thing, I probably would've only remembered that it's my birthday tomorrow morning."

"You will have to tell me more about what your roommates have put you through, but first I would like you to open that envelope. I meant to give it to you at the end of the day, but seeing as you are here right now, the beginning of the day will be just fine as well."

"Alright…" Robin said, and she couldn't help her curiosity for much longer anyway. Thus she turned the letter in her hands, inspecting the already broken seal with a smile, a frown and a huff. "The letter is from the ministry…"

"Obviously."

She rolled her eyes with a smile, but then finally tugged out the two sheets of paper from the envelope, and unfolded the first. For a minute, she read over the letter that was indeed addressed to Snape, and almost as expected, she didn't understand a word of it. It was signed with a name she had never heard before, but the subtitle said that he was representing the department of admissions. A title as generic as the name itself. Other than that, the letter mainly stated that Snape's request had been accepted and processed thanks to the aforementioned reasons (which unfortunately weren't stated, but surely would've given Robin a hint about what this entire thing was about), and that the ministry would keep an eye on the issue nonetheless. After reading it twice and being left no wiser, Robin took a look at the second page.

To her great surprise, this one had her own name on it, and it looked a lot more like the official document she had received from the ministry after successfully completing the apparition class last term. Her frown deepened as she scanned every word and number on the form that looked more like a license almost, if the standardised look of it was anything to go by… it certainly would explain why the letter came from the department of admissions. But other than her name, a few numbers and the current date, the twentieth, she didn't get too much information from it either. Entirely confused now, she looked back up at Snape who had carefully observed her while she had been reading.

"I would love to tell you I'm happy about the gift, but I have absolutely no idea what any of this is about. I don't even know if it's a gift or a warning or a death sentence." She started with a helpless chuckle, sounding almost as lost as she felt. "Perhaps we could skip the part where you roll your eyes and make me guess for once, for the sake or my birthday. Please?"

"It's not precisely a gift in common terms." He explained, and thereby complied with her request without mention. Robin didn't fail to notice though how mildly uncomfortable he looked, and she wondered if it was about the subject itself, or the mere fact that he was finally admitting to giving her something like a gift at least. "It is a solution to a problem you have. Or rather one that you had, until now."

"Who's the one building suspense now?" Robin smirked at him, to which he merely let out a huff that was supposed to cover up his own not-smirk. It didn't work, and he probably knew, so he went on to explain.

"I do realise that I had no right to solve this problem for you, and I also know that you never made a problem of it in the first place." He said, which made matters no less mysterious at all. "But I know that it has been burdening you for a while now, and I had to put an end to it. Try to, at least. So what I did was to write to the ministry and request for you to be given a certain and admittedly quite rare professional authorisation that allows you to handle certain substances that are subject to permission."

"I… which… what?"

"Perhaps we should approach the matter from a different perspective that is less… political. You obviously are aware that the objects we have gathered over the summer, the subjects of the theories in your handbook, all share one essential attribute: they are rare, some even extremely rare, and therefore very valuable. Yes?"

"Yes."

"And you see how that correlates to the horrendously high prices one has to pay for them in any shop that sells ingredients for potions."

"...yes?"

"Now, the reason why these objects are more often sold on the black market than in any reputable establishment is quite simple. The vast majority of rare objects and ingredients, and thereby almost all of the ones in your handbook, are subject to permission, which means that without a permit from the ministry, you aren't allowed to sell them. This leads to the problem that most shops are generally short of these ingredients, seeing as the ministry rarely gives out such a permit, which in return makes the ingredients even more expensive. These issues can be evaded by selling on the black market, which however almost always results in selling under value to sell at all."

"I understand. But why doesn't the ministry want to give more people such a permit? Wouldn't that make things a lot easier?" Robin frowned, and she felt like the biggest idiot ever, with a large knot in her brain. She knew she was missing something very obvious, but she just couldn't tell what it was.

"Imagine what would happen if every idiot was going after these ingredients for the mere sake of selling them. Not only would most of them die before they even reach their goal, but there would be thousands of people roaming through both worlds and destroying everything in their wake for the mere sake of making money off these objects. The ministry can't risk that, and therefore they are very selective about those who they grant this permit to. They wouldn't give it to me when I tried a few years ago." Snape said, then motioned to the papers still clutched in Robin's hands. "But they gave it to you. People have known your name ever since the first conference you attended; important people who have enough influence to see to it that my request was accepted."

"But… what… I…" Her brain was completely out of it for a moment, until she gave herself a mental slap. "I only research rare ingredients because I love doing it, and I gather them for you and me to work with… But I've never thought about selling them before."

"I know. Your passion for the work we do, the work you do, will always be your highest priority, but that doesn't contradict selling what you don't need for yourself." He stated, then sighed while the subtle discomfort returned to his expression. "Even a mere handful of the wraiths' moss from last year's excursion would suffice to make a small fortune. I know you have been concerned about how to make a living without your parents' support for a while now. This is the solution. A possible one, at least."

For a moment then, the weirdest thing happened; Robin's mind was entirely blank. A mere white noise of too much to process, too many thoughts tumbling over one another while each was too briefly existent to be grasped. So she just stood there, papers still clutched in her hands, and stared at Snape with wide eyes and parted lips. Frozen in space and time.

"Breathe." He reminded her then, with an expression so uncertain it seemed almost uncharacteristic, and Robin did breathe indeed. Once, twice, thrice… then her mind exploded into a colourful variety of emotions, and she finally snapped out of her freeze only to throw her arms around Snape an instant later, hugging him as tightly as if her life depended on it. If he wanted it or not. He didn't have a say in this, not right now.

"Thank you…" Robin breathed as soon as she wasn't entirely choked up anymore, and she couldn't even bring herself to care that the tears that were running down her cheeks now were drenching his linen shirt. "Thank you thank you thank you."

His arms wound around her in return almost instinctively, pulling her closer and keeping her steady as she stood on her tiptoes. But when he spoke up, his voice was quiet, sad almost. "What did I do wrong this time?"

"What? You did nothing wrong!"

"But you are crying, which usually is a direct result of whatever matter I have screwed up this time."

"I'm happy, you dunderhead!" Robin couldn't help laughing through her tears, and her arms around him tightened even more. He really was no better at closer human interactions than she was, and it was relieving to see sometimes. "Happy, and overwhelmed. Positively! This is so much more than just a birthday present to me… You really did save my butt yet again."

"Nonsense… I did nothing more than to write a letter to the right person, asking the right questions. It hardly is a gift at all. I didn't even have to pay for it." He replied in tangible defensiveness to being thanked, but Robin wouldn't let him get away with it this time.

"Didn't you tell me two or three years ago that caring for someone extends beyond the material?" She asked while the tears slowly dried out, leaving her voice muffled by his shoulder rather than emotion, and finally the overwhelmed feeling made way for sheer happiness. "This is the best possible example of it. It might only look like a piece of paper, but it's so much more to me. It shows that you know me, know me so well that you don't even have to ask to know what's on my mind. It means that you willingly dealt with people you despise, because I know just how much you hate ministry officials, and writing to them in a nice enough way to get them to do something for you can't have been easy. And foremost, the fact that you didn't just give me a gift, but actually thought of a bloody brilliant solution to an incredibly important problem for me tells me just how much you actually care. If you want to admit it or not."

"You haven't the slightest idea just how much I actually care." He replied under his breath, and it sent a deep shiver through Robin, one which obviously was noticeable enough for him to follow it up by lightly tracing up and down her spine with his fingers. Bloody hell, she could've died right on the spot from the sheer emotional intensity of this alone.

"You're getting better at showing me." She finally made herself reply, in a voice way too breathy to be anywhere near appropriate, but it didn't matter in that moment. Not when her mind had enough trouble keeping her from doing something incredibly stupid.

"May I ask you something you might find rather odd?" He spoke up a few seconds later, and his hand stilled on her back, splayed out so that his fingertips brushed her sides.

"Don't you always?" Robin chuckled softly. "You can ask and say anything at all, you know that. Odd isn't a thing between us anymore." The question he did ask then, however, she had not seen coming at all.

______________________________

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yodawgiherd · 4 years ago

Text

Gone Clubbing

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Coming hot from the Red Flag update, I wrote this chapter that is in a very similar light. It fits the story, so you can't blame me :P Enjoy!

The interior of the club was looking surprisingly normal. Dark colors, tasteful wooden decorations, tables and booths lining the walls. There was a bar in one corner, but the center of the whole club was undoubtedly the raised stage. It was empty now, Darius’ performance didn’t start yet, so Eren took the lead and maneuvered them towards the reserved booth.

Looking around, he realized one thing. Hey, they even fit here! Mikasa was looking amazing as ever and her goth getup worked well with the overall vibe of the club. Eren, who was dubbed a clown by both himself and his friends, also got substantially better, because black lipstick and nail polish were very far from the most eccentric clothing they saw.

“Look, that catsuit is the same as one of yours.”, he pointed out, making Mikasa look.

“It is..”, she agreed, inspecting the latex bodysuit of one of the visitors, “I guess Darius is making big bucks with custom-made gear.”

“He is an artist.”

“True that. Everything we got from him is amazing, so I will never disagree with his statements.”

Mikasa’s grey eyes slid towards the bar, pondering the question of “not getting hammered.” She could handle a few more drinks, especially when she asks for something with less alcohol, and there was no reason to just sit here dry.

“Well, I’ll get us something to drink, because I might get thirsty over the course of the evening.“, Mikasa stated, letting the double entendre hang in the air as she stood up and walked in the direction of the bar.

That’s when Eren’s phone rang, and a quick check showed that it was his mother calling. As one does not let his mother go into voicemail, he picked up, curious what she might want. They did see each other a few hours back.

“Mom?”

“E-Eren, you freak!”

That made him blink.

“Come again?”

“I know what you did! Mikasa spilled the beans and now I know… Everything! I don’t remember raising you like this!”

Eyes flying to where his fiancé was, Eren’s mind worked frantically around the words. Carla knew… everything? What did that mean? What did Mikasa tell her? He couldn’t imagine his reserved girlfriend bragging about anything embarrassing in public, so…

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“I know that you… you had s… sex in public, Mikasa said so.”

Statement one – Carla was drunk, judging from how she mingled the words.

Statement two- What the fuck?!

Statement three – What on god’s green earth made Mikasa tell Carla such a thing. Fine, it was far from the worst that they’ve done, but still. It’s not something that you boast about to family members, and Eren would rather bite his tongue clear off than walk up to Levi and say: “Hey friend, did you know that I often tie your little sister up and do all kinds of freaky shit to her?”

“Well, I mean…”

But Carla didn’t even let him finish, another accusation flying Eren’s way.

“And you have a tattoo!”

“You said that it looked cool!”

“Yes but…”, she sniffled on the other side, “You were just a tiny little baby yesterday, and today you have a tattoo and a girlfriend and… s-sex… and…”

The sounds she was making were suspiciously like sobs.

“Mom? Are you okay?”

“Y-Yes... It’s…”, he could hear her shaky exhale, “I wasn’t here for such a big part of your life, I missed so much.”

“Mom I…”

“No, it’s my fault, I was the one who decided to leave. But no more. I promise that I’ll be around much more Eren, I want to remember what you do, I want to be a part of your life.”

“You are a part of my life mom.”

“Bigger part then.”

“Very well.”, he chuckled, “Do you want me to come over and talk?”

“No, I know when I’m drunk. Mikasa’s party was great but I feel like lying down now.”, Carla bit back a yawn, “Also, tell her that she looked beautiful today.”¨

“See? Even you tell me that she’s beautiful and you act all surprised when she tells you that we fu-… I mean that we are intimate. Like seriously, did you think that we were in some sort of celibate relationship where we kiss each other on the cheek and sleep in separate beds?”

“Okay Mr. Libido, where are my grandchildren then?”

If Eren was drinking anything, he would spit it out right now.

“Mom! What the hell?”

“I’m just saying Eren, if I die without seeing a single tiny bundle of joy from you and Mikasa, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your days.”

“I…”

“Shush, I’ll get out of your hair now. I love you Eren and tell Mikasa I love her too. She’s like the daughter I never had.”

“Now that would make things rather awkward between us.”

“You know what I mean! Once you finally push yourself to action and marry the poor girl, she’s going to be my in-law anyway.”

“Wait, did you say poor?”

“Good night sweetie!”

And with a click, Carla was gone. Putting the phone down, Eren’s eyes were drawn to Mikasa making her way back towards him, two glasses in hand. She moved through the club with her usual predatory grace, easily weaving through the people there, completely in her element. Eren wasn’t the only one watching her, he noticed, several pairs and individuals stole a look at the enchantingly beautiful goth girl that walked in their midst. Maybe it should have made Eren jealous, but all he felt was a pang of foolish pride in his chest. Yes, she’s so incredibly gorgeous, and she’s mine. Look, but don’t touch or we might have a problem. Or who was he kidding, Mikasa would definitely take care of herself. She was the one who, in high school, broke a hand of a guy who touched her without permission.

Reaching her destination, Mikasa slid down to the booth next to Eren, putting the glasses on the table. A bit driven by all the stares, he immediately took the opportunity to grab a sort of possessive hold of her, angling her face so he could kiss her. Way more aggressive and deeper than necessary, but he was buzzed just the right way not to care. Let anyone see how much he loves her. They were in a freaking BDSM club anyway, this was by far not the worst that happened here.

“Well hello stranger,”, she said once they broke apart, her cheeks all flushed and the black lipstick smeared around her lips, “Didn’t know that you were this grateful for the drink”

Keeping one hand wrapped around her, Eren took a sip of whatever she brought up, pleasantly surprised. It was good, way better than he expected even, as one would not think that a club like this needed an amazing bartender. There were other reasons why people came.

“Mom called.”, he announced, putting the glass back down, “She knows about our public adventures because you told her. May I know why?”

“Eeh, I couldn’t help it.”, Mikasa had an apologetic smile on her lips, “We were playing truth or dare, and it sort of came up.”

Truth or dare? That did sound like fun, and Eren regretted the dumb argument he got into with the other guys at the bar. Pulling out secrets from Hitch or Krista, or hell, his own mother, would have been amazing. Then again, he was here with Mikasa, they had drinks and the show didn’t start yet. So…

“Wanna have a little game of our own?”

“Why? We know exactly what we did.”

“Maybe it’s just an excuse to get you drunk.”

“Ooh, you sly bastard.”, Mikasa’s eyes narrowed, “You’re on.”

“Good, I’ll be taking the first word then.”

Eren cleared his throat, raised his glass, and began.

“Never have I ever been suspended from a ceiling.”

“Cheap shot.”, she commented.

“Could be, but still.”, he tapped her glass, “Drink, shibari lover.”

She did so, revenge forming in her head.

“Never have I ever licked someone’s boots.”

“And you talk about cheap shots.”, Eren clicked his tongue but drank.

“Never have I ever done a pole dance.”, he shot back.

Mikasa’s eyes were calculating as she took a sip.

“Maybe we will have to change that.”, she said before firing her volley, “Never have I ever filmed us having sex.”

“That tape is going to be useful one day. And we have so many more to make…”

Mikasa ignored the tingle that it sent down her spine, frowning at her fiancé.

“Sure thing, voyeur.”

Rolling his eyes, Eren drank.

“Never have I ever wore cat ears during sex.”

“Yet.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing.”, with a mysterious smile, Mikasa drank.

“Never have I ever been in a chastity cage.”

“How the hell is that fair? You literally can’t even be in one.”

“There are similar devices for women, it’s fair play.”

“But…”

“No buts.”, she pointed at the glass in clear command, “Drink, puppy.”

Eren obeyed, eyes studying her even as he spoke.

“Never have I ever stepped on someone.”

“Oh please, you enjoyed it!”

“Sure did,”, Eren agreed, “but that’s not the point of this game.”

Mikasa took a swig, a follow-up in her mind.

“Never have I ever come from a footjob.”

“Dirty.”, a sip, and it was Eren’s turn, “Never have I ever been taken against my will.”

“Can you really call it non-consent when I was the one who came up with the idea?”, Mikasa wondered, clearly just stalling.

“Miki, I still have some of the photos I took of you back then. Should I pull them up as evidence and let the committee decide?”

Defeated by a sound argument, Mikasa drank.

“Maybe we could give it another shot, sometimes soon.”, she said, remembering how strange the experience was.

Terrifying and perfect at the same time, she was scared for her life when the Not-Eren threatened her, he managed to play the role of an abusive bastard so well. Maybe there was something about him being a bad guy in her dreams because at least party he could be such an asshole even in real life. If she begged nicely, that is.

“I’d have to ask Mr. Incognito if he has a free schedule.”, Eren joked, making Mikasa snicker, “But I have a faint feeling that he might squeeze you in.”

“Let’s leave it on open for now, who knows, maybe I will be the one in charge once we get around to the thing.”

That made Eren blink a few times.

“You want to do that to me?”

“Maybe..”, a bit of worry entered her face when she realized that Eren might not be into it. She had to be sure because Mikasa would never force him into something he didn’t want, that was a big No in their relationship.

“Don’t you want me to?”, she asked, but Eren shook his head.

“It’s not that I don’t want it, I honestly just have a hard time coming up with any scenario where I don’t want to have sex with you.”

“Tsk, don’t you worry about that. If I want it, I’ll come up with something.”

“Fine by me. Open it is then.”

With that topic solved, it was time to continue their game. Mikasa’s turn, she thought for a moment before she tried her next line.

“Never have I ever deepthroated a strap-on.”

But Eren was having none of that.

“Nah, but you did, don’t you remember the “class” you gave me?”

“That wasn’t a strap-on, it was a vibrator!”

“Close enough. Drink.”

Murmuring about unfair rules and crooked referees, Mikasa drank with Eren mirroring her.

“Never have I ever had anal sex.”, was his put, and Mikasa snorted in amusement. She couldn’t even count how many times Eren was either the giving or receiving party in anal sex, so she called him out on his bullshit.

“Seriously? Do you need me to spell it out for you?”, Mikasa moved closer, whispering, “Slut.”

It was magical how a single word could make Eren’s crotch tingle.

“No need, I did it on purpose.”, he drained his glass, putting it down, “I like the stuff they serve in here.”

Chuckling, Mikasa followed suit, both their drinks empty. Then, just as Eren was about to get up for a refill, the lights dimmed and the show began.

The figure that walked in on the stage was undoubtedly Darius Zackly, and he was followed by not one but two women, the player. One was dark-skinned and the other very pale, almost as much as Mikasa. To contrast their natural look, each wore lingerie of the opposite color, white on black and black on white, complete with high heels on their feet. No one spoke, the trio bowed to the crowd instead, almost dramatically, while two rings descended from above, stopping to hover over them.

Keeping his mysterious air, Darius held out a hand and the pale girl moved, grabbing a rope from the cart in the back and handing it to him. With the silky thing in hand, Zackly began his performance. He worked on the black girl first, coming up with an intricate design. Even the rope was white, Mikasa realized, a stark difference to the model’s skin. First, Darius tied her hands behind her back. The second rope went around her chest, tying her breasts in a very familiar design. Then he guided a rope through the metal ring, one that went from her tied hands to the chest bondage. With that, the ring rode up a bit, forcing the model to stretch her body and anchoring her in place.

“Isn’t the chest bondage the one you used on me?”, Mikasa whispered to Eren, recognizing the shapes.

He studied the way Darius worked the ropes for a moment.

“It is, you have a good eye. Although the binding on her hands is different than the one I used on you.”

“Because you tied me all the way from wrists to elbows.”, she made a tiny frown appear on her face, “I couldn’t move my hands at all.”

“Only the most secure bondage for a beast like you.”, he chuckled, kissing Mikasa’s scarred cheek, “I can’t edge you unless you are properly bound, otherwise you take control of the situation.”

“You better keep those skills up then.”

“For you Miki? Anything.”

The performance continued while they talked, and Darius was now working on the model’s legs. He didn’t touch her right leg, but her left was picked up and bend at the knee. Ropes sneaking around the limb, Zackly immobilized it, and that was it for the black girl. She was now balancing on one leg, but with the ropes pulling her up it wasn’t that much of a strain. With one model done, Darius turned his attention to the pale girl.

Retrieving a few more ropes from the cart, black ones this time, he closed the distance to his partner. Following the same path as before, Zackly tied her hands and chest first, copying the pattern. But then the show changed. He didn’t secure the model to the ring, he made her lie down instead, kneeling and working on her legs like that, with her on the floor. The ring started descending at the same time, going very, very low. Done with the design, Darius pulled the rope up and into the ring, anchoring it. And that’s when Eren realized what was happening.

“He’s hanging her upside down.”

“Ooh, that looks like fun.”, Mikasa poked Eren in the shoulder, “Why don’t you do that to me?”

“Eh, I don’t prefer it. When you are upside down, blood goes to your head quickly, so you have to be very mindful of the time. When I tie you up, I like to go slow, really enjoy you.”

“Hmm.”, Mikasa’s eyes were back on the performance.

She was chewing on something in her mind, and Eren had a chuckle when he realized what it was. So many things that they’ve done and Mikasa still had trouble asking him for something.

“We can try it if you want.”, he offered, making her face light up.

She leaned over to press a chaste kiss to his lips followed by a gentle whisper.

“Thanks, I’d like that.”

Just then the whirring resumed, and the ring began ascending, pulling the pale girl up. Upwards she went, until her whole body was off the floor and hanging from the ring, her blonde hair cascading around her face. It was the hangman position, Eren realized. And when Darius took a step back, both Mikasa and he finally took in the thing Zackly created as a whole. Contrast, that was the centerpiece of his performance. One girl was standing while the other was hanging upside down, both in the exact same position. One was dark-skinned yet wearing white lingerie and tied by a white rope, while the other was pale, wearing black and tied by a black rope. It was bondage, but at the same time it was art, and from the murmur that ran through the club they weren’t the only ones who realized that. The old man was an artist, no matter how you put it.

With a bow from Darius, his performance was finished. Both Eren and Mikasa joined in on the applause that resounded through the club, the show he put on was amazing. Once the ruckus began to die down and everyone got their fill of ogling the beautiful bondage design, Zackly untied the ladies while talking to them, laughing here and there. It was an interesting dynamic to see them like this, relaxed around each other, it betrayed that they all have been in this business for some time.

“Hello?”

As they were both watching the stage, neither Eren nor Mikasa saw the couple approach them. The woman was tall, made even taller by the extremely high heels on her shoes. It was the one that Eren noticed earlier, dressed in a latex bodysuit of the same design as one of Mikasa’s. The man at her side was much less eccentric, wearing jeans and a shirt, but when he nodded his head in greeting Eren saw that there was a collar around his neck, marking him as a property of the lady next to him.

“Hi,”, the woman repeated, “Did you like the show?”

Mikasa took the lead in answering.

“Yes, it was great, very artistic too.”

“That’s Zackly for you,”, the woman smirked, “He is amazing at what he does.”

“But we didn’t come here to fawn over Darius,”, that was the man speaking, nudging his partner, “Did we, sweetie?”

“Right, no, we didn’t. We came to talk to you for a reason.”

“Which is?”, Eren asked.

The woman faced Mikasa when she spoke, the words aimed at her.

“I hope that we aren’t too straightforward, but my husband saw you at the bar, and he was quite taken by you.”

Eren had to bite back a laugh at how Mikasa’s eyes widened.

“H-huh?”, was all she managed.

“We were wondering if you would be willing to do a partner exchange for a night or two, maybe a weekend.”, the collared husband took the word, “If you guys are into it, of course.”

“He’s a bottom, as you might have guessed,” the latex-clad woman followed up, “and from watching you I’d guess that you are the top in your relationship? You have that air of dominance around you.”

“I-I do?”, Mikasa choked out, much to Eren’s amusement.

But he wasn’t spared either, as the woman’s eyes slid over to him.

“You don’t have to worry either pretty boy, I promise that I’d take good care of you. I’m an experienced dominatrix.”

Now it was Eren’s eyes widening. He and Mikasa looked at each other, neither knowing what to say. Seeing their slight panic, the man grinned.

“I feel like we started with a wrong question, we should have asked if you are in an open relationship first.”

“That’s right, our fault.”, the woman agreed immediately, “Sorry if we are making you uncomfortable with this.”

Finally understanding what this was about, Mikasa blushed but reached out, taking hold of Eren’s arm.

“No, we are not open.”, she said, meeting the woman’s eyes, “We are very closed.”

“Yep, just me and her, no one else.”

“Aw, that’s too bad, you guys are something else.”, the woman clicked her tongue, “Oh well, can’t have everything.”

“We will take our leave then.”, the man said, unbothered by the refusal, “Have a pleasant evening.”

With that, he walked away and deeper into the club. The woman stole a last wanton look at Eren before following, her heels clicking against the floor. The stunned silence that came didn’t even get a chance to properly cook before a new figure appeared. Familiar one this time, it was Darius who slid into the booth, grinning at the pair.

“Eren! Mikasa! I knew that I saw you!”

His joy was infectious, and the cold feeling was being melted by his presence alone.

“That was an amazing show,”, Eren complimented him straight off the bat, “You are so good with the rope.”

“Bah, just years of training. Plus judging from our talk, you are pretty good yourself, the forms you wanted to do were rather advanced.”, his gaze went over to Mikasa, “Isn’t that correct, miss Ackerman?”

She nodded, feeling way more relaxed around Darius than the two from before. But his mention of her, Eren’s significant other, combined with how the pair talked about open relationships and brought a question out of Mikasa, one that she was pondering ever since they entered the club.

“Darius, aren’t you married?”

“Sure am.”

“And your wife… does she know about this?”

“But of course, I don’t think that keeping such a big thing secret is a good idea.”, Zackly sighed, “I keep trying to make her come here, but this scene doesn’t interest her at all.”

“So she doesn’t mind you working with other women?”

“Not at all, she knows that I appreciate the art in bondage, not the sexuality.”

“That’s very open-minded of her.”

“I mean, I work in a sex shop,”, Darius shrugged, “I never kept what I like hidden.”

Smart approach, if they ever heard one. Seeing that he satisfied Mikasa’s curiosity, Darius put forward his idea.

“Are you liking the club?”

Two heads nodded to that.

“What about the performance, looked like fun, right?”

“For sure.”

Well then…

“The thing is, you guys could perform here too if you wanted.”

“W-What?”, Eren exchanged a bewildered look with Mikasa, “You’re joking, right?”

“Why would I?”, Darius continued, completely unmoved, “How long have you two been in this biz?”

“A bit over four years at this point?”, Eren guessed and Mikasa agreed silently.

“And I’d guess that you have the skills for it.”

“I mean…”

But they did, all the plays and scenes they did together amounted to a fair amount of skill when it came to the act. Mikasa knew how to maneuver her sub expertly, Eren knew how to tie her up without worrying that he might hurt her. The experience did matter. Having a quick mental conversation, they both agreed in the end.

“See? I’m willing to bet that either of you could easily take the stage. Forgive me for saying, but you two are very, very hot. In fact, I’d go as far as saying that you two are the hottest couple I’ve seen here, and you would be in high demand.”, he gestured around, “If I walked around the club and asked every single person in here if they would perform with you, I’m pretty sure that I could count the number of “No.” on fingers of one hand.”

He redirected his attention to the pair.

“From the various gear I sold you, I’d guess that you are both switches, right?”

This time it was Mikasa who answered, agreeing cautiously.

“See? Even better. The possibilities would be endless..”

This felt like the same conversation they had with the pair from earlier.

“Look, the thing is, I don’t think that either I or Mikasa would be willing to ever perform with anyone else.”, Eren cut into his monologue, “We are very… possessive of one another.”

Mikasa was again just nodding to his words, shuffling closer and wrapping her hand around Eren’s waist. He did the same, surprising her a bit when Eren pulled Mikasa to sit on his lap. Talk about needing to express your attachment physically.

“We are super exclusive to each other.”

Seeing that and hearing her words, Darius grinned.

“You guys are just adorable. This devotion you have, this is rare to see and it’s so beautiful.”

“T-Thanks.”

“But still, if you want, you could totally perform as a pair. Even exclusive, seeing one of you work the other would give the guests something to dream about.”

“Look, we will think about it.”

“Of course! No one will ever force you into anything.”, Darius calmed them immediately, “Your comfort and consent are the most important things here.”

He said his piece, got the offer out, and there were still several people he needed to talk to. So bidding the half-confused half-surprised pair a quick goodbye and see you soon, Darius stood up and disappeared towards the bar. Eren was the one who broke the silence Zackly left behind, rubbing Mikasa’s back in a soothing motion.

“So, what do you think?”

She shifted on his lap, chewing her dark bottom lip cautiously for a moment before answering.

“Ask me a year back and I would say No. Ask me two years back and I’d laugh at you. Ask me three years back and I wouldn’t talk to you for a week. But now…”

“Let’s add it to our pile of open topics.”, Eren proposed, “No need to worry about that now.”

With that out of the way, Mikasa grew more relaxed again. Just when Eren was returning from the bar with refilled drinks, she looked up at him, eyes sparkling.

“We should bring Ymir and Krista here.”

“Why is that?”

“Krista needs a confidence boost. She wants to top Ymir, but she keeps questioning herself, so uncertain about it all.”, Mikasa gestured around, “Being here, I think that it could bring her inner domme out.”

“From what I hear you are sure that there will be a next time?”

Realizing the meaning of her words, Mikasa smirked.

“I would want that. I like it here.”

“Ah, look at us – the quiet goth girl from the back of the class and the grade-a student. How far we’ve come.”

“Indeed, but I’m enjoying these changes. Do you?”

“As if you had to ask. When I’m with you, I’ll go for anything, and do you feel like stopping what we do?”

Mikasa’s black lips curled upwards as she shook her head.

“Hell no.”

This year’s birthday was amazing and Mikasa made sure to thank Eren properly once they got home. But the amazing night would have a sadder continuation because, despite all the great fun that she experienced tonight, Mikasa’s dreams were once again disturbed by an unwelcome visitor.

A nightmare.

#eremika #fanfic #snk #aot

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third-rail-vip · 4 years ago

Photo

Complicated

Summary:

It’d be killing two birds with one stone, she’d said. MacCready glared at the crinkled, blackened leaves of the fern sticking out of his duster pocket. His duster, which like the rest of him, was currently chest deep in stinking marsh water, facing a cluster of ferals.

Ivy and MacCready's trip to take on the Gunners is stopped in its tracks by a poor judged detour. Mac gets hurt, but he's never been very good at being cared for.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5625 [AO3 link] [Then I Met You - Series Link]

Mud-clouded, irradiated marsh water burned into his nose, filled his throat, and tried to force its way into his lungs.

And as if drowning wasn’t bad enough, a close second in the ranking of bad-to-worse was the gouging pain of claw-like nails burying themselves deep into his back, forcing him under water as they tried to tear chunks out of him.

A dull thought overtook him as the last of the breath left his lungs; he was going to die here.

--x--

The chill of cold water was replaced by a brief but biting gust of wind as a door clicked shut. MacCready stirred, floorboards shifted as he flexed his back and shoulders, which turned out to be the worst idea he could have possibly had - pain radiated from his left shoulder like fracturing glass.

He hissed through his teeth, taking a sharp breath in and sending a fresh wave across his body, briefly reigniting the burning sensation in his lungs. Waking up from a nightmare was supposed to be a relief, not just another chapter of discomfort.

MacCready kept his eyes scrunched closed. There was light beyond the barrier of his eyelids, low but warm. If it hadn’t been for the dull headache starting to tap away between his eyes like water torture, it might even have been welcoming.

“Shhh, shh, shh,” a voice murmured close by. “You’re okay.”

First things first, when you woke up somewhere strange, it was always best to keep your eyes shut. There was a lot you could learn when people didn’t know you were awake. Things that could keep you alive if you weren’t somewhere safe.

He took a breath in through his nose; the cold December breeze cut through the old damp scent of the room, it carried with it the smell of vegetables (tatos probably) and manure – he grimaced, trying to hide the expression of regret at his deep inhale. So, it was a farm. He listened carefully, the lows of brahmin and the quiet chatter of voices confirmed enough for him – the only danger he faced here was boredom.

As his apprehension dwindled further, he realised it was Ivy’s voice offering the soft reassurances – of course it was – and he could only assume it was her who’d just gently brushed his hair back from his sweat-damp forehead. The tender motion would be enough to lull him back to sleep if he let it, but he wasn’t ready to be drowning in his mind again, or to watch Lucy pulled to pieces, or to be yelling for his missing partner. No, it was time to wake up.

His vision was blurry when he eventually peeked his eyes open, the dull glow of an oil lantern was the only thing beating back the shadows of early evening. It’s illumination barely reached the wooden slatted ceiling he found himself staring up at.

He was laid on a mouldy old sleeping bag in a small room with broken windows, but that didn’t exactly narrow down locations when it came to the Commonwealth. Glancing out the window, the faint remnants of orange warming the darkness on the horizon told him the sun hadn’t long set.

Sat next to him, lantern light shafting through her hair and casting her face in shadow, was his partner. He smiled to himself at the halo effect doing its best to make her look like an angel – if angels sat there drinking Nuka-Cherry with a cute little crinkle on their nose from their patented ‘worry frown’.

Quick check for his other essentials; his sniper rifle was propped up in the corner by the lamp, which sat on the same small table as his hat. He reached up and patted his top pocket and felt the reassuring bulk of the toy soldier. Everything was where it should be.

“So, did I die or is this just my guardian angel coming to pay me a visit?” he croaked, with a throat drier than wasteland dirt.

“Hey you.” Ivy swiped the heel of her palm across her eye, before pushing a smile onto her lips and turning to look at him. “You had me worried there.”

Crap. He really did. That light tone didn’t hold any weight with him, he could hear the waver in her voice, see the tension in her smile. She’d hired him to make sure this kind of thing didn’t happen, but all it took was ferals and he was failing people all over again.

Now the light shone on her properly, the scratches on her face (earned in a fight he was nowhere near to help her with) put his heart into a vice-like grip.

They didn’t look as bad as before, there wasn’t blood all over her face anymore, for one thing. In fact, her hair was damp but back to it’s usual creamy white – no more essence of marsh water – and her rolled down vault suit showed she’d swapped into a clean tank top.

Come to think of it, when they’d arrived at Oberland Station it had only just been getting dark. Yes, he remembered where they were now - a cluster of shacks and a signal box huddled by the railroad tracks and surrounded by tato plants. He also remembered the welcoming committee, armed with pipe pistols and a whole heap of mistrust.

The pair of them had been caught off guard on the tracks, Ivy still in his arms – the vice tightened another twist. They were soaked, bleeding and, unless the settlers expected him to hurl his injured partner at them, they were unarmed.

He’d been about to give them the biggest f-ing piece of his mind, when the world that had started to spin around him, decided to turn out the lights.

“How long—”

“You’ve been out for a couple of hours.” Ivy hugged her knees to her chest and nodded to the IV he hadn’t even noticed in his arm. “You’re on your second bag.”

A bag of Radaway was hung up using the bedstead as a makeshift drip-stand. It had almost run through. On the ground nearby was another spent bag and an empty blood pack.

Shit. Well that would explain the headache, the dizziness and the nausea, not the mention the fever. There were only two things in the wasteland that’d do that to you; a whole heck of a lot of rads, or a couple of sips of Vadim’s moonshine.

“They let us stay, huh?” He hoped his smile could pass for something warmer than a grimace. “I wouldn’t have guessed from that reception.”

Ivy sighed and raised an eyebrow at his salty remark.

“Well, you passing out and dropping me like a sack of potatoes… tatos? Is there an equivalent?” She frowned for a second, adjusting the grip on her knees and shifting her weight to the other hip. “Anyway, I think it helped our case.”

Mac smiled. He liked her tangents, when her old world and his new one got jumbled up in her head and knocked her train of thought off the tracks. Her mental meanders had tested his patience back when they first met, but now he found it soothing to watch her puzzle things out.

Ivy leant forward and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. Her fingers were cool – a welcome relief he hadn’t realised he needed until they soothed some of the heat in his skin.

“Your temperature’s coming back down, at least.” The last of the Radaway had run its course, so she slipped the drip from his arm. “How are you feeling?”

MacCready sat up – big mistake. The room spun violently around him, dragging a sickening groan from his lips. If Ivy hadn’t been there to grab his arms and steady him, he’d have slumped back down onto the sleeping bag.

Fat lot of good he was doing anyone in this state! Those goddamn ferals. He wanted to scream. Or shoot something. Or have a cigarette. Where were his damn cigarettes?

But he needed to keep his shit together.

“I feel like a herd of brahmin stomped on my head,” he griped, hoping he could at least manage to make her laugh. “What do you think, doc? Am I going to make it?”

She wasn’t even looking at him - wide-eyed, she was staring at his shoulder. Ever so slowly, she reached out and peeled the sleeping bag away from where blood had soaked it to his shoulder. He couldn’t hold in the pained cry when she did it.

--x--

He lined up another shot, taking two down with one bullet – a very nicely placed double headshot. Ordinarily he’d be singing his own praises, but this whole mess had the potential to go bad real fast. One tackle from a feral and he’d lost the upper ground, got separated from his partner and cut off from any hope of an easy retreat.

Once-upon-a-time, taking out ferals had been child’s play. Literally. He’d been at it since he was 10. He’d perfected the art of anticipating their shambling, diving movements. Could line up a shot with barely a glance, the same way he took down raiders and greenskins these days – it came as naturally to him as a heartbeat.

It was no boast when he claimed to be the ‘best shot in the Commonwealth’. If you asked MacCready, he was a modern-day Robin-fucking-Hood – except the beggared of the commonwealth could keep their mitts off his caps.

That had all changed four years ago, at least with the ferals it had. Now he had to focus – there was no winging this shit. He had to tell his hands to stop shaking, to count his breaths so he even remembered to take them. Every time those things showed up he had to ride the line between fear and rage - which might have been useful if he was wielding a baseball bat, but it was no damn good for a sniper.

His finger was slick on the trigger, and as much as he wished he could just blame it on the water, his palms were sweating. He bungled his second shot, it only winged the racing creature.

This was goddamn nightmare fuel.

The third shot came from the walkway above him.

“I could have got it,” he snapped, more harshly than he meant to, but this shit had got him on edge.

“I know.” Ivy didn’t even bicker back at him.

She was scared. And alone.

But he’d thank anything that’d listen that she had a good eye - he admired the clean shot between the eyes of the feral before it sank beneath the water - and that her aim was getting better every day. The trouble would come if she got overwhelmed and he couldn’t get to her.

Hell of a lot of good he was doing down here.

The pair had taken on ferals before, but not in this number and he’d not left her side the whole time. This was different. There were so many - more rising up out of the water or scuttling across the rooftops at every turn. They were closer to the Glowing Sea here, but this was ridiculous. It was like someone had set up a feral summer camp and the damn things had waited for them to get right into the centre of town before attacking.

With barely a thought, he took down another feral as it rounded the corner ahead. It was easier if he just went on instinct, less time for thoughts of consequences - and the memories of old ones - to creep in.

MacCready patted his top pocket. Good, it was still there.

“I hate getting wet,” he moaned.

“I know.” Came the reply (after a few more gunshots), this time from a few roofs down, further back into the heart of the sunken village.

MacCready made to move forward in an attempt to keep pace with her, his feet dragging through deep silt. He’d barely made it a few yards before something heavy fell with a loud splash right behind him. He definitely didn’t have time to turn around before it was on him – teeth, nails, sheer weight dragging him down under the water.

--x--

“I’m so sorry.” Ivy’s voice was so small, her eyes were swimming when she looked at him. “I really fucked up.”

MacCready frowned, confused. It wasn’t her fault he’d bled all over the damn sleeping bag. The settlers would just have to get over it.

“I took us to that awful place and you got hurt,” her voice was growing more and more frantic until it finally cracked and tears spilled down her face. “When they dragged you under—”

Oh, Ives. Did she really think this was all her fault?

He leaned forward and caught the back of her neck, gently tugging her forwards until their foreheads touched. A startled gasp mingled with a sob when he did, her red-rimmed brown eyes looking straight into his brilliant blue gaze.

“Don’t you dare blame yourself for this,” he murmured. “Yeah, sh—stuff went wrong, but we made a heck of a team out there.”

“Mac, I thought I got you killed…”

This close together, with their gazes locked, even in that dark little room, he could see the scratch the knife had made down her eye. She must have come damn close to losing it. What kind of animal could do that to a sweetheart like her. He felt his temper bubbling up, but given it was 200 years too damn late, it was about as redundant as he’d been today.

“I’m a Capital Wasteland radroach,” he smiled, bumping the tip of his nose against hers. “It’ll take more than a few ferals to kill me.”

The words tasted like bile in the back of his throat, knowing they might well be true, but the same didn’t extend to the people he loved. But then, they weren’t for his benefit, and the intended recipient had almost laughed, which was definitely something.

“I am sorry tho—”

“Ah, ah. You saved my ass, angel. I’d be feral food if it wasn’t for you.”

It was true. It had been terrifyingly close.

Ivy bumped her nose against his before pulling away, shifting back into her spot against the wall, leaving him with an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. Her tears had dried up, and she wiped away the remaining trickles from her cheeks with the heel of her palm.

MacCready dug in his pants’ pocket for his cigarettes, pulling one out only to watch it flop and snap. He hated water.

His partner giggled when he looked across at her, a pathetic sight with his packet of ruined cigarettes. Then she laughed, really laughed. The tension from moments before finding its way out in nervous energy.

Ivy laughing - really laughing - was a joy.

First, she’d fight to hold it in, but you’d see it building in her eyes. Then the corners of her mouth would twitch, her lips desperately wanting to break open into a grin, so she’d catch it behind a hand - both if it was especially bad - like, if he couldn’t see the smile, he hadn’t won the game of making her laugh. Tears like diamonds flecked with mascara would form in the corners of her eyes and trickle down her cheeks.

He'd happily sit there with half a cigarette hanging off his bottom lip if he got to watch that sight.

Once her giggles had faded, she filled a cup with purified water for him. It’d be more soothing for his throat than a cigarette anyway, just not for his nerves. Regardless, he downed the water in one and held his cup back out for a refill, big blue eyes pleading the same way dogmeat did anytime they were cooking something tasty. Ivy obliged.

“How about I take a look at that shoulder now?”

Whether he’d like her to or not, she was already digging in her pack for antiseptic and filling a small basin with more purified water.

--x--

Removing MacCready’s coat and shirt turned out to be more of a challenge than they’d anticipated. The fabric of both were either caught in the wound or dried to his skin, and the attempted removal of them left him chewing on the back of his hand.

The pair of them sat hip-to-hip, the small of Ivy’s back resting against his knee as she focussed on her work. Outside he could Diamond City Radio playing quietly from somewhere in the settlement. It showed how hard his partner was concentrating that she wasn’t even humming along. He let the strains of Billie Holliday wash over him and tried to think about anything other than the pain in his shoulder.

“Mac?”

Ivy cast a quick glance MacCready’s way between strokes of the damp cloth she was using to stop the dried blood clinging to the fabric.

“Hmm?” He tried to sound casual, like he hadn’t just been counting the freckles on the bridge of her nose. 23.

“What does RJ stand for?” She treated him to the little hopeful smile she usually reserved for shopkeepers and potential employers.

“Where did that come from?”

“I just wondered.” And you thought it’d distract me from thinking about my shoulder trying to pull itself apart. “I can’t believe I’ve never gotten around to asking before.”

“Oh, you have.”

He grinned at the confusion dawning into a half-memory on her face. He’d been just sober enough to remember the second agreement they made on Halloween night, when they first met in Goodneighbor – one shot per question.

It’s no wonder she couldn’t remember though. Most of his memories, other than a few of her more outlandish questions, revolved around those big, bright, buzzed eyes.

They’d been sprawled on opposite sofas in The Third Rail, half a bottle of whiskey – which she obviously couldn’t handle – down and she’d just asked him (as one of the 20 questions he’d limited her to) what the meaning of life was. He’d told her to shut up and drink. Then she’d tried for his name with so much mischief in those eyes and a smirk on her lips that he’d never quite been able to take his eyes off since.

“And I’ll tell you now, what I told you then. No way. I’m not telling you. You’ll only use it to tell me off.”

He hissed indignantly at the cold hand she purposefully rested on his chest when she paused to give him an appraising look.

“That’s fair,” she eventually conceded - most likely when her hand had reached the temperature a human body should be - setting back to work, only to pause again a second later.

“Of course...” she smirked at the new idea that had presented itself to her, leaning across conspiratorially to whisper in his ear. “You might have to make a choice between that, and me making up names for you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he replied without hesitation.

“That’s your prerogative, Rodney.”

He glared at her.

--x--

It took a couple more minutes to work the material free of the wound – and a couple more minutes of enduring every name beginning with ‘R’ that Ivy could think of – but now the damage was plain to see.

Or at least he could guess it was from the sudden lack of teasing and the expression of horror on Ivy’s face. The colour that he’d tried so hard to get back into those cheeks had drained again, and the guilt he could see in her eyes, when she flicked them to his face then back to his shoulder, was like a mirror to his own.

If the deep red stains that had soaked into his once white tank and across his shoulder were anything to go by, those ferals had made a goddamn mess of him.

“I—this might take a little while. I’m going to need to clear out the…debris…and clean the scratches before I can even think about getting a Stimpak in there.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “These deeper ones… RJ, they’re going to hurt.”

“I’m a big boy, angel. I can take it.”

Debris. He knew exactly what that meant. And damn right it was going to hurt. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to dig broken off feral nails and teeth from his flesh. At least this time he wasn’t trying to comfort a bawling infant as he did it.

When she dragged the lamp closer, MacCready knew exactly what else she’d see. The back of his shoulder and upper arm were littered with old scars. How long would it take her to spot the similarities between the old marks and the ones she was cleaning? He wondered whether she’d guess that’s what wrecked his duster in the first place.

He braced himself, waiting for the inevitable pain, trying to ignore the glint of lamplight on the already red-tinted basin of water next to him. Picking a patch of peeling paint on the skirting board, he stared at it, trying to make himself focus on what colour it might have been two centuries ago. Would it have been something fun? Midnight blue, maybe? Not likely.

A shiver ran up his spine as Ivy smoothed a hand over his shoulder-blade, her thumb tracing the lines of the old wounds with a touch as delicate as a kiss. She didn’t ask. She didn’t need to. One glance between them and she could recognise scars with a history. If anyone understood the vulnerability that came with them, it was her.

MacCready had never been much of one for looking after himself when he was hurt. He was more of a ‘rip the bandaid off’ kind of guy. Stick a stimpak in it and hope for the best.

Oh, but Ivy, she was as gentle as she could be with him, soft hands working to soothe, stopping with every groan and halted curse – if she could – whispering apologies and reassurances that she wouldn’t take much longer.

The water beside him grew deeper red with every time she had to wash the blood from her fingertips. He thought he’d bite clean through his lip when she dug out the last of the debris, it was buried deep and he could hear from trying to keep from retching as she pulled it from deep in the muscle.

The smell of the antiseptic burned his nostrils. He was such a mess, he barely even felt the sting of the carefully applied stimpak getting to work on knitting his muscle back together. Woozily he pressed his fingers to his bleeding lip, rocking forward to put his head between his raised knees until the room stopped spinning.

“Hey, that was the last one,” Ivy gently rubbed her hand up his spine and across his uninjured shoulder, quietly reassuring him. “Just got to get you bandaged up and you’ll be good as new.”

“And what about you?” he asked as she began to bandage his shoulder, glancing pointedly at her swollen ankle which was covered in an ever-increasing nebula of purple and black bruises.

“It’s just a sprain, Mac” she shrugged. “It’ll go down in time. Let me worry about you.”

--x--

He heard the gunshots, that wasn’t what frightened him. It was the scream that came after. The last he’d seen of Ivy she’d been standing up on a pitched roof – stupidly out in the open, but if she hadn’t thrown caution to the wind to get that vantage point, he’d be a dead man.

Now she was gone.

There were feral corpses bobbing in the water all around him, even more hanging off the roofs and walkways. He hadn’t realised how many were on him until he pulled himself back up, fighting for air.

In seconds his vicious memories were replaced by a new fear.

Bleeding and dizzy, he began wading through the deserted streets. He couldn’t see any more movement, not around him and not on the rooftops. And he couldn’t see her. The village was as silent as when they arrived.

“Hey partner, you okay?” he hazarded a shout.

No answer, just the echo of his voice bouncing back off deserted buildings.

MacCready started to move faster towards where he’d last seen her, forcing his body through the deep water, causing eddies and ripples to trail out behind him. He tried to keep calm but his breaths were getting shaky.

“Hey angel, you good?” he shouted louder this time.

Nothing.

“Ivy?”

It was more of a croak than a shout. There was no way anyone could hear it. He could barely hear it. But that didn’t stop the nausea rising in the pit of his stomach, or his pulse starting to pound in his ears.

No, no, no, no, no… not this time.

“Ives!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. Over and over again, he shouted, his voice mixing with the echoes as he dragged himself up the rusted fire escape onto the rooftop.

“Mac?” He almost missed it. Her voice was stifled by coughing, but it was her.

Scrambling up onto the pitched roof he’d last seen her on, he spotted a hole edged with rotten beams and snapped tiles. Peering over the edge into the gloom of a dusty attic space, he could see Ivy. She lay crumpled half on/half under a pile of broken beams with blood smeared across her face. Her ankle was caught at a weird angle. The body of a feral lay impaled where it landed just feet away.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so relieved to see a person in his life. The way she was smiling at him, she looked pretty damn glad to see him too.

“Did we win?”

Shaky laughter spilled from his lips, “Something like that, angel.”

“You called me Ives.”

She gave him the soft look of a woman who’d probably hit her head on the way down.

--x--

But Mac was the one doing the worrying.

It had been a long time since he’d been that worried about losing a partner. What rattled him the most was that when she’d disappeared out of his sight, his panic had nothing to do with suddenly being alone in a feral-infested swamp. He didn’t even spare a thought for the Gunner base less than a half a mile away. He’d been too wrapped up in the fear of losing her.

Ivy was giving him that soft look again now, even without the concussion. Would it be so much to hope that she actually gave a damn about him? He’d made mistakes in the past, given his trust to people who didn’t deserve, and he’d been burned.

But maybe she was different, just like he’d told her when he convinced her to help him with this dumbass plan.

“You really don’t have to do all this for me, angel, but thank you.”

Without thinking he reached out, brushed that one stubborn curl back behind her ear and cupped her cheek. It took his thumb brushing her scar for him to realise that he was the biggest dumbass in the commonwealth. Of all the things he could have done…

He was on the verge of panicking and pulling his hand away, when she pressed her hand over the top of and smiled at him. He couldn’t have imagined such a different reaction to when she’d been falling apart in front of him in Malden.

“You should let somebody else take care of you every once in a while.”

If he thought she’d been looking at him softly before, well this look coaxed all the air from his lungs, and if he remembered to breathe at any point in the future, he’d struggle.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Usually MacCready was the one who knew how to tease blushes and smiles out of her. To catch her eye and leave her speechless. How did one simple gesture have his stomach in knots?

Holy crap, he did not see this coming.

There was a creak on the wooden stairs outside their room and he wasn’t sure he’d ever resented a noise so much in his life. Their little bubble had been burst and now he could hear the chatter of settlers outside again, and the damn brahmin still hadn’t shut up – even though he’d been deaf to them just moments before. He could hear one of those damn crows squawking away in the woods nearby. Dinner was cooking, and people were laughing, and didn’t they have anything better to do than interrupt them.

Ivy gave his hand a quick squeeze and took it away from her face just as the door creaked open and one of the settlers arrived with a basin of scalding hot water - now he thought about it, after the day they just had, he probably smelled like antiseptic and stagnant marsh water. Nice.

“I’ll leave you to get washed up.” There was a flush to Ivy’s cheeks that couldn’t just be put down to warm lighting. He just smiled at her like an idiot.

“You need a hand down the stairs?” their host enquired, giving them both the kind of look that gossip was built on.

MacCready glared at the woman. Ivy might be quick to forgive, but he remembered that pipe pistol, and if he started getting shit from caravan guards, he’d know exactly where it had come from.

“No, thank you, Lynn. I can manage.” The woman bustled back out into the night air, but MacCready could hear her taking her time going down the stairs. Nosy...

Before he could help her, Ivy had dragged herself to her feet, using the doorframe to keep as much weight off her ankle as possible.

“I’ll be outside.”

“What, no bed bath?” MacCready forced a laugh. This was the crap they usually joked about, right? He was sure it wouldn’t have sounded so awkward that morning.

Ivy shook her head in exasperation, or at least that was probably what she was going for, but the grin and the blush undermined the impression.

“I was an artist, sweetheart, not a nurse,” she teased. “So, unless you’re planning on posing for a life drawing, I’m going to go and help with supper.”

A sudden panic hit him as the room emptied. What if something happened? What if something happened while she was out there and he couldn’t get to her in time.

The door had barely clicked shut before he called after her, “Angel?”

“Yeah?” she poked her head back in, curious smile in place. The wave of relief he felt after just a second, well, it was ridiculous.

“Stay close. Yeah?”

--x--

The previous night had ended up much like that morning had begun - with bickering and a meal. A big bowl of vegetable stew and a quarrel about how to get back to Diamond City, to be more precise. Not that they’d gone to sleep on bad terms, if intertwined fingers and shy smiles in the darkness were anything to go by.

MacCready watched the weather suspiciously, the morning was dull and windy, and knowing his luck, they’d probably end up hiking in the rain. He stood on the tracks with Ivy, all packed up and ready to go, but they were still undecided on the route they should take. Her ankle was no better than the day before, despite her hobbling on it and trying to convince him that she’d be able to make it the long way on foot.

“I’m telling you, if we go via Cambridge it’s actual roads and I’ll be able to walk. I might just need a little support,” she challenged him. Again.

“And I’m telling you, you’re in no fit state to try and get past raiders and muties if they’ve infested that apartment block again,” he snapped back, frustrated. “If we take the shorter route we can be back in under two hours.”

“And if there are yao guai, Mac? What then? I’m definitely going to get eaten, is what.” She folded her arms across her chest, the very picture of defiance – if it wasn’t for her standing on one leg like a lawn flamingo. “Where’s the salt? Because you might as well season me now.”

“Stop being so damn dramatic.” He rolled his eyes at her indignant look. “I’d get us there in less time if you’d just let me carry you.”

“And what about your shoulder?”

He chose to ignore that one. The shoulder in question still ached like a son-of-a…gun.

“I’ll tell you what RJ stands for.” Looking at her like he’d just upped the ante on a bet she could never refuse. “But only if we can go the shorter way.”

…got her.

“Really?”

He shook his head and stalked over, picking her up in one fluid movement and–hopefully–managed to hide the sharp pain in his shoulder. She quickly wrapped an arm around his neck to steady herself and swallowed hard – he couldn’t miss it – composing herself after being caught off guard.

“Robert. Joseph.”

She smiled, glancing away at nothing in particular, like she was trying out the feel of his name in her mind. Then she smiled at him, and it was his turn to steady himself. There was none of the teasing he’d anticipated, just that gentle warmth that always caught him off guard.

“Ok, you win. We can go your way.”

Oh, this was going to get complicated.

#it is done. finally.#maccready #robert joseph maccready #ivy kendrick #sole survivor #maccready x sole survivor #maccready x f!solesurvivor #Then I Met You #mac x ivy #fallout 4 #my writing #my oc

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angelicichor · 5 years ago

Note

Hello happy 2020! How are ya? Can I request some Nsfw Thomas Hewitt content? I love him so much, ❤

I’m kinda okay, just very disorganized lately, too nervous about school stuff and all ♥ But always willing to write for big boi Tommy uwu

N//SF//W

MISSED YA

♥ It has been a goddamn week.

♥ A week with both you and Thomas running errands, his staying at home and yours?

♥ Well, you’ve been forced to stay in the middle of the road for GOD knows how long, trying to catch somebody’s, ANYBODY’S attention to bring them back home for dinner, but you were pretty sure that Hoyt just wanted you to wither and die out there, leaving you with only one big water bottle for the whole day, standing in the hot Texas sun, the sunscreen barely helping your skin not turn into bacon strips as you awaited another group of people to pass you, only to fool them into getting you home.

♥ And the sense that Hoyt could easily pull them over for no reason instead of you standing here, alone, didn’t help.

♥ It also didn’t help that you’ve been standing here, hungry, thirsty, sweating and bored out of your mind, your mind able to go only to a few places before coming back to Thomas, his adorable, expressive eyes, his strong, rough hands, his broad shoulders shifting underneath that shirt he always wore, though in this heat sometimes he’d bless the world with taking it off, revealing his beautiful chest and that monstrous bicep and… that brought you to your last problem.

♥ Being too horny for your own good.

♥ And there being no big-ass thick butcher man to fuck you into the ground.

♥ And yes, that was A HUGE PROBLEM.

♥ Your whole body was being too needy, only adding to your agitation and the need to choke Hoyt’s lights out for making you do this, but you couldn’t do anything about this, the family needed to eat.

♥ You sighed at the sky, eyes watching the moving sun and you guessed it was around 4 o’clock, the old bastard was bound to come for you any time now and maybe finally, FINALLY you could rest.

♥ But your prayer was thrown in the gutter as the loud bass of a guitar rolled towards you, cutting the otherwise quiet ambiance of the drylands you’ve been forced to stay in. Your eyes did their best to tell what was coming, the waves of heat not helping your focus, your vision literally melting, but you could tell what it was just by it’s size, a big ol’ black jeep, full of teens in nothing but tank tops and t-shirts, rocking along in the vehicle to some loud music. Rock n’ roll, you could tell that much, but couldn’t tell what band, a shame, but maybe Hoyt would let you keep their discs with you after they’re fresh meat.

♥ Putting on your sweetest smile you started waving at them and noticed one girl pointing towards you, excited, it seemed, and sure enough once they stopped she was the first to run to you, a tall, dark skinned brunette, beautiful and just shining in this weather, it was really such a shame. “Hiya, babe! Whacha doing here lil’ thing?” She asked you, clearly enjoying some new company and eager to hear your story, and you weren’t gonna disappoint.

♥ “Ah, I live here, sweetie. Well not HERE, ya know, but in these here regions, but my dumbass of a daddy left my ass here so he could go grab some smokes from the city, while I wait here to faint in this damn heat and not tell ma’.” You scoffed and she gave you a long moan of worry, ruffling your hair. “Ah, baby, we’ll get ya home, don’tcha worry!” she cooed, before turning to the group of boy promptly starring at her ass. “Right, y’all?” she asked and they roared in confirmation.

♥ It was really a shame for those guys, but as you walked out towards the porch, catching the glimpse of Thomas’ hair in the window, all the guilt faded to the second plan. Trying to hide the haste in your voice you invited the 5 people inside, for dinner, something cold to drink and so the girl, Hannah, as you’ve learned, could scold your “papa”, something you were willing to see for sure, especially after crying to “mama” that “pa” had left you on the road to get smokes and Luda Mae slammed a tray of full glasses of water onto the table, shaking her head in disbelief, playing around with you. She did that rarely, but if it meant Hoyt getting an earful from a victim for no reason before they’re meat, then she’d be more into the idea. You both somehow loved Hoyt, but God, was he an asshole.

♥ There were no problems with the group, except for the boys getting rowdy with the tools in the shed, but Hanna told you she got them under control, you doubted that, but that let you slid into the basement, the chill of the room sending pleasant shivers down your spine, as did the rhythmic thuds of a cleaver cutting a block of meat clean off, once, again, and on repeat, as you leaned onto a wall, away from the pool of bloodied water right in front of the stairs, starring unashamedly at your dearly beloved’s arm tensing as he lifted the knife, only to lower it with enough power to create a small draft, making the metal tools above the bench clack against each other.

♥ ‘What a beast…’ you thought, a small smirk creeping onto your face, warning the world that you were up to no good.

♥ With another huff the cleaver stopped, getting locked into the wood and you saw his huge body shifting, slowly, cautiously, one brow cocking up at the sight of you, questioning why were you standing there like he didn’t notice you.

♥ His gaze made you shrink back, like a scolded child, but soon enough that deviousness took over, making you shuffle towards him, gently, shyly, coy, and straight away he knew - dangerous, but he stayed still, letting you have your fun. He could always tie you in the corner if things got too wild. He had work to do after all.

♥ With a tiny giggle you closed the distance, running your hand against the width of his covered back, before ducking to escape his grasp, instead jumping before him, your grabby hands clinging onto his apron in a light embrace, unable to circle him fully, joyful eyes focused on his expression, as his head bent slightly down, eyes squinting and brows furrowing with interest, the smirk on his lisp barely visible through the dark leather, asking - What are you doing?

♥ Your cheek nuzzled into his chest, eyes closing, with a happiness painting your face, comfort and he was about to hug you, realizing that you missed him.

♥ But you ducked again, leaving his hands to hang in the air, his head going even lower, air inflating his chest to flow out a second later in a longer, slightly frustrated breath. He had work, (Y/N).

♥ Your smug smile didn’t help his frustration. His hands rested on the workbench, gaze focused on you, watching you giggle and hide under his apron, confusing him completely.

♥ That is, until he felt your hand creep it’s way up from his tights to crotch, squeezing ever so lightly. Oh. OH.

♥ Thomas allowed his shoulders to relax, a warm chuckle rumbling through his body, his eyes closing to better feel your touch, feeling the lingering ghost of your fingers undoing his belt, listening to the small clack of the buckle, the small creak of pulled leather, then the clicking of the zipper coming undone in a slow motion, a deep breath moving through his lungs and out in a huff.

♥ He shuddered, feeling your breath on his boxers, your soft lips pressing onto his hardening length, welcoming it after a long time, trailing up, kiss by kiss, till it reached the tip, pressing a bit harder, a devious chuckle sounding underneath the man as he started breathing just a bit heavier, feeling his underwear becoming more and more uncomfortable.

♥ You let one of your hands slide under his balls, stroking them lightly, while your other worked him up and down, letting you feel his member’s growth and Thomas’ growl above you let you know that he was getting impatient with your teasing. It was a good thing he couldn’t see your eye roll or vicious grin, you’d certainly get in trouble for that.

♥ Deciding it was unwise to test him any further you pulled his boxers down, just enough to free his raging cock, already leaking some pre-cum. It was nice to know he missed you too.

♥ Your tongue trailed a long, slow line from his sack up to the tip, enveloping it with your soft lips and licking it gently, slowly making your way up and down, not taking him fully, while both of your hands trailed the muscle of his tights, firm and thick. The groan above you letting you know that he enjoyed the touch.

♥ Showing him mercy you pushed him down your throat, taking as much as you could, feeling the sting of his spread in your muscles and the slight reflex of his tip touching the back of your throat, then pulling back slowly, letting yourself calm down before setting a nice pace, feeling his body heat up, muscles twitch under your fingers, him trying to hold back, to lean into your touch instead of breaking your rhythm and his temperance lead out a moan from your lips when his tip hit your back again, the man sighing in pleasure as he felt the trail of your tongue pressing on his underside.

♥ With one of your hands massaging your heat now and the other stroking his balls, you knew the time for your control would be running short and Thomas’ hand pressing on the back of your head only confirmed your speculations.

♥ The pressure shifted from your head to you the nape of your neck, gripping around it tighter, a harsh shove, making you gag, the depths of your throat collapsing around him, letting him groan in pleasure before pulling away, and you were forced down in a coughing fit, but not for long as his arms surrounded you, lifting you up and onto his chest, his back bending slightly so your eyes could met his.

♥ With one hand still holding up he trailed the other one to your cheeks, wiping away a single tear that dared come out when your reflex struck.

♥ Gently he placed you atop his work bench, leaning in to allow you the reach to his mask, a silent question if it was okay to go without it and your fingers tangling against it assured him, that it was just fine. There was no worry as it was left on the wood.

♥ And gently your lips touched his, letting him taste the saltiness of your skin, mixed with the bitter taste that he left on them, and both of you were ready for the next part… Except you’d have to wait for that.

♥ “Thomas! Come here boy!” Luda Mae called from upstairs and you could hear the sound of a gunshot soon after, right, the people.

♥ You heard growl against your shoulder, where his head rested, his hands making the wood creak under his annoyed grip.

♥ “It’s fine, go get them, darling. I’ll be waiting.” you laughed, letting your finger trail the scars covering his jaw. He rolled his eyes, an unsatisfied pout crooking his disfigured lips. “Don’t give me that attitude. It wasn’t YOU who had to stand on the sun for a WEEK to get them here! Do your part, Hewitt.” you scolded him and his face was unimpressed to say the least, chest puffing up in an angry sigh, a tongue poking out from his lips to taunt you. And you gasp. “How rude! You kiss your mother with that mouth?!”

♥ He laughed, pressing a soft kiss on your lips - No, but you? Yes.

♥ You blushed at his boldness and watched as he picked up his chainsaw, the loud revving of it filling the otherwise silent basement.

♥ “Good luck.” you hummed and he nodded, leaving for his hunt.

#virgo writes #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #thomas hewitt #tcm: the beginning #slasher community #I'm so sorry if this is messy I'm having problems focusing lately :'D #Needed to write some good ol' throatfucking with Tommy though... you know he needs the attention #hope that's fine #thank rammstein for this one bc I've been listening to them on repeat while writing this :'D

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unspokenfaith · 4 years ago

Text

Maybe I Could Have Loved You

Pairing: JJ Maybank/Kiara Carrera Rating: T+ Word Count: 2719 Genre: Angst/Humor (a bit of everything really) Summary: Emotions run high the night before Kiara heads to Kook Academy. When the boys throw her a going-away party, JJ realizes something. But all the drinking and the somber occasion makes him wonder if what he's feeling is even real.

I'm sure this has been done plenty of times, but I was inspired by the "I know that door's locked because I've tried it” line and also the Jonas Brothers song "Make It Right." We love a slow burn and mutual misunderstanding.

AO3

If there was one thing JJ would not miss about Kiara once she went to Kook Academy, it was her need to perform damage control in unnecessary situations. The way she was acting, it felt more like an obligation than a party that he, Pope, and John B put together for her.

JJ thought it was a stupid idea to begin with. How different was it from any other day with the four of them at the Chateau? But when he offered his wisdom to John B and Pope, he was met with two pairs of glowering eyes, and the latter shoving stapled construction paper chains into his hands.

Anyway, it’s not as though he was going to say no to an occasion to drink, however extraneous it was.

Kiara scowled as she picked up a broken glass that Pope knocked off the counter after a theatrical response to John B’s joke. JJ made a mental note for tomorrow to say he told them so.

“I can get that, Kie,” John B said. “Just leave it. I’ll pick it up later.”

As he spoke, she was already standing over the trash can.

“Oh, God, did I do that?” Pope brought both his hands to his face, his mouth hanging open. JJ can’t remember the last time he saw Pope this drunk, if ever.

“Nope. It was the ghost,” Kiara said, washing her hands off in the sink.

John B’s eyes widened. “I have a ghost?”

“Hey, isn’t this, like, reverse feminism?” JJ interrupted.

Kiara looked at him like his head grew three sizes.

“What?”

JJ snapped his fingers. “Menism! This is menism. Girl cleans up after all the boys. It’s some 1950s bullshit. Menism.”

“You mean sexism?” Kiara said.

He slammed his hand on the table. “Damn it, Kie! You couldn’t let me have it? Not all of us are smart enough for Kook Academy.”

She shook her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear while busying herself with drying her hands off.

“Asshole.”

He couldn’t see her face, but he could’ve sworn he heard a smile in there somewhere.

“Kook,” JJ replied.

“Not yet she isn’t,” Pope said matter-of-factly with a finger pointed in the air. He blinked a few times as though he were struggling to stay awake.

Kiara reached across the counter to pull Pope’s shot glass away. “Maybe lay off a little. How many have you even had?”

Pope concentrated on his hands for a moment before holding up six fingers.

“Seven.”

“In his defense, I don’t think he’s ever done shots before,” JJ said.

“And that makes it better?” Kiara rolled her eyes, rinsing out the glass. She might as well put some gloves on and open the dishwasher at this point. At least Big John wouldn’t return to a pigsty when he came home.

JJ took another shot of Tito’s before his own glass could be revoked. “Do you guys think I could make it at Kook Academy?”

“Dude, you literally just said you aren’t smart enough,” John B said.

“I never said that! I said, ‘Not all of us are smart enough for Kook Academy.’”

“Hey, guys, it’s a full moon!” Kiara leaned over the sink, peering up at the sky.

John B continued, “So that ‘not all of us’ didn’t include you?”

“Are you using double negatives now?” JJ closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t think. Pope, back me up here, bro.”

But when he turned around, he found Pope lying starfish-style on the couch with his head hanging over the armrest. Maybe it was for the best that Kiara cut him off when she did.

“Poor baby,” JJ cooed before downing another shot.

The night air blew through the cracked window, teasing a September chill that caused Pope’s nose to twitch. JJ was sure he would be cold if he was sober, but all he felt now was a burning sensation in his throat and tingling skin that had nothing to do with the wind outside.

“Hey, where’s Kie?” he asked, suddenly very aware of her absence.

John B shrugged. “Bathroom?” He picked up a blanket off the floor and threw it over Pope who was now snoring for the first time in his life. And unfortunately for anyone in earshot, not quietly.

“Tell him to shut up, will you?”

JJ didn’t give John B time to respond because he pushed himself up from his stool and wandered out the side door, taking the bottle of Tito’s with him. Pope’s snoring faded to the background, so now all he could hear was the faint rustle of the trees and a chorus of crickets chirping from every corner of the yard. The water glistened in the dark, reflecting the stars like tiny shards of a broken mirror. In a few months’ time, it would all look different, and he was going to miss it.

“Hey, stranger.”

Kiara’s voice came from behind him. She was sitting on the roof of the Chateau with her arms hugging her knees. The full moon shone a pale light on her warm brown face, the late summer breeze gently blowing her hair.

“Kie? What the hell?” His jumbled brain couldn’t make sense of how she managed to climb up there on her own, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try it out for himself.

He stepped up to the porch and assessed the distance from the floor to the roof, looking for the easiest place to climb—with little luck. So he backed up, dropping the half-empty bottle on the grass, and took a deep breath.

“Okay, look out. Coming in hot,” JJ said, rubbing his hands together.

Before he could make a run for it, Kiara cleared her throat and pointed to the other side of the front door at a ladder leaning on the rooftop.

“As entertaining as that would’ve been, I’d rather not have you die on my account.”

“Oh, excuse me. I’ll go die on someone else’s then,” JJ said, holding his hands up. “I saw that ladder by the way. I was just trying to be chivalrous.”

“Uh huh.” Kiara grinned.

When he picked up the Tito’s and walked over to the ladder, she added, “Can you maybe just leave that there?”

JJ waved her off. “Nah.”

With one hand, he pulled himself up the first few rungs, then threw his other arm up in the air.

“Look at me now!” he shouted to the sky. But after nearly losing his footing, he grabbed the ladder with his other hand as best he could without dropping the bottle.

“Okay, seriously, stop.”

Kiara came to the edge of the roof, reaching out her hand to help JJ the rest of the way. Not that he really needed it. He was managing just fine on his own. Still, he mumbled a quiet “thanks” before falling back next to her, losing one of his shoes in the process. When he heard it hit the ground, he laughed to himself. Kiara studied him like he was a zoo exhibit.

“How many have you had?” she asked.

“Come on, Kie. That’s a personal question. A guy never kisses and tells.” He pressed a finger to his lips.

“Oh my god, JJ. I meant shots.” There was an impatient edge to her voice, but he thought he saw her blush. Must be the drinking goggles. “Like I would want to know that.”

“Well, well, well. Kiara Carrera, are you slut shaming me?”

She pushed his arm. “You know what I mean.”

“Mhm, sure.” JJ smirked.

“You are so...”

“Hot? I know. About time you said it.”

“I was going to say annoying. Thanks for proving my point,” Kiara said, grabbing the bottle as though one more sip was going to make him say something she wouldn’t forgive.

JJ laid his head back on his arms, strangely comfortable considering he was on a sloped roof. He’d take the crickets over Pope’s snoring if it meant sleeping soundly.

“What were you doing out here anyway?” he asked.

“I wanted to see the moon better. The trees were blocking it. See?” Kiara pointed to the moon, a white orb hanging over the water like a guiding light. She was right—a clear, uninterrupted view.

“What’s with you and moons anyway? Is this a Twilight thing? I thought you didn’t like those movies.”

Kiara rolled her eyes. “It’s not a Twilight thing. It’s astrology. A full moon usually means intense feelings or, like, an emotional climax.”

JJ raised a brow. “Climax?”

“I knew you were going to say that,” she muttered, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“Sorry. Continue with your...anthropology.”

It sounded like a load of bullshit to him, but watching her talk about the moon’s climax was the most emotion JJ had seen from her all day. If he had known, he would have hung a bunch of construction paper moons on the walls instead.

“It’s just that it had me thinking. The night before going to Kook Academy and everything.”

JJ’s brain was already muddled from the vodka. Trying to understand where she was going with this spun his thoughts in circles.

“And?”

“I don’t know. It’s just...I guess I’ve just kind of accepted that it was happening all summer without really thinking about it. Like, I don’t know how to feel about it now that it’s really happening, you know?”

He nodded, mostly because that seemed like the appropriate response. She wasn’t making sense, but what he did comprehend was something he had never, nor probably would ever experience. JJ had been in the same school system since he could talk, and he certainly wasn’t going to college someday. His entire life has been more or less the same. It was difficult for him to imagine how Kiara could be thinking, someone with years of opportunities waiting for her. Typically, the only choice JJ had to make was what he was going to eat for dinner that night.

“Hey, I wouldn’t even worry about it. I’m sure you’ll fit right in with all those idiots.” He knew immediately after he said it that it was an insensitive thing to say, even if it was honest.

Kiara glared at him. “I know you hate them, or resent them or whatever. I do, too. But my parents worked really hard for this, so I’m just going to suck it up and make the most of it, okay?”

“You make it sound like you’re going to prison,” JJ mumbled.

Part of him--whichever part that wasn’t completely wasted--told him he was being a jerk, but he didn’t know how to stop now. Maybe it was the liquor, or maybe it had only just dawned on him, too that this was her last night.

Much like going to school, or hiding from his father after a long night of drinking, or waking up to the sun rising over the marsh, he couldn’t remember a time where he didn’t have Kiara in his life.

It’s not as though it would be forever; JJ knew that. But he had become so accustomed to the four of them hanging out every day that he hadn’t imagined how things would change once she went to a fancy prep school. Would they see her on the weekends? Would they even have the same days off? Would she forget about them after weeks turned into months?

“Could you cut the crap? I know I’m really privileged. I’m a Kook. I have nothing to complain about. I get it. But could you please for one second just-”

“I don’t want you to go.”

The words came out before they even became a rational thought.

Kiara opened her mouth to respond, but nothing transpired. This had to be the most vulnerable JJ ever felt with her. No jokes, no banter, no crude comments that got under her skin. And now that he said it, he might as well unlock that door.

“I mean, I want you to go. I’m sure you’ll have the time of your life. And you deserve that. You really do. But we’re all going to miss you like hell.” JJ was standing on the rooftop now, and probably going to fall any second, but he didn’t care. “I’m going to miss you, Kie. You’re, like, my best friend in the whole world and you’re leaving tomorrow. And I...I think...maybe…”

“Okay, JJ, stop.” She laughed nervously, guiding him back down to his original spot. “I get it. You don’t think I’m going to miss you guys, too? Besides, I’ll be-”

“No! Just let me get this out. I really think I-”

“JJ, you really need to snap out of it,” she said firmly, grabbing his shoulders. “Before you say something stupid.”

“How do you even know what I’m going to say?”

“Because I know you. I’ve watched you do it so many times, especially when you’re…” She gestured vaguely. “Like this.”

JJ shook his head, searching for the right words. This wasn’t at all where he was expecting the conversation to go. The worst part was he had nothing to prove her wrong. Even if he didn’t always remember it the next day, he couldn’t deny that he’s had similar interactions with who knows how many girls.

“And that’s not a bad thing! But I just don’t want you to say something that you’ll regret tomorrow,” Kiara said. “Because you’ll be seeing me again after you wake up in the morning, and we just...really don’t need to go there.”

All he could do was nod, even though what he really wanted to say was “again” might not be for weeks. JJ looked anywhere but at her. If he could go back to mere minutes ago when the only wracking his mind was Pope’s obnoxious snoring, he would. Now he wasn’t quite sure where to go from here.

Kiara pulled him into a hug, his face pressed into her shoulder. They stayed like that for a few minutes, unspoken thoughts drifting away with the wind until they disappeared into the midnight sky. Maybe she was right. Maybe JJ did get caught up in the moment, and in his drunken state confused all of the emotions running through his head. Maybe the warm feeling in his stomach was just the alcohol and not Kiara’s hand on the back of his neck.

When she finally pulled away, a chill went down his spine.

“Well, I should probably get going. Big day and all tomorrow. But you…” Kiara poked his chest. “Need to go to bed. Or drink some water or something.”

JJ laughed, but it came out more like a cough. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go do that.”

“I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Only now did JJ meet her gaze. Her eyes were glistening with moonlight, and something else, too.

“You’ll come crawling back.” JJ managed a smile. “You’re going to miss all our craziness.”

She laughed. “You’re not wrong. Plus, I don’t think you guys can survive a week without me.”

“You’re not wrong.”

The smirk on her face was contagious, and the breeze pushed her hair so that it clung to her mouth. Without really thinking, JJ reached across to tuck it back behind her ear. His hand lingered longer than necessary, and he didn’t realize he was staring until Kiara cleared her throat and stood up.

“Um...I’m going back down to say goodbye,” she said, handing him the bottle of Tito’s. “And don’t have any more of that.”

JJ saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”

He watched her climb down the ladder, and couldn’t help but feel like she was avoiding his gaze on purpose. When she reached the bottom, he caught her sad smile before she disappeared through the front door.

After staring at the moon for a while, and thinking about emotional climaxes, and the inexplicable look on Kiara’s face when he touched her face, he fell asleep. She was right about one thing. When JJ woke up the next morning, he would regret a lot of what happened last night. But she was wrong, too. He couldn’t regret something he never got to tell her. Because when the sun rose and the rooster crowed, he didn’t feel any differently.

#jiara #jiara fic #jj x kiara #outer banks #outer banks fic #my writing #mine #this is my first time writing them #and I have so many ideas lol

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lloydskywalkers · 5 years ago

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skywalker syndrome, pt. III

so!! in honor of being shut up inside under pseudo-quarantine in this wonderful day and age, here is an extra-long fic for you guys just because :D

(fiNE it would’ve been this long either way but i have somewhat of an excuse now)

anyways here’s the final part of skywalker syndrome, featuring things actually Getting Better for once! (and on that note i hope you’re all doing alright and keeping safe <3)

So, Lloyd decides later. He probably could’ve handled that better.

But you know what, everyone’s been telling him to open up about stuff. It’s not his fault all that stuff is ugly, and maybe explodes half the power lines on the block.

Lloyd bites his lip harder, and squeezes his eyes shut tight enough to force the welling moisture back. His eyes are sore and puffy enough already, and his head feels like it’s over-stuffed with cotton and ready to explode. More tears are the last thing he needs.

On top of like, everything else. Because not only does Sensei Wu now know that the person who chopped Lloyd’s arm off was, in fact, Lloyd himself, but he’s probably going to tell everyone else that little detail too, and then all of them are going to think Lloyd’s head is — is out of place, except for maybe Nya, until she hears from Sensei Wu about his complete meltdown, and then Lloyd’s going to lose everyone.

Lloyd’s chest hitches. He forces back the wave of nausea, and makes himself look at this analytically. On one hand, it’s a total betrayal that stings maybe a little more than it might have any other time, because he’s been getting hit with a lot of betrayals lately. And while it isn’t exactly unusual in their line of work, it does feel like a little more than usual this month in particular.

On the other hand — which is metal ‘cause it’s Lloyd’s, heh — there’s absolutely nothing left of Lloyd’s respect in the world to stop him from blaring N-pop as loud as his headphones will go while lying at the edge of the roof of their apartment, staring blankly into the nothingness of the night sky as he ignores the drying damp streaks all over his face, instead of going to evening practice like he’s supposed to. So at least that’s a plus.

But on — well, he guesses he needs someone else’s hand, now — he really should have known better than to assume he’d get away with that.

He manages to hear Kai before he sees him, but it’s a near thing. Kai’s footsteps are quiet even when he’s not trying to be, like the rest of them, and even now that Lloyd’s playlist has mellowed off into something quieter and instrumental, he almost misses him closing the rooftop door.

But then Kai comes and sits next to him, right near where Lloyd’s head is lying, and that’s impossible to miss. So Lloyd sucks in a bracing breath and tugs his headphones off, dully figuring that the only way he’s escaping this confrontation is to throw himself off the roof. Which, while admittedly kind of tempting, will probably only make Kai more concerned, and Lloyd’s been doing that enough lately.

He tilts his head, peaking at Kai from the corner of his eyes. Kai’s expression is unreadable, his eyes far away where they fix on the city vista. Lloyd bites his lip. He wants to hold out, to let Kai do the talking — but the anxiety churning in his gut becomes unbearable, so he ends up cracking first.

“Hi,” he croaks, painfully aware of how water-logged his voice still sounds. “I guess you saw the lights go nuclear, then.”

Kai gives a quiet snort. “Kinda hard to miss, bud.”

Lloyd winces, then sneaks another tentative glance at him. He doesn’t look like he thinks Lloyd’s crazy, but Lloyd also has zero luck whatsoever, so he’s not quite letting his guard down yet. “Yeah,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t need to apologize. S’fine with me,” Kai shrugs, like Lloyd didn’t just knock out all the power in their apartment. “Makes things exciting every once in a while, you know?”

“Ha,” Lloyd breathes. “Exciting.”

“Mm-hm,” Kai says, swinging a leg over the edge of the roof, his eyes still on the horizon. Lloyd shifts his head on the paved rooftop, watching as Kai’s leg sways back and forth over the dim city streets below.

“Not as exciting as your conversation with Sensei must’ve been, though.”

Lloyd’s stomach bottoms out, and he goes rigid, before swiftly sitting up. “Y-you heard that?” he manages to squeak out.

Kai shakes his head. “Not all of it. Mostly just raised voices. No one wanted to eavesdrop, or anything.”

Lloyd worries his lip more, feeling sick. That’s not the answer he’s looking for. “But you heard some of it.”

Kai exhales slowly, his shoulders slumping. He finally tears his gaze from the horizon, and faces him. Lloyd wants to duck away, but there’s no recrimination in Kai’s eyes. Just a whole lot of empathy, and doesn’t that make Lloyd want to start crying again.

“Yeah,” he finally sighs. “I heard enough.”

Lloyd bites his lip harder, and turns back to stare across the city, his eyes watering. “Oh,” he breathes.

Because — what else is he supposed to say? Kai, his big brother, who’s always been solid and steady, who’s always followed (well, mostly, but that one time was also Lloyd’s fault) him faithfully — Kai, who works so hard to keep them safe, and has literally bled for this job, got to hear Lloyd screaming about how much he hates being the Green Ninja, the team leader, like a selfish, ungrateful brat.

Kai, who wanted to be the Green Ninja enough to risk his life for it — who probably still wants to be the Green Ninja, somewhere in him, if Lloyd hasn’t totally soured the taste of it by now.

“I didn’t — I didn’t mean—” Lloyd stutters over the words, almost frantically. He’s breathing too fast, talking too fast, but he’s got to — he needs to make Kai understand. “I didn’t really — I love this team, Kai, I do, I love being the Green Ninja, it just — sometimes — and he — he went and—”

“Lloyd — Lloyd, breathe. C’mon, breathe with me.”

Kai’s hands are steady and grounding on his shoulders, even as Lloyd gasps desperately for air, desperately forcing his nerves back under control before the city gets another unexpected power outage.

Finally, Lloyd manages to match his breathing to Kai’s, slow and steady, until the world stops spinning quite as much. He gives a shuddering exhale, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“T-thanks,” he mutters.

Kai stares at him in concern, his eyes darker than usual in the night around them. He draws back a bit, blowing his breath out. Then, laying a hand on Lloyd’s good shoulder, he jerks his head back toward the rooftop exit. “Wanna make hot chocolate?”

Kai, as usual, always knows exactly what to say.

Lloyd nods fervently, following him back down inside with little hesitation. Their apartment’s quiet by now, mostly dark save for the moonlight, as everyone’s probably gone to bed. Lloyd can’t help but be overwhelmingly thankful for this.

The hallway floor they walk across is clean, too, even if the light sockets above are all empty. Someone must’ve swept the glass up, Lloyd thinks with a hot flash of guilt. Kai jabs at the kitchen switch as they leave the hall, and the lights flicker on, leaving Lloyd to blink in confusion.

“Emergency lightbulbs,” Kai says in explanation, with a faint, wry smile. “Zane’s been prepared. We’ve got a backup generator, too.”

“Oh,” Lloyd breathes, his face heating as he lets himself sink into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Well, it’s not like Zane was wrong. Having spare lightbulbs around is probably something Lloyd should start considering anyways, but he’s been thinking he wouldn’t need to worry about that anymore, since his powers were—

Well. ‘Were’ is the key word here. His powers were under control. They’re pretty glaringly not now.

The microwave goes off with a sharp ding, and Lloyd almost jumps from his skin before placing the sound. Kai is pulling two mugs from the microwave, before dumping the little hot chocolate packets in them. Despite himself, Lloyd wrinkles his nose.

“You make hot chocolate like a heathen.”

Kai scoffs quietly. “I make hot chocolate fast. No one’s got time to wait on a kettle. Besides,” he adds. “You’re one to talk. I know this is how you make tea when Sensei’s not around.”

Kai immediately winces at the mention, clearly regretting having brought Wu up. Lloyd’s shoulders tighten, but he forces himself to relax, exhaling slowly through his nose. It’s been long enough since the…argument…that most of his fiery anger has cooled into an aching ball of hurt instead. Which is typical, Lloyd’s garbage at staying that angry for very long, and normally he wishes he was better at it, but now…

There’s a fine thread of shame creeping in there as well, and maybe a little bit of guilt. And Lloyd’s already seen what his anger does. Maybe he can just hold a quiet grudge for a bit, and that’ll make his point.

“Peppermint tea tastes better in the microwave,” Lloyd finally replies, a little sullenly.

Kai snorts. “Zane would be horrified with you.”

“I’m sure he would,” Lloyd says, but the words are too heavy for it to come off like he wanted. Zane would be horrified at him, but not for his tea crimes. Lloyd’s still surprised Kai isn’t horrified at him. Maybe he is, and he’s just biding his time to accuse him, and any minute now—

“Is your arm hurting?”

Lloyd blinks, reorienting himself. “Huh?”

Kai nods his head toward him, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Belatedly, Lloyd realizes that he’s been digging his fingers into the groove where the prosthetic connects to his arm, clinging tightly enough that the scarring around it twists. Oh, he thinks blankly. So that’s why it’s starting to ache worse.

Lloyd gingerly peels his fingers from here they’re locked around his arm, wincing as he does. “A-a bit,” he admits. “I probably just made it worse. But uh, hey, I know it definitely works with my powers, now…?”

Kai doesn’t look amused. Lloyd lets his head hang, staring at the ground. He hates this. Normally he’s completely in synch with Kai, to the point where he knows exactly what’s going through his big brother’s head. But right now, uncharacteristically quiet and subdued as Kai is, Lloyd has no idea what the emotion brewing in his eyes might be.

There’s a quiet screech of wood across the floor, and Lloyd looks up to Kai dragging his chair closer, before setting both mugs of hot chocolate on the table in front of them.

“Can I see?” Kai asks, hesitantly. Lloyd pauses for a beat as the question registers, and Kai wrings the edge of one hand with the other. “I just, y’know…heat? It helps, sometimes, with other stuff, so maybe…”

“Oh,” Lloyd blinks. “Oh! Y-yeah, of course.”

Relief flashes across Kai’s face, which Lloyd vaguely notes as weird, before he adjusts his chair again, fingers carefully skirting the raised area of Lloyd’s t-shirt, where the metal edge of his prosthetic is. Lloyd suddenly wants to make another pun, because the silence is a tad too thick, and Kai’s so awfully subdued about everything. And whether he thinks Lloyd’s just an ungrateful brat who’s lost the last of his sanity and should never, ever lead them again or not, Lloyd needs to see something in his expression other than this — this sad kind of hesitance, because it’s not Kai. If he was even yelling at him, that would at least be—

“Let me know if it hurts at all,” Kai murmurs, and Lloyd is vividly reminded of Jay, when he’d looked at his arm. It’s the same tone of voice, all quiet and hesitant like they’re afraid Lloyd’s going to break.

Lloyd doesn’t know if it makes it any better, them thinking he hasn’t already. He’s not sure he even wants to know.

Another beat passes with Kai still unmoving, and Lloyd’s about to grasp at the weakest of puns he’s got before his hands finally knead into the tight muscles of his shoulder, starting high then moving lower, drifting carefully toward the edge of the prosthetic.

Kai lays a gentle hand on the juncture where skin meets metal, and Lloyd feels the slow increase of heat before it settles on something that’s not too hot to burn, but definitely warm. The warmth spreads steadily through the rest of his arm and shoulder, heating the tense muscles in Lloyd’s shoulder, and he feels the rigidness there finally, truly relax, in a way it hasn’t in — well, since he’d lost his arm, probably.

It’s like his shoulders are getting heavier and lighter at the same time, and oh, Lloyd’s forgotten how good Kai was at this. He’s still painfully cautious around the prosthetic, though, and the silence isn’t — it isn’t uncomfortable, per say, but Lloyd knows there’s so much Kai’s thinking but not saying, and he wants to hear it. It’s almost stressing him out, actually. He wants to say something — but Kai’s hand on his shoulder is warm, and slowly but surely that warmth reaches the terrible ache that’s been lingering where the prosthetic connects for so long, and Lloyd almost weeps in relief as the pain ebbs.

“H—they really did a number on you, huh,” Kai hisses sympathetically, as his hand skims the raised, jagged lines of scarring.

Lloyd gives a boneless little shrug, trying to force back anxiety as Kai reminds him of the somewhat important fact that he doesn’t quite know who actually did a number on him. “It’s not that bad,” he mutters. “No need to get so up in arms about it.” There. Finally, a decent pun.

Kai seems to disagree, but the odd coughing noise he makes is close enough to a laugh. “Good to know your sense of humor died when we got yanked out of the realm.”

Against his will, Lloyd’s shoulders stiffen, and his breath hitches. He immediately curses himself, because it was a joke. Kai was just responding to Lloyd’s own horrible pun, and just because he used the word died doesn’t mean he has any idea why that might set Lloyd off, because he was gone before he saw Lloyd crumple to his knees on the sky tram, and he has no idea how loud Nya screamed when she’d heard the news, and he will never know how close Lloyd was to letting himself sink in the river instead and not coming back up, because Kai is tired and hollow-eyed and stressed enough, and Lloyd will not let himself become any more of a burden to him when—

“—Lloyd please, what did I say, come back—”

“Fine!” Lloyd gasps, jerking back from where Kai’s appeared in his face, his eyes wide and frightened. “Fine, I’m fine, I’m sorry, I just—”

Kai doesn’t even have to say anything. He just looks at him, and Lloyd’s words die in his throat. He buries his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, staring at the floor through his fingers.

Kai is quiet for another minute, then— “You’re really not fooling anyone, you know.”

Lloyd closes his eyes. “Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” Kai nods. “You’re giving it your best shot, I’ll give you that. But you’re really not okay, Lloyd.”

“I am,” he says, but it’s wavering.

“Lloyd.” Kai’s tone is just a little too serious, shot with the undercurrent of ‘you’re lying to me right now, and I know it, don’t make me call you out on it’. It makes Lloyd’s stomach twist, because he definitely does not want to talk about it, at all, but also—

Kai was dead. Maybe not for real dead, but Lloyd had thought he was, and that had done — that had done some really bad stuff to his overall emotional state. So hearing that familiar concern now, when he’d recently convinced himself that he’d never hear it again, is a clear sign that this particular conversation isn’t going to end well.

“It’s okay if you’re not alright,” Kai says gently, and oh no, Lloyd’s really going to cry again. “You don’t have to be.”

Cycling through his available role models for defense mechanisms, Lloyd settles on Jay for some reason, and responds with utterly unconvincing babbling. “Well, I mean, I kind of can’t be alright, because, you know, my right arm’s gone—”

Kai chokes, and Lloyd breathes out a laugh. He’s thinking he can just get all the building feelings out that way, but he’s wrong, because two seconds into the laugh it turns into crying instead.

“M’sorry,” he moans, digging the heels of his palms into his welling eyes. “I just — give me a m-minute, I’ll—” his voice cracks traitorously. “I’ll get it together, promise—”

Lloyd grabs for his mug in desperation, hiding his face as he gulps at it — only to choke on how cold the hot chocolate’s gotten.

Kai gives an aggrieved sigh, tugging the mug from Lloyd’s hands and wrapping his own around it where he holds it close to his chest, slowly re-heating it. He stares at the mug for a beat, then looks back to Lloyd, a dangerous kind of fire in his eyes.

“I told you I’d kill him for doing that to you,” he says, his voice deadly low. “I still mean it.”

Lloyd blinks. It takes him a minute, but then—

Oh. Oh, no. Lloyd feels sick. Kai’s given him a way out — he’s given him a perfect way out. But he can’t keep lying to his brother forever.

“I cut it off myself,” he blurts, rushed and out of breathe. “It-it wasn’t my dad. It was me. I cut it off.”

Kai drops the mug. He barely catches it in time, setting it down with a painful, halting slowness on the table. He stares at Lloyd, his mouth opening and closing.

“What?”

“There was a snake,” Lloyd says, and he’s talking too fast now, everything spilling out like a busted dam. “I don’t — I don’t know where from but it — it was like the one that bit my dad, you know? And I was — I was doing fine, I was fine, without my powers and everything, but I was so stupid, Kai, I wasn’t looking and it — it got me, and I—”

He sucks in breath almost desperately, forcing himself to calm down again. Kai is staring at him with wide eyes, his face terribly pale, but he isn’t running away yet. Lloyd still has a chance.

“I would’ve been like him. And I couldn’t,” he continues, fiercely. “I couldn’t turn into him, I wouldn’t. I’m not my dad, so I chose not to be, and I don’t — I don’t regret it.”

There’s really nothing more that he can say, to try and explain it to Kai, other than give him the whole rundown of depressing events, so he falls silent, his words echoing in the quiet of the kitchen.

“I’m sorry.”

Kai’s voice is ragged, cracking in the middle, and Lloyd is horrified to hear the wet, sniffled edge.

“What?” Lloyd blinks, taken aback. “No, Kai, this was definitely was my fault—”

“No,” Kai shakes his head, and Lloyd is even further horrified to see the sheen of water building at the edges of his eyes. Kai bites his lip hard enough to bleed, before continuing. “No, that’s not it. I’m sorry, Lloyd. I’m so sorry, I keep — I keep promising I’ll protect you, and I fail, every single time—”

“Kai, no,” Lloyd gapes at him. “No, you don’t. It’s not your fault this keeps happening, you try harder than anyone, and you — you always come through when it matters, you have no idea—”

“No!” Kai snaps, his head whipping up, his eyes wild. “You have no idea! You don’t know, Lloyd, you don’t even know how bad I messed up, when you needed — you don’t know—”

Kai hiccups on a sob, squeezing his eyes shut tight and tilting his head back, like he can physically stop himself from crying that way. “You don’t know. You— you’re what’s important, you and Nya and the guys, and I — Lloyd, I’m sorry—”

Lloyd stares at Kai, his mouth slightly agape. Kai’s trying, he’s trying so hard to stop it, but he’s doing about a good a job as Lloyd’s been at hiding his tears, which is…pretty terrible. And that’s — Kai is crying. Sure, Kai’s emotional, but he doesn’t — he doesn’t let himself cry, certainly not in front of Lloyd. He’s got this annoying thing about always seeming strong, but now he’s apparently run out of strength to keep it up, which kind of just feels like Lloyd’s shoved his heart into blender and hit go, and—

And Lloyd’s just staring at him, like a useless lump. FSM, he’s the worst little brother ever.

Lloyd snaps back into it, immediately crossing the distance that’s left between him and Kai, wrapping his arms around his brother’s middle and comforting him in the only way he’s got left — clinging to him as tightly as he can, like he can squeeze all the sadness out of him or absorb it like osmosis, or something, anything to help Kai like he always helps Lloyd, because—

Oh.

Lloyd speaks up quietly. “You’re really not okay either, Kai.”

Kai gives an awful, half-sobbing laugh. “You don’t say.” He digs his fingers tighter into his hair, eyes squeezing tight, and swears. “—so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall apart like — like—”

Lloyd gently tugs his hands away before he can tear his hair out, and wraps his metal arm around Kai’s shoulder, hoping it’s not painful. “It’s okay,” he tells him. “It’s okay, I promise. It’s okay if you’re not alright, either. It’s not fair to you. Stop holding yourself to some — some impossibly high level, Kai, it’s okay.”

“It’s not—”

“It is. I promise.” Then, exhaling shakily— “I’m sorry I scared you. Both back then, and now. I’m going to be better about that. I’m gonna be stronger.”

Kai gives a watery laugh. “Please. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says, thickly. “You cut off your own arm. How am I ever supposed to top that?”

Lloyd snorts wetly. “Please don’t ever try to,” he says, his voice clogged. “It sucks.”

Kai just gives a choking kind of laugh, before dropping his head onto Lloyd’s shoulder weakly, his breath shuddering out. Lloyd holds him best he can, trying to channel whatever Kai-ness he can into it, because that’s normally what works best on Lloyd.

When the…situations are reversed. Which is…a lot.

But Lloyd can do his part now, hugging Kai as tightly as he can, like it’ll put him back together and keep him there, all the pieces of his big brother that make up one of the strongest people on earth he knows. Like it’ll glue them both back together, somehow, like it’ll fix Lloyd’s arm and Kai’s heart and the whole team and the city and the now-icy cold hot chocolate Lloyd is going to wish he’d gotten to drink later.

Lloyd knows the chances are slim. But for now, at least they can pretend.

And who knows. Maybe it’ll — maybe this will help. Maybe they can duct tape themselves better after this. Who knows.

He got Kai back from the dead. Lloyd’s down for anything — anything — to make sure he stays fine the rest of his life.

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

Lloyd never does find out exactly what Kai was trying to apologize for that night. But he’s got a fairly good idea he knows what it is already, and voicing it isn’t gonna help.

But even though they ended up staying up way too late, missed practice the next morning, and totally ruined the hot chocolate with how many times they tried to reheat it, Lloyd thinks it might have worked, a little bit.

He doesn’t feel great about the whole situation with his uncle — pretty awful, actually. Sensei’s been avoiding him now, which works out okay, because Lloyd’s avoiding him, and he’s not sure if this is a good sign or a bad one. But…he feels better, on the whole, than he did. A lot less like his head is coming unscrewed, because if he’s got Nya and Kai sticking by him now, even after everything, then it’s not as hard to believe the rest of the team will, too.

Lloyd’s aware that this is a bad mindset to keep, because it’s not like — it’s not like they’re choosing sides, or anything. He’s not about to start a one-man-war on Sensei Wu just ‘cause he went behind Lloyd’s back and yanked the choice right out of his hands like every other choice his family’s yanked from him, but — but Lloyd’s not Garmadon.

He’s Lloyd, and Lloyd doesn’t storm off to the Underworld or level half the city when things get rough. He sticks it out, because he’s not a venom-devoured drama queen. He made sure of that.

(He doesn’t blow up any palaces or terrorize villages either, or say, wake the dead, because while his coping methods might not be great, at least murder isn’t his go-to resort.)

He does, however, skip practice again, which is quickly becoming an awful habit. But his arm hurts this morning, a bit more than usual because he slept on it wrong, and the idea of getting his butt handed to him in practice over and over again because of it is almost enough to make Lloyd tear up in humiliation all over his cereal.

But he doesn’t, because he’s done crying. He’s done being pathetic and — and a dead weight, and a poor excuse of a leader.

He’s also, like, really done being this dehydrated all the time. It sucks. He’d forgotten the killer headaches it leaves you with.

So Lloyd ignores the alarm going off on his watch and shoves another spoonful of cereal into his mouth instead, flexing his grip around the pencil he’s doodling over the latest headlines with. He immediately wishes he’d taken the grocery run last evening instead of Zane, because the health cereal he’s picked for them is disgusting, where’s the chocolate—

“Hey, Lloyd.”

Cole’s voice shouldn’t be a surprise, because it’s Cole, non-threat — but it’s been quiet in the apartment this morning, and Lloyd almost has a heart attack on the spot. Instead, he promptly chokes on his cereal, and spends the next half-minute hacking it up and coughing milk from his nose.

“Are you dying?” Cole asks, now standing in front of him, sounding mildly concerned.

“I’m alive,” he wheezes, wiping at his face. “Mos’ly.”

Cole’s lips quirk up in amusement, but he quickly smooths the expression out, nodding at him.

“You busy?”

Lloyd glances at his half-eaten bowl of cereal, then at the half-completed dragon he’d been sketching on the edges of the newspaper, another idea for his arm. “Not really…?”

“Good,” Cole says briskly, tossing his green hoodie toward him. Lloyd yelps, barely managing to catch it with before the jacket meets a soggy fate in his cereal bowl. “Let’s go out, then.”

“Go out — what? Wait Cole, I don’t — Cole!”

Lloyd finally scrambles after his brother, catching him as he swings the door open, half-tangled in his jacket as the right sleeve catches on his prosthetic. “Where are we—” He tugs in frustration at the sleeve. “—going, you’re supposed to be—” Another vicious yank. “—at practice right now.”

“And you’re not?” Cole sounds amused, though, and Lloyd glares at him, one arm pinned behind him by a sleeve, his other arm twisted somewhere over his head, tangled hopelessly in the other sleeve.

Cole bites his lip, an obviously large grin threatening to break out across his face. “Do you need help?”

“Yes,” Lloyd grinds out, his cheeks flaming.

Cole fails at holding back the snicker this time, but Lloyd can forgive it for now, since he also takes pity, untangling Lloyd from his sweatshirt prison. Once Lloyd’s finally figured out how to get his sleeve over the prosthetic — and man, the temptation to hack all the right sleeves off of everything he owns is getting stronger by the day — he follows Cole out their apartment complex, heading off to…wherever, Cole is taking him.

“Out,” Cole shrugs, as they carefully step over another Colossi-sized hole in the street, maneuvering past the chunks of concrete the workers still haven’t cleaned up.

“Yeah, that’s specific,” Lloyd mutters, ducking his head and pulling his hood further over his face as they pass by other pedestrians.

Cole’s got his hood up as well, but he’s always stood out a little more than Lloyd. A little (lot) taller than Lloyd, too, so they still get a few curious looks. Not as many as he’s been used to, though, when he was running around in the blazoned green Resistance gi all the time, so Lloyd will take what he can get.

He’s had enough pitying looks to last him a lifetime, and that was before he showed up on primetime Ninjago City television.

“You’ve been cooped up too long,” Cole says, eyeing him. “You gotta stop hiding away, get back out in the world.”

Lloyd bristles. “I went to the gas station with Kai just the other night!”

“Yeah, at two a.m.” Cole sighs — then yelps as he nearly runs face-first into a broken street light, still dangling by the slimmest of twisted metal. Lloyd breaks into snickers at his expression, and Cole makes a face at him.

“My point is, the city’s not on fire anymore,” Cole continues, and Lloyd’s stomach drops as his voice turns soft. That means he’s probably about to say something like— “No one’s hunting you down anymore, Lloyd. You don’t have to keep hiding.”

Lloyd looks down, kicking at a loose chip of concrete. “Yeah,” he says, dully. “I know.”

He does, really, because no one’s jumped out and threatened to drag him off to his father lately, but it’s just — it’s hard to shake. It’s hard to shake the idea that someone’s out there, eyeing his every move, just waiting to rip his world to pieces. It’s hard to shake the idea that any one of these people could be hiding a knife behind their back, a vendetta behind a smile.

He swallows. “I’m working on it.”

“Yeah,” Cole says, and his voice is downcast now, too. “I guess we all kinda are.”

Lloyd bites his lip. There’s a whole lot of understanding in Cole’s voice, but it figures. They’ve all been hit hard by, well, everything that’s happened recently, but Cole’s always tended to see things the same way Lloyd does — with the eyes of a leader, always planning, always looking ahead, and always looking back on what went wrong. And the way he watches the people around them, with a look in his eyes that’s painfully familiar, says a lot more than anything else.

“But ah, to actually answer the question,” Cole speaks up, a bit hesitantly. “I thought, uh, maybe we could go to the hospital.”

Lloyd blinks rapidly. “The hosp— why?” A spark of irritation flares in his chest. If this is about his arm…he’s told them, many times, that he’d gotten it looked at. Many. Times. There’s nothing else any doctor could do about it that Pixal can’t, because all they can do at this point is prescribe him more pain meds, and Lloyd is getting sick of those, so—

“I was just thinking, maybe you could, uh…visit the kids. If you felt up to it.”

Lloyd pauses full-stop in the street, double-taking. “Why?” Cole turns to him, and he quickly continues. “That’s, I mean — not that I don’t want to visit kids, I-I’d be fine with that, no problem, but like — why would they want to see me? Now?”

Because sure, Lloyd’s always down for visiting kids, especially at the hospital — that’s where he met Nelson. But he also — he hasn’t really been showing up on TV in the….best light, lately. Sure, he gave that one speech, but other than that, the most his name has come up is in direct relation to his father, who very recently destroyed half the city, and probably put a whole lot of people in the hospital.

Besides, Lloyd thinks glumly, his left hand kneading reflexively at his shoulder, clutching the edge of the prosthetic. He’s not exactly an inspirational figure right now, much less a role model. More like a model of exactly how not to live your life—

“Because they’ll want to see you,” Cole shrugs, matter-of-factly. “And ‘cause I think some of them could learn something from you.”

“Learn what?” Lloyd breathes, almost laughing. “Cole, I can’t even teach you guys anything.”

“Okay, one, that’s a lie,” Cole says, firmly. “We learn a lot from you, give yourself some credit. You just have to be at practice for us to learn.”

Lloyd flushes, looking down, but Cole nudges him, forcing his gaze back up.

“And two, you’d be surprised.” A wry smile pulls at the edges of his mouth, before he sighs. “Also, I’m kinda hoping you’ll learn something, too.”

It’s Lloyd’s turn to make a face.“Oh, great. So it’s that kind of visit.”

Cole rolls his eyes. He pauses, his shoulders hunching up a bit, looking hesitant again. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“Nah,” Lloyd sighs, heavily. “I’m not gonna turn down visiting kids in the hospital, what kind of monster do you think I am.”

“I don’t,” Cole says, and his eyes are a little too knowing. “But I do think you’re entitled to choose whether you’re up for it or not.”

And oof, there goes Lloyd’s breath whooshing out of his chest again. “How did you—”

“Also,” Cole says, before Lloyd can continue. “You’re entitled to a meltdown every once and a while, too.”

Lloyd goes scarlet. “I — the other night — it was an accident, I just—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cole steamrolls over his stuttering airily. Then, just as casually— “There are always spare lightbulbs in the lower left pantry shelf, by the way. Just in case you ever needed to know.”

“Got it,” Lloyd murmurs, ducking his head.

“And half the city’s transformers already got obliterated by the Colossi, so one patch job isn’t a whole lot. Just in case, you know, someone was thinking of beating themselves up for it. Which they shouldn’t.”

Lloyd’s cheeks are flaming. “I-I got it,” he stammers out. Trying to regain some semblance of composure, because he’s been feeling like a nine year-old again way too many times this week as it is, he clears his throat. “I do want to go. Thank you for — for asking, but I do.”

Cole’s expression lightens in relief. “Good,” he says, clapping him on his left shoulder. “Because I might have already told the hospital we were coming.”

“Of course you did,” Lloyd sighs, as they round another street corner, the hospital coming into view.

“Hey, I happen to know my teammates,” Cole shrugs, grinning. “You’re predictable.”

“Of course I am,” Lloyd groans. “You know, I really…”

Lloyd’s train of thought completely derails and plummets straight off a cliff right then, so he trails off in a strangled silence as his mouth goes bone-dry.

Oh. He’d forgotten the view the hospital gave you, of…certain areas…of the city.

“Lloyd?”

Cole’s voice is muffled, filtered weirdly like it’s underwater. Lloyd’s vision tunnels, seeing but not really seeing as he stares at the blank spot in the horizon. He remembers the building that used to be there, twenty-four stories high and just blocking the corner of the sunset in the evenings. He remembers the last time he saw it standing, from halfway across the city, Skylor unconscious in his arms and his father furious. He remembers watching it fall.

He wonders if they ever found—

“Lloyd?”

Cole’s voice is hesitant, laced with concern. Lloyd blinks wildly, tearing himself from the memory, and shudders.

“Let’s go,” he says, shaking his head, as if he can shake the past off. As if he can shake her off, and everything she’s left him with.

He doubts he ever will, but Cole’s hand on his shoulder as they climb the steps outside is warm and grounding, and a reminder that, at least, she didn’t take everything from him.

The front desk attendant at the hospital lets them through without batting an eye, which is a nice change, Lloyd thinks petulantly to himself. He’s quickly tugged from any more thoughts like that, because Cole drags him straight to the kids’ ward, and Lloyd’s suddenly left desperately trying to remember where, exactly, his everything-is-bright-and-happy expression decided to disappear to, because the kids all light up like fireworks when they see him, and Lloyd’s kind of just staring weakly back.

Cole saves him, stepping in front and greeting the kids with bright enthusiasm, which gives Lloyd enough time to pull himself back together. He manages to stutter out some decently happy stuff, but then the kids start talking about the Resistance, and how awesome he looked on TV, and did he totally kick his father’s butt, and was it so cool getting to fight like that, and they were all rooting for him during the prison fight—

Lloyd’s torn between running for the window, and asking them all who in the world let them watch the prison battle, because he’s pretty sure that was not a kid-friendly kind of thing. Instead, he stammers out that yeah, it was pretty cool, and sure, he kicked his — Garmadon’s butt, all while pulling his sweatshirt sleeve further over his arm as it throbs with the constant, painful reminder that he’s a total fraud.

Cole saves him, once again.

“Hey, guys, we’ve got time to talk to all of you, and — yeah, sure bud, we can sign that for you, but Lloyd wants to talk to a few of your friends in particular, okay?”

Lloyd blinks rapidly as Cole steers him away, his words registering. “Wait, what?” He tries to yank his arm from Cole’s hold. “Cole, wait, who do you want me to — wait, I don’t have anything prepared—”

“You won’t need to,” Cole says firmly, then nods at the kid he’s been dragging him over to. Lloyd glares at Cole, huffing out a sigh before craning around his shoulder.

“I don’t—” Lloyd freezes, his mouth open. He shuts it.

The kid Cole’s been dragging him to is sitting by himself toward the back of the common room. The look in his eyes is eerily familiar, hollow and empty-looking where he’s slumped on the couch. He’s leaning awkwardly to one side, and it takes Lloyd a minute — too long, really — before he spots it.

Oh, Lloyd thinks, his breath whooshing out from his chest. He gets it now.

He ducks out from behind Cole, his feet taking him forward almost unconsciously, and he carefully approaches the kid.

“Hey,” he says gently, going down on a knee in front of the kid. “I like your socks.” He nods at the Starfarer-emblazoned ones he’s got on, where his feet dangle over the couch edge.

The kid looks at him, his eyes widening, then back toward his socks. His eyebrows pull into a sad little glare. “I can’t wear my shoes,” he says, hollowly. “I can’t tie ‘em. Not with my…” He trails off, and turns the glare on the empty sleeve of the hospital gown that hangs from his left shoulder. “My arm,” he finishes, quietly.

Something in Lloyd’s heart twists with painful familiarity. “Yeah, I get that,” he says, ruefully. The kid squints at him, and Lloyd exhales, before tugging the sleeve of his hoodie off. The kid’s eyes go huge, and Lloyd swallows, before continuing, smiling shakily at him. “See? I couldn’t even buckle my armor on the first week, and that was after I got the prosthetic. It’s tough stuff.”

The kid continues to stare at the prosthetic, his eyes looking like they’re about to pop out of his head. “Your arm’s gone,” he whispers. “Just like mine.”

“Yeah,” Lloyd breathes out. He rolls up his sleeve, pointing to the edges of the prosthetic. “Lost it right about…here.”

The kid’s eyes rove over the metal arm, lingering on his and Nya’s designs, before zeroing in on where the scarring starts. “And you’re still a ninja?” The kid’s voice is still hushed, almost awestruck.

“Sure am,” Lloyd says, with a crooked smile. “Team leader and everything.” Even if he’s been a pretty awful one lately, his mind supplies.

The kid’s lips part, and he hesitates before speaking again. “A-and you can still…do all that stuff?” he asks, his voice painfully tentative. “Even with…even with your arm?”

Lloyd’s throat goes tight, but he nods. “Yeah,” he says, thickly. “Yeah, I can — I can still do ninja stuff. Took me a bit, but I can tie my shoes, too. And I can still do, uh, handsprings and everything.”

A myriad of expressions crosses the kid’s face, shock then joy then something a whole lot like hope, and Lloyd suddenly realizes why the empty emotion he’d seen in the kid’s eyes when he walked in looked so familiar. It’s the same hollow look Lloyd’s seen looking back at him in the mirror every stupid day since—

And now it’s gone, replaced by something bright and shining.

“Awesome,” the kid says, his voice hushed and reverent, like Lloyd’s just given him some untold kind of gift.

Lloyd has to swallow again, and blinks frantically. “My — my name’s Lloyd, by the way,” he says, holding his hand out — the left one, so it’s not awkward for the kid. The kid grins, in a way that clearly says, ‘I know, duh, moron’. “What’s yours?”

The kid beams. “Max,” he says, gripping Lloyd’s arm and shaking enthusiastically, wobbling a bit off-balance.

“Nice to meet you, Max,” Lloyd smiles back. Then he goes serious, meeting the kid’s eyes. “Listen. All that stuff — you can do it, too. Tie your shoes and everything. It’ll take a bit, but you can, I promise.”

Max stares at him, listening intently, his eyes bright, and Lloyd suddenly feels a terrible amount of pressure.

“But you—” he falters, then sucks a breath in before continuing. “Don’t do it by yourself, okay? You’ve got — you’ve got family, right?”

He immediately wants to kick himself, because what a stupid question, has Harumi taught him nothing—

The kid nods, and Lloyd exhales heavily in relief. “Okay. Good. Let them help you. Family and friends, and the doctors here — they care about you. So even — even if it feels annoying sometimes, or you start thinking that maybe they just think you’re too weak, you gotta let them help you.”

Lloyd pauses, and thinks of Nya, her snarky humor and unwavering strength, the long nights they’d stay up together as she redesigned his arm. He thinks of Jay, coming up with new puns for him and leaving the pain meds bottle on the lowest shelf. He thinks of Zane, of actually listening to him and adjusting his entire training schedule; of Kai, sitting up all night with him and never holding his outbursts against him. He thinks of Cole, sewing the team back together with infinite patience and dragging him out to the hospital because he knew exactly what Lloyd needed to see.

Lloyd thinks about how completely, utterly terrible his life would be without them.

“‘Cause they care about you, and you — you can do it, but you can’t do it without them. You need people who care about you in your corner, so don’t ever take them for granted.”

Max’s eyes have widened a bit, but he nods. “I won’t,” he says, solemnly.

“Good,” Lloyd says, then smiles wryly. “You’ll get the hang of it a lot faster than I did, at that rate.”

“No way, you’re the Green Ninja,” Max scoffs, and Lloyd snorts despite himself. He shakes his head, turning to exchange looks with Cole—

—only to pause, because Cole’s eyes are horribly shiny, all suspiciously watery as he sniffs a bit.

‘You sap’, Lloyd mouths at him, his eyebrows drawing together in accusation. Cole flashes him a gesture, neatly hidden from the other kids behind his hand, and Lloyd is about to descend on him for the audacity, because he always lectures Lloyd for doing that, when Max is suddenly tugging furiously at his hand.

“Wait, wait, you gotta meet my friend!” he says, bouncing from his seat in reckless energy. Lloyd steadies him as he wobbles, and the kid beams at him. “She lost her leg ‘cause she’s real sick, and she’s been pretty sad about it too, but wait until she sees you—! She’s gonna freak out, come on, come on—”

Lloyd gives a startled laugh, but he lets Max drag him forward, tiny fingers locked around his metal ones. Cole waves to him where he’s on the floor, letting kids climb over all him, and he’s got the worst of knowing smiles on his face as they pass.

Lloyd casts his eyes skyward. Cole’s gonna be so smug about this later, but watching the look on Max’s face as he introduces him to kid after kid, Lloyd really can’t bring himself to mind.

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

They stay a whole three hours longer than they were supposed to, but Max falls asleep on Lloyd’s shoulder by the time they have to go, so the nurses can’t get too upset about them staying way past visiting hours.

“Because you two were adorable, seriously, it’d be like kicking a puppy. I can’t believe I didn’t get any pictures,” Cole shakes his head, looking disappointed in himself.

“Good,” Lloyd says fervently. “Kai would never let me live it down.”

“Aw, he’d frame it on our wall, though.”

“Yeah, and then I’d never live that down!”

Cole snorts loudly, and Lloyd huffs, bouncing down the steps as they exit the hospital. They fall into comfortable silence for a bit, and Lloyd spares a look at Cole from the corners of his eyes, biting his lip. His good mood is fading as they leave the hospital behind them, stepping out into the city evening, the streetlights just flickering on, bright and shiny as they’ve recently been repaired — reminding him.

“What you said, before we went in,” he finally asks headlong. “About…being entitled to choose, and stuff.” Lloyd swallows, then continues. “Was that, um. Did you happen to maybe, like, hear…”

“You and Sensei Wu’s talk?” Cole finishes with a wince, and uh oh, Lloyd can hear the capital ’T’ emphasis on talk. “Our apartment’s really small, Lloyd.”

Oh, no. “H-how much did you hear?” Lloyd asks, almost afraid of the answer.

Cole carefully avoids his eyes, his mouth titled downwards in guilt. “Kind of…everything?”

He definitely should’ve been afraid of the answer, Lloyd thinks numbly. “But Kai said you only—” he pauses, meeting Cole’s sympathetic gaze. His stomach turns. Oh. “Right. Okay. Kai was just trying to make me feel better.”

“He likes to do that, if you haven’t noticed.”

Lloyd grimaces, feeling a stab of his own guilt. “Yeah."

“He’s not the only one,” Cole says, pointedly. “I didn’t tell you that to make you feel bad. We’d all like you to feel better.”

“Yeah, well—” Lloyd freezes. A thought suddenly hits him, with a swooping kind of horror. If they heard everything, like everything everything—

“Cole, the part when I said — the part where I said I hated this family,” he stammers frantically. “I didn’t mean — I meant my blood one. Only my blood one, I didn’t — you guys are—”

“Lloyd.” Cole’s hand is gentle on his shoulder, halting them where they stand on the empty street that runs along the river. “I get it. And I know you didn’t mean it, about your family. Either of them.”

Lloyd’s mouth turns downward. “You guys are the only family that matters to me,” he says, stiffly.

Bitterly, his mind supplies, not without a sting, and would it shut up, he’s trying to — to emotionally distance himself here—

Cole’s eyes dart away briefly, something immeasurably sad flashing in them, and almost too empathetic.

“Lloyd, you — you have us. You’ll always have us. And I’m not — I’m not saying you should feel one way or another, ‘cause I know you’re hurt. And you have every right to be, that’s very justified.”

Lloyd looks down. “But,” he says, dully.

“But,” Cole exhales. “But lying to yourself can hurt, too. And I know — look, it was super uncool. That was low of him, and undoubtedly in the wrong. We’re all with you on that. But Lloyd, you know he — you know he cares about you, right? He didn’t… he didn’t do it to hurt you. That wasn’t his intention.”

“How do I know,” Lloyd snaps, bitterly. “How am I supposed to know, Cole. How many times am I supposed to tell myself my mom didn’t mean to leave me, my dad didn’t mean to hurt me, my uncle didn’t mean to — to—”

Lloyd breaks off, his stupid traitor eyes threatening to run as he sniffs. He blows his breath out, steadying himself. Cole, wonderful person that he is, does not comment on any of this.

“I’m just tired,” he finally whispers, staring out with hollow eyes on the river, the dark water glinting in the streetlights. Cole’s hand drops onto his shoulder again, and he squeezes once.

“I know, bud,” he says, sounding horribly young and yet so much older than he should, all at the same time. “I know. I am too.”

Lloyd doesn’t say anything to that, but he doesn’t really need to. The silence is enough, for them — it’s always been, with Cole. There are some things you can say, that you can talk out with words or powers or weapons, but there are some things that you just—

You don’t really get it, until you find it in you to call yourself leader. There aren’t exactly words for how it feels like, playing chicken with your friends’ lives and your family’s lives and the entire city and country on the line.

You just…feel tired.

Cole’s breath hitches, and his hand tightens on Lloyd’s shoulder, carefully around the edges of the prosthetic, but not in a way that grates. It’s normal Cole-careful, not the brittle kind scared-careful everyone’s been about it.

“Just…take it from someone who’s let a family argument fester,” he says quietly. “It doesn’t stop hurting. Not until you face it. However that ends is up to you, but. It helps.”

Lloyd swallows, and the river in front of him blurs, the streetlights turning hazy in his vision. He glances at Cole, then finally meets his eyes.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” Cole nods. He hesitates, then something in his expression steels.

“And if I’m wrong, I’ll help you sign the — the disownment papers, or whatever, myself,” he adds, suddenly fierce. “You can have my last name, instead. Or Kai and Nya’s, or — or we’ll all mash ours together into some garbled mess that’s yours, and you can have like, five or six whole step-parents, and it’ll be great.”

The laugh that startles out of Lloyd is so unexpected he almost makes himself jump, but it’s genuine. A little wet, maybe, but it’s the staggering feeling of relief Lloyd’s been looking for, been wanting, been needing, and—

“It’s worth it,” he blurts out. “It’s worth being the Green Ninja for you guys alone. I’d do it a hundred times if I just got to have you, because — because—”

“Aw, Lloyd,” Cole says, and he wraps him in a full hug this time. “It doesn’t work like that. You don’t need to be the Green Ninja to have us. You’d still have us if you weren’t. You’d still have us if you were just some bratty little kid we yanked from the street. You’d still have us if you only had one limb left and couldn’t even hold a sword, you’d still—”

“I get it,” Lloyd giggles wetly into Cole’s elbow.

Cole shakes his head, and squeezes Lloyd tightly. “And we’re not planning on quitting anytime soon,” he continues, his voice turning serious, and a little too knowing. “So don’t go selling us short, and think we’d die on one shattered ship. We knew what we were getting into, kiddo. We’ve always known.”

Lloyd sucks in a sharp breath, his heart stuttering. A whole bunch of questions are bubbling up in his chest, but they don’t quite make it through his throat, because it’s closing up again, so he just clings back to Cole and tries not to let his eyes water too much. Oh. Lloyd didn’t even have to tell him. Cole already knew.

That’s Cole for you though, Lloyd guesses.

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

Lloyd has every intention of talking to Sensei Wu. Really, he does — because for one thing, it's caused a painfully obvious rift in their team dynamic which could get them into serious trouble if another threat breaks out, and going by their track record, that could happen like, tomorrow. And for another, they’re all living in an incredibly cramped apartment right now, and while Lloyd is perfectly fine avoiding his uncle by parkouring around the house like an extreme game of the floor is lava, Nya’s probably getting sick of having to get him unstuck from the air vents, so — confrontation it is.

Except if Lloyd’s going to force himself through the agony of that, he’s going to get it all out of the way at once. Besides, he owes his team an explanation, anyways. Probably…several explanations. A whole lot of words, that’s for sure.

So Lloyd sucks it up, finishes cutting off the sleeve on the right side of his pre-Resistance gi so it actually fits, and for the first time since the guys got back, feels somewhat like a shadow of the leader he’s supposed to be as he calls a team meeting. This brief burst of confidence is thoroughly shot through by Nya, who immediately dubs it the “aha, I see it’s time we all talked our issues out” meeting, but — well, it’s not like she’s wrong.

Besides, they needed it. And in hindsight, Lloyd realizes he’s been worrying about all the wrong things.

“I can’t believe you cut your own arm off and didn’t even like, take the opportunity to make a hundred Star Wars jokes. You realize there’s no escaping the Luke Skywalker jokes now, right?”

“For the last time, Luke didn’t cut his own arm off. I’m way more hard core than he is.”

“Yeah, for a maniac. You’re both on full-time babysitting. We leave for five minutes and you go around losing limbs and breaking arms, huh.”

“I can’t believe we ever mourned your deaths.”

“I can’t believe you thought we were dead and didn’t say anything!”

“He’s right, the psychological trauma stemming from such events could be—”

“If any of you say traumatizing again, I’m using the taser feature on my arm.”

“I can’t believe Nya built that in for you.”

“I can’t believe you let Uncle Wu flirt with some random lady in the First Realm.”

“He wasn’t flirting with her, would you let that drop—”

“Alright, alright! Don’t worry, I’ve hit my limb-it. Heh, get it—”

He’s met with a chorus of groans at that, and Jay chucks a couch cushion at his head. But it brightens the already-lightening mood more, weary sort of grins replacing the solemn expressions that everyone’s been wearing through most of this conversation, so Lloyd counts it as a total success. Even if none of them appreciate real humor, he thinks to himself, miffed.

“Okay, real talk, though,” Cole finally speaks up over the rest of them, as their scattered conversation dies down. He meets Lloyd’s eyes. “If you want us to come with you when you talk with your uncle, we’ll be happy to, you know.”

A tight kind of knot forms in Lloyd’s throat. Your uncle, not Sensei. He’d never dream of asking them to pick a side, but—

“Yeah, we’ve all got your back,” Jay nods, miming a punch at the air, before making a face. “You have like, this really awful habit of going all ‘oh no, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault Sensei Wu, ignore everything I said even though it was super valid’—”

Lloyd chucks the couch cushion back at him. “I do not do that,” he scowls.

Nya cuts him a pointed look. “Yes, you do.”

Lloyd glares back. “Do not.”

“She’s right, you do,” Cole echoes.

“Kinda do, bud,” Kai sighs.

Lloyd looks to Zane, pleading. Zane just shakes his head, pityingly. Lloyd sighs. “No faith in me at all,” he says, forlornly.

“We’ve got total faith in you,” Cole says. “You just need to have faith in yourself.”

Lloyd groans, leaning back so he’s fully sprawled across the living room floor. “You sound like Sensei Wu’s lesson book.”

Nya pokes him in the ribs, and Lloyd jerks away, yelping. “Listen to him, Lloyd. Not that I’m against sudden passionate outbursts, but…healthy talks. We need to work on healthy talks.” Her voice wavers, and Lloyd glances up at her. She looks down, then holds her head up, taking a deep breath.

“Which is why, when this blows over, I’d — I’d like to talk about Nadakhan,” she announces, a little unsteadily, but determined. “For — for real, this time.” She gives Lloyd a shaky smile, and he beams back, trying not to look too shiny-eyed about it. Going by her expression, he’s failed, but she spares him the embarrassment and turns her attention elsewhere. “Jay?”

Jay’s shoulders almost go boneless, and an expression of what could be relief flashes across his face. “I’m down if you are,” he exhales.

“Wait, what exactly are we talking about with Nadakhan, here?” Cole says, suddenly wildly concerned. Lloyd feels a brief spark of victory, and not a small amount of vengefulness at the look on Nya’s face — it’s about time someone else is on the chopping black.

“Nothing,” Jay says, waving his arms. He blinks, then suddenly backtracks. “Wait, I mean — it’s definitely something, but, uh — Nya said later! So we’ll talk later, haha?”

“Jay—”

“Hey,” Kai catches him off to the side, as the others dissolve into bickering. His eyes are serious, but the dark circles aren’t quite as bad. Not as awful as they’ve been, which is the best Lloyd can ask for right now, he guesses. “You’ve got this, no problem,” Kai continues, under his breath so the others can’t hear. “But on the off chance you want out, at any point? All you gotta do is yell for me and I’ll swoop in for you and run, just give the word. We can always work this out another day.”

Lloyd bites his lip, looking down. “I need to talk to him, Kai. I can’t leave it like this forever.”

“Well, yeah,” Kai says, evenly. “Maybe not. But as far as I’m concerned, you’re still Master Lloyd to us. We’ll follow your lead.”

Oh, now he’s done it. Lloyd’s throat goes painfully tight, and his eyes burn as he struggles to swallow back anymore embarrassing displays. “K-kai, you—”

“Please tell me I didn’t make you cry again,” Kai says hurriedly.

Lloyd shakes his head, elbowing him lightly in the side. “I wasn’t gonna cry,” he huffs. “I was just gonna say that I—” Lloyd swallows again, and murmurs, “I really missed you, Kai.”

Then, realizing he sounds entirely too vulnerable right now, he clears his throat and gives Kai a shaky grin. “Especially since now I really need you as my right hand man—”

Kai swats the back of his head, scuffing his hair down. “Lloyd, you’re my brother and I love you, but if you make another horrible arm pun, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Please,” Lloyd snorts. “You didn’t bring me a dragon back. If anyone should be never forgiving anyone, it’s me.”

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

Lloyd’s not one to let fear get the best of him — for very long — but nothing’s really rooted him to the floor in terror like the sight of his uncle’s closed door has. Well, besides maybe his undead father dangling him off the floor in Kryptarium, or the sight of the Bounty getting crushed to pieces, or the way Skylor had collapsed in his arms, or the sensation of twin points of pain on the back of his hand—

Okay, so maybe fear’s been a pretty big player in his life lately, but still. Lloyd doesn’t let fear win out over him. He shouldn’t let fear win out over him.

Fear isn’t a word where I come from, Lloyd’s mind echoes half-hysterically at him.

Absolutely none of this helps the way his hands tremble violently as he knocks on Sensei’s door.

“Come in.”

Sensei Wu’s voice is quiet and level, no revealing trace of emotion in it. Nausea wells up in Lloyd’s throat, but he swallows it down. Kai’s “all you gotta do is yell for me” lingers in Lloyd’s mind, but he shrugs the thought off. As tempting as it is — Kai snatching him up from this conversation entirely and saving Lloyd a lot of awkward stuttering — he can’t just take the easy way out. Cole’s right — Lloyd needs to face this eventually. Letting things fester never helped anyone.

Harumi drove that one home pretty well.

Sucking in a breath, Lloyd finally pushes the door open, cursing his shaking fingers as they clack on the doorknob. His courage — if he can even call it that — falters, and he keeps his gaze rooted to the ground like it’s the most riveting thing in the room. The familiar smell of incense wafts over him, and Lloyd struggles not to throw up again.

There’s a measured intake of breath, before Sensei Wu exhales quietly. “Lloyd.”

Again, there’s little to no emotion in his voice, just that infuriatingly calm serenity, which is no help at all, because Lloyd has zero clue whether he’s furious with him or just — just disappointed, or something worse. And he’s sure as heck not going to look at his expression to figure it out, because that will require meeting his eyes, and Lloyd would rather combust on the spot.

He’s already faced one family member’s eyes burning in hatred on him. If he has to see Uncle Wu, too — Uncle Wu, who Lloyd’s always thought believed in him from the beginning—

“Sit, please.”

Lloyd shakes his head. He can’t. He’s already losing the battle to nerves, he can’t just — pretend this is another master-student talk. He needs to get it over with now, before he goes to pieces again.

“I…” Lloyd swallows. His mouth is painfully dry, and he still can’t get his hand to stop shaking. The metal one is finally listening to him, at least. He finally forces out a shuddery exhale, then curves his spine into a bow, his head hung low.

“Sensei,” he says, almost proud that his voice only wavers the slightest bit. “I’ve come to apologize for my actions earlier. And my words, I — I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

Sensei Wu is silent. The air is so thick Lloyd almost struggles to breath, and a part of him faintly wonders if the incense hasn’t grown a mind of its own and is actively trying to suffocate him.

“I just — it hurt, when you went behind my back, and I know — I know I’m a mess.” The admission stings, but it’s true. It’s way too true, but that still doesn’t give him the right—

“And I’m trying,” Lloyd continues, his voice cracking in all the worst places. “I’m trying so hard, Sensei Wu, I am, but I can’t — you were gone, and I tried so hard to be the-the leader you would want, I really did, but things just — everything went so wrong, and I—”

Lloyd cuts off, swallowing back a sob. “But I didn’t meant it,” he croaks out. “When I said I hated—”

He doesn’t get to finish that, because he’s suddenly being dragged out of the bow by Sensei Wu, and pulled arms-first into a tight embrace before he even realizes what’s happening. Lloyd’s poor brain short-circuits in surprise, and all he can really do is hang there like a dead fish while Uncle Wu clings to him like he hasn’t since Lloyd was nine.

He might also be crying, maybe, but he’s also in dead-fish-mode, so who knows—

“No, Lloyd,” his uncle says, and there’s an edge of a sob in his words, just like the one Lloyd was choking back earlier. “I am sorry. I am so, so very sorry, not only for going behind your back, but for everything—”

He cuts off, inhaling sharply, and Lloyd stares blankly into his shoulder as his eyes decide to run like a leaky faucet. This is — this is not going according to plan. He’s not prepared for this, he was ready for Uncle Wu to yell at him, to be angry, not—

“And you have every right to be angry with me,” Uncle Wu continues, his hold on Lloyd loosening, but not letting go. “But I must — please, Lloyd, you must know it was never you that I doubted, it was me.”

He takes a ragged breath. “I failed your father, Lloyd,” he says, his voice wet. “I failed him, and I lost him. I failed Morro, and I lost him as well. I’ve failed you too, Lloyd, and I’ve almost lost you far too many times, because of my failures, but I still — I still have you, Lloyd. The idea of losing you, for good, because I was not there when you needed me most—”

Uncle Wu’s holding him tighter again, and his word are finally starting to make sense through the haze that’s fogged up Lloyd’s brain, just in time for him to hear the next part clearly.

“You’re my family, Lloyd,” Uncle Wu rasps, suddenly sounding very old. “And I don’t tell you this as often I should, but you should know how very proud of you I am, and the person you’ve become.”

Lloyd sucks in a shuddering breath, his eyes welling over. Oh. His fingers fist into the fabric of his uncle’s robe, tentatively clutching back.

“You should also know,” Uncle Wu says, his voice wet but steady. “How very much I love you, regardless of what title you choose to bear. You will always be my nephew, no matter what color you wear.”

Oh. Oh, no, here he goes again. Lloyd clutches back tighter, drops his head onto his uncle’s shoulder, and tries very hard not to cry like a total baby.

He’s about five percent successful.

The scent of incense isn’t so suffocating anymore, even if Lloyd can’t breathe through his nose for crying right now. It smells a little more like he remembers, when he was younger.

Like home.

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

“It can be very hard,” Uncle Wu tells him later, over the light tea he’s made them both. “To love the people in this family.”

“But you do,” Lloyd voices, watching him hesitantly.

“But I do.” Uncle Wu gives a wry breath of laughter. “Not as well as you do, though.”

Lloyd ducks his head, staring into his tea. “I don’t think it helped very much,” he whispers. “Not with…with my father.”

Uncle Wu’s hand is gentle where it rests on his shoulder.

“You have a big heart, Lloyd,” he says, his voice sad. “And that means there is only that much more to break.” He shakes his hand, and Lloyd sways the tiniest bit back and forth. “That does not mean you are any weaker for it, nor that you are wrong.”

Lloyd gives a snort that is definitely not an attempt to hide welling tears again. “Tell that to my father.”

“You should tell him yourself, if you want.”

Lloyd jerks his head up, his eyes widening. “Then…does that mean I’m off the blacklist?” he asks, tentatively. “For the prison?”

Uncle Wu sighs. “If you are certain it will not break your heart anymore,” he says. “Then you may go whenever you wish. I have already removed the block, but…I would ask that you be sure. For your sake, Lloyd.”

Lloyd stares at his hands, the metal one glinting in the dim lamplight. He thinks of cruel words echoing against prison walls, of how his heart had splintered into pieces long before his father had thrown him through that last prison wall, or he’d taken a sword to his own arm. He thinks of the TV broadcasts that Nya and Jay will never be able to wipe completely from the web, no matter how hard they try. He thinks of how his father will never know the pain of his heart splitting into pieces, certainly not for Lloyd, because it’ll never be the same heart Lloyd knew once.

And yet…

One of them is sitting in a cold cell, and one of them is drinking tea with their uncle, with the people they love most a mere room away (or right outside the door, Lloyd’s overbearing-sibling-radar has been acting up).

Lloyd shakes his head. “I don’t break,” he says, firmly.

He won’t. Not this time. Because his father — his real father, the father he loves, who he’d promised he’d live for, even in the depths of the Cursed Realm—

“I’m a Garmadon,” Lloyd says, his voice steady. “I don’t break.”

Uncle Wu is entirely unsuccessful at hiding the teary sort of smile he’s making in his teacup, but Lloyd will give him credit for trying.

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

It’s easier walking into the prison again, the second time.

Is what Lloyd is going to say, when the others ask him how it went when he gets back. The reality is that Lloyd is every bit as mind-numbingly terrified walking through these stupid doors as he was the first time. Except this time might even be worse, actually, because he misses a step on the way in and almost trips flat on his face, which totally ruins the badass power walk he was trying to do.

It’s not like he’ll ever be able to stride around like his father, anyways, Lloyd thinks dully, even as his face burns. Not when Garmadon’s got about four entire feet and the malevolent energy of Darth Vader on him.

Lloyd spends the next three minutes cursing himself for giving in to the Star Wars references, enough that he almost forgets the growing sense of anxiety writhing in his gut as he hurries through the prison. He doesn’t spare the walls a second glance this time, making a beeline directly for the isolation cell.

He holds his breath, just a tiny bit, as the guard scans him in. He’s almost surprised as he immediately waves him through, but forces himself to shake it off.

He’s not going to walk out of this with crippling trust issues all around. He’s not. Uncle Wu said he’d told them Lloyd could go, so Lloyd trusts him. And Uncle Wu is trusting him not to break down over this, so Lloyd isn’t going to. He’s just gonna have a…a nice little chat, with his father, that’s all. Maybe ask about the impending doomsday stuff he was muttering about, and make sure he isn’t planning to break out. Definitely not going to bring up anything related to Lloyd’s emotional state, that’s for sure.

It’s going to be just fine, Lloyd assures himself, even as his metal fingers twitch, the occasional static of green buzzing between the joints. He needs to keep an eye on that. Nya’s started getting him to run actual tests on it, so he knows the green power works fine with his arm, but still.

It’s the fight that fuels his father, and Lloyd hasn’t needed a lot of encouragement to go off on someone lately.

He shoves those thoughts back as the guard takes him deeper into the prison, the hallways growing darker and narrow. Lloyd has to swallow back a growing sense of claustrophobia the farther they go, his skin crawling as unbidden memories of the fight flicker in the back of his mind.

His hands ball into fists. You’re fine, he tells himself again. This is different. It’s fine.

His power buzzes in the back of his head, as if attempting to voice that it disagrees. Lloyd studiously ignores it, because the guard’s letting him in now, and he’s got a lot more problems to worry about.

Or just one big one, he thinks faintly, staring at his father where he’s illuminated in the middle of the dark room, sitting calmly in his cell as he stares at the ceiling.

For a beat, Lloyd’s rooted to the spot — half from a dizzying sense of nausea, half because he can’t find the walkway they’ve built.

…mostly because he can’t find the walkway they’ve built. Lloyd spends an embarrassing ten seconds thinking that Garmadon’s cell is just floating there, and he’s going to have to holler this conversation back and forth across the dark expanse, before his eyes finally catch on the dim-lit walkway.

No railings, Lloyd notes, and half of him wonders how funny it’d be if, after everything, he accidentally slipped and fell on the way to visit his imprisoned father, and that’s what did him in. It’d be a real spite to Harumi, that’s what—

“I was wondering when you’d come to visit.”

Lloyd swallows at the voice, and forces himself to meet the crimson eyes staring at him, so much like his own.

“Father,” he says in greeting, as tonelessly as possible.

Garmadon scoffs, but he says nothing to refute him. The tiniest embers of hope light in Lloyd’s chest, before he violently smothers them. He’s not here to get hurt again.

His father’s eyes are moving down now, coming to a halt on Lloyd’s prosthetic. Lloyd shifts uncomfortably with the urge to hide it from view, forcing himself to stand steady.

“I never did like snakes,” Garmadon finally says, his voice even, then returns to staring at the ceiling.

Lloyd blinks. That’s it? That’s it. Lloyd’s lost an entire arm and — yeah, Garmadon already got a face-first introduction to the prosthetic back on Borg Tower, but he’d — he’d thought —

Lloyd doesn’t know what he’d thought, actually. He doesn’t have any footing with his father, anymore. He doesn’t know this person like he used to know the father who loved him.

“You said something to me, back on the tower,” Lloyd says, rallying himself. “About how they were coming. I wanted to ask you what you were talking about.”

Garmadon tilts his head, regarding him through slitted eyes. “Why don’t you ask your dear uncle?” he says, derisively. “I’m sure there’s plenty more he knows that he hasn’t told you.”

“Sensei Wu tells me enough,” Lloyd says, flatly. “If something’s coming, he’ll make sure we’re ready.”

“If you are the best he can offer, then you’re already doomed,” Garmadon scoffs.

Lloyd grits his teeth. “And yet,” he says, with forced calm. “I still beat you.”

“Watch yourself, boy,” Garmadon snarls, his teeth glinting. “You won on a technicality. Don’t be so quick to forget how easily I broke you before."

Pitching himself off the walkway is sounding like a better option by the second, which means Lloyd should probably get out of here soon.

“This threat,” he forces out, yanking them back on track. “You keep talking about. Want to share any more on that?”

Garmadon rolls his eyes. “The danger I spoke of has yet to pass,” he says, unconcerned. “I wouldn’t let it worry you and your pathetic friends’ little heads so soon. Like I said, I doubt you could handle it.”

Lloyd stares at him, incredulous. “So what, you’re just going to sit around until it’s here? And do nothing? That’s just going to make — make whatever it is worse.”

Garmadon snorts, his laugh caustic and bitter, but offers nothing else.

Lloyd’s lip curls. “Forget it, then,” he snaps. “If you’re not going to talk about anything useful, I’m not wasting my time on you. I can always come back.”

He means to storm off after that, but his feet falter, and he hesitates. He stares at his father, this hollowed-out version of him slumped in defeat in a prison cell. Something in his chest twists.

This is never what he wanted. He never wanted any of this. Is this what destiny does to them all, then? Chains them to each other until they’ve all brought each other down to their lowest point? Destroys everything thats good about them until there’s nothing but an empty shell left?

The edge of the walkway looms on either side of him, dropping into suffocating darkness. Lloyd balls his hands into fists, and remembers the crushing hopelessness he’d felt as Harumi had laughed at him on the train. It feels a lot like his grandfather’s laughing at him now, watching their stupid family drama play out like the worst kind of tragic soap opera.

Lloyd’s fists tighten. No, he tells himself. No. That’s not what destiny will do to him.

He’s the one that got away, isn’t he?

Garmadon finally seems to lose patience, his eyes flashing as he stands. “If you’re still here to gloat, boy—”

“I’m my own person, you know,” Lloyd speaks over him, cutting his father off. “I’ve got more than just you. I’m not just some fragment of your broken legacy.”

Garmadon stares back in surprise, but he says nothing.

“But I’m still your son, no matter what you say,” Lloyd continues, his voice steady. “And I’m keeping your name. So deal with it, or whatever.”

And with that, he turns around and paces steadily from the cell, back into the light. He doesn’t look back, not even once.

He can come back later, anyways. But right now, he’s gonna be late for practice.

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

“—left, he’s on your left, Jay, are you blind?!”

“He’s fast! I don’t see you catching him!”

“That’s ‘cause you’re supposed to be guarding the left, we’re cornering him!”

“On the contrary, you are leaving your right side wide open for me. By my calculations, neither of you will ever corner me.”

“Oh, I’ll show you, tin can—”

Lloyd gives a breathless giggle as he listens in, confident in Zane’s ability to distract Cole and Jay for now. Nya’s still a possible threat, unless she’s going after their flag right now, but Lloyd’s pretty secure in the hiding place they’d picked.

“Head in the game, green machine!”

Lloyd shakes his head, jerking himself back the present at Kai’s whispered hiss. He wobbles precariously from where he’s standing on Kai’s shoulders, throwing his arms out for balance. He glares up at where Cole’s managed to hang their flag, dangling cheerfully from the tree branch far above the ground.

“Give me a sec,” Lloyd hisses back, right arm straining as his fingertips brush the air just below the flag. He scowls, biting back a curse.

“Do not tell me you’re too short to reach,” Kai whispers, before wavering a bit and tightening his hold around Lloyd’s ankles.

Lloyd scowls down at him. “I’m not,” he grumbles. “Just hold on.”

Kai makes an anxious sound. “Lloyd, Nya’s gonna catch on to us any second—”

“Hold on, hold on,” Lloyd mutters, reaching for the prosthetic port. With a click, he detaches the arm and steadies it in his other hand, then hoists it up and neatly catches the edge of their flag with it, knocking it into Kai’s waiting hands.

“Nice!” Kai crows in victory — only to turn to a yelp as Nya comes barreling around the corner, her expression borderline terrifying.

“You’re supposed to be watching our flag!” she roars at Cole and Jay, before diving for them. Lloyd shrieks as Kai launches him from his shoulders, giving a desperate cry of “Run, Lloyd!”

Lloyd flails wildly before managing to hit the ground in a roll, somersaulting once before scrambling to his feet. He spares a moment of memoriam for Kai as Jay tackles him, before being forced to break into a dead sprint as Nya comes in hot on his heels.

“Go, Lloyd!” Zane calls, from where he’s tussling with Cole. “They haven’t found our flag, we can win!”

“Not if I catch him,” Nya hisses, the hair on Lloyd’s neck standing up at how close she is. He puts on a burst of speed, streaking across the grassy field toward their base. Nya’s a blur in the back of his vision as he turns his head, but he might be able to outrun her if—

Lloyd yelps as he’s jerked backwards. “Gotcha!” Nya yells triumphantly as she locks a hand around Lloyd’s right wrist, firmly holding him back.

Lloyd doesn’t hesitate. Shoving the edge of the flag between his teeth, he reaches up and disconnects the prosthetic, shooting forward as Nya’s left stumbling, holding his arm.

“Lloyd Garmadon!” she cries indignantly. “That’s cheating!”

Lloyd cackles wildly as he runs, wavering a bit at he’s thrown off-balance from being one-armed, before quickly adjusting to the weight change and sprinting faster. Nya’s started chasing him again, but it’s too late — she’s lost valuable time, and Lloyd skids over their base line with a whoop.

Kai and Zane burst into cheers as Cole curses, finally letting Zane free from his grasp. Nya slides to a halt beside him where he’s doubled over panting, breathing heavily herself. She’s glaring at him through the sweaty hair that’s hanging in her face, and Lloyd gives her a sunny smile in return.

“You’re a dirty cheater,” she finally huffs.

“No rules in capture the flag against taking your arm off,” he replies, cheerily.

Nya rolls her eyes, but there’s a pull at the edge of her mouth like she’s trying not to smile as she thrusts his prosthetic at him.

“I don’t appreciate you treating my creation like that,” she sniffs.

“Aw, c’mon,” Kai grins, having caught up with them. “That was classic.”

“Yeah, if you’re a cheater,” Jay scowls. “I vote a rematch.”

“What, so you can lose a fifth time?”

“It has not been five times—”

“Yes it has, Zane’s been keeping count.”

“Zane’s a dirty cheater too!”

“How dare you—”

Lloyd snickers as they dissolve into arguing, carefully clicking his arm back into place. There’s still a flicker of pain as he does, but it’s getting easier. It’ll take time, he figures, just like everything else. You can’t fix all your problems in a day, no matter what Uncle Wu’s said before.

But for now, he can play dumb training games with his team. He can forget about whatever threat on the horizon, if only for a moment. Uncle Wu can amend his stance on what counts as training, because this is Lloyd’s turn to lead practice, and if he wants to play capture the flag, then that’s his call. And he can cheat with his arm if he wants to, because the universe can take his arm from him, but it’s not gonna take his ability to be a terrible little brother.

And it’s not going to take the fact that he’s Lloyd Garmadon, either, Lloyd thinks, as he straightens, his arm swinging into place. No one is. Not Harumi, not his own father, not an entire legal team from child protection services like Cole keeps joking (threatening) to call. Lloyd Garmadon is his name, and he’s keeping it.

...arguments could be made, though, for changing it to Lloyd Arm-Is-Gone.

“Lloyd, no.”

“That was awful.”

“You guys just have no taste!”

“We have plenty of taste, but the puns—”

“It’s my missing limb, I choose the coping mechanism.”

“You wanna miss another one, punk?”

“I’d like to see you try. At least I have an excuse for losing capture the flag. Oh wait, we won.”

“Oh, you’re on. Same teams as last time, you better watch your back—”

—yeah. They might not be perfectly fine just yet, but they’re going to be. And no one can take that from them, either.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #cole brookstone #nya smith #slight shift in focus but everyone's still there #also im saying its long but this is like #especially long even for me #oops T-T #my fic

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jimlingss · 5 years ago

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The Colour of Our Voices [8]

Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 8.5 OR Chapter 9

➜ Words: 2.5k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

You don’t speak to Jimin anymore. Ever since the meltdown, seldom do you see him despite being neighbors. He’s probably made an effort to avoid making you uncomfortable. Sometimes you do see him, times when you’re throwing the garbage or coming home from work. And when you do, he always looks tired. Dark circles lined beneath his eyes, lips lopsided in exhaustion. It’s expected considering the show was coming up. Jimin has to be working hard. But you still can’t help wondering what he’s actually doing, if he’s sleeping at all, if he’s eating well. Maybe it’s the guilt speaking inside the recesses of your mind. The remorse has been eating at you alive after all. It was a one-sided rivalry. One-sided resentment. He didn’t know. Jimin really had no idea what he was doing to you. You want to apologize for how the way things ended between you two — but you don’t know if you want to make amends. You don’t know if you can. If you deserve it after what you’ve said to him. The both of you have truly become strangers. It’s like how it always should’ve been. But the ticket he had given you weeks ago still sits on your kitchen counter, abandoned. It haunts you, and reminds you of the past — the many nights shared with Jimin, his sweet words and compassionate personality that never failed to cheer you on. How blameless he really is in all of this. How you’ve single-handedly turned him into a monster inside your head. You can’t eat — your appetite left long ago with your conscience. // You wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. It’s not from a nightmare, the one you usually have where you’re on stage and everyone’s staring while you’re unable to sing. The nightmare of your lips parting but no notes are able to stream out. Rather, it’s a dull pain in your upper abdomen that has shaken you from deep slumber. In the midst of your drowsiness, you peel off your covers from your hot body and barely reach over to flicker on the lamp on your bedside table. You roll out and stumble across the floorboards to your bathroom. You grip the door frame and move to sit on the toilet. After ten minutes, you nearly fall asleep again, but nothing releases from your bowels. You flush, get up, and move to the cabinet. The fever medication is taken with a glass of water and you go back to bed. // “You’re late,” someone from the female ensemble says, not with malice for once. Her voice is ridden with slight concern. You wonder if your exterior is that bad to warrant sympathy from the people who couldn’t care less about you. “You’re already on thin ice with the director.” True to her word, Director Kang is looking at you from the corner of his eye. You nod, breathing out of your mouth. You were late because it took you some time to go up and down the stairs at the subway station. The dull pain hasn’t gone away. “Try not to be late tomorrow. It might be the only excuse he needs to fire you.” “Okay. Thanks.” The coffee run takes you an hour long. You have to go up and down the stairs, balance all the cups of coffee while the world around you is spinning at a different axis. The pain of your stomach becomes increasingly sharper as time goes by as well. And you’re forced to stop a few times, unable to keep walking. Everyone’s disgruntled when they receive their cold drinks, mumbling under their breaths, but you try your best regardless. You have to stop when you’re sweeping too, gripping your waist when the pain shoots through your body. You push through in spite of how much it hurts, of how you’re feeling like you’re being stabbed. When lunchtime rolls around, you can’t take a bite of your sandwich. Even the fresh deli meat can’t compel you to take a single bite. It’s excruciating, and you abandon the food to bumble towards the washroom with hopes of relinquishing the ache. But instead, you feel something stir in the pit of your stomach. You end up running to the nearest stall, vomiting into the toilet bowl. Bile comes up your esophagus, burning, and once your body has calmed down, you flush the toilet. You come out to rinse your mouth, not realizing that Taeyeon was there the entire time. She’s touching up her makeup in the mirror, but spares you a quick glance. “Are you...alright?” “Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” You dab at your forehead with damp paper towels, wiping away your sweat. You’re shivering, suddenly cold, so you hastily run your hands over hot water. “Is it bad period cramps?” Taeyeon asks. “I’m not on my period.” “You’re not pregnant, are you?” She laughs but when you don’t answer, she immediately goes stiff. The pretty girl gasps in horror. “Oh my god. You aren’t, are you?” “That’s not possible,” you tell her with a sigh. The rest of the work day goes over painfully. Literally painfully. You don’t know what it is. The ointment brought from home doesn’t work well. The fever medication doesn’t seem to be working either. It’s not food poisoning, you can’t do anything on the toilet and vomiting has no effect. Yet when you push on your stomach, the pain worsens. It’s a miracle when you manage to drag yourself home, wobbling up the stairs while hanging onto the railing and the other hand bracing yourself against the wall. You use anything possible in your vicinity to steady yourself, but you give up halfway. You are physically unable to continue. It hurts, the pain dizzying. Suddenly, someone’s shaking you. “Y/N?” You look up past your foggy vision, discovering a cute brunette with brown irises rounded like a puppy’s. The boy is gazing at you and tears gather at your lashes, stinging with an emotion of yearning overwhelming you. “Jimin?” “Are you okay?! You fainted!” The back of his hand presses against your forehead and then he withdraws. “You have a fever.” “I...I’m fine.” You get up, but you stumble into him. Jimin catches you against his body. “It’ll pass, I can’t miss work.” “Who cares about work?” he says almost angrily. You can’t argue with him — you’re too exhausted, the pain of your stomach excruciating. You hear your name being called several times, but you grip onto your stomach, unable to respond. And that’s when you feel yourself being lifted up. Onto Jimin’s back. He’s piggybacking you, and in your dazed state, you realize he smells of shampoo and soap scented of fresh oranges. He’s also warm, body radiating heat, his backside firm. You didn’t know his shoulders were broader than they looked. “Jimin…” you murmur his name. “Excuse me!” Once outside, he calls out to a nearby woman in desperation, shouting at the top of his lungs. You can hear the way his voice warbles. “Can you please call a cab for us? She needs to go to the hospital!” The taxi comes within three minutes and he thanks the woman who wishes you both luck. You feel Jimin put you in the backseat, holding onto you tightly. You pull him closer, cold. The sheer agony concentrates on one side of your abdomen and it never stops. “J-Jimin…” If this is how you die — it’ll be so pathetic. More pathetic than how the rest of your life has been. Your parents would be crying tears of disappointment, not sorrow. But he disrupts your thoughts, arms wrapping around your shoulders. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay…” When the pair of you have arrived at the hospital, Jimin coaxes you to hold onto him again and he hoists you onto his back with the help of the female taxi driver. “Can someone help us, please?!” Jimin’s voice sounds far away, but it’s desperate. You don’t know why he’s trying so hard for someone like you — someone who’s said such hurtful things to him. Soon, you’re wheeled away, and when you peel back your eyes, the fluorescent lights passing by blind your eyes. You feel your body being rocked from the force of the stretcher being pushed, disoriented with the strangers surrounding you — but then you hear your name being called again by someone familiar. By someone with a smooth timbre, one that you’ve heard sing many times over. You find Jimin’s eyes and that frown again, the one that messes up his cute features, that makes the knot between his brows. You wish you could press your finger against the wrinkle and banish it away forever. Your hand is squeezed. “I’m here.” You nod, nerves calming, and no sooner are you brought in for an abdominal ultrasound, blood taken, urine tested. They give you painkillers that temporarily take the sharp pain away and you’re able to breathe again. Through it all, Jimin sticks by your side, holding his coat and your own, standing back to listen to every word the doctor has to say. “When did it start to hurt?” “L-Last night.” The doctor hums. “When was the last time you ate?” “I...don’t remember.” You couldn’t eat lunch — you skipped breakfast. Now that you think about it, your throat was parched too. You couldn’t drink water either. “Can you show me where it hurts?” “Here.” Your fingers press against the swollen area. The doctor notes, making some last notes before he puts down his clipboard. “Well, Ms. Y/N. Taking a look at your tests and the ultrasound, I think it’s safe to assume you have appendicitis.” What. “Your appendix ruptured. We’re going to have surgery as soon as possible to get it removed.” You nearly sit all the way up, forgetting about your condition. “R-Right now?” “In five minutes.” The doctor smiles in an attempt to put you at ease. “Don’t worry. It’s a really simple surgery and the success rate is really high. We’re just going to make a small incision about four inches here and we’ll get that sucker out of you. There’s a chance of infection afterwards, but we’ll give you antibiotics and you should be fine. There’s no cause for concern really once we get it out of there.” He briefly goes over what the recovery will look like, how long it’ll take, how fast you’ll be out of here. But that doesn’t do much to lessen your anxiousness. “Thank you, doctor.” Jimin nods and the doctor leaves with the nurse, the latter who will come back soon to prep you for surgery. But you’re not ready. Far from it. “I-I can’t miss work, Jimin.” Your arm reaches out and he grabs your hand immediately, giving a firm squeeze. “He’s going to fire me.” “I’ll talk to the director.” His voice is stern, expression solemn. You’ve never seen Jimin like this before. “You can’t go into work like this.” You want to cry. It’s so sudden. One second you’re on your way home and the next you’re in a hospital, laying in a bed to be brought into the surgical room. “I’m already on thin ice with him.” “He’ll understand. Or I’ll make him,” Jimin whispers calmly, almost upset at how you’re still so worried about work in these last moments. “You can’t just get up and go to work, okay? You have to do this surgery.” “But...I can’t afford it.” “I’ll help you.” His hand gently squeezes yours once more, comforting you. “It’ll be alright.” “I’m scared,” you admit after a moment. “It’s okay.” Jimin leans in close, searching your expression. When your eyes lock with his, you nod. Somehow, you believe him. If he told you that the ocean was pink, you’d believe him. “You’ll be okay. Promise. I’ll be right here with you. You don’t have to worry.” No one is here but him. Out of everyone you know in your lifetime, only Jimin is present. And true to his word, he stays right by you, until the last moment where you’re brought into the surgical room. “Your boyfriend really cherishes you, huh?” the older nurse asks as she’s fiddling with your IV, sighing wistfully with a softened smile. “How long have you been together?” In a split-second, you decide to spare her from the awkwardness, not wanting to put her in an uncomfortable position and have to apologize. “Oh...um….three months?” Your voice is muffled behind the oxygen mask. The anesthesiologist smiles as well. “Young love is always sweet. Alright, Y/N, just breathe in deeply, okay?” You listen, inhaling deep breaths. Your lids become heavier and heavier as if you were drifting off to sleep. The last thing you think of is Jimin. How nice he smelled, how warm he felt, and the way he held your hand.

When you come to, it’s dark outside. You can barely remember anything. It was surreal as if you were still trapped in a dream-like state and now all the memories you have are mashed together. You vaguely recall being woken up by the anesthesiologist, how the doctor said something about antibiotics. But now after a long sleep, you feel more conscious. Your eyes flutter and your heart monitor beeps every time your heart pumps. The IV is still in your arm, but you feel something else on your other hand. The tips of your fingers presses against soft skin that isn’t your own. You loll your head over to look. It’s Jimin. He’s in the same clothes as he was hours ago and he’s fallen asleep in his chair. His head is dipped down, neck nearly snapping and will probably ache when he wakes up. Though for now, he’s in a deep slumber, chest rising and falling at a constant rhythm. His hair shags down his forehead, eyes shut tight. His lips are plump and pouted, cheeks rounded. And his hand is limp in yours, having held it as he drifted off. You wonder if he’s trying to pay back the favour. Maybe he’s trying to make it up to you. You did teach him after all, helped him get into Broadway even when it was against your will. Maybe this to make you both even. Or perhaps he simply felt obligated to help you….it’s not like you can ignore a person who’s fainted in a stairwell…. But you don’t understand why he’s still here. Why he’s stayed by you even when you’re okay now, at this time of night, and when the surgery is over. He has gone beyond the duty of a neighbour, beyond paying back debt. Jimin’s still beside you after all these hours, holding your hand. Even after all the mean things that you’ve said to him. After you told him you hated him. How does he not hate you? “I’m sorry.” A tear escaped down the side of your face, dripping onto the pillow.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin scenario #jimin fluff #OOOOOOOH

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cosmicclownboy · 4 years ago

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"Not that I don't mind our little bonding one to ones but may I ask why we are doing this again?" "So you know that my toxic masculinity bro days are over. Me and Rosa did a quiz today and turns out blue is my spirit colour so let's get to it, Manes".

Excitedly clapping and inspecting the bottle with his fingers Kyle looks at peace so who is Alex to object to it. He can't say teen Alex expected this friendship to flourish again let alone be sitting in Kyle's apartment with a bottle of red painting Kyle's nails with a shade called Sultry Sapphire. But Alex knows more than anyone that adaptability is a huge part of life. Change is inevitable. And this is a change that he's glad for. It doesn't feel weird or out of place. It feels almost like he's slowly refinding everything he once lost. Jenga tournaments as kids turned into drinking games and poker and fishing turned into going to the same gym. Eventually, Isobel fishes out which gym and excitedly exclaims gym buddies. It's actually really fun even if he has to witness his training on her Instagram feed. Being in an alien exist clubhouse is difficult him and Kyle have pretty heavy-duty careers and having the most practical sense vs the people in said group who would prod a bear simply to see how it would react well their friendship blossomed. Finishing the last touches he goes for the wine in a latte mug.

"Right this will dry in a couple of minutes. Then it's my turn, Manes. I hope you're ready for iridescent fantasy 69". He almost groans at the choice in colour with swirls of blues, pinks and purples Alex is immediately taken to the pieces in Michael's bunker all shiny and beautiful. Judging by the smirk he gets the Ortecho Valenti sibling team-up happened behind the scenes. "Seriously where did Rosa get these from? there are two women on the front having sex" "Someone she met in rehab - don't ask"

"So....hows things in the dating universe?" "Forest and Liz signed me to Grindr without my permission.....and there's only so many times I can open up a message to see literal junk mail. I also went out on a date with a man who's fetish was sucking toes he seemed unnaturally interested in the prospect of banging a man with only the one foot. Four times. Four times I've been set up with someone with the oddest fetish". This seems to gage a reaction out of Kyle who rolls a little around the floor with a chuckle holding the brush from the nail polish close to his chest trying his best not to sour the rug. "Alex you've spent the last ten years fucking an alien. You have a rain fetish dude and don't even try it Liz told me about your rain scented angst candle sessions" Oh, he is going to have words with Liz. "Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I got pegged behind a target" Alex groans heavily.

Liz feigns ignorance when Alex corners her in the Crashdown and she, of course, tries to bat her eyelashes at him thinking it'd affect him. He's a man of stone. He will not be immediately forgiving by a kind smile.Nope.Not happening. It at least has to include a free hug and the first round of drinks which occurs a week later dressed in his tightest jeans and Kyle moping because Steph left had him. Liz and Kyle made it to Planet 7 a place Kyle thrives in. "Look it's glitter night Kyle you love glitter night the shots are half off".Liz is doing her best to brighten the mood despite her own romantic failings anytime the name Max is spoken she looks haunted. And hey who is he gonna judge he knows how easy it is to get an alien under your skin he's hitting 12 years in a month and he's wondering what it would be in anniversary terms. Google tells him it's silk he almost laughs at the idea of giving Michael any clothing in that fabric the man was rugged jeans and t-shirts. When his phone is stolen by Liz who pushes a shot in his direction he remembers why he's here. Have fun with his friends. Solidarity in suffering. The drinks flow easily to the booth he's had a pina colada some other fruity drinks and a bunch of shots. At first, he didn't feel anything, not even a buzz but after twenty minutes he feels sluggish and slow. Everything moving at a different rate then it did before. You should call Michael" Liz is shouting it off from the dancefloor of which she's tripped twice on and yet somehow she's beaming. Everything just kind of blurs together after that doesn't even realise he's on his bed until his hands are grasping the pillow. And faintly he feels a kiss on his head.

Drinking is a fun idea until the Hangover hits. He's starting to remember why he doesn't usually drink. His head is just throbbing he's trying his best to turn on soldier mode darting his eyes around trying to survey the room. Okay, the only clothes by the bed are his that's good. That's great one thing he doesn't have to worry about. There are a couple of pills on a plate by a glass of water with the box to show him what it is. And he's pretty sure there's a bin by the bed and end table... Someone took care of him. Who? He takes a very long shower water hits his skin until he feels anew or at least a little more bearable. It's only when he's drying off and hearing a faint hum of music that he remembers. Oh god.

"Guerin, it's me, Alex ... shoul-should of probably said Alex first how can you know it's me it's unspecific. Can you come home now my beds all big and fluffy and I want your fluffy hair in it.I miss your hair it's soft. Can you come save me Kyle keeps waving me over to dance with a drag queen and a stripper and I don't want to- "MIKEY WE'RE AT PLANET 7 COME DANCE WITH US" He really can't catch a break. "You know every minute you stay in there is a minute longer the pancakes get cold. And you should know I make a mean stack of chocolate chip pancakes"

He doesn't know what he's expecting when he first leaves his bedroom. He's nervous. After the song, he promised himself he would not make the first move. If Michael wants him he's going to have to say it in words to his face and communicate it to him. He's tired of metaphors and unspoken words. Trust drunk Alex to immediately ignore what he wants and skip right to the stroking Michael's hair part. Which yes he wants to do all the time. He finds Michael in the kitchen using a metal utensil as a mirror checking his teeth, his hair before straightening his shirt and patting his jeans down. He's nervous too. His heart stutters a little at the thought. Michael places the table settings and looks up with a small smile. "Hi" "Hi" He gestures to the table. "It's not much I had to run to the store you have the cupboard of an 18-year-old student" Even hungover and tired he can't fight the smile on his face. "Between my work hours and alien scooby sleuthing don't always have the time or energy" "I'm sor "If you apologise I will steal all your pancakes, Guerin" Despite his head throbbing and his leg killing him it's probably the best morning he'd had in a long time. A bird is flying past the window. His dog is sleeping soundly in his bed. The smell of flowers from the vase in the middle of the table is melding with the smell of warm chocolate. And if he dares a glance from his plate he sees the man he loves chewing on pancakes slowly with a small smile on his face. It's peaceful like something out of a movie.

"I don't know if you remember the voicemail you gave me you were pretty wasted. I gave all of you guys a ride home. Valenti threw up on my sneakers I uh was glad I wasn't wearing my good boots" Michael looks the most vulnerable he's seen him in years moving his fork around the pancake in front of him. He drops his fork and squeakily moves his chair closer and reaches for both his hands. "I'm so sorry for everything. This past year especially" Michael is trying his best to hold back his tears sniffing trying to get whatever words he wants to get out - out. "You know I've uh been seeing a therapist the last couple of months and she's great you know she calls me out on my victim complex crap and gives me all kinds of homework that sometimes bugs me but it's been helping. She asked me to write a list of things I wanted and at first, I couldn't do it for weeks I just stared at the page and couldn't I didn't think I deserved to write one. Eventually, I did. Can I read it to you?"

He squeezes his hands briefly before bringing his hands to his cheeks softly stroking in encouragement.

"Number 1, Don't be angry anymore it doesn't make you happy it hurts you and it's hurt the people that you love. Number 2, Spend more time with Max and Isobel as a family. Number 3, Remember you are loved and wanted by Isobel, Max, Sanders and Alex make sure to let them know that they are your family. Number 4, tell Alex that you stole his guitar on purpose that day you heard him play at work once and you just wanted to know him. Number 5, tell Alex that stealing his guitar and falling in love with him was the best thing that ever happened to me. You can read the rest if you want" The list is the closest thing to a love letter he's ever gotten off of Michael and everything he reads is everything he wants for Michael. He wants Michael to be happy to love himself to know he's wanted and love. Even seeing minor things like I want to hold Alex's hand makes him emotional. He wants all those things too. He wants a life with Michael. He wants Michael. And everything he reads and hears as Michael reads out the lines without the paper has his heart racing.

There no longer are metaphors in the air it's words pure and simple.

He supposes he should kiss Michael but he chooses a different kind of embrace one he wanted to do for a while he wraps Michael in a hug it's warm and tight he hopes he knows in this hug how much he loves him. And if he doesn't know he can say he'll say it every day until Michael understands it. "Want to watch a bad movie on the couch and cuddle?" Michael's grip on his shirt lessons and a muffled chuckle and a nod is conveyed against his chest. Armed with coffee and a bag of chips they make their way on the sofa. The question of big spoon is gone straight away when Michael makes grabby motions with his hands. His head is pressed into his chest and Alex feels at home and at peace. They flick through the channels. "Have you seen this one?" "Have I seen a film about a flesh-eating octopus fighting a giant shark? no, can't say I have". The movie is terrible as expected laughably so but the thing that makes it one of his favourites is Michael's anger towards the films plot. "So the giant shark was actually a robot designed by a bored rich kid who wanted to prod fish which caused the flesh-eating octopus to become feral and murder a bunch of people? They didn't explain anything about the flesh-eating octopus the whole plot doesn't make any sense" Rubbing his stomach in low circles and dotting a kiss to his collarbone he smirks at Michael's investment. "And another thing -mmph" He leans back. Michael's eyes are closed his lips are puckered he pouts when he realises he hasn't come back up to kiss him "You were saying?" "I'm shutting up now....hey come back up here and kiss me"

#malex #listen its kylizex friendship hours #malexfic

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bambinovak · 5 years ago

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Late Morning Rush — Sam Winchester

summary; in which one stanford student finds herself late for one of her classes and takes the shortcut through the library. instead, she meets sam, and the raging blush on her cheeks and the shy smiles that are exchanged make her later than ever - but she doesn’t mind, not at all. [201017]

warnings; swearing

word count;1.6k

masterlist

YOUR NORMAL, CONSECUTIVE morning routine never changed. Your annoying alarm tone screeching in your ears and provoking an over-dramatic groan to tumble from your lips as you considered staying in bed all day and not going to class. Today, that routine had been broken. There was an eerie absence of an alarm, not that you (piled under your blankets and snoring ever so softly) noticed.

You had woken up naturally, your eyes fluttering open and an inevitable yawn escaping. You found yourself burying your head further into the solace of your soft, feathery pillow to shade your irises from the sun's warm rays that seeped in through the window. You had almost fell back asleep, feeling so warm and comfortable, until a thought striked.

It was incredibly sunny for eight o'clock in the morning. In the middle of November.

The sudden realisation made your heart jump and spelled any sleep from your body. Your eyes snapped open and you shot up, flailing slightly as you shoved the blankets from you.

Your hands snatched up your phone from its place on your bedside table and roughly pressed the power button; the screen lit up and you eyed the illuminated numbers. 9:56 am. You had exactly four minutes to make it your psychology class. Your professor already thought bad of you for forgetting to hand in one essay a few weeks ago and being late, again, would just pile onto his list of reasons why he couldn't tolerate you. Plus, there was no way that anyone could do anything in under four minutes.

"Fuck," The curse fell from your lips in mumbles and then, the late morning rush began.

Haphazardly brushing the knots out of your hair, another inevitable string of curse words followed but eventually, you managed to throw your silky hair up into a ponytail. You shoved your glasses onto your face, knowing that you wouldn't have time to sit and poke at your eyes with your contacts before trying your best to brush your teeth and rummage through your closet for something to wear coherently, but simultaneously.

Four minutes had come and gone and it was already 9:20 am by the time you had successfully chapped your lips with your peach flavoured chapstick, grabbed all your books and slammed your door closed with a shallow huff, the puff of air whisking the loose, unkempt strands of hair that delicately framed your features around.

Your jean clad legs carried you rapidly down the corridors full of fatigued and enervated students, taking their time and trudging down the halls exasperatingly slow. Taking a quick break from dodging all the sluggish bodies, you eyed the busy stairway with narrowed orbs, mapping the grounds of the vast complex out in your mind - highlighting the quickest route to your class, instead.

When you were struck with the idea, you almost cursed at yourself again for not thinking of it sooner before taking off into a jog to the doors of the ample library that sat in the heart of Stanford's grounds. You flung the heavy, glass doors open and winced when your librarian shot you an irritated glare and grumbled under her breath at the sudden noise breaking through the comfortable quietness.

However, you continued on your trek when she finally looked away, peering down at her computer with a huff. Glancing swiftly at the big clock hanging on the far right wall, you didn't realise that you were heading straight into a firm chest until it was too late and a quiet yelp escaped past your lips and your books tumbled from your arms. They scattered across the floor with a thud, surely earning another scowl from the librarian but you were far too flustered to care at that point.

"Oh god! I'm sorry!" You immediately found yourself bending down, attempting to collect all your books quickly as you let out an embarrassed chuckle. You kept your head down, making sure the bits of loose hair covered the heat rising to your cheeks.

"Hey, it's okay - my fault," Came the deep reply and your breath hitched in your throat at the unfamiliar but captivating sound. The faint hue of pink that tainted the apples of your cheeks deepened considerably as you gingerly glanced up at the tall boy through your lashes.

Then, came the stutters that fell from your lips as your fingers subconsciously came up to gently push your crooked glasses back up the bridge of your nose and set them straight. "No, really - I... I was late and wasn't looking where I was going. I-I'm so sorry. I'm literally a walking disaster, jeez."

The sound of his deep laugh filled your ears at your shy ramblings before he held out his arm towards you; your wide eyes tentatively followed his movement to where one of your books held delicately in his large hand and a sweet smile edged at the corners of his lips.

Another wave of heat blossomed across your features at his simple, kind action, setting your skin aglow once again. "Uh - thank you," Shyly chuckling, you took the book from him - trying desperately to ignore and not acknowledge the fact that your fingers lightly brushed against his during collection.

Seeming to have forgotten that you had somewhere to be, you sent him a gentle and kind smile before snatching up the brave attribute that lingered in the air and deciding to take a leap of faith. "So, I... Um- I haven't seen you around here before," You commented, being completely honest. You were pretty sure that if you had seen the particularly tall boy, his piercing hazel eyes and his dark locks before, you'd sure as hell would've remembered it.

His captivating smile widened as he peered down at you, his hazel irises holding yours endearingly, "Yeah, I moved here recently." You nodded along with him, not sure what you should say next until he spoke up again, his tone teasing, "Could use some help getting to know the campus, though."

And although you were pretty sure that he was directing his comment towards you, you couldn't help but feel uneasy and out of place to be making suggestions. However, you decided to brave through your query nevertheless, "W-well, I could - uh... I could show you around, maybe, sometime?" With raging red colouring your cheeks once again, your shy gaze travelled back to the floor - embarrassed by the clumsiness of your stutters.

You found yourself readjusting the mass of books in your arms and continuously tucking strands and wisps of your soft hair behind your ear every so often as a distraction from the bumbling mess that you'd put yourself in. His quiet laugh rang through your ears and your eyes snapped up to meet his - terrified that he was laughing at you. But, when his hazel caught your (y/e/c), you knew that wasn't the case and the hot blush painting your features slowly began to fade.

"I'd like that," His teeth delicately encased his bottom lip as he tried to reign in the grin that was threatening to take over his features as he listened to you adorably ramble away. "I'm Sam."

You let out a calm and almost relieved breath of air that you didn't realise you were keeping imprisoned as he introduced himself. "Sam," You spoke gently, his name rolling off your tongue as you tested it out. It suited him, you unspokenly decided. He, also, unspokenly decided that he liked the way his name tumbled from your lips, adequate with hope, potential, promise.

"(Y/N)," You muttered with a sweet smile plastered on your lips, the bashful and reserved feelings from prior completely erased. The way he peered down at you and the smile tugging at his lips, you felt at ease with him already. You could tell he was nothing but nice. A breath of fresh air. And he was undeniably cute.

"Well, (Y/N), can I walk you to whatever is left of the class you were basically sprinting to earlier?" The grin written on his lips widened, a deep chuckle in his throat as he eyed your reaction.

"Oh, shit," Came the reply once you looked towards the large, ticking clock. Your eyes widened. But truth was, despite your words of realisation, you couldn't find it in yourself to really care that you had missed yet another class. Letting a breathy laugh escape, you gave Sam an innocent smile, accompanied by an innocuous shrug of your shoulders. "Well, I only have ten minutes of that class left, anyway. I could skip the rest? For you," Impressed by your sudden surging confidence and boldness, you found yourself chuckling under your minty breath at your words right after. Sam, himself, was also slightly stunned by your change of persona - the confidence and courage suddenly rolling off you in waves had him attracted to you even more so now.

"You'd skip just for me?" He repeated, the mock of an astonished tug at his lips presented itself, "I'm honoured."

A bubble of laughter escaped, accompanied by an amused roll of your eyes and a teasing smirk, "Well, you've already kept me here long enough. You're a bad influence."

"Hm," He hummed lightly, jokingly agreeing with your statement. "Lead the way," Sam beamed blissfully, gesturing for you to take the lead. His eyes followed you as you turned around, glancing over your shoulder at him with a glint in your eyes. He was compelled to trail after you through the busy library, his stomach doing flips with excitement.

What a morning, you both found yourselves thinking, feeling optimistic in the most delightful way.

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cnc-hoebayb · 5 years ago

Text

Just hug me u dummy

For if ur feeling sad or down or rly need a hug :,)

Also ib this story today bc his smile literally makes my world a million times brighter tf

The clock on your phone passed yet another agonizing minute, the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind eating at you for what felt like years. You had an hour left. A whole hour. Tears started to well up in your eyes as you felt like you could definitely not handle that much more time here.

You were tired, started running a little fever around noon, hungry, and god were you so bored and lonely right now. Your classmates around you started packing their bags early, making the anxiety of having to wait still even worse. You couldn’t afford to leave early today, you needed the notes and extra class time after the days you missed the last couple weeks.

Your friends say goodbye as they rush out the classroom, leaving you and only 3 other kids in the room. Everyone doing their own thing, finishing essays, copying notes, completing unfinished tests. You sit and build up the motivation to finally start reading your textbook. Nothing happens.

The headache that had been lingering on started to pound now. You take a deep breath and try to get it together. Your phone buzzes on the corner of your table and your anticipation gets the best of you, reaching out frantically to see who the message was from. The notification appears across the screen and your heart drops even lower than before.

Chris was busy today, you knew that. And you were supposed to be busy as well, working hard on all the makeup work you needed so desperately to be done with in the next hour.

It was just the day, you thought. The stress, sickness, hunger, and the loneliness you felt and having to deal with it all by yourself. You just wanted him to make it better. But you were both functional adults and this was life, you couldn’t get exactly what you wanted all the time, and it really sucked to have to do it alone sometimes.

You set the phone back down and close your eyes a second, focusing yourself into work mode. You brushed away a singular sad little tear and opened the book back up. It was time to get serious.

The hour flew by after that like nothing. Your ability to zone out and zoom through your work actually kinda surprised you. But it was done, and you could finally get home and into bed with some good food.

As you exit the classroom, you pick up the phone to call Chris and let him know you’re on the way home and to see how his day was going. It gets through one ring and then nothing. Declined call. You pout instinctively and try again- maybe his service was out of wack.

This time it rings past the first little bell, makes it a couple times before it finally hangs up again. Why would he hang up on you? Twice ??

Your sensitivity through the day just piles up and as you plop down in the seat of your car you let it all out. A flood of tears stream down your face and it keeps on going. You gather the strength to put the car in gear and drive yourself home.

As you pull around the corner you notice Chris’ car in the driveway, but don’t even regard it while you park and lug your stuff in. You didn’t have the energy for interaction anymore, as sad as it sounded, your body was heavy and wanted nothing but rest.

You hear the faint noise of muffled music as you approach the door, usually the sign of Chris in an upbeat mood. Which made you a little nervous of the rowdiness you were about to step into.

The door swings open and there he is, at the kitchen counter pouring a full glass of chocolate milk- your drink he knows will always cheer you up. And a table set with your favorite take out restaurant, all plated and ready for you. His pretty eyes dart up to you and his cute side smile makes your heart melt.

“Amor..” his smile fades a little and there’s concern as he observes the state you’re in. Stained mascara cheeks and a red puffy nose, hair messy from the ponytail you attempted in the car. Everything he could see on you told him exactly the kind of day you just had.

“Whats wrong?” He says finally and you burst back into tears, letting all your belongings drop to the floor, hands covering your face to hide your embarrassment. He rushes over and tries to hear you out.

“I forgot my luNch, and i had 3 missing assignments to finish, and the stupid teacher lost my last essay in her spam emails, and i missed you so much and you didn’t answer-“ you sob out in choked up words, trying to put yourself together but completely failing.

He reaches in to wipe your tears away with his thumbs, his hands caressing the sides of your face. He taps you so you can look up into his eyes. He smiles again and the tears have no choice but to stop.

“Hey,” he kisses away the tears on one of your cheeks and talks calmly. “Lo siento, amor, i was driving home from work i didn’t know you’d be so upset i didn’t answer the phone.”

You feel a little guilty and Wanna cry again. “I know you were busy I’m sorry.” You start with a shaky voice. Chris notices and soothes you back to yourself. “Nonono It’s ok, you just had a rough day, i understand.” His teeth peek through his little smile and he pulls you into his arms firmly- finally.

“Cmere,” his chest is warm and comforting. All the issues and sadness of the day rush completely out of your mind, the weight on your shoulders collapses and it’s nothing but the feeling of being in his arms. You work up a smile as he scratches the back of your head and rocks you side to side slowly with him.

“Aye princesa, you need sleep you’re burning up,” he feels your forehead like a concerned parent and squeezes you tighter.

“Sleep sounds nice,” you mumble, actually dozing off a bit in his grips before he pulls away and grabs your hand in his.

He leans in once more, kissing the top of your head and looking right into your teary, sleepy eyes. You look up into his and it feels like all your problems from earlier are pointless. Because how can anybody be sad when something as perfect as the boy in front of you exists.

His adorable, dorky little face lights up your freaking world and that’s all that can ever matter.

“Cmon sleepy girl, let’s go eat,” he interrupts your thoughts and you snap back into reality. Reality where he’s here, youre here, and everything’s going to be ok. You look one more time into his eyes to reassure it. They sparkle back with promise, a little wink following behind. Yeah, it’s going to be just perfect.

#guess who wrote this in 10 minutes hA #i needed this #and it made my day better #so i hope this helps ur day maybe a lil bit #to imagine ur lovely cozy chris hug 🥺 aw #ok but im actually wmotional bc his dumb lil carita makes me feel so happy #cured my sadness instantly no cap #chris mi corazón

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softwrite · 5 years ago

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hey 👋🏻 i wanted to ask if you are still in the mood to write a scenario??🙈 if yess could you write something cute yet funny?? like being unable to do basic things because you hurt/ broke your hand and yoongi needing to do everything e.g cooking and stuff and complaining about it 24/7 but secretly enjoying and loving it?? no probs if you don’t!! have a wonderful day❤️

pairing; boyfriend!yoongi x reader

genre; fluff, established relationship au, grumpy yoongi, lots & lots of whining, also surprise! soft in luv yoongi!, small kithes, slight crack, cussing

wc; 2.9k

summary; after an extremely ridiculous incident that resulted in your hand malfunctioning, you deem your dear boyfriend, min yoongi, as your new servant for the time being. you know, until you get better of course.

a/n: i hope this is what u wanted anon! i luv this idea thank u for requesting :( here comes the shit storm that is this fic. thank u. if anyone wants to request a scenario of their own, plz send it thru the ask option!

“Yoongi! Stop walking for a second, you’re going to make me drop it!”

“Well you’re the one who’s moving too slow. Not my fault you take baby steps.”

“I’m literally walking on an incline carrying a whole ass table right now, can you please be a little more considerate?”

“Jesus Christ just keep moving! My hands are about to give out.”

“Wait wait wait stop, stop! I’m about to!-”

CRASH.

“FUCK!”

“What did I just fucking say Y/N.”

- - -

“So basically, your wrist is just sprained,” the doctor spoke, his deep voice resonating through your eardrums as you sat there on the crumpling paper bed sheet.

You’d been sitting there for so long listening to him explain your injury that you might just have an ass imprint. All of this for a stupid sprained wrist.

“Oh, that’s good. Considering you screamed bloody murder for like 20 minutes straight, I was expecting the worst,” your boyfriend replied, his monotone voice practically vibrating the whole room.

Scrunching your features together in annoyance at his words, you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms, though wincing slightly as the white, stretchy material of the gauze wrapped around your right wrist irritated the injury.

“Listen, I swear it felt like I broke it or something. I thought I was gonna die,” you exaggerated, though in the moment you didn’t care you sounded like a whining child.

“Well, I can assure you that wouldn’t have happened,” the doctor responded, raising his eyebrow in a matter-of-fact manner towards you. “Anyways, at this point you just need to go home and rest. I would recommend not doing any physical tasks that may injure your wrist further for the next week or so,” he stated. “Taking small dosages of some acetaminophen will help with any lingering pain. Other than that, you’re all good to go!”

“Thanks Dr. Kim. I’ll be sure to keep this wild animal on house arrest,” Yoongi joked, extending his right hand outwards towards your left, uninjured one as you hopped off the tall table. The white paper beneath you crackled obnoxiously and nearly stuck to you as you began to head out the door of the small room.

“Thanks Dr. Kim!” You copied, his figure disappearing out of sight as you circled the corner with your boyfriend leading the way. As you two stepped towards the exit doors, you peeked up at him as his blonde, fluffy hair nearly masked his current expression. Though you could guess what he was about to say.

“You’re literally so dumb,” he muttered under his breath, his voice still completely loud enough for you to pick up on it.

“For the love of God Yoongi, you’re the one who wouldn’t put the table down so I could get a better grip on it! My arms were literally shaking and you watched me perish,” you argued.

“Oh okay sure. Whatever. Let’s just go home before you somehow end up breaking your leg by just breathing,” Yoongi laughed, his shoulders bouncing up and down as he tugged you along towards his awaiting, parked car as you shook your head, a frown apparent on your lips.

- - -

“Yoongi, can you get me a water from the fridge please?” You mumbled, your body currently buried within the comforting covers of your bed, your eyes focused rather intently on the television screen projecting a movie the two of you had chosen to watch together.

“I distinctly remember the doctor saying it was just your wrist that was sprained. What, suddenly your legs don’t work either?” He grunted, his chest that was pressed up against your temple rumbling.

“Pleeease, I just don’t want to miss anything. I know you’re not even watching it asshole, you’ve been on your phone like the whole time,” you accused, causing his body to momentarily tense beneath your head. “Are you really gonna be this rude to a cripple?”

“You’re not a cripple. Your hand is just stupidly weak, but fine, I’ll get it, but just this once. Just because you hurt your wrist doesn’t mean I’m going to do everything for you, Y/N,” he firmly responded, poking his skinny, pale index finger against your cheek for emphasis.

“Okay whatever, thanks babe,” you grinned, a knowing gleam entering your eyes as you shifted your body against the pillows as he got up to leave to retrieve your water from the kitchen down the hall.

It’s funny how wrong he was.

Just a few hours later that same day, around 6 PM, dinner time finally rolled around and you were fucking starving. You had been so engrossed in the movie, and in your mission in trying not to move as much as possible, you barely noticed how late it was.

“I think my stomach is about to eat itself. I can’t move, can you cook tonight instead Yoongi?”

Yoongi, who had been sitting at his desk scribbling on sheets of paper, his large, black glasses adorning the top of his nose, turned around to face you in disbelief. “I cooked last night Y/N what the fuck. Tonight is your night.”

“I know but my wrist is starting to hurt again,” you pouted, a whiny tone entering your voice. Sprawled atop of your shared bed, uncaringly looking like a mess, you visibly cupped your injured hand with your opposite. “The doctor said not to do any physical activity either, so, suck it,” you added, a large, childish smirk gracing your lips as you stuck your chin up at your boyfriend in triumph.

Staring dead straight into your eyes from the side of the room, Yoongi’s expression was rather blank as his dark eyes observed your smug frame. You noticed his pupils roam across your lips for a brief moment longer before he snapped them back towards your eyes.

“No,” he finalized, swerving back around to face the task he had previously been working on.

“Bitch!”

“Sorry, I’m a little deaf, you’re going to have to speak up some more if you’re trying to say something important,” he muttered, his voice set low as his hand picked up the pen he was previously holding.

“Yoongi…”

Silence.

“Yoongi please.”

You could practically feel the dead air.

“Yoongi, my love, please, I will even let you make shrimp ramen for dinner.”

Your boyfriend’s writing momentarily froze at your words, though picked back up once more after a brief few seconds.

Pursing your lips together in indignation, you observed the back of Yoongi’s white strands of hair, a single tuft poking up at the top that always refused to cooperate.

“I guess I could make salmon for dinner again…” you began, eyeing his form through your peripheral vision as you slowly maneuvered your legs to dangle off the side of the bed.

At that, the sudden slamming of a pen on Yoongi’s wooden work desk caught your attention, his chair flashing backwards almost at the speed of light.

“I’ll make dinner tonight! Don’t worry about it babe! I got it!” He rushed out, nearly stumbling towards your figure as you were halfway off of the bed, one leg on and one leg off, brushing the tips of your toes against the carpet. “Why don’t you stay in bed and I’ll bring it to you? Just, please, don’t go in the kitchen,” he begged, wrapping his long fingers around your upper left arm, a pleading look visible within his nearly black eyes.

Attempting to conceal the victorious smile that nearly slipped from your features, you slowly nodded, purposefully acting clueless and hesitant. “Oh, well if you say so,” you hummed, lifting your shoulders upwards in a slight shrug. Moving your body back into the same place that it had been in for basically the entire day, the very corners of your lips curled upwards.

“I’ll be back. Don’t move,” he demanded, eyeing your position with a deadly glare as he made his way towards the opened bedroom door. Using his index and middle finger, he acted out an ‘i’m watching you’ motion before his short figure exited the room.

“This is too easy,” you whispered to yourself, resting your wrapped hand against your chest while you used the other to curl behind your head against the pillows, propping your skull upwards.

20 minutes later, Yoongi returns with a steaming bowl of ramen, nothing less of what you expected from him. A slightly disgruntled look entered your eyes as you could smell the faint traces of shrimp drift into the air of your bedroom.

You hated seafood, but you suppose you could swallow it for the sake of your boyfriend’s struggles.

However, as he handed you your individual bowl, you immediately glanced up at Yoongi in confusion. “Did you-”

“Yes, I did,” he mumbled, already placing himself back down at his desk that he had been occupying. “I ended up making you chicken ramen. Didn’t want to hear even more of your complaints,” he grunted, seemingly annoyed, though you were able to see through his facade.

A fond smile graced your lips as you swirled the golden, curly noodles within your bowl with your chopsticks, the delicious scent of your favorite flavor of ramen euphorically drifting through your nostrils.

“Thanks babe.”

As you began to slurp down your ‘home-cooked’ meal, eyes now darting back to watch whatever was playing on the TV, Yoongi’s actions in scarcely glancing back towards your now elated frame were completely unknown to you.

You happened to miss the slight quirk in his own pale pink lips as he noticed a drop of ramen juice decorating the corner of your naturally pouty lips as you continued to devour your small dinner.

- - -

The next day, you finally had decided it was time to at least get out of bed.

Yoongi had left a short while ago to pick up something he needed, you didn’t really hear what, considering your were basically blacked out asleep when he left, but now that you were awake, you were a bit bored waiting for him to return.

Seated on your small living room sofa, you surveyed the layout of your house, pressing your lips together in a firm line. Kicking your legs back and forth in a thoughtful motion, you tapped your fingers along the soft cushion of the couch as the silence basically engulfed your brain.

“I guess I might as well do something productive. Our room is a fucking mess,” you muttered to yourself, heaving out a long sigh. Already not looking forward to the task though knowing it needed to be done, you stood up from your spot on the couch, stepping down the wooden hallway to enter your bedroom. Eyeing the state, a groan passed from your lips.

“Why are we disgusting?” You complained under your breath, kneeling down and keeping your knees tucked underneath your chest in order to balance your frame, you got to work by gathering all of the clothes strewn across the carpeted floor with your left hand. After your hands began to get full, you began holding the bundle with your injured one, one of Yoongi’s shirts barely dangling from your elbow.

However, as you struggled to gather all of them by yourself to dispose of them in the hamper located in the corner of the room, you missed the sound of the front door opening.

Cursing under your breath in annoyance as you padded over to the white bin, you frowned as you dropped some articles of clothing on your journey there. “For fuck’s sake how is life this stupid without one arm?”

“What on Earth are you doing?” A deep voice sounded from behind you, causing you to let out a loud shriek of surprise, resulting in you to ultimately drop the entire pile of clothes.

Spinning around, you glared at the figure of your boyfriend, who stood with a slightly amused expression adorning his features as he watched all of the dirty items tumble to the floor.

“For your information, I’m trying to be productive and clean up around here - unlike some people,” you sassed, placing your single non-wrapped hand against your hip.

“Uh huh, well, I see how that’s going,” he mused, gesturing towards your failed attempt that now looked like it exploded on the bedroom carpet. “God I can’t believe I have to do everything for you. Just go in the living room, I’ll do it you big pouty baby,” he teased, ushering you aside as he entered through the threshold of the opened door, crouching down to take your place.

“Oh shut up, at least I’m not the one terrified of killing a tiny spider in the bathroom, tough guy,” you jabbed back, arching a single eyebrow as you walked around him.

“Out!”

You cackled.

“Thanks for the help you big dummy,” you beamed, pecking his pale cheek in appreciation, once again completely missing the slight reddening of his cheeks at your affectionate action.

Eventually exiting and making your way back into the living room where you had been prior before he came home, you briefly released a tired yawn. You guessed you were a bit drowsy because of the medicine you had been taking.

As you emerged into the open floor plan set up, you were able to peek at the sliver of a plastic shopping bag on the kitchen counter. Blinking to yourself, you faintly remembered hearing your boyfriend mention going to the store, but again, by the time he finished his sentence you had already buried your face back in your pillow.

Stepping onto the tile flooring of the kitchen, your bare feet stuck to the smooth, chilled surface as your eyes glimpsed the faint outline of what seemed to be a container of sorts inside the single bag. Curiously, you used fingers to pry open the crinkling bag, peering inside.

Almost immediately, a large grin appeared on your features at the sight of two pint containers of vanilla ice cream.

“God bless,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible as you dug your hand inside the shopping bag, wrapping your fingers around the cold ice cream container. Bringing it out, you instinctively opened the wooden drawer beside your hip, pulling out a silver spoon. Shutting the drawer with your backside as you headed out of the kitchen, a slight skip in your step, you maneuvered to the inviting looking couch.

Curling up into the corner that, at this point, probably had your name on it, you popped open the lid, an excited grin on your lips, you began to devour the ice cream. Uncaring to any mess you might have been making as you held the container between your knees and used your available hand to scoop out each spoonful, you wiggled your toes in delight.

“Maybe that complainer in there is actually useful for something,” you hummed thoughtfully, though barely considered the idea as you continued to devour the comforting dessert.

Back in your shared bedroom, the clothes that had decorated the bedroom floor had been properly relocated to the dirty clothes hamper.

Yoongi, having decided to briefly take a shower, the sound of the water pattering against the bath tub floor eventually shut off, silence overtaking the connected bathroom and bedroom once more.

Clambering out of the tub and drying himself off, he quickly dressed, opening the closed bathroom door and beginning to make his way down the small, dimly lit hallway towards the living room where he expected your awaiting being.

However, as he arrived, his eyes darted around the living room in confusion at the rather quiet environment, the only sounds being that of the television quietly broadcasting a random show. Stepping around the back of the couch, he peered over the arm, immediately being greeted by your slouched figure.

Rolling his eyes, he fully swerved around the edge of the sofa, preparing to strike up a conversation, ready to complain about another task you may force him to perform, yet he ultimately paused in his action upon noticing your sealed eyelids.

You had fallen asleep.

Though, not just a simple, cute power nap, no.

The surrounding corners of your mouth were covered in now slightly dried vanilla ice cream, the now basically empty container having fallen to your lap, the spoon delved inside. Light snores could be heard from your parted lips.

Grunting under his breath at your uncaring nature, he quietly made his way over to your side of the sofa, taking up the now lukewarm container and gently setting it down on the coffee table in the center of the living room - the same table that had sent you into hysterics just the previous day.

Turning back towards your curled figure, he just barely looped his skinny yet sturdy arms underneath your propped up legs, securing his hold on your limp body by resting your head against his flat chest.

Heading back in the direction of the bedroom, he easily lied you back down on top of the sheets, hovering over your passed out being with a knowing look crossing over his round features.

“You never change Y/N,” he mumbled, his deep voice hardly even audible within the quiet room. “I still have to do everything myself even while you’re asleep.” He huffed, though as he spoke, his dark pupils roamed your relaxed, happy face.

Ever so gradually, a miniature, tender smile adorned his pink lips as he leaned forwards, leaving a faint kiss upon the top of your head.

“But I guess a perk of that is getting to see you like this every day,” he whispered fondly.

Though of course, he would never let you know that.

#softwrite works #yoongi #min yoongi #suga #suga bts #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts au #bts fanfiction #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts x y/n #yoongi x y/n #bts request #softwrite requests #ask box #asks

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stolethekey · 5 years ago

Text

come back and tell me why i’m feeling like i’ve missed you all this time

or: nat and steve go to ikea.

inspired by this tumblr post and set between avengers 1 and winter soldier.

read on ao3

Brooklyn is lovely during the spring.

It’s something Steve has rarely taken the time to appreciate, but as he walks down the street toward his apartment, he notices that the sun is shining pleasantly through a clear, blue sky. A slight breeze blows through the air, rustling the paper grocery bag in his arms, and he feels a rush of affection for his hometown as he pushes through the doors to his apartment building.

A faint smile graces his lips as he walks up the stairs, shifting the bag into the crook of his right elbow. His free hand reaches into his pocket for his keys, and the jingle they give as he pulls them out sounds positively cheerful.

There are times he thinks he should move; there are days the buildings seem too suffocating, days the city seems too overwhelmingly a mixture of foreign and familiar. But there are also days—days like today—when it feels welcoming, like this is where he belongs. Like it might be home.

Those days are becoming slightly more common.

Steve unlocks his door and steps over the threshold, humming mindlessly as he kicks his shoes off and sets the groceries on the kitchen table. He’s about to take the loaf of bread off the top when he hears someone clear their throat behind him.

He spins, fists already rising, to see a familiar redhead stretched lazily across his armchair.

“Hello, Captain,” Natasha almost purrs, a slight amusement flickering through her eyes. “At ease.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Relax,” she says, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “I’m not gonna fight you, so you can put those hands down.”

Steve lowers his fists slightly, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins does not slow down. “How did you get in?”

She shrugs. “You’d be hard-pressed to find an apartment I couldn’t break into,” she says nonchalantly. “Don’t take it personally. I’ve broken into many a government building—apartment windows are hardly a challenge.”

He takes a step forward, hands unfurling slightly at his sides. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I came to drop this off,” she says, gesturing at a box of assorted trinkets that Steve now notices is in the corner. “But then I got here and I realized that you have a problem.”

“I’m not the one who climbed through a window to drop a box off.”

“Touché.”

Steve rolls his eyes and leans against the wall, waiting for her next words. She merely looks at him, her face a mask of careful indifference.

He sighs. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the problem?”

“The problem,” Natasha says, with what Steve thinks is an unnecessarily dramatic flourish, “Is that you’re living like a college student. And you’re ninety-five years old.”

“I am not—’

“You are,” she insists, standing with a face full of determination. “I mean, look at this. You have one cup and two whole chairs. This is sad, Steve, no wonder you hate living here.”

“I don’t hate living here—”

She narrows her eyes. “Really? You never think that this maybe doesn’t feel like home anymore?”

He hesitates, and she smirks. “That’s what I thought. Luckily, it’s nothing a trip to IKEA won’t fix.”

“I—IKEA?”

“Yeah,” she says, turning to grab her jacket off the armchair. “It’s a Swedish store, sells everything from bedframes to meatballs—”

“I know what it is. I just wasn’t planning on going.”

She purses her lips but says nothing, and he sighs again.

“What are you trying to do?”

“I’m not trying to do anything.”

“You’re always trying to do something.”

There is a beat of silence before she answers. “I know what it’s like to be dragged out of a world you knew and dropped into one you’re supposed to know but can’t seem to,” she says with a shrug. “I just wanted to help you navigate that.”

She opens the window and slings a leg over the ledge, looking back at him as she does. “But if you want to live like a hermit, go ahead. Suit yourself.”

Something squirms in Steve’s stomach.

“Wait,” he says hurriedly, and she does, an expectant look on her face. “I’ll go.”

“Great,” she says, climbing back into the room and pushing past him. “Then let’s go, before I have to spend another second in this depressing apartment.”

“No one asked you to be here, you know.”

She turns back towards him, something similar to mirth in the corner of her eyes. “You’re a human disaster. This is an emergency. And I deal with emergencies.”

“I really don’t appreciate your tone,” Steve mutters, following her obediently down the staircase.

“Maybe I’ll change it when your apartment stops looking like it’s inhabited by a teenage guy who’s never seen a turkey baster in his entire life.”

“I—what’s a turkey baster?”

She laughs as she unlocks the car, gesturing at him to get in. “You’re about to find out.”

It is a testament to how much he has adapted, Steve thinks, that the interior of IKEA doesn’t send him into a massive I-grew-up-during-the-Great-Depression heart attack.

The second floor is big enough to house an entire army regiment and their families, and as Steve passes the display for a “cute, minimalist home!” that has more furniture than he grew up with he nearly has a stroke.

“Relax,” Natasha murmurs from his side, winding her arm through Steve’s. “You look like an amateur thief who’s trying to sneak a bag of chips out the door.”

“It’s just a lot,” he hisses as they stop next to a sofa. “I don’t know if I can—”

“Hi,” a woman wearing a blue vest says brightly, stepping towards them. “Can I help you find anything today?”

“Oh, no,” Natasha says, suddenly beaming. “My boyfriend and I are moving into a new apartment together, and we’re just looking for some furniture to liven up the place. We’ll be fine on our own. Thank you, though.”

The employee retreats, and Natasha pushes Steve farther into the store, a firm hand on his back.

“How do you do that?” He asks, once the employee is out of earshot.

“Do what?”

“Make your eyes—make them sparkle like that.”

She snorts. “Practice.”

They come to a stop near another sofa—really, how many couches can there possibly be in one room—and she forces him to sit in it.

“Look,” she says, arms crossed. “I know this is overwhelming. But it’s for your own good.”

“I know,” he mutters. “I know, it’s just—I spent so much of my life living off the bare minimum, and this just seems so—”

“Indulgent,” she says, nodding. “I know. You think I didn’t feel the same way when I got here? But having once lived in terrible conditions doesn’t mean that you should be afraid to live in good ones now. If anything, it means the exact opposite. We know how lucky we’ve gotten to be able to have a better life—shouldn’t we do the most we can to live it?”

He hesitates, and her eyes soften. “We both got another chance at life,” she says, almost gently. “We deserve to make the most of it. Trust me, it took me a long time to accept that too. But we’re going to live here, and now, no matter what. So we might as well make it as comfortable as we can.”

Steve takes a deep breath, his fingers kneading the fabric of the couch. “Okay,” he says, standing slowly. “Okay. But no more fake boyfriend stuff. That seems unnecessary.”

“On the contrary,” she says, a sly smile making its way across her face, “It’s very necessary. You’re a terrible liar, and you need practice going undercover.”

“I—um—”

She grins again, slapping him with a towel she has apparently summoned out of thin air. “I’m kidding,” she laughs. “Not about the fact that you’re a terrible liar. But we don’t have to do the fake-couple stuff. We can save that for next time.”

Natasha turns and heads back down the hallway and he follows, a faint smile toying at his lips.

He’s making progress, Steve thinks, as he lets her pick out a new couch and some new shelves. She asks him what kind of TV stand he wants and he actually gives her an opinion (wood), which makes something he thinks is pride flash briefly through her eyes.

They’ve made it onto the bottom floor, having placed an order for the most comfortable couch Steve has ever sat on, and are each pushing a cart through the looser items when he starts to think she’s stretching the limits again.

“I don’t need a forty-piece silverware set.”

She rolls her eyes as she takes the box off the shelf. “You don’t need that obnoxious suit that makes you look like a child’s doll, either, but you wear it anyway.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Sure,” she says, shrugging and walking toward the drinkware.

“I—wait,” he says, jogging slightly to catch up to her, “You don’t like the suit?”

She smirks as she tosses a six-pack of coasters into the cart. “It’s just…very loud.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s just—the colors, they’re kind of obnoxious—”

“Obnoxious?”

“No—no,” she says, laughing slightly. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just a lot brighter than what I would wear.”

“You literally only wear black.”

“Yeah, for stealth,” she says, putting so many wine glasses into the cart he thinks he can see rainbows, “It’s functional. The red, white, and blue are not. Do you know how hard it is to work with that?”

“Fine,” he says, forgoing a protest about the glasses for a more important conversation. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll get a stealth suit. But you don’t get to make fun of it.”

She gasps in mock shock, and insulted expression spreading across her face. “I would never.”

They roll the carts to checkout, and Steve realizes with a jolt that they are both somehow full. He pales slightly as the price for the first chair comes up on the screen—$25.99—and Natasha slaps a hand over his eyes.

“Turn around,” she says, almost carelessly.

“Why—“

“So you don’t see the prices.”

“But I have to pay for them—“

“No,” she says airily, “You don’t. It’s going on my SHIELD credit card.”

“Okay, well, I have a SHIELD credit card too—“

“Yeah, but it’s easier if I do it. They’ve learned the hard way not to ask questions about my purchases.”

“But—“

“America, like many other countries, has a terribly exploitative economy. SHIELD gets a lot of funding from a lot of very wealthy people that employ a lot of not-very-wealthy people. If anything, this little furniture expedition is just us taking advantage of a system that would not hesitate to take advantage of us.”

He hesitates, and some of his discomfort must show on his face, because her expression softens. “Turn around,” she says again, her hands rotating him gently. “We can talk about it in the car.”

She must notice that he is still uneasy by the time she’s paid what he is sure is an exorbitant amount of money, because she carries her share across the parking lot instead of making him carry all of it and doesn’t make a single quip (though he’s sure “what was the serum for, anyway?” is screaming in her head). They fill the trunk and the backseat with bags and boxes, and after Natasha pulls back onto the street she glances briefly at him.

“The world is full of shades of grey,” she says quietly. “If you’re going to live in the 21st century, you’ll need to accept that.”

“You don’t think I’m trying?”

“I know it’s hard when you’ve had such a…black-and-white view of right and wrong your entire life. But things are different now. The best we can do is try to be mostly good. And sometimes we have to compromise to do that.”

“In ways that make me not sleep so well.”

She sighs, but there is no exasperation in her voice when she speaks. “It’s better than not being able to sleep at all.”

He looks over at her to see her eyes trained on the road, her expression slightly wistful.

“I’m trying,” he says quietly. “I really am.”

She turns to meet his gaze, an uncharacteristic softness in her eyes. “I know.”

The tension has lifted slightly by the time Natasha pulls back into the apartment parking lot, and as they lug their purchases up the steps and into the living room, she starts delegating tasks with a comfortingly familiar authority.

“They’re moving the couch in tomorrow, and they’ll help you get rid of your old one, but we should probably do everything else tonight. I can do the TV stand, if you want to get started on the shelves.”

“You don’t have to—I mean, you’ve done enough, I don’t want to force you to do more work—”

“You’re not forcing me to do anything,” she says, smiling slightly. “This was my idea. Who would I be to leave you with all of this disassembled furniture?”

A curious sense of relief starts creeping into Steve’s shoulders. “I guess I could use the help,” he says, and she grins. “I’ll order us a pizza.”

“Oh, God, yes,” she says, already ripping open the TV stand box. “Please do.”

The next hour passes in relative silence, the two of them focused solely on the pieces of wood in their hands. They finish their respective pieces and move on to the next, the occasional pounding of a hammer or wrinkle of paper providing brief interruptions of a comfortable, quiet atmosphere.

It isn’t until Natasha lets out a slight growl that Steve looks up, noticing that a few strands of hair have escaped the ponytail she’d thrown up haphazardly at the start of the night. The pieces of what is potentially an office chair are spread out in front of her, and as she stares at the instruction manual with a hatred typically reserved for mass murderers he lets his screwdriver drop to the floor.

“What’s going on?”

She looks up, frustration in every inch of her gaze. “Did you know that I can speak fourteen languages?”

“Uh, no, but what does that—”

“I speak fourteen languages,” she hisses, slamming the manual down next to her, “and the instructions are in none of them.”

He laughs at that, and even though she initially looks offended her face softens slightly as he crawls across the floor toward her.

“Let me see,” he says, picking the manual back up. “I think your brain needs a break from this chair.”

“I was tortured and starved for decades, I think I can handle a chair—”

“Relax,” he says, shoving her towards the other end of the room. “Go build my shoe rack. We’ll trade.”

She picks her way across the hardwood, grumbling the entire time, and sits down next to the half-built rack with a huff. “Where the fuck is our pizza, anyway?”

“Maybe it’s waiting for you to finish that rack.”

She glares at him, wrinkling her nose when he shoots her an innocent grin, and then starts pounding a nail into the wood with a truly impressive force.

The doorbell rings just as Steve finally puts the last wheel on the chair and Natasha completes her third curtain replacement. She lets out a delighted yelp at the sound, and Steve scrambles past his newly-built shoe rack to open the door, an excessive amount of excitement rushing through his veins. He tips the delivery man far too much and kicks the door closed as he turns back around, raising his eyebrows at his companion.

“About time,” she says, beckoning at him to join her on the floor. “I’m going to die if I don’t eat that right this second.”

He sits next to her, their backs leaning against the wall, and cracks open the top box. She very nearly tackles him in her haste to grab a slice, and as she takes a bite out of it she lets out an animalistic moan.

“This is the best meal I’ve ever had. Like, in my entire life.”

Steve snorts. “How many Michelin-star restaurants have you eaten at, again?”

She shakes her head, chewing rapidly. “Doesn’t matter. This is better.”

He rolls his eyes, but as he bites into his own slice and the cheese hits his taste buds, he finds it very hard to argue.

They eat their way through two large pizzas, talking and laughing the entire time, and after the last slice is gone her shoulders slump.

They sit in silence for a while, both pondering the empty pizza boxes, before Natasha sighs. “Should we get back to work, then?”

Steve groans. “Probably.”

She crawls reluctantly back toward the middle of the room, half-heartedly picking up a screwdriver on the way. “Do you think we’ll finish tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says, trying to put as much gusto into his voice as he can. “I believe in us.”

They don’t, but they do manage to assemble everything that needs to be built before they find themselves sprawled out across the floor, lying on top of a brand-new rug.

“Nat,” Steve mumbles, exhaustion overtaking his brain so rapidly that he doesn’t realize this is the first time he’s using that nickname. “We hafta set the glasses and plates up. Make them pretty on the shelf.”

“Mmmrph.” Her eyes are closed as she curls up on the rug, her words slurring slightly. “We can do it tomorrow. I’ll help if you get more pizza.”

“Mkay. Deal.”

He heaves himself to his feet and shuffles over to the light switch, pausing to grab the two throw blankets peeking out of a shopping bag on his way. He turns the lights off, but the moonlight peeking through the window is bright enough for him to see Natasha’s silhouette on the floor. Her eyes stay closed as he makes his way back onto the rug and drapes a blanket over her, but he notices a soft smile on her face as he lowers himself onto the floor beside her.

The night is just warm enough to be comfortable, and as he burrows deeper into his blanket a gleam of moonlight catches Natasha’s hair, the silver light making the red shine.

It’s the last thing he sees before his eyes shut and sleep overtakes him, but as he lies on that IKEA rug, surrounded by a superspy, newly-built furniture, and loose cardboard, one thought rises unbidden to the top of his mind:

He’s home.

(for @romanogersweek)

#this was gonna be a quick one shot but it kinda got away from me #anyway #here come the tags #steve x natasha #steve rogers #steve rogers x natasha romanoff #romanogers #steve #captain america #black widow #capwidow #natasha romanoff #stevenat #fluff #my fics #marvel fanfiction #friendship fic #romanogersweek #romanogers week

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