#I JUST HAD TO CRANK THIS OUT BEFORE I FORGOT

[engagemythrusters]

a five minute and terrible Costco Samples Guy Rex, inspired by @aliettali's Walmart Echo

please take the damn hot dog and end his eternal suffering

[mechazushi]

After the Fall {AN ACTUAL SHORT STORY THIS TIME} [Kaiju No. 8] (Could be considered as possible Ep11 spoilers; interpreted artistically)

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"Kafka Hibino." Captain Mina Ashiro started, "No. Kaiju Number Eight. I am taking you into custody." She leveled her gun to him. Her voice as steady as her hands, taking care not to let an ounce of sadness that had filled her soul melt her outward resolve. The companies were distraught and heavily wounded. Most of the infrastructure in the training area had been reduced to ash. An arched border line had been etched into the pavement around them. One side was mostly intact with spider cracks in various locations. The other side was a pale, dusty mess. No surface from the border and beyond was traversable with all of it being splintered, jutting, and uneven.

At the peak of the arch stood a half dissolved monster, melting back into a man. When the flecks peeled off and drifted into the remnants of the wind, a face began to emerge. Kafka Hibino, the former member of the Third Division had ousted himself as the elusive Kaiju Number Eight. He stood stone still, letting fragments of his alter form slough off as he never took his eyes off his captor. He wanted to think he knew what she was thinking, that this is just protocol, that there was no place in her heart that harbored ill will or intent. Mina wouldn't use her gun against him, right? They could still be friends, that he could still fight for his spot at her side.

He couldn't tell. Mina was unreadable as ever and Kafka couldn't blame her. He had been reprimanded enough times to know that this was just how she had to be in front of others in the Division. Her place wasn't a position where she was afforded the leeway to be physically emotional. Emotion was considered weakness, and she had to be strong for the others. To the officers, she was being seen as a strong captain, standing against a Daikaiju threat. It didn't matter that this was Kafka, that everyone had seen that it was Kafka who made a harrowing choice to save the lives of thousands. All they saw now was a monster, no matter how human and familiar its face was.

"Hoshina. I need you to cuff him." Captain Ashiro commanded. Hoshina heard, but was refusing to act. He couldn't bring himself to look at the situation in front of him. A man he trusted, a man he had considered as a friend and compatriot, was confirmed to be a threat to the world. Hoshina wasn't sure at the beginning what Kafka's circumstances were. He knew that things were off, but he chose to ignore them. The whole reason for letting Kafka join as a cadet was so Hoshina could investigate him, and he failed to do even that. All because he couldn't look past his smile. How could a man with a smile so bright and genuine ever be a threat to others. He didn't believe it, refused to believe it. He wasn't going to slap cuffs on a man that didn't have a threatening bone in his body.

But was he a man? Everyone saw Kafka gain impossible speed. They all saw Kafka, as a kaiju, blast into the sky and launched the bomb to a safer distance. Was Kafka a kaiju now because he was strong and dangerous? Or was he still a man because he understood sacrifice? Kaijus didn't need to deal with pesky feelings. They didn't have to worry about what others thought of them. All there was in kaiju minds was to eat and destroy. Kafka could express emotion, and has expressed desire outside of destruction. If Kafka knew that others would turn and run in fear if they knew what he was and what he could do, why did he do it anyway?

"Hoshina." Captain Ashiro commanded again, dislodging her Vice Captain from his thoughts. He still didn't want to do this, still choosing to believe in the man behind the monster's mask, but it wasn't a good idea to make the Captain repeat herself. Reaching into his side pouch, he dug up one of the plastic handcuffs that most officers are issued with. They were issued with the intent that defense members might encounter people taking the opportunity for ransacking during invasions and could preform arrests until the offender could be picked up by proper authorities. Hoshina walked up to Kafka and held the industrial zip-tie in his hands. Every neuron in his skull felt like it was screaming in retaliation, making his hands hesitate in the action of placing Kafka under physical arrest. He almost wanted to laugh. Did anyone here actually think that these meager restraints could hold back a person with a registered fortitude rating? Kafka slowly held out his wrists in front of him, looking like a toddler that was expecting a ruler to come down on them in punishment.

"It's okay. I know." Kafka whispered imperceptibly to him. His head was bowed solemnly, but he looked at Hoshina as his face remained ever reassuring. He almost felt like slapping the look off of him. How dare he act like this. How dare he try to be apologetic and caring for others in this situation. Why couldn't he be an asshole and run, fight, do anything to save himself. For god's sake, why can't he be selfish. Having to deal with a daikaiju on the loose would have been less gut wrenching than having to send a fellow soldier to an uncertain fate.

"Captain Ashiro, I can explain-" Reno Ichikawa was shouting as he came barreling over the fallen debris as nimbly as possible. Following behind at a much slower pace was Kikoru Shinomiya.

"Save it Officer Ichikawa!" Ashiro barked at him, "Telling by your outburst at this time of all places, tells me you have some knowledge on this as well." she holstered her side arm now that Kafka had been successfully restrained.

"You too, Shinomiya. Hoshina told me about his suspicions about how you managed to neutralize the honju at the acceptance trials earlier this year and with you showing up behind Ichikawa here, I can assume that you're in on this too." She began to wordlessly direct those around her and made moves to stand behind Kafka and Hoshina.

"Okonogi, send several vehicles over to the training area. We have multiple wounded and a lot of tired soldiers that I think would rather drive than walk back to barracks. Leader Ebina, gather some of your people and start marking a path through the rubble so we can transport the wounded."

"Roger that, Captain. Do you want me to send an armored vehicle for Kaiju Number Eight?" replied Okonogi. Captain Ashiro looked hard at Kafka, now back to appearing completely human and in the plastic cuffs. Hoshina was looking right at the captain. Blood had stopped dripping down his face minutes ago, but it was still clear that he wasn't in any shape to fight anything more powerful than a mouse right now. She took in the fact that his hands were placed gently on top of Kafka's limply curled fists, a sight that Kafka couldn't pull his eyes away from.

"No. Leave the armored vehicle for now. We might need it to be fueled and stocked for whatever happens tomorrow." Ashiro replied back after serious consideration. With most of the Division looking the way it did, and the person most capable of going head to head with a daikaiju of small size looking like death warmed over, she acknowledged the fact that Kafka; or Kaiju Number Eight, she hadn't stopped her brain from fluctuating between the two, hadn't taken the opportunity to bolt for the hills. She figured if he was going to try anything, he would have as soon as she leveled her sidearm at him. In the bright moonlight over head, she could see the person she once considered a friend chuckle noticeably.

"Thanks for that, Captain Ashiro. Those trucks don't have the best air condi-"

"Save it. I don't want to hear another word from you tonight." Captain Ashiro commanded. She could clearly see the word's effect on him as he visibly flinched at her sharp tone. As the officers around her got into position and steadied their hands on their rifles, she pointed her finger off over Hoshina's shoulder, indicating that they should start moving. Kafka's feet regretfully began to shuffle around to face the direction he was supposed to go in, but when he tried to take an actual step he hissed loudly and nearly collapsed to his knees onto the pavement. Hoshina didn't think for a second as he rushed forward to catch him before he landed, propping himself under Kafka's broad chest and grabbing his shoulder to keep him balanced. The chorus of six safety switches all clicking off in unison could be heard behind the two of them.

"Shit- Sorry, sorry! Knees were locked." Kafka said, glancing over his and Hoshina's connected bodies.

"Sorry." He added, seemingly addressed to no one in particular.

'Maybe that was addressed to all of us.' Hoshina thought as he helped Kafka readjust to his feet. Once he felt okay enough to walk, he began to move forward at a sluggish pace. It was clear to Hoshina that he wasn't walking slow on purpose, and that it really must have taken a lot out of him to propel himself into the air and sucker punch a twenty kiloton yoju bomb into the lower stratosphere. Hoshina kept a hand on Kafka's upper back as he gently guided him through the path Ebina's team had marked earlier. With the moment they were in being as quiet as possible, save for the occasional echoing crash of broken rubble hitting the ground all around them, Hoshina took a second to think.

'I mean, when you think about it, that should be enough to knock the wind out of anyone capable of doing that in that sort of situation.' He stunned himself with the words in his head. How could he even try and logic out what a man with the power of turning into a Kaiju was even qualified to accomplish? This whole situation was absurd and he hated it. He hated everything in that moment. He hated Kafka for putting himself in danger, he hated Captain Ashiro knowing she was only doing her job, he hated himself because he was the one who told Kafka not to get attached to others on the job because God only knows what could happen and here he was, feeling attached knowing damn well that he was going to feel like shit because he was basically loosing the best damn thing this Division had going for it!

Hoshina couldn't writhe in his personal hell for much longer as the group had made it to the busted doors of the training grounds. The remnants of his fight with Kaiju Number Ten as well as debris from the explosion had all been pushed to the sides as best as possible. A few tents had been erected to preform triage and separate the barely scratched from the mortally wounded and treat them appropriately. A rotating convoy of open air trucks and military jeeps were set up at the far end of the street carrying the tired and lightly wounded to somewhere else on base for rest, if it was available for most. All activity seemed to slow, almost stopping in some areas as Kafka led his paltry parade showcasing his imprisonment through the masses. It almost felt like a display of a man being condemned. Okonogi pulled ahead of the line in her own commandeered jeep and pulled it to a stop in front of Kafka and Ashiro. The captain told the six behind her to grab a vehicle for themselves and follow close behind, before wordlessly hopping into the passenger seat of the car. As Hoshina hopped in the exposed backseat, he could hear Kafka groan and hiss as he settled into the spot on the bench next to him.

"Hssssss, haaaa, hoooo. Wow, sitting down. A novel idea. Who knew?" Kafka talked exhaustedly as he fumbled with the lap belt using his restrained hands.

"Miss Okonogi, not to presumptuously assume your driving skills, but you mind being careful and avoiding potholes and barricades on the way to my cell. I'm gonna take a nap." Kafka's head slumped unceremoniously against the metal bar framing the back of the jeep and immediately started to breath heavily, almost as if he was asleep already. His closed eyes meant he didn't get to see Mina's irritated glare she sent his way before she took the clipboard that Okonogi brought with her. Hoshina rested his elbow against the car's sidewall and placed his face in his hand, staring at an unaware Kafka.

'He's asleep. This no good, dirty, rotten, lying, mutant Kaiju bastard is asleep?' Hoshina thought angrily. As he felt the car move forward and tuned out Captain Ashiro and Okonogi's conversation, he realized all he could think about in that moment was him.

'A man saves an entire base and this is how we thank him.' Hoshina's inner monologue continued. He knew he wasn't the only one here who felt like this, and when the news got out in the morning he was sure lots of others were going to have mixed feelings on this as well. Arresting him was for the best, he knew that as well. Good intentions or no, human or no, it didn't change the fact that Kafka can become a kaiju. The whole purpose of the Divisions was to eliminate kaijus. The fact that Kafka was allowed to breathe, let alone sitting in the back of a car with the two most powerful people on base at rock bottom of their best, spoke volumes about how crazy and fucked up these circumstances were. Protocol was kill on sight, and Kafka knows this. Yet here he was, sleeping the rest of his freedom away.

'It wouldn't be hard, either.' Hoshina thoughts continued, 'I may not be able to put up a good fight at the moment, but we can assume he's mostly human right now. He's asleep and tired, which means he's vulnerable' He played with the tip of the handle connected to his sword. 'I could end it all for him right now and he wouldn't be wiser.'

But he wouldn't. Hoshina couldn't lay any hand on him with deadly and harmful intent behind it, now and forever. Monster or Human, it didn't matter anymore. Nothing could ever change the fact that Hoshina had one percent of trust in this man right now. And he wondered if Kafka could feel that too, because why else could he be so blissfully asleep right now.

'He's not going to be like that for long.' Hoshina thought bitterly. The protocol was kill on sight for honju and yoju, yes, but that stopped at daikaiju. they were killed like any other threat, but whatever that was left of the body after the fight was sent off for research. Research and experimentation. Hoshina knew that it was a snowball's chance in hell that the leaders of the Defense Force were just going to let them keep Kafka on base, but were they going to let Kafka stay alive and intact? Hoshina could feel his heart be poisoned and start to cramp up at the thought. He had to look away for a moment , lest tears started to mix with the blood and stain his cheeks even more. It took several sharp breaths and a solid minute of mental filing to help his chest feels normal again.

Hoshina tried to take another look at the mystery that was his fellow soldier. A face as still as a forest pond, covered in already healed scratches. Light from the moon created soft shadows on his eyelids and neck. flickering and shifting in tandem with the shakes and jolts coming from the moving jeep. His worker's tan looking more pronounced than it usually did. Kafka looked stoic and peaceful, which created a stark contrast to the unearthly and demonic visage Hoshina has associated with Kaiju Number Eight. It was an awful situation Hoshina found himself in.

On one hand, he wanted to come across the bench and hold him. Whisper calmly in his ear that everything was going to be okay. That he won't have to worry about whatever that's going to come for him in the morning. On the other hand, he wanted to be the one that was being held. To have all those sweet and empty promises whispered back at him, to be told that things would be fine for him too. Kafka won't have to leave the base, that this whole kaiju transformation business was just the concussion talking, and the base will be back to operational in no time at all.

None of those things were going to happen. The base reconstruction was going to take forever, Kafka was going to have to leave, and nothing was going to be fine. Hoshina turned away again, feeling the chest tightening again and wanted to keep his tears to himself for the time being. He couldn't cry now because there was a superior officer present and didn't also want to wake Kafka. He couldn't cry in the morning because he needed to be strong in the face of whatever decision that was to come down on his officer's head. As the first shifts of color indicative of the approaching dawn began to brighten the night sky, Hoshina tamped down every bit of emotion he had to let out later into the first few minutes of however much sleep he was going to get in those twilight hours.

This was going to be a rough few months, wasn't it?

[zephyrchama]

Quick Leviathan fluff that got out of control (1.4k words). SFW with suggestive aspects, MC's gender isn't mentioned.

---🧵🪡---

Ever since the release of the new Hana Ruri: Transparent Tarot Arc promotional video, Leviathan had make himself scarce. He'd erratically come out for food once in a while or grab an Akuzon package within minutes of it being delivered, but you hadn't received so much as a text from him in a week.

A mechanical whirring sometimes emanated from his room - the sound of a sewing machine at work. The occasional Sucre Frenzy song would accompany it. Nobody was worried, but it at least let everyone know the Avatar of Envy was still alive. Sometimes you'd peek in to make sure he was okay and leave a sandwich at the door. It gets lonely without him though, and eventually you went to talk with him.

The room was chilly, with the AC cranked up high. Leviathan was sitting on the ground, facing the door but blind to everything except the materials in front of him. Rolls of lace and ribbon, jars of sparkling cabochons, cases full of colorful thread and assorted sewing needles. With an impressed "woah!" you moved some empty boxes aside and sat down across from him to get a better look.

He jumped. "Gah! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"I knocked."

"I'm busy right now. I have to finish this, it's almost ready." Leviathan glanced at his desk.

A nearly exact replica of Ruri's new PV outfit was laid out next to his PC setup. It was gorgeous. Each piece had been painstakingly recreated and carefully set out over the empty flat surfaces in his room. Fully lined with a glittering beaded trim. The base fabric had a high quality sheen even in the dim light of Levi's room, with satin stitched silk applique petals accenting the skirt.

You admired the handiwork. Then, you admired its maker. Leviathan was carefully stitching fabric flowers to a hat with intense focus. He relied on holding in small, shallow breaths to prevent his hands from shaking. He was blinking more than usual, fighting off the accumulated sleep deprivation. It marred his handsome face with dark eye bags.

You sat next to him for a while and stared. The usually shy Leviathan was too engrossed in his crafting to pay any mind. The more focused he got, the more he frowned, accentuating the wrinkles around his mouth.

"Yeah... you need a break."

"Not now." He picked up a thin awl and poked some holes where the seam was particularly thick.

Talking was futile, you quickly noted that nothing you said would make a difference, so you watched. Every few minutes, a portion of Leviathan's long bangs fell in front of his eyes and he'd blow them out of the way. He flinched when you gently swept them out of the way, as though he forgot you were there.

He huffed. "Like I said! I just have to finish this, so leave me alone. I'm almost done."

The exhaustion was clearly taking over. You hated seeing Leviathan like this, a cold grumpy shell of his normally warm and passionate self.

You intercepted his hand when he reached for another bushel of flowers. His fingertips were calloused and dotted with red indents from hand sewing thousands of stitches without a thimble. It looked painful. No wonder he was working so slowly.

"Levi..."

You lightly traced over his damaged fingertips before weaving your fingers together. You gave his hand a squeeze and his expression slightly eased.

"You're so soft," he grumbled, then fiercely shook his head. "I have to keep working, let go."

That was out of the question. You were determined to break him and force him to rest. You held on and rubbed your thumb on his.

"Ghh, stop!"

Leviathan could easily push you away, but he didn't. Instead, he raised your entwined hands to his face and pressed them against his cheek. "I'm so tired."

"I know."

"You smell so good. It's distracting."

"Thanks. Your dress is pretty."

"It's not... it's... not enough..." Tears appeared in the corners of his eyes. "I can't find the right iridescent fabric so the colors will look off in the sunlight, and my shoulders are too broad so the silhouette of the top looks weird. So to compensate I made the sleeves bigger with more poof but I had to add more darts and you can see there are more seam lines here than in the reference image. And the buttons would look better with a wooden texture but all I had on me to make them was resin, which bubbled on the back, so what if their structural integrity is weake--"

Levi eeped, stiffening as you leaned into a tight hug. You were glad he was talking to you. But he was overthinking, and frustrated. Stressed, and more than anything he needed to take a break.

You expressed as much, scooting back while holding his shoulders at arm's length. "You might think it sucks, but this costume is all you've been doing. You haven't looked at anything else in a week so you've got nothing to compare it to. It's so gorgeous, Levi. Every stitch. Take a break with me and I'll help you finish it in the morning. You'll see how amazing it really is. Okay?"

A tear drop slid down his face, he quickly wiped it away. Leviathan avoided your gaze by staring at his creation, unwilling to walk away while it remained unfinished. "I'm so tired," he repeated.

"Hana Ruri-tan would want you to take a nap. And I want you to take a nap."

Leviathan frowned again, having no logical way to refute that statement. You let him tidy up a few final things as you inspected his bed-tub.

Scraps of spare fabric dangled over the sides. You picked up his sheets to brush off loose threads, plucking out a few loose pins in the process. Pillows were fluffed. Extra fabric was put on a hanger and moved elsewhere. Rolls of ribbon were wound back up. It was kind of relaxing.

Leviathan was rushing to glue a rhinestone when you called him over, his last-ditch attempt to get one more thing finished. You let him spend another couple of minutes waiting for the paste to get tacky. Once it was finally secured in place on the hat brim, he thankfully didn't object any further. After wiping his hands clean he flopped magnificently into bed.

Not even five seconds passed by before he griped, "I can't fall asleep. I can't stop thinking about the costume. I should finish it now."

"Nooo, no, no. No. Move over, you're not getting up. I'm getting in." You slipped into the tub before he could pick himself up, draping your legs over his. "The hat can wait until morning. Then we can get pics of everything, too."

Leviathan sighed in stubborn agreement. His orange eyes, puffy and a little irritated, were looking right at you for the first time that evening.

"You'll let me think about you then, right?" he asked quietly. He wrapped his arms around you, one hand bunching up the fabric on the back of your shirt while the other grazed against your bare skin. His rough fingers traced along your spine. You made a mental note to help him bandage them later.

Pulling you flush against his upper body, he nudged his face into the side of your neck and slid his lips up your shoulder. You hooked an arm under his to gently comb through his hair, resting your chin against his head. It tickled a little, but you felt each passing breath get heavier and slower as your comforting scent lulled Leviathan into much-needed sleep. You soon followed his lead.

Come morning, Leviathan had you in a tight grip while you blearily woke up on top of him. His wandering hands had found their way up your shirt during the night and one of his legs was thrown over yours. You had planned the surprise of getting up early to finish his hat for him, but at this point a surprise morning snuggle was all you could manage.

"Hmmh? What... oh!" Levi woke quickly, with the intense determination of someone ready to finish the cosplay they've been crunching for a week straight. He looked so much better with color returned to his face. Too much color, perhaps, as the more he let go of you the redder his blush became.

"I'll be... uh... bathroom." He dragged himself out of the tub and quickly walked towards the hall, failing miserably to cover his blatant embarrassment.

"Wait! Can I start working on some things while you're gone?" you asked, motioning towards the nearly-finished costume.

Leviathan nodded. "Uh, yeah...? Go ahead."

"And you'll try it all on for me when you get back, right?"

With a full night's rest behind him and the finish line in clear sight, the giddiness of an exciting new cosplay was returning and Leviathan gave a cheerful "yeah... Ok, yeah! I'll be right back, so don't go anywhere!"

[th3secr3th1story]

how gojo tries to get your attention after a fight

gojo messed up majorly. last night, he came home tired and stressed after a mission with a special grade curse. yes, it was successful (obviously. it's gojo.), but it still drained him.

he was so out of it and wasn't feeling like himself, but you, as a wonderful partner, tried to take care of him. gojo got frustrated, and sure, he felt guilty for it, but he was done.

and he took it all out on you. you would've gladly left him alone if he'd just asked you, but gojo was never one for good communication.

you eventually got the hint and realized it was best for him to be alone, but the words from last night still stung and the hurtful glares unforgotten. you decided you would just ignore him until he apologized. until he realized that you can't put up with this anymore.

so, the problem was now with gojo. he woke up that morning to an empty bed, curious, because you usually beg him to stay in longer.

and then, of course, it hit him. he can't remember what he was so upset about. yes, he was tired, but you were just there to help him after a long day. and he ruined it all.

sliding out of bed, he sidles up to you in the bathroom as you brush your teeth, trying to assess how much damage control was needed.

"last night was crazy, huh?"

"..."

"i absolutely destroyed that curse though, baby. nothing left."

"..."

okay...so maybe this was worse than he expected. but it would be okay because he would figure out a way to fix it all. he's gojo satoru; if he can kill special grade curses he can definitely get your forgiveness!

plan A--commence!

naturally, instead of apologizing like a normal person, gojo sneaks around the house tightening every jar he can find. your leave in conditioner, the pickles, jam...anything with a screw-on lid that he laid his eyes on.

all that was left was to wait for you to reach for one of the jars, realize it was screwed on too tight, and ask him for help.

an hour later, seated in the living room, he watches you enter the kitchen, looking for your favorite quick snack--pickles!!

he gets ready to see your angry but desperate face. should you forgive gojo and enjoy your snack, or save your pride but remain hungry? you'd debate with yourself for a bit, but eventually you'd begrudgingly walk over to him. "just open it," you'd say. he'd unscrew the jar, you'd smile at each other. he'd pull you into his ar-

oh. you opened it by yourself. the sound of a jar popping open snapped him out of his imagination, watching you pull out a few pickles and happily bite into them.

there may have been one small flaw with gojo's masterplan--he forgot that you're stronger than him.

no sweat! it's all good! he was already thinking up something new. it was time for plan B!

galloping over to your air conditioning, he cranks it all the way up (as much as your paychecks would allow, at least). he had seen this in one of those stupid romance movies he'd begged you to watch with him a couple months ago. it was only a matter of time before you ran over to him, shivering, begging for his warmth. he was sure of it.

20 or so minutes later, still nothing from you...odd! he walks around the house, curious to see what you're doing at a temperature like this. he finds you in one of his sweaters, curled up in your bed. his stomach sinks even more. he just wants to climb in with you, pull you into him, and smother you in his kisses.

"go away, satoru," you mumble. he sighs, sulking away back to the living room. at least you're talking to him?

he doesn't know how much time has passed but later when he gets off the couch his head hurts and he just wants to be near you. he'll do anything at this point. this is how he reaches plan C: apologize. what a novel idea!

he walks back into the room, sitting at the foot of the bed.

"hey."

"..." great.

"y/n, i know i messed up. i shouldn't have taken out my frustrations on you and i should've just asked for space. i know you were just trying to help. i'm so sorry, baby. please forgive me, i miss you and i can't stand you ignoring me."

for the first time in what has got to be a thousand hours to gojo, you finally turn your head and look him in the eyes. you swear you can see sparkles in them. oh, the things he does to you.

"i just want you to tell me what you need, 'toru. i'm not a mind reader, i can't just know what you want from me. i need you to know that i would do anything for you and i hate when you put up these walls."

"i know, baby. i'm so sorry."

you sigh, smiling at him a little. of course you forgive him. you always would, no matter what.

"i forgive you. wanna get in here with me?" you ask, lifting up the covers a little. why was it chilly?

"absolutely."

plan C: success!

who knew that apologizing could actually fix things? certainly not gojo!

[s-4pphics]

mourn. intro. (e.w.)

INTRO. 

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

WARNINGS: streetracer!ellie, dealer!oc, backstory lemme cook, parental death, mentions of overdoses, funeral, baby ellie :), oc intro… cackles evilly

A/N: last post til eid lol 

pay zakat. feed a family this ramadan. k!ll zios.

SEPTEMBER, 2009

ANGUISH floods Ellie’s chest as she witnesses decorative rosewood being lowered into the sopping dirt. It’s cinematic; watching herself from a bird’s eye view, floating above her own body. Her brain cranks at an alarming rate. Churning in attempts to convince her that she’s not actually here, staring dead at her mother’s casket. The grass sludges beneath her shoes with every unsteady shuffle of her feet. 

There aren't many people around. Three of her mother’s former work friends, a service dog, and the officiant. They’re hardly acknowledging Ellie; no one would be able to stop her from leaping head-first into the ground due to the lowering clouds. Buried and suffocated by grass and mud, a feast for the maggots, but loved eternally. Every cell in Ellie’s body thrums with anxiety. Just when she trusted that her mother’s health was improving, she woke up, shrouded in ice next to a limp body and an empty pill bottle on the nightstand. The same ones her mother took to sleep throughout the night. 

That was three weeks ago. She doesn’t remember calling 911. 

Her best friend — her only friend is gone. And it’s permanent. This isn’t like how her mother used to scavenge the streets until dawn searching for another job before Ellie woke up. She’s not coming back to crawl into their shared, warm bed, sleep for half an hour, then help her get ready for school. No more oatmeal in the mornings. No laughter. No joy. No symmetry. Ellie’s life is forever scattered. Beaten to death until she’s leaking venomous, black blood.

There’s a man that keeps staring at her with pity: familiarity crushes her every time they lock eyes. She kind of remembers him. Somewhat. She almost forgot her shoes before coming here. He seems more upset than her. At least externally; Ellie’s rotting from the inside. 

Her mother’s chamber is completely submerged underneath dirt within the next few hours. The man from earlier is much closer now. 

She jumps when he whispers, 

I owed your mom a favor. 

OCTOBER, 2009

Ellie hates Joel. Hates her mother for leaving her with him. Hates herself for not being able to save her from the claws of addiction. 

Joel’s home is always silent during the day. He gave Ellie the grace of letting her stay home until the Spring, but it’s too quiet. Music never plays and they never talk, and it’s driving her to madness. The silence makes her itch. 

Until the sun sets. 

She already has trouble sleeping. Her insomnia combined with the thunderous clanking that blares from the garage every night is enough to get her sobbing into her pillow until the sun rises the next morning. One night, the noise had gotten so uncontrollably loud that Ellie barged into the garage to shout every curse she recalled her mom screaming into the phone before bedtime.

She didn't expect, however, to see Joel’s legs extended out from underneath her mom’s wrecked ‘57 Chevrolet. Ellie could hear him grunting as cranking and banging of metal took over the space. 

… What are you doing? 

Joel rolls out from beneath the car on a creeper, face confused and smeared with dark sludge. 

Why’re you up? 

It’s loud. She snaps. Why is her car here. 

Joel sighs. Just trying to fix it up. 

For what. Ellie eyes the cracked windshield. She somehow remembers how a rock hit it on the freeway when she was six. Her mom was livid. She can’t drive it anymore. 

Joel’s face twists uncomfortably. It’s almost comical; the seemingly boiling child stands at a whopping four-foot-three with her fists clenched, burning holes through her bright yellow Spongebob pjs. Her glare sharpens when he mumbles, 

Kid… 

So you stole her freaking car? Her eyes swelter, brows hauled downward and hands in fists. He sits up straight, palms up in surrender, wrench in hand. How’d he even get back into their old house?

No, I — He rushes, She asked me to try n’ get it started again. That’s all. I… I shoulda asked you —

Ellie’s not sure why she’s so enraged, but she’s hollering with a pointed index in his direction, berating him, degrading him with sobbed vulgarities. Pushes him hard when he rises to comfort her. Eyes him with so much disdain that he flinches. 

She hates him. She misses her mom. 

The guest room door slammed shut with the click of a lock. She screamed for her mother for hours. Voice shrieking so loud that the neighbors came knocking after the first fifteen minutes. Cops pounded on Joel’s door and proceeded to conduct a wellness check on the household after an hour. 

Their presence made Ellie swallow her scorn. Ellie’s already received a small taste of what it’s like to be in the system. She vowed to never reenter as if her life depended on it. 

NOVEMBER, 2009

Joel made Ellie chocolate chip pancakes for her birthday. 

Breakfast is silent, per usual. Light clinks of utensils on silverware and breathing are the only proof of life in the room. Ellie refuses to touch the squared slices of pineapple. It was her mother’s favorite, despite her complaints of an itchy mouth after every juicy piece. 

Your mom and I… 

Ellie pauses, skeptic eyes connecting with Joel’s. He’s treading light, she can tell. The nerves in his fingers are evident; The sorrow in his eyes suffocates her. Joel’s gaze drops onto his plate at the scrutiny he receives from across the table. 

She’s a good friend of mine, He mutters before his lips turn downward. Was. 

Ellie snorts humorlessly, Way to rub it in. 

Joel’s eyes flutter shut as he sighs, I’m… Sorr—

Were you the one she told? Her tone is sharp. Unforgiving. I heard her on the phone a few days before she did it. 

A storm flurries in the man’s gaze. A familiar one; It’s identical to when she would catch her mother in the middle of night talking to herself with a bottle in her hand. The winds in his pupils take her back to one of the darkest times of Ellie’s life. Maybe they were closer than she assumed. They look identical when they’re guilty. 

I didn’t—

But he did. He’ll never forget being on the other line with Ellie’s mother as she attempted to keep her cries to a minimum. Her croaked wails terrified him. Left wounds in his chest as his heart raced. I can’t do this to her, She’d said, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t! … Please… You owe me…

Joel did what he could over the phone. Made promises to her that he couldn’t keep, reaffirmed how much Ellie loved her. How badly she needed her mother, and eventually eased her sobs into pained whimpers. He believed the calmness she exuded prior to ending the call was a sign of understanding of her importance, but it wasn’t. Her mind and body merely accepted her fate. She was dead two mornings after. 

And Ellie was a witness to it all. 

Ellie’s eyes roll and sickness floods her, so she stands, You’re a liar. When you’re ready to tell the truth… You know where I am. She doesn’t bother to push her chair in, clean her dishes, pause at his calls of her name. Her feet stomp through the hallway, marrow searing beneath her skin. The guest room door slams shut and she breaks, guarded by the plainness of the beige walls while tears flow. 

She knows he knew. Why else would her mother leave her with him? 

-

-

- 

When Ellie got up to use the restroom hours later, she nearly tripped over a teddy bear holding a birthday cake. With candles. She’s never received a gift before. 

She doesn’t tell him that she slept for an hour with it hugged to her chest. 

The noises in the garage halt for a week. Ellie still can’t fall asleep. Joel has the same problem, she’s discovered. She finds him sprawled out on the couch one night, burning holes through the roof with a picture frame in his arms. She watches him silently for some time, perched behind the main wall of the hallway. 

Hey. 

Joel’s acknowledgement earns a gasp followed by scuffling, and he snorts. He sits up and sets the dusty frame on the cushion in front of him, noting how awful Ellie is at hiding; It makes him smile. Barely, but he’s endeared; Her entire arm was exposed. He can even see her duck-shaped slippers from where she’s tucked behind the wall. 

Ellie. 

She doesn’t come out, and he sighs. His heart twists painfully when he hears a wet sniffle. He’s up and moving when a guttural sob echoes from the hallway, crouching down in front of Ellie with her knees squeezed into her heaving chest. Joel’s heart cracks at her flushed cheeks drenched in salt. Talking won’t calm her, he knows it, but he’s unsure of what else to do. Ellie… isn’t an emotional kid, but he hushes her, attempts to cradle, apologizes softly. 

But when her wet eyes pinch open, she unravels and falls into him completely. Her arms squeeze around his neck in a deadly grip and she cries and coughs and whines for her mother. Joel holds her just as tightly as she hangs off him. 

We're gonna be fine, sweetheart. He mumbles, and he feels her head shake in denial, tucked in the crook of his neck. His knees wobble, and a soothing hand rises to caress the back of her head; He's never seen a kid this hopeless. It makes him wonder. 

What the hell did she witness in that house? 

Ellie’s always struggled to fall asleep alone. 

Her need to be coddled to dreamland was always a mystery to her mother. Skin-to-skin was a normal trait for infants, toddlers, maybe even a little over, but at age ten? Eleven, and unable to fall asleep without the feeling or knowledge of a loved one present? There was only one time where she recalled her mother carrying her to her own room to rest, but the second the door clicked shut, she was up. Awake. Alert and exposed to harm. Or, at least that’s what she convinced herself. 

She crawled into her mother’s bed minutes later and snoozed throughout the entire night. She didn’t hear the end of it when the sun rose. 

Joel doesn’t berate her, though. 

I can’t sleep by myself, she’d said to him after she calmed from her breakdown in the living room. They’d sat on the couch as he rubbed a comforting palm down her back, her small ones coming up to wipe her wet cheeks. 

How come? 

She scoffed, Scared of the dark, I guess? I dunno. I just can’t. 

Joel hummed in understanding. 

I’m like that, too. Sometimes. 

Ellie snickered wetly, You’re old, though. It’s not the same. 

Joel scoffed and snatched his hand away in mocked hurt. I’m not old! 

The gray hairs say otherwise! 

That night was the first time they ever laughed together. The first time Ellie laughed since her mother’s death, and it carried on until she knocked out beside him on the couch. 

For Joel, though, he couldn’t rest. Not when Ellie favored his daughter that much. Whenever he feels as though he’s progressing, letting go of grief, something life changing — disastrous — forces him right back to square one. Meeting Ellie was one of those moments. He tried to keep his weeping to a minimum as he held her sleeping form, eyes glued to the picture of him hugging his baby after her first soccer win. 

DECEMBER, 2009

It’s New Year’s Eve, and Ellie’s trapped inside the garage with Joel. 

Watching him tweak her mother’s vehicle has aided her raging boredom… To a certain degree. When he starts getting nerdy and raving about car parts, she tunes him out, despite the slight interest she’s taken with underneath the hood. 

The connecting wires, the bolts, the valves and cranks and this manual makes absolutely zero sense—

Can you stop dillydallyin’ around n’ hand me that? 

Ellie’s gobsmacked reading is paused when she passes Joel the manual, dark sludge-covered hands staining the fading paper. She cringes. 

Ellie watches silently as Joel inspects the contents, nodding to himself as his eyes flicker from the vehicle to the booklet, mapping out his next moves of attack. His eyes sparkle and curiosity sparks in her. 

Did you fix it? 

Joel only murmurs to himself, and Ellie’s eyes roll. She inches closer to him and waves a hand in front of his eyes. Hellooo? Is it gonna start? 

… I think so, kid. His head shakes in disbelief, If I can get that transmission replaced, it might be alright. 

Ellie’s brows furrow… What on earth is a transmission? 

I’ve been workin’ on cars for a while. I can tell you now that finding such an essential part for a model this old is gonna be tough. Might cost me an arm n’ leg. 

Ellie shrugs, You’ll figure it out, old man. 

He stares down at her blankly, Gee, thanks. Hand me that wrench, assistant. 

Ellie mocks glee on her skip to the rolling cart, Gosh golly dang, does this mean I’m hired? 

He jokingly snatches the tool from her extended hand. Little bugger. And just like that, you’re not gettin’ paid. How’s it feel to be outta funds? 

WAAAAAAA—

Ellie’s fake wails earn her a deep holler. 

Ellie oversees Joel until the clock strikes twelve, following his line of vision on every rusted compartment of the vehicle. Stood attentively at his side as he pointed out the carefully crafted machinery, listing their parts despite Ellie’s protest of forgetfulness. There are so many names for everything; Building cars seems so complicated, but curiosity sparks in her. She starts to think: maybe cars aren’t so boring. 

Another sleepless night for the both of them; Might as well commit to movie night. Fireworks are still going off in the small neighborhood hours later. The booming colors in the sky makes Joel's teeth grind. Reminds him of the time he took Sarah to Santa Monica Pier. 

Joel? 

Mhm? 

… What favor did you owe my mom? 

Thickness builds in his throat the second Ellie mentions her. He sets the large bowl of chocolate-doused popcorn onto the coffee table, reaching for the remote to turn the movie down. Not off, down. Ellie hates feeling like she’s being scolded. 

Joel doesn’t look at her, but her eyes are glued on the side of his face. 

Umm… He scratches his face, Did your mom ever mention me to you? Ellie denies with a hum. 

Joel’s mind whirs back to the first time he met Anna: sophomore year. He was exhausted, drained, barely making it, but despite being miserable, he still cared deeply for his education. He studied until his eyes burned, jotted down notes until his hand cramped and the librarian was gently urging him to head home. 

She… We were friends in college. He fonds, We met at an ice cream truck. 

Weird. Ellie notes causally, She hates dairy. 

… Yeah. She does. Joel coughs to mask the brokenness in his voice. 

Anna was… a genius, to put it lightly. Academically gifted to an intimidating degree. Her mind was a camera; She’d scan one excerpt from the thickest novel once and still manage to repeat it word for word years later. They had comms together; Her voice sounded like tweeting birds whenever she recited her prepared speech like it was nothing. She was an emotional speaker, entranced everyone in the room, and always ended with a question that forced students and professors to self-reflect. Joel wouldn’t call it a crush… Merely admiration. Envy. He was motivated whenever he left comms. 

He’ll never forget the image of her, sweating and worn, carrying what seemed like a twenty-pound backpack — all stuffed with calculus books — while ordering a can of Sprite from the humming, beaten down truck. Anna didn’t leave after the vendor handed her the soft drink. She simply turned to Joel, inspected him from head to toe, and turned back to the vendor. 

I’ll cover whatever he gets, too. With a thumb aimed at him. He nearly choked. 

A free snow cone couldn’t halt the racing in his chest. 

I know what you are. 

What, He questioned without a stutter. 

You fix cars? Anna quirked a brow at him. Joel’s brows pull downward. How did she know that? He’s fixed one car since he’s been enrolled. His buddy pulled up in front of his dorm asking for a windshield repair. But he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. I dunno. 

The green-eyed girl scoffs and sips from her nearly emptied can. 

You down to replace a tire? Some jackass thought it would be funny to leave a rusty nail in our parking lot. 

Our. She must have roommates… or lives where he does, he thinks. For how much? Not a beat missed. 

Her shoulders lift, I dunno. How much does a tire cost? 

Depends on the model. What d’you drive?

A chevy. Don’t ask the year, I’m not sure. It was a hand-me-down. 

A slight pause between them before Anna suggests with a sigh,

Come see ‘er. 

-

-

-

Thar she blows. 

Joel can’t help but snicker at the woman in front of him, posing right next to her teetered vehicle. It’s quite charismatic; the bright pink bumper stickers, the crisp turquoise paint job, the slight scratch on the trunk. It’s nice. Classically vintage; it suits her. 

A beauty, he notes with his eyes locked onto Anna’s. She gives a hum in agreement. 

Revive her, if ya don’t mind. I’m desperate and can’t sue, so. Joel nods and inspects the damage on her tire. The air is nearly fully gone, and it’s making her drive slump. 

Tire shouldn’t be more than thirty-five… Gonna have to head home for some stuff. Willing to wait an hour? When he turns to her, they’re shoulder to shoulder. 

Anna smirks, Whatever you need, mechanic. 

My dad, Joel corrects, He taught me the basics when I was like… twelve. 

Her voice lowers, Good on him… Earned me a discount, eh? A hand claps down on his shoulder and gives it an encouraging squeeze, and he revs to life. 

He swears the tips of his ears are red hot, Sure… minus that deposit. I needa twenty for emotional damages. 

Fuck off. Her eyes are soft, Might never go to the shop again. You’re officially my car fixer-upper. Fuck these grease-balls n’ their price spikes. 

Joel snorts, You get into that many goddamn accidents? 

She leans in closer, and his throat closes. Slams shut. Turns to dust. 

You’ll find out, mechanic.

That’s why you’re spending so much time on it, Ellie notes at Joel’s retelling before a harsh gasp escapes her. Dude, were you in love with my mom or somethin’?

The man stutters and coughs, No — what? I told you she was a frien—

Ellie snickers with a judgmental point, Yeaaah, yeaaah, I know how these things go. You sucker! 

What the hell — I’m not a sucker… And what things—

Anna and Joeeel sitting in a tree! — 

A pillow smacks Ellie dead in the face, and she topples over in cackles. Joel rubs deep in his temples. Ellie would’ve loved Sarah. Two little bullies who feast on his suffering. 

No more storytelling. I’m going to bed. 

You can’t! Remember? Ellie hollers as tears fall from her eyes. She coos at Joel when he lifts himself off the couch and down the hall, trying to mask his small smile. 

Aww! C’mon, old man, it was a joke! 

I can’t wait for you to go back to school, ya vermin! 

-

-

-

An exhausted Ellie creeps into Joel’s room half an hour later. She sighs in relief when she doesn’t hear snoring. Her mom was the worst when she was tired. She tiptoes across the carpeted floors until she’s in front of the unoccupied side of the mattress, stealthily adjusting the blankets and pulling back the sheets. 

She slowly manages to tuck herself in, fixing the pillows so her head rests on the cold side of the case, exhaling happily at the warmth defrosting her limbs. 

The second she dozed off, she yanked to consciousness by raspy sarcasm. Her eyes roll underneath her lids.

You can’t, either. Joel croaks, Remember?

JANUARY, 2010

Five days until school. Five days until misery. Five days until… strangers. Ellie’s skin crawls whenever she thinks about being an enclosed space with snot-nosed boys and soggy lunches. 

And math… Gross. 

Joel has been more than willing to postpone Ellie’s enrollment whenever she becomes anxious, but she always denies his requests. She’s grown to like Joel, but… he’s not the best teacher, especially social studies. Reviewing one of her old packets nearly gave him an aneurysm. She can’t afford to be homeschooled by him. 

What's been the best distraction from her impending doom? 

Binge watching Cars for the billionth time… And helping Joel patch up that blue Chevy. 

They celebrated their first victory last night for repairs, at least: Joel stuck and twisted the key to start up the engine, and it managed to stutter to life. For less than five seconds. The headlights barely came on and an old Foreigner record broke through the crackly speaker. They rejoiced with the brightest smiles as their hands slapped the dashboard before the vehicle crashed out once more. 

A glimmer of hope. A chance for reconnection. Anna’s sending them messages. The joy in that car shifted to grievance; Joel had to cradle Ellie in his lap as she wept into his shoulder. 

But there’s hope. Ellie wanted nothing more than to get this car working after that. Duty calls, though, and the alarm’s coming from a backpack. 

You got this, kid. Stop stressin’. 

Ellie, without a doubt in her mind, does not got this. 

Screaming children, muddy slides, bloody band aids; they’re all on the other side of that office door. Her worst nightmare has come to life, and she desires nothing more than to hide out in her mom’s car forever. The bag strapped around her shoulders matches the weight of a body. She refuses to let go of Joel’s hand as he speaks with the giggly receptionist who’s too happy to see him (what the hell), but it's okay; he’s holding hers just as tightly. Just as paranoid, apparently. 

She’ll be with Mrs. Lawson for the remainder of the year. Ellie hears the receptionist say over her pounding heart, She’s incredible! I’m sure they'll develop an amazing bond. 

Ellie’s palms are sweltering. Joel must feel it because his thumb nuzzles into her wrist. She’s not built for this. Maybe returning so soon wasn’t a great idea. She can’t do this without her mom. 

Cool backpack, Spidey, is said from behind her, and she stiffens instantly. 

She has a Spider-man backpack. 

Hush. An older man’s voice replies. Sounds strained. Stressed, but he only receives a light snicker from her in return. 

Ellie watches with squinted eyes as a young girl gets escorted towards the front of the office by… the principal, she assumes? He seems fancy in his suit slacks. 

You stay right here until I get your uncle on the phone, The suited man is stern towards the girl, who plops down on one of the waiting chairs. Backpack and all, You can explain to him how you swore at a teacher. I’m not dealing with this from you today. 

M’kay, Mr. Harris. 

Ellie observes the entire scene indiscreetly. Her stares are obvious, glued to the clearly agitated dean who stomps into his office. 

Where’d you get your backpack? 

Ellie’s stunned at your sudden whisper. She shocks herself when she quietly stutters,

Um… Walmart? 

You smile, I like it. I want one. 

Ellie simply nods, but gets paused before she can redirect her attention to Joel. 

Are you new? Your voice grows quieter when you look over your shoulder. Right at the principal’s door. I am, too. I just moved schools. 

This shocks the brunette. The new year just started, and you're already locked in the office with evidently angry staff. 

Yeah… I’m new. 

Something in your grin shifts. Ellie’s nails lock into Joel’s hand. … Interesting— 

Young lady! Did Mr. Harris give you permission to speak? 

You audibly ponder like the attendance clerk asked you to solve a riddle. 

No, ma’am. I apologize. 

Then hush. Not another word. 

Ellie watches you fold your hands politely, twiddling your thumbs. Your eyes don’t leave her backpack. 

Ready, kiddo? 

Her eyes finally reconnect with Joel’s, encouraging and chocolate, and she nods. He guides her to the office exit where her new life resides. Before their departure, she can’t help but take one last respectful glance over her shoulder. She finds you staring with a quirked lip and your wrist outstretched like your shooting spider webs at her. Ellie jerks her head forward and releases the breath she’s been holding. 

What a weirdo. 

tagggiiiiessss :3: @inf3ct3dd @fleshunger @sawaagyapong @elliesbitchh @aouiaa @elliesatchel @williamellieslilho @elliewilliamgfooc @bready101 @myluvforstarz

[gayvorestories]

How about predator who’s having huge indigestion/belly ache from the person he ate, and he’s struggling very much with hiding his belly because prey is melting much longer than he expected?

this got very long, so I'm gonna have to write a second part another time. I liked this idea, and I thought it would be kind of a hot twist for the pred to get caught and have to eat the person who figured them out. I hope you like it!

Derek sighed and stretched, the warm water of the shower running down his distended, shaking belly. A hot shower after choking down a hookup always felt amazing, and this one was putting up a huge fight.

He sighed and patted the sides of his belly, "hey, shhh, it's okay, you're gonna hurt yourself fighting like that."

The man in his stomach yelled something he couldn't make out, but sounded very angry.

He turned the water off and stepped out, drying off with a towel as he stepped up to the mirror to fix his hair. The smooth surface of the counter was cold as his belly brushed it while he leaned in close to the fogged up glass, making sure to get the part even. He wiped the glass with a towel and stepped back, getting a good look at his stomach.

Derek was 6'11" and built like a brick wall, and his latest lucky meal was a 5'2" twiggy twink he had picked up online. He let out a long burp and gave his belly a rub while he thought to himself, I give him a few hours and no one will know.

He wandered towards the kitchen, his stomach shaking and kicking, and searched the fridge for a beer. When there was nothing in the door he took a deep breath and bent down to check the lower shelves, his meal thrashing as the contents of his stomach went sloshing forward.

Ah FUCK, I forgot to get the beer first!

Absently rubbing the bottom of his gut while leaning on the fridge door, he questioned whether it would be worth an in-and-out at the gas station down the street. The cashier is usually high and it's a weekday... maybe if I wear the baggy hoodie... he was kind sm-

Derek let out a pained moan, his meal had just given him a pretty solid kick. He flexed his abs back hard in response, squeezing his entire core on the man trapped inside until he started to shout.

"Don'tchu fuckin kick me like that again. I can squeeze harder than that, I'll break your fuckin arm. I'm not lettin you out, but I can make this hurt," he said as he gave another mild squeeze with his abs.

He heard a whimper in reply and went to get his big hoodie. Now he needed a beer.

The biggest hoodie in the house barely covered his belly, but it was bulky enough he just looked like he'd had a huge meal if he leaned forward a little. He slipped out, hood up, and tried to quietly slip to his car.

Two steps out, he almost walked directly into his neighbor.

"Oh hey man!"

"Oh, uh, hey Kenny," Derek said, trying not to lose his balance stepping out of the way.

"Really great day out today, it's finally warming up," Kenny said smiling as he turned the key in his apartment door.

"Oh, yeah, yeah it's great. Gotta, uh, go do some stuff."

"You alright man?" Kenny said, pausing before going in.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good, just woke up late," Derek lied. He felt his meal shift, pushing into the front of his stomach. He moved his hand to cover the spot and turned around quick, unsure how much Kenny had seen, "I gotta get goin, good to see you man."

"Yeah, you too," Kenny said in a slightly different tone.

Fuck I hope he didn't see that.

Derek put his hands in his pockets and walked across the lot to his car, the heavy weight in his stomach starting to weigh him down. He practically fell down into the seat of his car and leaned back for a moment, rubbing his sore belly. It felt like the guy in there had been doing backflips the whole walk, and his stomach was starting to wake up.

He tried to sit the seat up, but was immediately stopped when his gut pressed hard into the steering wheel. Derek sighed, repositioned the seat, and cranked the car. At least my feet reach the pedals, he thought to himself as his stomach gave an uncomfortable groan.

The entire way to the store, his stomach bubbled and churned as the man inside struggled against his waking digestive system. He parked and leaned back in the seat again, patting his gut as it let out a low, unhappy groan. "Buddy you have got to stop moving so much."

Derek got out and walked inside the almost-empty gas station and headed straight for the beer cooler in the back. He picked up a single 24 pack and felt another rough bump from inside. After a long sigh, he reached down and picked up another and headed for the door, only to be see that the previously empty store was now packed with about a dozen people.

He steeled himself and pushed forward. Two people blocking the first aisle, one person in the second but standing in the dead center... ah, I see a path, he said to himself as he slipped around a kid spreading out candy bars on the bottom shelf and counting them. He stepped into the next aisle through a gap between them and had to take a quick step back when two kids running through the store almost ran right into him.

His meal gave a solid nudge against one of his organs and he lurched to the side, bumping belly-first into a display rack filled with individually wrapped muffins. As it tipped Derek tried to catch it, but his newly-weighted stomach knocked him off balance and he lost his footing, hitting the ground alongside it, plastic wrapped sweets sliding across the floor.

Derek was dazed and blinked a few times to get his bearings as he tried to stand, but couldn't quite do a full sit-up.

"You alright, mate?"

Derek looked to the side and saw a hand reached out. The man reaching out was tall, decently built, and had a thick aussie accent.

Oh fuck, he's hot

He took the man's hand and stood up, picking up the stand with his other hand and setting it back where it went.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good," Derek managed to put together.

"Yeah you took a hard fall there mate," the man said as he picked up a few muffins off the ground.

Derek realized everyone in the store had just watched him wipe the fuck out, including this incredibly hot man who was now helping him clean up.

Oh no, he's hot

"Y-yeah, just lost my balance there," Derek said as he picked up a few muffins too and set them back on the display.

Unthinkingly, Derek stood up to full height as the man turned around and looked up at him. He froze while putting a muffin back, his mouth slightly open.

"You uh. Glad you're good. Good you're uh, on your feet," the stranger said with a very familiar look.

Derek smiled, suddenly a lot less embarrassed. The man had a handsome face, a thick blonde mustache with dark brown eyes, and the tanktop he was wearing showed off nice arms and a cute beer belly. He seemed so tall from the ground, but now Derek could see he was at least a foot taller than the man.

"I'm uh Joshua. Josh. I'm Josh."

Derek's stomach gave a low grumble as his meal shifted again, rippling the surface of his hoodie.

Josh's eyes widened and Derek grabbed both cases of beer. "I gotta go," Derek said, taking a step forward.

"W-wait!" Josh said, taking a step in front of him, "I uh.. do you.." he started. He lifted his arm and scratched behind his head while he tried to form the words and Derek did everything he could to stop from darting his eyes right to his pit. His stomach let out another groan and the movement under his hoodie was obvious this time.

"Do you want to go to dinner? I uh. Can bring a friend," he said, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

It took a second for what he was asking to process, but when it did Derek's eyes widened. "Oh, uh, yeah. I'd like that."

His stomach let out another gurgle, like water flowing through a pipe, and someone looked over from the next aisle. "I gotta get going though."

Josh took out a pen and wrote a phone number on the side of Josh's beer box. "Just uh. Y'know, gimme a text."

Derek smiled and went over to the line, his stomach starting to pick up in intensity. He could feel it starting to squeeze and fill with juice by the way it sloshed when he walked. He leaned forward to hide the movements under the jacket as he waited for the person in front of him to pay, his stomach making increasingly loud, increasingly wet groans.

The person in front of him took his receipt and looked at Derek as he passed, clearly unhappy with the noise. He put up both cases on the counter and set his card against the chip reader, using his other hand to lean on the counter. The constant weight in his stomach was starting to turn from a dull ache to a steady pain as he heard the card reader beep.

"Keep the receipt," he said as he took the cases and slipped out the door.

...

When he got home, he set both cases down on the couch and kicked his shoes off to the side. His stomach ached and he was ready t-

The doorbell rang.

Oh my god please let me sit, he thought to himself.

He looked through the peephole and saw Kenny. Oh fuck, he saw.

After taking a deep breath, Derek opened the door.

"Hey man, what's up?" Derek said quickly.

"Hey man, can I come in for a sec?"

"Y-yeah, sure, why?"

Kenny stepped inside, "hey, y'know, we've been neighbors for a while, right? I uh, I see stuff. I see guys go in, I see... only you come out. I'm not dumb, I know what's goin on. I know where all the protein for that bulk comes from," he said laughing.

Derek was silently staring down at him.

Kenny stopped laughing and his smile dropped. "Look man, I got stuff in my apartment I don't want the cops going through. You can't be going out all..." Kenny mimed having a bloated stomach and Derek felt a bead of sweat running down his neck.

"All what, Kenny?"

Kenny froze, locking eyes with Derek. He reached for the doorknob but Derek was fast, grabbing him by the wrist so hard it hurt.

"A-Ah! Dude stop, stop! It doesn't have to be like this!"

Derek let go of his wrist and shoved Kenny down the hall. He turned the deadbolt and tossed his sweatshirt on the couch as Kenny stood up and tried to get his balance. He looked up and froze when he saw Derek approaching, the distinct shape of a man still shifting just underneath the muscles of his stomach.

"O-oh fuck. I-is... dude what the fuck."

The man struggled inside Derek's body, kicking and yelling. Derek could make out one word: "run."

Kenny crawled backwards until he hit the wall. When the meal in Derek's stomach gave another hard kick to his kidney, he flexed his abs hard, the vein in his forehead popping out. Kenny's blood ran cold when he heard a sickening crunch.

"Should have minded your own business, man."

Kenny tried to make a dash for the door, but Derek reached down and grabbed him by the neck, slamming him into a wall.

"Here man, since you're so curious," Derek said as he shoved Kenny to his knees and pushed his belly against the side of Kenny's head, "have a listen."

Kenny struggled and tried to push Derek back, but he was stronger than he could have imagined. He grabbed Kenny by the neck again and lifted him to his feet.

"I think his name started with an 'A'," Derek said as he made a strange face. His stomach gurgled and a few seconds later he coughed up a slimy, half-digested wallet. He opened it and looked at the license inside and showed Kenny, "I was right! His name was Aaron." He popped the wallet back into his mouth and swallowed it, forcing Kenny to watch as his throat bulged when it went down effortlessly.

"You know, it's so nice not to have to fuck my meal first for a change. You wanna know a secret?"

Kenny was too stunned to speak and just gasped.

Derek leaned in and whispered in his ear, "do you wanna know a secret?"

Kenny let out a sob and shook his head.

"Well I'll tell you anyway. Men taste so much better when they're afraid. Are you afraid?"

Kenny nodded and let out another sob.

"You should be. I'm going to digest you alive."

"P-please," Kenny said sobbing again.

"It's gonna hurt the whole time."

Kenny panicked and tried to fight back but barely shook Derek's arm.

Derek changed his grip and lifted Kenny by the back of the neck with one hand and grabbed one leg with the other. He put the first foot in his mouth - shoe and all, and swallowed while he grabbed the other foot. He bent Kenny over as he started to drag him in, his knees scraping Derek's teeth.

"No, no no no! NO!" Kenny screamed as he tried to swing a punch. He missed every swing as Derek turned him, forcing his legs to cross as he continued to descend down Derek's throat. He was at his waist and Derek straightened up, speeding up the processes as gravity started to do most of the work.

"You can't do this! You can't! DON'T DO THIS!"

He pushed against Derek's face, but his throat was too strong as the steady pull of his esophagus and hard pulses from forceful swallows dragged him deeper. When he felt teeth on his chest, Kenny pushed hard on Derek's shoulders but he wouldn't budge, and a hard gulp pulled him in so far his arms could no longer bend all the way down.

"SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME, PLEASE!" Kenny screamed as Derek gave another swallow, bringing Kenny's head into his jaws.

"SOMEONE PLEASE! HE'S EATING ME! PL-" Kenny's voice was suddenly muffled as Derek took another swallow, dragging his head into his throat. A few more gulps and all that remained outside were his hands. Derek walked over to the couch before the final swallow and plopped down. He gave one last very difficult gulp and felt Kenny's fingers disappear into his body.

As Kenny's body slipped under his rib cage and into the wider part of his stomach, Derek felt his entire center of gravity change. He pulled the lever on the couch to pop out the chair and leaned back as he felt Kenny's hand slip past the valve to his stomach, sealing him in permanently.

Kenny began to thrash as Derek turned on the TV and cracked open a beer. He chugged half the can and gave his enormous belly a rub. "Shouldn't've gotten involved bud."

Derek leaned his chair forward slightly so he could see over his gut, but after a few minutes of watching Kenny struggle and fight he leaned back again to watch.

He looked over at the box of beer cans and remembered Josh. He reached for his phone and punched in the number, hoping Josh wouldn't block him for calling.

"Hey it's Josh."

"Hey, it's Derek, from earlier."

"Oh, hey, didn't uh. Didn't expect you to call."

"Yeah uh. Well earlier you asked if I wanted to uh. Have dinner."

Derek blushed a little when he heard the voice on the other line laugh softly, "yeah, you feeling hungry mate?"

"Oh, well, I ate a pretty big meal."

"Yeah I remember you looked pretty full when I saw you earlier."

Derek grinned, "I mean I ate again just a minute ago."

Josh laughed, "Twice in one day?"

"Yeah, I didn't think I would be able to but I got it down. I was wondering if you want to come over for uh... dessert."

"Mate I'll level with you, I'm bad at the double-meaning thing, you askin if I want to come over for a good fuck?"

Derek laughed hard, "yeah, pretty much."

Josh laughed back, "alright yeah that sounds fucking great. Text me your address."

"Alright, see you in a bit then."

Derek texted Josh the address as Kenny thrashed in his stomach. He leaned back and finished off his beer, stretching as his stomach gurgled happily.

Part 2 Coming Soon!

[thealbatrovss]

in silence // wolverine x reader

summary: you fail a mission, and logan just sits with you

oneshot- angsty comfort. death mention, it’s a short and simple one here folks.

word count: 1k+

author note - once again not proofread, I’m just cranking these out but having fun with them. Enjoy!

masterlist

You noticed the ceiling fan was full of dust. It was flaking off the wooden blades and all you wanted to do was rip them off.

Everything was too noisy. Even the empty room you sat in was full of screams and lost voices. You tried to drown it out.

First, you tried turning on the tv. That was a no go. Too many voices. Second, you turned your attention to the half graded homework in a pile by your desk. You had to stop due to tears dripping on the pages. Third, that’s when you pulled out the booze. But that only made the headaches worse.

You put the glass down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. It was getting harder to swallow, so you covered your ears, face flat against the pillow. The lingering smell of forest pine and beer drifted from the fabric, but not even Logan's side of the bed could distract you from the ghosts.

Missions go wrong sometimes. It happens. It’s happened before and will continue to happen. But they didn’t always go this badly.

You, Logan and Scott knew exactly what to do. Sneak in the government building, rescue the kid and get out of there. Bring him back to the school and find him a home there. A mission you’ve done before. Helping and saving other mutants was always fulfilling. It was a way to continue Charles legacy through others.

You could still remember Logan’s lingering kiss against your forehead as you jumped down from the plane and on top of the building. He squeezed your hand twice, a gesture of care, of, “you’ve got this.” This rescue mission relied on you, the other two would be the distraction. The getaway car.

Then, why did you fail?

That warm feeling was replaced with a child’s fingers slipping out of your own. The white corridors shrank all around you. Blood soaked your black suit. You could’ve sworn it started to choke you. The screams only got louder. They sounded like your own.

Your eyes welled up. Memories flooded your rib cage, you almost forgot to breathe. Mourning wasn’t pretty. It was streaks of snot and water on your pillow. It was dust collecting on old ceiling fans. You wanted to scream, but you bit into the blankets instead, keeping it locked in. That way, maybe it would puff away like smoke and never return.

No knock came from the door, but it opened slowly.

Logan stood there, arms folded, head low. Seeing you in such a state, curled up on your shared bed, broke something in him he long thought could never be broken again.

There was a long pause, a moment for him to gather his thoughts, before he decided to leave it at that. Silence. His feet carried him towards you. Sitting at the end of the bed. No words. Just his hand making soft circles on your back. The boiling, thin air became a lot cooler then.

Your clogged nose muffled your voice. “Sorry, I’m taking up the whole bed, aren’t I?”

“It’s okay.” He kept rubbing your back, feeling your body tremble ever so slightly. “Don’t worry about it.”

The salt was in your ears now, your eyes catching the dust descending from the barley functioning fan above. Maybe that was what was making you cry. It was a comforting thought. Didn’t last long. “I don’t even know why I’m so upset.” You could barely make the lie break through your teeth. “We’ve lost people before.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier.” Logan’s hand was on your knee now. Moonlight shone through the curtains. Logan shined right on back.

You sat up, bringing your knees to your chest, hand finding his own. “A kid, Logan. A fucking kid.”

He closed his eyes. “I know.”

A hand dragged across your sore face, fingers rubbing against your eyes. A sharp snap of laughter bit the air. It fell flat. “I’m a mess.”

He said nothing. He just sat with you, holding your hand and that was enough to make you crumble.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you could repeat. Over and over again. Like it would change anything. “It’s all my fault.”

Logan shook his head. “No, no. Don’t even go there.” He moved towards you, bringing his hand behind your head, holding you against his chest. His lips lingered on your forehead again. Hands tight around your waist. You could feel his mouth move against your cheek. He was murmuring bittersweet words, hoping the sweet ones would stick to your skin.

When you woke up the next morning, your hand was still intertwined with his. His breath was soft against your tear stained face. Logan’s hair tickled your temple. You allowed yourself a smile, kissing just above the knuckles where his claws came out.

He shifted in his spot, squeezing your hand twice, telling you he was already awake. “Did you know you snore?” His voice was deep and groggy from sleep.

You counted each hidden claw absentmindedly. “Of course I do. You make sure to remind me all the time.”

When he smiled you could see teeth. Logan brought you in closer, fingers playing with your hair. The morning light found his skin and he reveled in it. “We should get some breakfast.”

“Maybe later.” You mumbled into his chest. “Can we just lay here for a bit?”

He groaned, patting his stomach. “But I smell pancakes.” His nose then scrunched up. “Well, burnt ones.”

“Looks like Scott’s awake.”

Logan sat up, hair messy and lips in a lopsided grin. “Come on.”

You stretched your sore body as you stood up, feeling the weight of yesterday's loss hit you all over again.

He saw the slump in your shoulder, and the pad of your thumb trying to wipe away fresh tears. “You know, I can grab you some food and come right back up if you’d like?”

You shook your head, gathering yourself. “That’s okay. I want to go.” And you did. You really did.

Logan reached for your hand, bringing you close once again. “Let’s go.”

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 19: Pathology

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

Mikey wakes up to the sound of shouting and yelling.

"Oh, no.... oh no... oh no, oh no, oh nonononono...! Why today? This couldn't have happened like, last week, or maybe next month?!"

Mikey wonders what could be so upsetting to Leo. There's the sound of rushing back and forth, people shouting and whining and acting all terrified. He watches from his room as people keep running past his door.

A figure stops in his doorway -- Leo, by the smell and voice -- and flicks on the lights while yelling worriedly. The lights blind him momentarily as his vision switches from heat-seeking to binocular.

"Mikey! We gotta get you somewhere safe, bud..."

"Why?" he croaks.

Mikey doesn't even have to get out of the hammock before Leo scoops him up -- blankets and all -- and starts running with him.

"Dad's sick with rat flu!"

"Huh?"

"You don't remember rat flu?" Leo asks, looking down at Mikey as he runs. "Well, uh... it's this whole thing, it would take too long to explain. Basically, he gets a really bad cold and has weird symptoms. We don't wanna risk you getting infected just yet, so I'm having you bunker down in Dee's lab."

Mikey isn't sure what is going on, but everyone seems frantic. Leo drops him off in the lab, where Casey is also hiding out.

"Are you sure we'll be safe in here?" Casey asks, watching as Mikey is gently set down on the floor, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders.

"Probably... Splinter will be more focused on us than you, so all should be well... Have you ever seen rat flu, Casey?"

"A few times, though I don't remember much," Casey says with a shrug. "It happened mostly when I was a toddler, and before we had to eat Master Splinter."

"Okay, well, there's the seven stages -- wait, what?"

Leo shakes his head and holds up his hands.

"Nevermind, forget I asked, moving past, I don't ever want to know that story..."

"It was the apocalypse, we were running low on food, and his last wishes were--"

"But back to the rat flu!" Leo interrupts loudly, "Splinter will be going through the full seven stages, and those are way too chaotic for Mikey to be caught up in just yet. Besides, we don't know how well he's going to react to the flu if he should get contaminated by the germs. It's safest to just keep him in preemptive quarantine for now..."

"Alright, so what's first?" Casey asks, sitting next to Mikey.

Mikey shuffles just a bit away from him, eyeing Casey's hands nervously as his brother explains.

"First stage is fever, which -- oh man, I totally forgot about that..."

"What?" Mikey asks, concerned for why Leo is getting so bent out of shape. "What wrong?"

"Dad's first symptom is he gets overheated from the fever, so he cranks the AC all the way up," Leo groans, rushing out and shouting to the others. "Raph! I need blankets and a heater, stat!"

"Cold?" Mikey asks nervously.

"Yup, very cold. But we'll be prepared, don't worry," Leo says, as Raph rushes in with a stack of quilts and a heater.

"Will this be enough?" Raphael asks, handing half of the stack to the leader.

"I think so... Casey, there's a hoodie here, you should bundle up too," Leo says, throwing the oversized shirt at the future boy while Raph wraps Mikey up like a burrito.

"Danger?" Mikey asks nervously, watching Raph.

"No, there's no danger, it's just crazy and confusing," Raph reassures him.

Mikey can smell the fear. He can hear the nervous twinge in his voice. He can see the wrinkles on his head forming.

But Mikey trusts them. They may be scared, but they will help.

Mikey snuggles into the quilts and hums. Leo and Casey set up the heater before the two brothers leave the room.

"Casey knows how to work the door, so if anything goes wrong, he'll open it up, okay? But unless you hear one of us say something, keep this door locked for now."

"Leo safe? Raph safe?" Mikey asks.

"Sure! Like I said, it's just a flu."

Leo hands a communicator to Casey before he winks at Mikey, his smile strained and thin. The doors close with a hiss and a click, bolting from the inside out.

Mikey and Casey sit quietly as they wait.

Soon enough the air seems to chill, and their breaths can be seen as fog in the room. Mikey squirms in discomfort, pulling the blankets closer. Casey starts to shiver.

The communicator beeps, and Leo's voice chimes in.

"Stage one is in progress. You guys okay?"

"We're f-f-fine," Casey chatters. "K-k-keep us upd-d-dated."

"Will do."

The line clicks, and the two sit in silence.

Mikey shivers. The blankets help, but he can still feel the frigid chill of the air through the sheets. It doesn't hurt yet, but it is uncomfortable. The floor is ice under him. He tucks the quilts under his feet and legs as he tries to insulate himself better. He looks over to see Casey suffering by the heater. Mikey chirps at him to get his attention.

"Sh-sh-share?" he asks.

Casey looks Mikey up and down before nodding. Mikey hops over and opens his fortress, a gush of icey air whooshing in and stabbing his unprotected legs. He gasps and hisses through his teeth as Casey slides in and helps wrap the blankets around them again.

"The shared body heat will h-help," he says, his shivers shaking him to the core. "Thanks. I-I-I didn't think you l-liked m-m-me anymore..."

Mikey frowns.

"M-Mikey not h-hate Casey..."

He slinks into his shell a bit more.

"...Mikey s-s-scared of Casey..."

"Scared?" Casey stares wide at Mikey. "Why?"

"Mikey... not r-r-rem-member-r Casey. But Cas-s-sey human, humans scare Mikey," he whimpers.

Mikey hides his face under the blanket. Or maybe he's just trying to keep warm.

"Humans mean. Hate Mikey. Hurt Mikey. Mikey scared a lot... Mikey scared."

Casey sighs.

"I guess that makes sense. I-If I'm honest, I'd probably be scared of humans t-t-too..." He wraps his arms around the bundle. "But I'm glad you told me. I thought you just hated me!"

Mikey huffs, a shivering chuckle.

"Mikey th-th-thought C-Casey hate Mikey!"

"What? Why?"

"C-C-Casey-y look s-sad," Mikey explains. "Casey look sad at brothers, too. Casey l-look s-scared of Mikey..." Mikey sighs at the last sentence. "Mikey scares brothers. Mikey see. Mikey scary."

"You're n-not scary!" Casey lies. "We're just... concerned for your health. You went through a lot of injury, and we weren't there to help you. That's what scares us."

Mikey peeks up at him. CJ gently presses his head against Mikey's.

"We... we were so terrified, Mikey. You have no idea how happy I was to see you back... last week without you was a nightmare. I've never seen Leo so scared, and I saw him sacrifice everything to send me--"

He clears his throat.

"Uhm... getting off-topic. What I-I'm trying to say is... we're not scared of you, we're scared for you."

Mikey gives him a shy smile. He knows that Casey is lying. He can smell it. But Casey doesn't want to hurt him. Mikey purrs, nuzzling Casey's shoulder. CJ chuckles and pulls Mikey closer.

A moment later, the communicator beeps again.

"Stage two! Repeat, stage two, wild rat man! Donnie has been compromised!"

Casey pulls his wrist up to his face and leans in.

"What's going on out there?!"

"Donnie got pancaked by Splinter, he's quarantined now."

The boys hear a feral squeal over the comm lines, and both eyes go wide.

"S-S-Splinter-r-r?" Mikey asks.

"RUN!" a shout over the comms comes in. "Raph, this way, this way!!"

"W-w-ait, if Splinter's past the f-f-fever s-stage, then why is-s it still s-s-so c-c-c-cold-d-d???" Casey chatters.

"I told you, Donnie got quarantined! He hasn't rebooted the AC yet, and we're on a whole new system now so-- OH WAIT NO LOOK OUT!!"

There's a scuffle and a shuffle heard over the comms, and the two boys listen in intense silence. After a moment, Leo comes back onto the comms.

"Okay, we're good. Close call. How're you two holding up in there?"

"Cold," Mikey complains.

"We'll get to work on resetting the AC. Raph got Donnie's S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.2.0 to lead Splinter away for the moment... I think we're in the clear..."

Several minutes pass by. Mikey and Casey sit in the lab, cold and waiting. Ten minutes go by. Fifteen.

Mikey's body starts jerking, seizing, convulsing. The pain starts to set in, his body can't handle the low temperature. He gasps, a sharp stabbing sensation in his chest that aches and spreads across his body. He doubles over, clutching his chest with one hand and gripping the blankets with the other.

Casey pulls him closer. Mikey is pressed against his chest, he can CJ's his heart beating. He focuses on that.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

Casey pulls the comms up again.

"Guys, what's the holdup? Mikey's starting to--"

The lights go out. The heater shuts down. The door hisses and a loud click echoes in the room. Mikey yelps and hugs Casey.

"That's... not good...."

The comms click.

"Ah! Ninja supreme! Stage four!!"

"What happened to stage three?!" Casey shouts. "What have you been doing this whole time?! WHERE ARE YOU GUYS?!"

"He's in the vents!" Raph shouts through the mic.

Mikey hears scratching and scurrying from above. Mikey makes a quick sound, a yelping chirp to warn Casey, before Splinter suddenly descends from the ceiling vents and lands with a smoke bomb on the floor. Mikey and Casey scramble in opposite directions.

The blankets fall off of Mikey's shoulders. He whines in pain, holding himself tight as the cold causes his body to go rigid like he's been frozen solid.

His tail jerks, curling around him in snapping movements, like he's a disc been scratched too many times and it keeps freezing and playing one moment at a time. It's agony, it's killing him, Mikey can't breathe anymore... his lungs feel like they're collapsing inside of him, his bones turn seize up and go stiff in place, his head is buzzing with pins and needles, and his limbs feel like freezer-burn.

Splinter -- in his full ninja garb -- crouches over Mikey and touches his shoulder, inspecting him. Mikey winces, the meager warmth from his father's hand burns against the ice that is his scaly skin. Casey shouts out Mikey's name, and Splinter dashes away into the darkness.

Casey rushes over to Mikey, checking him for injuries.

"Mikey? Mikey!! Michelangelo!! Oh no, oh no... can you hear me?"

Mikey tries to lift his head up to talk to him. He can barely move it, it feels stiff and it hurts to turn his neck. He manages to move his eyes to look up at Casey. He opens his mouth, trying to force out words, a croak, a whimper, anything. All he can manage is a ragged and laboured breath, a gasp for air as he writhes without moving.

"I'm gonna get the guys, I'm gonna get you warm, just stay with me!"

Mikey loses all feeling in his limbs. His tail stops moving. His torso goes numb before it too becomes lost in static. Mikey turns some kind of ghost, and nothing can touch him anymore, and nothing hurts anymore. His ears start ringing, a stuffy distortion that blocks out most sounds. Casey Jr. is two feet away from him, but his voice is far far away. Time slows down, an tormenting eternity that is all of three seconds long.

"Stay with me, Mikey! Stay... stay..."

Everything goes dark. Mikey's eyes slip shut.

He exhales softly.

He doesn't inhale.

.

.

.

"We have to find some way to keep him in line!" Dr. Timothy shouts. "Otherwise, he'll be running rampant throughout the labs!"

"Dr. Chaplin is working on a device that can control--"

"I know what he's working on, Abigail," he interrupts. "But that device won't be ready for quite some time, and we need something now!"

"Then, perhaps we turn to biology?" she offers.

"How do you mean?"

"This specimen has several different species genetic code integrated into his DNA. Perhaps we can find some weakness within the genetics to use against him, should the necessity arise."

"Hm... that could work. Nothing lethal, of course, just uncomfortable for him. Did you have anything specific in mind?"

Mikey watches from his cage as the two scientists look over a series of codes before turning back to look at him.

"Could work..." Timothy mumbles.

"We'll never know unless we try," Abigail replies.

Mikey watches as the two walk out for a moment before coming back in, wearing thick jackets. Timothy turns the air down. Mikey is confused until he starts to jerk slightly. What's... what's happening to him? Why does the air hurt?? Timothy watches him start to shiver and convulse.

"I was right," Dr. Abigail Finn says with a sly smile. "The three reptile DNA mixings have caused a severe reaction to brumation. His system goes into shock."

"Let's see how much he can handle," Timothy chuckles before grabbing a fire extinguisher and soaking Mikey in a cold foam.

"What are you doing?!" Abigail asks, moving away from him.

"Conducting an experiment, of course."

Mikey screams in pain before toppling over. It burns with how cold it is.

"We'll have to weaponize this," Dr. Timothy laughs. "Should be simple enough to concoct a device that can create cold gusts of air... I'll have Honeycutt get to work on the designs..."

Mikey shivers, drowning in the icy cold pain...

.

.

.

Mikey's consciousness slowly thaws. It's still dark... his body is still numb and lost... but there's... sound...

"...Mikey... poor guy... should be getting warmer..."

"...didn't mean to, I tried..."

"...not your fault, Pops, just what happens..."

"...should have done better... it's been hours... is he okay?"

"...brumation...body slows down... he'll be fine..."

"...getting a pulse, he's breathing again...!"

"Mikey? Can you hear us?"

Mikey moans, the first part of his body he can (sort of) control. He hasn't been this tired since... since... some time ago. The first mutation. Not that he really remembers much of it...

Mikey's eyes softly open. Light shines in. His whole family is here. Casey is here. Everyone is watching over him. When did they all get here? Where has Mikey been in this absence of consciousness?

Uggh, he feels awful.

Leo comes into view.

"Heyyyyyy, mi hermano. Can you hear me?"

Mikey nods weakly. At least, he thinks he does. He still can't sense much. The feeling comes in slowly, soft prickling and paresthesia. The first thing he feels is extreme heat and shaking. He's shivering. Still? But it's so hot...

Hot... but... he likes the warmth... so why is this unbearable?

Mikey moans again. His head is swimming. His breathing heavy, it's hard to get the air into his lungs. Mikey squirms, sweat breaking out across his brow and under his arms as he shakes.

"Mmnghh... Mikey no... feel... good..."

Leo presses the back of his hand against Mikey's head. It's not cold, but against the feverish heat emanating from Mikey, it's heavenly chilled. Leo winces, his brow furrows in concern.

"You're burning up... Dad, when you broke into Dee's lab, did you touch Mikey? Do you think you might have infected him?"

Splinter's eyes widen as he realizes.

"Oh... I think I might have..."

"So, is Mikey sick now?" Raph asks. "He's got rat flu, too?"

"Why is it just hitting him now, when he was infected hours ago?" Casey asks.

Hours...? Mikey's been a ghost for hours...?

"I'm guessing the brumation put Mikey's body into a sort of stasis. All body functions stopped until he thawed out," Donnie explains. "Brumation causes reptile like turtles, snakes, and lizards (all of which Mikey has the DNA of) to go into a sort of hibernation when it gets too cold. They slow down to an extreme, and might even stop breathing, but they won't die."

Mikey writhes on the bed. His tail thrashes, almost whipping Leo in the leg. Whatever is happening to him now, whether it's a side effect of brumation or whatever fever he caught from Splinter, he hates it.

Leo watches Mikey in concern.

"So, uh... no problem, no issue. We'll just take care of him while he gets over rat flu..."

"But who's gonna take care of him?" Raph asks.

"Uh...Donnie's the only one who got infected this year, and he already went through the symptoms, so he should be immune now..." Leo looks over to his twin. "Do you think you could play nursemaid?"

"You mean take over your job?" he asks snidely. "Of course. I mean, I've already lost a lot of work time on the anti-mutagen, so I might as well..."

Donnie sighs with exasperation as he taps his wrist tech, creating a checklist for the seven stages and supplies he'll need.

"Okay... so this will be interesting to see unfold. Stage 1 is fever, but Mikey's reaction to the low temperatures prohibits anything cold coming into contact with him. Any suggestions, Leo?"

"Give him lots of water, and ibuprofen. We can try to bring down his fever with warmer waters, but I'm not sure if that would help..."

"Copy that. Next stage is wild rat man... or in this case, wild Mikey. That should be fun," Donnie says, the last sentence a soft grumbling whisper. "With Mikey's animal instincts, everyone needs to be on alert. We don't know how he'll react..."

As Donnie continues to explain the seven stages again, Mikey lets himself crumble into a short-lived sleep while he waits for the rest of his body to wake up.

Stage 1: FEVER

Mikey hates this.

Every part of him aches, a dull but everlasting ache. He is constantly shifting between the heat of the sun and below freezing.

He can never get comfortable, he keeps kicking the blankets off as his fever causes delirium and slight nausea.

Donnie does what he can, having him drink as much water as possible while dabbing his face with a wet cloth. But it's all too cold, even if it's lukewarm. Against the burning inferno of his fever, it's practically glacial.

Mikey weeps at the torment his body is putting itself through. Donnie works in silence until Mikey makes some sort of rambling beg for him to talk so he knows that he's still in the room. Between the aches and the delerium, he can't always tell...

Donnie talks about his latest tech design. He talks about S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.2.0 and the upgrades he made in Mikey's absence. He talks about some of the studies he's been making into genetic mutations and modifications to the DNA and... he sounds upset. He stops talking about that and moves on to a new subject. He talks about botany or something.

Mikey groans in agony and mumbles something... not even he knows what he's saying... Donnie presses his hand to Mikey's sweat-soaked head. He grimaces at the wetness, but sighs with relief.

"I think your fever is starting to break... that's a good sign--"

"Gggggggrrrhhhh..."

"...Mikey?"

Mikey's eyes squeeze shut as he groans, grumbles, growls...

His eyes snap open, the pupils shrink into thin lines that immediately lock onto Donnie. He snarls, his teeth elongating into sharp fangs.

"...Oh banana pancakes," Donnie says flatly as he starts to get up.

Stage 2: FERAL MIKEY.

Leo and Raph are eating lunch with casey, having ordered a pizza and subs due to the day's earlier havoc. Leo plays with the pineapple and ham toppings as he frets over Mikey.

"Dude," Raph scolds, pointing at the slice going cold. "Just eat it already, or put it back in the box."

"Do you think he's doing okay?" Leo asks. "I mean, I know it's only a flu, but after everything that's happened to him already, I'm just worried what this will do to him, I mean, we have no idea how shot his immune system is already from his captivity and malnutrition, and then coupled with the mutations--"

"Leo," Raph says in between bites of his footlong. "You need to chill. I'm freaking out too, but that's not going to do any good. Donnie's got this for now, if he needs any help then he'll let us know--"

"HELP!!"

"...I think he just let us know."

The trio run out to find Dee being chased by a wild Mikey, his tail spiked and quills raised, his eyes glowing bright yellow with blood red as he chases after Donnie, snarling all along the way. Mikey slithers up the walls and ceiling, perching above them all, his head and neck twisting around as he watches them somewhat creepily.

"Oh dang," Leo says, pointing. "That's terrifying. I'm not alone on this, right? That's some 'The Ring' bone-cracking-bending-in-odd-ways type of scary?"

"Not the time, Nardo," Donnie grumbles.

"What's 'The Ring'?" Casey asks.

Mikey snarls loudly, analyzing who to attack first. His eyes stop on Raph and his sandwich.

"Uh-oh," the eldest whispers.

Mikey jumps down from the ceiling, roaring as he pounces down at his brothers. Raph shrieks in terror as he throws the sandwich at his feral brother. Mikey grabs the sub in his mouth and starts to attack it viciously, ripping it apart with his teeth and fangs, shaking it all around as he kills it dead.

"Uh, we start running now, right?" Casey asks.

"Yes. We run now."

The four make a mad dash down the hall, running into the garage and locking the door behind them.

"That... that was terrifying," Leo gasps. "I didn't know he could be that scary... was he like that when you found him?"

Leo turns to look at Raph and Donnie, who pant as they lean against the shell hogs for balance.

"Uh... more or less," Raph admits. "He was lucid when I found him, but once the other experiments were released he went kinda savage and attacked them to protect me."

"He also bit you."

Raph rubs over the spot on his wrist that Mikey punctured. It's healing fast, thanks to Draxum's genetic-whatever-he-did-to-them when they were babies. But the thought of Mikey's face when he came to and saw what he'd done... that hurt much more than any bite.

He hopes to pizza supreme that Mikey won't remember anything from the fever... poor kid probably couldn't handle it...

There's a pounding against the door.

"Agh!" Leo jumps as the loud noise echoes through the garage. "Don't let him in! The door's going to hold, right?"

"But of course!" Donnie says with a nervous chuckle. "I restructured everything after the invasion. Not even a krang could break down that door. The only thing that could get it open is --"

'Hamato Family Override Accepted,' a computer voice sounds.

"...is if someone with the code unlocks the door," Donnie moans.

The doors open slowly, revealing Splinter, standing in the doorway with an irritated expression on his face.

"Boys," he says in his scolding voice. "would you care to explain to me why you left your brother in the state he's in?"

"We had to!" Leo says, hiding behind Raph. "He was going to rip off an arm or something!"

"What are you talking about?" Splinter asks, stepping aside to reveal a very flushed Mikey with a sad expression on his face, eyes wet and pupils so wide they engulf the majority of his eyes.

Mikey sees his brothers and starts crying with joy as he rushes towards them, sloppily landing on Raph's feet and hugging his legs tightly.

"Rrrrraaaaappphiiieee!" he sings, rubbing his cheek against his big brother's ankles. "Miiikeeeeyyyy loveesss youuu..."

Stage 3: CAPTAIN CUDDLECAKES

Raph stares down in shock, frozen still for fear of what else Mikey might do. But Mikey just looks up and him with grabby hands as he cries for affection.

"Pickkkk me uuuup, Raphhiieee.... hold me, please, Raaaaaaphhie..."

"Uh... okay..." he says with hesitance, kneeling down and gently tucking his hands under Mikey's arms as he hoists him up.

Mikey's body is limp like a noodle, swaying back and forth as Raph holds him at arm's length. Mikey's face is bright red from fever, his smile dopey, his eyes half-opened and unfocused, his head lolls rom side to side. He giggles lazily, holding onto Raph's hands and slowly pulling himself closer to him, sort of crawling-slash-climbing across his arms to get to his chest.

"Raaaaaphieee.... I love Raphie... I loves him sooooooo muchesss..."

"Is... is he okay?" Leo asks, a quick giggle escaping him.

"Delirium," Donnie says knowingly with a nod. "He's delirious."

"Are you sure?" Casey asks.

"I'm an ice cream kitty," Mikey says dopily, giggling as he wraps himself over Raph's shoulders. "I'm a cat called Klunk..."

"Pretty sure," Donnie answers flatly.

"He's really cuddly," Raph chuckles, rubbing his hand over Mikey's burning head.

Mikey hums with contentment as he continues to wrap under Raphael's chin, back over the shoulders, and around his neck again...

"Uh, Mikey?" Raph gasps, as Mikey's torso and tail starting to tighten around his throat and choke him. "Mike-- that's too tight, buddy -- Mikey -- gack!!"

Donnie and Leo rush forward and try to loosen Mikey from around his brother. Mikey whines at them, tiredly slapping them away as he nuzzles Raph's face, which is starting to turn blue.

"Boa instincts," Donnie diagnoses as he tries to get Mikey to let go. "Come on, Michael, let go, let go, let -- nggh -- go!"

"Stahp pullin'!" Raph chokes out. "Gettin' tight--!"

"He won't release!" Donnie grumbles. "I don't think he understands what he's doing! It's his animal traits taking over..."

Leo's eyes brighten as he gets an idea. He starts scritching and scratching around Mikey's neck, looking for a specific spot. Mikey starts to giggle, shoulders hunching up and tail loosening. Leo gets to a spot just under the jaw on his right side and scratches. Mikey's eyes pop as he falls into Leo's hold with a mad cackle, legs kicking as he jerks back and forth from giggles. Raph gasps for air and collapses to his knees as he clutches his throat.

Mikey wiggles out of Leo's hold and onto the floor as he continues to laugh himself silly from the special spot Leo found.

"H-how... cough cough... how'd ya know that would work?" Raph hacks.

"I didn't," Leo confesses with a shrug. "I thought he'd faint like in 'How To Train Your Dragon' or something."

Mikey's laughter starts to calm, and he relaxes against the floor, deep sighs of relief as his brothers talk over him.

"I think it's safe to assume that his flu is causing his animal attributes to take over," Donnie informs. "Which isn't good news for the next stage..."

Stage 4: NINJA HUNTER SUPREME

"It's okay," Casey says, trying to calm the room. "I-I'm sure it will be fine, all we have to do is keep an eye on him aaaaaand we lost him," he groans, looking down to where Mikey had been a second ago.

"Alright, nobody panic! We're fine, we're fine, we're--"

"Achoo!" Raph sneezes.

"Welp, Raph's infected now, we need to quarantine him," Donnie groans. "Who could have seen this coming, he said sarcastically."

"I'm okay, I can just -- Achooie!"

"Yeah no," Leo scolds as he helps lead Raph to the door. "You're getting into bed. We're all sticking together too, so everyone be on the lookout for you-know-who..."

The group slowly but surely trudge towards the traincars on the other side of the lair, stopping at every doorway to inspect the rooms for Mikey. He's nowhere to be seen... and that's terrifying.

Just before they get to Raph's room, Donnie's wrist tech beeps at him. One of the motion sensors has gone off.

"Wait a sec," Donnie whispers, tapping the security footage. "I think Mikey might be in the sewer tunnels..."

"What?" Leo whispers back. "Why would he go all the way out there?"

"I'm not sure, but if he gets lost --"

"I'll go after him," Leo answers. "You guys watch Raph and help quarantine him for now before the fever sets in too bad."

Leon grabs his swords and runs to the exits. Casey watches him nervously as he helps Donnie maneuver the former leader into his bedroom as the fever starts to take effect.

As soon as Leo gets to the tunnels, he gets the eerie feeling he's being watched. He's not sure where the sensation is coming from, but three years of being a ninja vigilante and 16 years of living in secrecy under the surface of the greatest city ever has trained him to hone in on these gut feelings and sixth senses. There is someone... or something watching him.

It's unnerving.

He steps into the tunnels and looks both ways. No sign of Mikey. He takes out his comm and leans into the speaker to whisper.

"Hey Don, which way did he go?"

"*Krrsh* I don't know, I didn't see on the recording. I just saw a notif that something set off the perimeter alert. Over. *Krsh*"

Leo doesn't like this. Maybe Mikey never actually left the lair. Maybe this was all... a trap.

Leo's ninja senses tell him to be careful. He turns around quickly and looks up. Mikey is staring down at him from the ceiling.

He drops down like a spider, crashing down onto Leo, who shouts in terror as he opens a portal just beneath his feet. The two fall through, one after the other. Leo portals them back to the traincars, shouting for backup as he runs away while Mikey regains his footing and inspects the new area.

"FOUND HIM! I FOUND HIM! HELP!"

Casey and Donnie jump into the hall quickly, brandishing weapons on instinct.

Leo frantically scrapes his katanas across the floor as he runs away, creating a series of portals that surround Mikey. The feral mutant boy falls through one and pops out in a random place, three other portals boxing him in.

"There," Leon pants. "That should keep him busy for now..."

Mikey sniffs one of the portals, and his eyes widen. He steps through, following his nose and navigating perfectly through each portal, gaining speed with every step until he arrives from behind the trapped trio.

"Or not..." Leo swallows.

Mikey growls, licking his teeth as he stalks them, getting ready to leap in three... two... one...

Mikey pounces on Leo, gripping the handle of one katana between his set jaws and yanking it out of Leo's grip. He clutches onto his brother's shoulders, pinning him down as he tries to rip the second sword away.

"AAGH!!!" Leo screams, kicking wildly as Mikey snarls and drools all over him and his weapon. "GET IT OFF! GET THIS THING OFF OF ME--!!"

Donnie activates his hover-shell and directs it to attach to Mikey, lifting him up and carrying him away. But Mikey still clings tightly to Leo, who is struggling against his brother's death grip on his shoulders. Mikey's nails dig in tight, making Leo cry out in pain.

Casey jumps up and catches on Leo's feet, pulling him loose from Mikey's hold. Mikey is flown away, screeching in anger as the hover-shell turns a corner and disappears with its passenger.

"Sensei-- Leo, are you okay?" Casey asks, eyeing the claw marks with concern.

"I-I'm f-fine," Leo manages, his breath shaky and eyes wide but lost. "I... I'll be okay... I... achoo!"

"Welp, we've lost another brother," Donnie sighs as he carries Leo to his room. "I estimate that we have at least five more minutes before Mikey comes back in a new stage. Casey, you go to my lab and lock yourself in there. Reboot the security system and put the whole lair on a lockdown. We can't risk Mikey escaping, got it?"

Casey nods nervously before rushing away.

Donnie helps Leo get into bed as the fever already starts to set in.

"H-he... he really got me, huh...? Woof, why is it so hot in here???" Leo mumbles as he topples into the bed. "Why is the room spinning so much?? I don't remember booking tickets to the tilt-n'-whirl..."

"I'll get the fan going for you," Donnie mutters.

"I... I feel bad..."

"You'll feel better in a minute--"

"I called him a thing."

Donnie pauses as he looks back at Leo, who's starting to cry softly as he hugs his pillow.

"I was just scared. I'd never seen him so angry or vicious. Not even against the krang... he looked like he really was gonna kill me..."

"He wouldn't," Donnie reassures him flatly. "Mikey would never do that."

"Do you think he hates me now?" Leo whimpers. "Do you think he heard me? He'll remember that? I don't actually think of him like that, I... I don't think he's a monster, I don't... gawd, why is it so hot in here?!"

Donnie rolls his eyes as he plugs in the high-speed fan and aims it at Leo. He sighs with relief from the cold winds blowing in his face.

"We can talk about it later. Right now I have to find Mikey."

Leo hums as he falls asleep on the bed.

Donnie runs back out, closes the door to the traincar, and rounds the corner into the hallway beyond... where he finds the smashed remains of his hover-shell, and no Mikey.

Fantastic.

Stage 5: KARAOKE LOVE SONGS

Donnie can hear Mikey singing loudly. But not in English. He's howling and yowling and chirping some incoherent animal gibberish in the TV room. Splinter probably left one of his old romance soap operas on, and somebody must've busted out into a love ballad.

Donine steps closer to watch him and surveil. The noise could damage his ears with how loud and high-pitched it gets, but at least Mikey's pacified. For the moment.

Donnie messages Casey from his wrist tech; he doesn't expect that he could hear him if he tried the comms.

D: HOW'S IT GOING IN THERE?

CJ: PRETTY GOOD. ALL EXITS SECURED.

D: GREAT. MIKEY IS... SINGING (QUESTION MARK?)

CJ: LOL DOES IT SOUND THAT BAD?

D: I WOULDN'T KNOW, MY HEARING IS PERMANENTLY DAMAGED NOW.

Dee turns back to smile at Mikey, who's howling has softened and slowed to simple hums. He scratches behind his ears with his foot before getting up and dizzily trotting back to his traincar bedroom. Donnie follows from behind, staying quiet as he can. He's not sure what the next stage will do to Mikey's animal brain...

Michelangelo starts looking around his room, coughing every once in a while and sneezing on occasion before finding a large roll of paper that April dropped off some time ago. Mikey knocks it down and rolls it out, carefully setting the paints out as well. That's when he sees Donnie.

He smiles weakly and ushers him in with a soft yawn turned cough.

Donnie walks in and sits beside his brother, helping to open the jars as Mikey starts to draw images...

Stage 6: STORYTIME

Stage six is fanfiction, Donnie knows this. But for some reason, Mikey isn't making fanart or comics of his favourite characters. Donnie wonders why... he maybe doesn't recall them...? He only just remembered Lou Jitsu a few days ago, so it's not out of the question. Donnie's stomach turns when he considers that Mikey not remember that their father was Lou Jitsu...

But he's definitely drawing something. His hands still shake, and he tears the paper every other stroke, but he's making a story to tell with his art. Mikey uses his tail as a paintbrush, gentle but sloppy strokes. It's easier than finger-painting with claws. Donnie sees images of a green thing with yellow spots in a cage... needles and crude doodles of knives and pink monsters... humans in white that kick and hit and zap and freeze the poor green and yellow figure... It doesn't take long for Donnie to realize what story he's telling.

The poor green and yellow thing is crying in his cage. It almost looks like... he's waiting for something...

Then Donnie sees a purple figure. A blue one. Red.

It's them.

But Mikey omits an orange companion. Donnie points this out.

"Why didn't you draw yourself?" he asks.

Mikey looks up at him with concern, and for a moment he's worried he broke Mikey's oh-so-sensitive concentration. But instead he shakily dips his tail in the orange paint and... stalls...

The paint drips onto the paper while they wait for Mikey to make his artwork. But he doesn't.

"Do you... need some help?"

Mikey nods with a sniffle. Dee chalks that up to a runny and stuffy nose. Same with the gloopy eyes that hold tears in them, that's just some kind of irritation or fever. Not the other, more difficult thing -- emotions.

Donnie reaches over and takes his brother's tail, helping Mikey draw a stick figure with round cheeks and a mask with a bow. Mikey leans down to stare at the drawing, analyzing it with astonishment.

Why does he look at it like that? Why is he so surprised by his own image? Why doesn't he... recognize...

Mikey's eyes glaze over, as he slowly sits back up and exhales. Mikey's vision is far away, lost in thought.

Stage 7: MUST SAY YES

Donnie waves a hand in front of Mikey's face. No reaction. Donnie sighs.

"Mikey?"

Mikey turns his head to look at Donnie with a quiet mew.

"I know you'll say 'yes' to anything I ask for. So, I want you to..."

He wants Mikey to tell him why he didn't draw himself. Why he reacts the way he does when they leave him alone. Why he is so scared of Casey and April, why he didn't remember their names or Lou Jitsu or anything. Why he has a voice in his head, and what the voice tells him. He wants to ask for him to get better and get back to normal as quickly as possible. He wants to ask him to be his same old Mikey self again.

Donnie sighs.

"...I want you to get some rest and heal up. Okay, buddy?"

Mikey gives a weak smile before closing his eyes and flopping against Dee's chest, wheezing with each breath he makes. Donnie rolls his eyes and lifts his congested baby brother up into the hammock bed, tucking him in and making sure that he's nice and warm.

He steps out of the traincar after turning off the lights. He's utterly spent, he might try taking a nap too...

Until Casey runs up to him, a worried expression on his face.

"Donatello! Donatello!"

"Shh!" he shushes quickly, signing that Mikey is fast asleep and resting. "What is it?"

"I was reviewing security footage in the labs, and saw that Mikey never went outside the tunnels..."

"What? But the sensors --"

"Sensed something, yeah, so I went back and looked for what it was. I found this hiding outside the entrance to the lair," he says, reaching into one of his fanny packs.

Casey pulls out a mediocre miniature drone, complete with camera and microphone. The device is no better than scrap metal now, having been partially destroyed by Casey's weaponized hockey stick.

"It may have taken me by surprise..."

Donnie stares down at it. There's a small logo printed on the side with the initials EPF.

"...How long has it been here?"

"We got the alert around... maybe fifteen minutes ago?"

"Are there any more?" Dee asks, his tone low and frightfully serious.

"I don't know," Casey answers. "But I can do a perimeter sweep."

"Good idea," Donnie says, rushing away. "I'm going to create an invisible fence around the lair that knocks out any unrecognized tech. Then, I'm going to see how damaged this scrapheap is. If the receptor and signal output are still intact... maybe I can find out what our friends at the EPF are up to."

.

.

.

Dr. Timothy stares down at the wretched mutated human in a cage, wearing a torn and tattered uniform.

What a disgusting failure.

His face is misshapen and bearing three eyes, his arms (one of which is scarred from talon gashes and bite marks) are covered in fur, his hands are like bear claws and his feet are webbed. He is an amalgamation of random things, and now he's in the cage that belonged previously to 'Mikey'.

Timothy scowls at the mutation. It was a wild test, anyways. Nothing important. Just to see what would happen... Honestly, it was more as a punishment for damaging Mikey's brain than an actual scientific pursuit. And it's not like anyone will miss him; he was nothing important, anyways...

Nothing is important. Nothing matters now. Nothing but finding that one experiment again. The only successful mutation... Mikey.

The man in the cage whines at Dr. Timothy. He cannot speak anymore. Nothing more than a dumb animal. Which, from the intelligence he showed before mutation, is quite possibly an improvement.

Timothy kicks the cage in frustration. The man yipes and backs away, whinging like a dog.

What to do, what to do...

None of the mutations have worked right. None of them show any signs of increased intelligence. It seems the opposite, their minds decrease and their problem-solving skills evaporate. The physical toll on their bodies is heavy, and some never even survive the first round of mutation. None of them can take orders. None of them can fight with complexity and agility. None of them can be trained. None of them can understand basic commands or words or anything of the English language, or any language. They're all just stupid, dumb animals! None of them have had the success rate that Mikey did. Why? What about him was so special??

He was already mutated...

There are a handful of mutated freaks out there now, running amok and wreaking havoc. How were they changed? Why has it worked with them? What could have possibly done it for them, and why can't they recreate this phenomenon?!

Dr. Timothy has always been interested in mutations and enhancements. This reason is why he joined the science division of the EPF. He knows most of the scientists here are working to save the alien-infected citizens. And Tim is all for that! Why not help humanity? But why stop at simple cures, why not go bigger? There are some freaks running amok in the streets, a result of odd glowing bugs released upon the masses almost three years ago. These mutations have made the humans stronger, faster, better. They can withstand almost anything! They are practically indestructible! These idiots think that saving humanity means eradicating the mutants. They couldn't be more wrong.

It's the humans who need to be... shall we say, updated?

What a weak and pathetic species. Slow, soft, squishy and easily injured. Bruisable. Breakable. Like putty.

But add some extra features and a killer instinct... and you've got yourselves a prime class of creatures that can stand tall for centuries!

Why not be better? Why not be stronger?! Why can't they see that?!

Timothy wrings his hands through his hair, growling at the unfairness of the situation. If only he could get his hands on that mutie again... if only he could have Mikey back.

That is the only thing that matters to him now.

Getting that mutant turtle back.

It's all he thinks about. The good news is that they've sent spy drones into the tunnels and seem to have gotten some interesting footage before mysteriously going dead... Timothy is having another wave sent in within the next three days, max.

The others may have seen his passion for the science, but this is different. This is mania. This is an obsession...

Timothy will do whatever it takes to get that mutant turtle back into his possession, and figure out how he survived the mutations.

And then...

He will become the better man. The better, more dominant species.

The better mutant.

Prev || Next

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 1

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family's restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn't see coming--one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn't sure they'll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Author's Note: I forgot how much I absolutely loathe writing summaries LOL but anyways! First chapter is here, let me know if y'all vibe with it. I had fun writing it and if you wanna see more, let me know! (And now I have to figure out if I remember linking everything on my blog since I haven't posted my writing on Tumblr in forever. . .)

Chapter 1

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Don’t do this to me, please.”

Isla Carrera’s pleading is in vain as the engine of her car sputters out of life, and there’s just enough juice left for her to pull over onto the side of the dirt road so she’s not stranded in the middle. Her grip on the steering wheel remains tight as she sits in silence, staring out onto the dark road only lit up by the two beams of her headlights. The small silver lining, if there is one, is that she knows exactly where she is, just a little ways away from a row of houses on Figure Eight. But right now, she’s surrounded by trees on a road that has no street lamps, the sky a blanket of black above her. 

Her groan cuts through the silence, eyes squeezing shut as she rests her forehead against the steering wheel. She should have just slept over at John B’s house like her sister, Kie, decided to. But Isla’s covering another waitress at the restaurant early tomorrow, and she didn’t want to run late again or else her parents would rip her a new one. Kie’s shift wasn’t until later in the afternoon, so her sister was in no rush to get home. Now here Isla is, with a car that won’t turn over, still a fifteen minute drive away from her house.

“Fucking great,” she mutters, making sure her hazards are on and her phone is in her pocket before getting out of the car. 

Though she knows nothing about cars, Isla pops open the hood and uses the flashlight on her phone. If she’s being honest, it all looks like a bunch of mechanical junk she has no idea how to work her way around. She’s not sure why she even bothers, so instead of wasting time, she unlocks her phone to find the number for a towing service.

A rumble of a car engine catches her attention, the kind that makes an annoying popping sound, and by the time she looks up and around the open top of her hood, she sees two guys hopping out of an old Ford truck. She vaguely recognizes them. Just by the look of them, they seem to be a couple of years older than her—and clearly from The Cut. Not that it matters, since her best friends are from the other side of the island, but not all of the people from The Cut are fond of those from Figure Eight, and vice versa. Isla and her sister, though they belong on the more privileged side of the island, prefer the freedom of The Cut. 

None of that exactly matters right now, though.

Music cranks out of the car, but Isla can’t pay it any mind as unease creeps into her stomach when both sets of eyes land on her. 

She’s a girl alone in the middle of a road at night, so Isla is immediately on high alert as the guys make their way towards her, slow but confident in a way that makes her feel like a prey. I don’t like this. 

Alarm bells are ringing in her head as one of the guys in cargo shorts and a tank top shoots her a slimy grin. “Car trouble, sweetheart?”

Isla’s muscles tense. Yeah, nope. Not good. “Uh, no, all good,” she says, forcing some of that confidence into her voice that Kie is an expert at wielding. 

The other one with darker hair hidden under a baseball cap asks, “You sure we can’t help?” His grin is anything but charming. “We’d be more than happy to help.”

They don’t stop their approach, and Isla’s mind begins running through different scenarios, her pulse beginning to quicken in panic she’s trying to keep at bay. There’s no one around to help, and she can’t depend on another car passing by and stopping to help—if they even would. She doesn’t want to lock herself in her car while she calls her dad or friends for help; the idea of sitting trapped makes her heart squeeze with dread.

“You can stop right there.” She doesn’t want to give into the fear that’s slithering through her veins, but she can’t stop the words from escaping her mouth, the crunch of the dirt beneath their shoes too daunting to ignore. 

Her hand inches towards her back pocket where she had stashed her keys, fingers closing around the small can of pepper spray she’s got hooked in there. Isla has never had the unfortunate opportunity to use it before, but the vibes she’s getting right now—first time for everything. 

“What’s the matter?” the first guy asks with a taunting tilt of his head, neither of them stopping their pace. “We’re only here to help.”

Yeah, fucking right. “Stop.” Her heart is pounding in her ears, taking a few steps back.

Creepy guy number two exchanges a look with number one. “See that, Dyl? Little Miss Kook looks a little scared.”

Oh, screw this. Isla refuses to stick around and find out what’s going to happen, and she doesn’t at all feel guilty when she juts her hand forward and presses down on the top of the small can. Her aim is a little off, so she only manages to spray the first guy—Dyl. The sound of his shriek of pain cuts through the air, and he stumbles back and spits out curses as he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

The second guy freezes in surprise, looking between Isla and his friend, but she doesn’t stick around to see what he’s going to do next. Instead, Isla turns and makes a run for it, making sure to press the button on her FOB to lock her car as she bolts down the dirt road. She can hear the guys yelling over the sound of the breeze rushing past her ears, fear fueling more power to her legs as she nears a neighborhood street at the end of the dirt road. Isla isn’t sure if they’re following her, or if they’re even going to, but she doesn’t pause to find out. 

She runs and runs, her lungs beginning to burn, as she rounds a stone wall with greenery growing through the cracks that closes in a property—only for her vision to go black for a split second when she collides against something.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Scratch that—make that someone, because instead of falling back on her ass, a strong pair of arms wrap around her waist to keep her from tumbling down. The grip is tight and secure, and a delicious aroma of what seems to be earthy wood tickles her nose. “What the hell are you—Isla?”

The sound of her name being spoken in that all too familiar voice clears Isla’s head, and she pulls back enough to look up into the startling blue eyes of Rafe Cameron. Her pounding heart seems to slow down a fraction, and she’s not sure what to make of the mild relief that calms down her frazzled nerves because this is Rafe Cameron. Sure, he might not be as bad as those two freaks, and he’s one of her close friends’ brothers, but he’s still the same guy that has gotten into more than a few fights with her best friends. That being said, she shouldn’t find as much comfort as she does being in front of him. 

Her breathing is heavy, pulse throbbing uncontrollably. She only barely registers her hands gripping his forearms, like it’s grounding her as she takes in Rafe’s expression. His eyebrows are furrowed together as he looks down at her, his height towering over her five-foot five frame, and there’s more confusion than worry in his features, unsurprisingly. Her heavy breathy makes her privy to the scent of nicotine, glancing down to see a half used cigarette now laying forgotten on the ground. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe repeats. Isla hears the familiar thread of annoyance in his voice, but she can’t bring herself to give a damn. 

She lets go of him like he’s electrocuted her, taking a step back and forcing him to let go of her, too. It takes everything in her not to acknowledge the way her skin burns where his had touched hers. “Going for a run, what does it look like?” she snaps back, though her voice trembles on her breath. 

Rafe’s expression deadpans, though he arches an eyebrow under the dirty blonde bangs that frame his forehead. “Looks like you’re scared,” he states. 

“I—” Isla gets cut off by the familiar sound of a car engine rumbling, the popping kind, and the breath locks in her throat as she glances over her shoulder. “Fuck,” she breathlessly mutters, catching sight of the headlights creeping up from around the corner on the road. She’s not sure if those guys are looking for her—though, she wouldn’t be surprised given that she pepper sprayed one of them, and her pulse quickens again in panic with the need to hide away.

“Wait—are you running from someone?” Rafe questions, and Isla looks back at him to see his gaze pointed over her head, right where the noise of the car is coming from. A car that sounds to be approaching too close.

“You’re asking too many questions,” Isla returns hastily, stepping to go around him. “I need to go—”

Rafe lets out an exasperated huff, and if she had all her wits about her, she’d snap at him. But instead, surprise slams through her when Rafe’s hand wraps around her bicep, his grip firm but not tight as he mutters, “Come here.”

Before Isla knows it, she’s being dragged through the gate of the Cameron estate, disappearing onto the property right when the car turns the corner. Her heart launches to her throat when Rafe suddenly turns her, and she’s being pressed against the stone wall, soft leaves pressing to her back in contrast to the hard surface.

Isla’s eyes widen when Rafe’s body presses against her, the air rushing out of her lungs as her gaze snaps up to meet his. “What are you doing?” she asks, her words a mere breath.

He seems surprised by his own actions, lips pursed and that muscle in his clean shaven jaw pulsing almost as quickly as her own heart. Can he hear the thundering, feel it? “Just—stay quiet,” Rafe grits.

Part of Isla wants to push him off—the part that sounds a lot like her friends. But fear wins out, keeping her in place, as she hears the car creep along in front of the gate of the Cameron property. 

Rafe’s eyes silently tell her to remain quiet and something tightens her stomach—something other than fear—and it startles her enough to flick her gaze to the left, towards the vine wrapped gate. She can see the headlights slowly passing by, and she prays that these guys aren’t stupid enough to trespass private property.

Then again, they were ready to do God-knows-what to her, so who the hell knows?

The thought alone sends her heartbeat accelerating all over again, panic settling in her bones hard enough to rattle them. Isla’s hands fist at her sides, eyes squeezing shut as she leans her head back against the wall. How the hell had her night taken such a freaky turn? And how is it that Rafe Cameron, of all people, is the one to help her out?

Suddenly, the mid-May night doesn’t feel as warm as Rafe’s body; he isn’t close enough where his body is completely pressing into hers, but she can feel the soft material of his shirt fluttering against the bare skin of her stomach, thanks to her crop top. Isla can feel the heat of his skin seeping into hers, which makes her heart thunder with something other than panic, and she’s not entirely sure what the hell to do with that.

“Relax—they’re gone.”

His voice is low and gruff, a tone that makes goosebumps pebble her skin even in this warm weather. Isla opens her eyes with a sharp exhale and her brown eyes immediately find Rafe’s blue, her throat tightening under his scrutinizing gaze. True, she can’t hear the engine anymore, the headlights are also gone, and Isla tries to even out her breathing while nodding slowly. 

Rafe’s eyes rake over her and shouldn’t she feel unsettled about that? About how close he’s standing to her? But it seems like all of her unease has been used up from evading those weirdos, so Rafe Cameron being her rescuer doesn’t annoy her as much as it normally would. 

“So what was that about?” he questions, raising an eyebrow.

Isla’s throat works, dragging her gaze back up at him. The lamps spaced out along the wall light his face, casting shadows along his sharp cheekbones. He’s so handsome—the thought crosses through her mind quickly, and though she would never admit it to her friends, she can’t help but find the truth in it—as insane as it might be.

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” Isla finds herself saying, lifting her chin in a small act of defiance.

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitches into a ghost of a smirk, and through the light reflecting in his eyes, she can see them dancing in amusement. “Given that I just saved your ass, an explanation would be nice.”

Isla scowls, all thoughts of his stupidly good looks vanishing. “I didn’t ask you to do that. I had it under control.”

It’s a lie spoken through her teeth, and Rafe can see that. “Yeah, looked real under control when you were running for your life,” he replies dryly, eyebrows rising. But then his expression flattens out, eyebrows furrowing together once again as he says, “Seriously, Isla. What gives? What the hell was that about?”

“Just—some fucking weirdos, I don’t know,” she huffs, frustration from this entire ordeal bubbling to the surface as she rubs her hands up her face and runs her fingers through her hair. “I—Can you back up?” she asks hastily, forcing a glare. Rafe, surprisingly, simply presses his lips together and raises his hands in defense while taking a couple of steps away from her. Isla is no longer embraced by his warmth, by his scent, and there’s an unexpected tug in her chest that she ignores. “My car broke down on that dirt path behind the road. I was trying to figure it out when these guys pulled up and, I don’t know, shit got weird so I made a break for it.”

Rafe frowns as he listens to her, and Isla shakes her head, rubbing the back of her neck. “I need to get back to my car,” she says.

“Seriously?” Rafe asks, scoffing. “You’re gonna go back when some freaks are looking for you?”

Isla glares at him, not at all appreciating him talking to her like she’s stupid. “My wallet’s still in my car. I need to grab it if they haven’t fucking broken into my car already.”

She moves past him to head to the gate, surprised to hear his footsteps as he easily catches up to her. “What, you’re gonna walk back?” When Isla glances at Rafe, he’s looking at her like she’s insane. No sign of the contempt he normally saves for her and her friends, which is slightly unnerving. “After you were just running from some freaks? You do realize how much of a bad idea that is, right?”

She shrugs even as the unease from before returns at the idea of running into those guys again. “I need to get my wallet,” is her meek response.

Rafe lets out a breath, running his fingers through his hair and Isla briefly frowns at herself at the way her gaze seems to run to the flex of his bicep. And the way her stomach fucking flutters because this is Rafe Cameron. The only fluttering her stomach should be doing where he’s concerned is one tinged with nausea.

Rafe then fixes her with a stern look. “Come on,” he says firmly before walking down the driveway of his house.

Isla blinks out of whatever stupor she was in and glares at his back—and at the demand he left her with. She scoffs, hands splaying in annoyance until she realizes he’s headed straight for his motorcycle. Her shoulders drop, rooted on the spot as she says flatly, “You’re joking.”

Rafe is already pulling out a helmet—scratch that, two helmets—and looking at her, once again, like she’s an idiot while she glares at him. At least there’s that bit of normalcy. “This—” He holds up both helmets in each hand. “Is better than you walking back to your car by yourself. Let’s go.”

Isla’s disbelief only intensifies. She doesn’t walk over to him, doesn’t take the proffered helmet. Instead, she exhales sharply and crosses her arms over her chest, asking, “Why are you helping me?”

Rafe has the gall to look annoyed by her question, arms resting at his sides. His gaze locks with Isla’s, but she doesn’t shy away from it as he eventually drops his head back with a groan before looking back at her once more. “Listen, contrary to your and your friends’ popular belief, I’m not a complete dick.” Isla can’t help but scoff and roll her eyes, cutting her gaze away from him in doubt. He cannot be serious. “I wouldn’t want either of my sisters to be fucking chased by some losers, so just think of this as my good deed of the month, alright? Now will you please take the damn helmet and get on the bike?”

Frankly, Isla feels like she’s just stepped into an alternate reality because, seriously, when was the last time Rafe Cameron ever did anything nice for her—if ever?

But as much as Isla’s pride is begging for her to tell him thanks but no thanks and turn and walk back to her car, fear still resides in the pit of her belly, waiting to strike. She hates to admit it, but Rafe is right. It’d be dumb of her to walk back alone at night after what just happened. Maybe she could call her sister or one of her friends, but that would just add unnecessary time to all this, and Isla just really wants to get home. So, fine; maybe she can accept Rafe’s offer to drive her to her car, and then from there maybe she can call an Uber home and call a tow truck from the safety of her bedroom.

Rafe holds out one of the black helmets in impatience, and Isla purses her lips as she pushes herself to walk over. She does her best not to admire the sight of him next to his bike, something she never would have done before tonight. Maybe this whole freaky situation has loosened some screws in her brain.

Isla all but snatches the helmet out of his hand, though a part of her feels as though it’s just for appearances’ sake to keep up her usual attitude around Rafe, and tucks her dark hair behind her ears before pulling the helmet on, the visor still up. She tries her best not to think of the weight of his gaze on her as she fiddles with the straps on her chin to secure the helmet, but she’s unable to get it right, fingers trembling despite herself.

“I got it,” Rafe says, and Isla freezes when he gently bats her hands away and steps up to her, using his finger to push at the bottom of the helmet so she can tilt her head back enough for him to see the straps. The heat of his body greets her once more and she’s silent as she feels him secure the straps, breath hitching quietly when the backs of his fingers brush against her skin. 

He’s done within seconds, but it sure as shit feels longer as she remains standing there, watching him pull on his own helmet. Isla watches silently as Rafe gets on the bike, wondering how she got here, and he says, “Hop on.”

Isla has ridden on the back of JJ’s bike plenty of times, so she gets on with no trouble, though she does have to grip Rafe’s shoulders in order to do so. They’re broad and firm under her hands, and she mentally chastises herself for even thinking about his stupid shoulders. When she’s settled behind him, her legs framing his, Isla’s heartbeat picks up at the sudden proximity, her front against his back. 

She’s sure she’s barely breathing when her skin warms because there’s barely any space that exists between them, and when Rafe tells her, “Hold on or risk flying off,” she can’t decide if she wants to smack him upside the head or beg for the ground to swallow her whole.

Sliding the visor down, Isla inhales deeply and quietly before winding her arms around Rafe’s waist, teeth gritting together because if her friends saw her now, they definitely would believe she’s lost her mind. The fact of the matter is, right now all she can seem to focus on is the solidness of his stomach against her arms and how fucking good he smells, which is confusing and overwhelming and everything in between.

The motorcycle’s engine roars to life, and seconds later Rafe is kicking off the kick-stand and they’re riding down the driveway and onto the road. She had told him her car stopped on the dirt path behind the actual road, separated by trees, and that’s all Rafe seemingly needs to know as he takes them in the right direction. The breeze as they go feels good against her, cooling her heated skin down and she would never admit it, but riding on the back of Rafe Cameron’s bike has a somewhat calming effect on her.

The tension that had tightened her muscles since her encounter with those other guys melts away, and the rapid thumping of her heart has nothing to do with anxiety and everything to do with the thrill of this moment. Maybe it’s ill advised, but it seems to be exactly what she needs as the night air mixes with Rafe’s cologne—or maybe he just smells like that in general?

God, she’s getting too weird about this.

Soon enough, her car comes into view and Isla is relieved when there seems to be no sign of those guys. Rafe stops the bike right next to her car, and another sigh of relief escapes her when she sees that her car doesn’t look damaged. Swinging her leg over, she uses Rafe’s shoulders as leverage to get off the bike, trying not to think too much about the loss of his body heat as she reaches for the helmet straps. 

They’re easier to undo than they were to strap, and she lifts the helmet off, one hand already flattening her dark hair as Rafe holds his hand out for the helmet. As she unlocks the car, Rafe asks, “How’d you manage to outrun them?”

Isla leans into the driver’s seat, reaching for her tote bag in the passenger seat. She digs through it for a moment, taking stock of her wallet, lip gloss, lip balm, and the few other things still safely inside. “I pepper-sprayed one of them,” she answers as she pulls out and straightens. 

When she turns to look at Rafe, whose helmet’s visor is up, she sees the smirk that curls at his mouth. How does a sight that made her want to knee him in the stomach before make her feel kind of weak kneed right now? Did those guys really freak her out so much that now down is up and left is right? “Nice,” he murmurs, nodding in approval. Jutting his chin towards her car, he asks, “You gonna call a truck?”

Isla shakes her head. “When I get home,” she says, pulling out her phone. 

Rafe nods as he holds the helmet out once more. “Alright, let’s go.”

Isla pauses, gaze flicking up from her phone screen where the Uber app is open to look at him. Arching an eyebrow, she asks, “Uh, go where?”

He mirrors the arched eyebrow look. “I’ll take you home,” he says as if it’s obvious when it very much isn’t.

“No thanks. I can Uber,” she answers, already putting her home address in.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head as he remains sitting on his bike. “You’re just full of bad ideas tonight, aren’t you?” he says. Isla’s eyes narrow, irritation sparking through her as he splays his arms out to gesture to the road they’re on. “You’re really gonna wait out here on a dirt road, with no street lamps, in the dark for an Uber when I’m offering you a ride home right now?” Before she can respond, he carries on, “On the same stretch of road, mind you, that you just got harassed on?”

The irritation intensifies, and Isla’s expression twists into a glare as she snaps, “What’s it to you, huh? You already did your good deed of the month. We’re not friends, Rafe. I don’t need your help.”

Even with the helmet on, she can tell he’s clenching his jaw, eyes hard as he sets them on her. The look makes her chest burn in a way that’s not all unwelcome, and that alone should be a sign that she’s losing it. “We may not be friends, but you’re my sister’s friend, alright? Sarah would kill me if she found out I left you out here by yourself. So stop being so fucking stubborn and get on the damn bike, Isla. I’m taking you home.”

She presses her tongue to her cheek, shoulders bunched in frustration while Rafe glares at her, his own impatience radiating off of him in waves. Sarah has told Isla how stubborn her brother can be, and while Isla doesn’t know Rafe well, she knows him and has dealt with him enough to know he isn’t budging on this. So, with a huff, she snatches the helmet once more, ignoring the protests in her head that sound suspiciously a lot like her friends as she pulls the helmet on. 

She manages to get the straps this time and gets back on the bike, her bag securely hanging off her shoulder as Rafe starts the bike again and Isla swallows silently as she wraps her arms around his waist once more. Every part of her is warm where it touches him, and as he drives, she tilts her head back, practically begging for anyone listening to get her to calm the hell down.

Seriously—how the hell did Rafe Cameron become her would-be hero of tonight?

Luckily, her house is a ten minute drive from the Cameron house and Isla allows him to pull up to the front of the house, since Kie isn’t home and has no chance of peeking out her bedroom window and seeing Isla getting off Rafe’s bike. He parks the bike and Isla lets go of him almost immediately, hopping off the bike and undoing the straps of the helmet under her chin.

Rafe is already looking at her by the time she gets the helmet off, his blue eyes visible since the visor is lifted. With a close mouthed, saccharine smile, Isla all but shoves the helmet into his hands. “Thanks for the ride. Let’s never do this again.”

He scoffs as he shakes his head, but the smirk on his face is apparent. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Isla rolls her eyes and, without another word, turns towards her house. She’s on the front porch and fishing keys out when she glances to the right and sees Rafe still parked there, seemingly watching her. Her stomach does a stupid, weird flip as she unlocks the door and shoos him. “Go away,” she hisses, even though Kiara isn’t home and her parents wouldn’t care that Rafe dropped her off—hell, her mom would be thrilled, honestly.

Even from this distance, she can just picture Rafe’s arrogant smirk as he lifts a hand in a two fingered salute before revving the engine of his bike, and Isla clenches her jaw as he speeds off, the roar echoing down the block. Exhaling sharply, Isla shakes her head and walks into her house, shutting the door behind her just as she hears footsteps approaching her.

“Where have you been?” her mom asks, not demanding but more concerned.

Isla smiles sheepishly as she faces her mother. “Yeah, about that. . .”

[petrssecrethideout]

"Bro, do you wanna hear about something crazy?"

"I mean sure, go ahead,"

"Alright, so I was just relaxing, scrolling TikTok,"

"Already a bad idea."

"I know, I got beef with that fuckin' algorithm let me tell you. I follow a couple of bodybuilders, post a couple of gym vids and suddenly my For you page is filled with the biggest assholes alive. Anyway, I'm scrolling, and I see this guy, he's doing that whole 'alpha top dog' thing even though he's not that big."

"Okay wait pause, how big is not that big?"

"I don't know, I have more muscle in my arms than he has in his whole body, real gym influencer type."

"Alright, for anyone listening to the pod at home, I should probably just say that this guy could be anywhere from 150-300 pounds from Dale's description of him, okay? He's not good at judging what normal guys look like anymore."

"Yeah, okay, you got me. Anyway, this guy keeps going on about his great advice, so I stick around to hear it. You wanna know what he said? 'Stop Cumming, its killing your natural testosterone' What kind of bullshit is that!?"

"I mean that is a big part of the current fitness world, these guys will say anything to get more followers, and a lot of their followers are so desperate for progress that they'll take whatever advice they're given."

"It's a shame, because he's also wrong! I tried that whole 'No Nut Whatever' and its been the only time in these last 5 years that I've plateaued."

"... Really?"

"Yeah! If I'm not cranking a load out every day I can kiss any potential gains goodbye."

"Wait,"

"Like after my workouts, when I got a huge pump going, I just have to crank one out, like what good workout would it be if I didn't"

"Dale c'mon,"

"And its not like I can just hit up a guy on Grindr and go to town every time I need to, there aren't enough guys on Grindr for that."

"Uggggh dude, we are never getting a sponsor with you talking like this."

"What, so all the straight alpha dudebros can talk about semen retnetion and get a ton of followers, but I get censored for talking about jacking off and getting tons of ass?"

"Yeah, we will."

"Well then, listeners, go subscribe to the patreon so that I can talk about my actual tips for growing, and so that you can help Mark get bigger. I'm telling you, I'm gonna make this boy huge with your help. Audio listeners make sure to check the videos so you can see this boy get huge. Now bro, help me out here. You don't want those Tiktok gymfluencers to win do you? How often are you jerkin off?"

"Oh god I can't believe I'm answering this... A couple of times a week maybe?"

"A week? That's fucking crazy. My average is like 4-5 times a day. More if I'm really feeling horny. If I'm being honest I jerked off a few weeks ago on the pod, like I forgot to before I came here. One of the comments mentioned something about my grunting that episode."

"Jesus christ dude, how do you even manage that?"

"Well, you gotta work up to it. I couldn't do that starting out, but once I started growing I was so horny I had to do something about it. I think that's what these guys don't get. You gotta get those balls working, give them a reason to keep making that sweet testosterone. How are you supposed to do that if you aren't jacking it? Honestly dude, I feel like I gotta prove these guys wrong now."

"What, you're gonna be a cum warrior?"

"Hell yeah man, I'm gonna be fighting the war on jerking it, on the side of jerking it!"

[starks-hero]

Iris

Pairing: Crowley x human!Reader

Summary: “When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.” Or, Crowley finally decides to tell you, his human lover, that he is a demon. He's justifiably terrified.

Word Count: 2.0k

Warnings: hurt/comfort

a/n: shout out to the wonderful anon that chucked me headfirst back into my good omens' obsession. anyway, I'm not saying you should listen to Iris whilst reading this but–

Crowley loved your eyes.

Well, he loved the entirety of you. But there was just something about their alluring shade, the way they watched him so intently and with softness he couldn't recall last being regarded with. Their divinity reflected that of the cosmos themselves. Crowley should know, he built them.

He never really understood the whole ‘eyes are the window to the soul’ line before you. From Crowley's, albeit limited understanding, souls didn't have windows, and even if they did, it wouldn't be a very good indicator of one's character. Even the bleakest of days look more promising from behind the safety of a window.

You were the one to change that perception, to take it in gentle hands and mould it into something softer, more sentimental. You proved to him that maybe there was some truth to the verses he'd heard poets recite again and again over the millennia. When with you, Crowley could feel the unconditional kindness beaming from you like rays from the sun, a readiness and willingness to be good that made him fall for humanity all over again.

And yet despite everything your eyes inspired in him, you were yet to see his own. And for good reason. Crowley still didn't understand what miracle, (or lack thereof) had transpired for you to be with him, but he did know that he wasn't about to put it at risk. You were his anti-thesis; made up of all things good and loveable. The thought of how quickly you'd leave the moment you saw his eyes and all they stood for was one that plagued him daily. But on the other side of the coin, Crowley couldn't disregard the fact that you deserved to know. You deserved the truth. You deserved so much more...

It was time for the bell to toll.

And so, Crowley followed his usual routine of picking you up after your shift, only this time the music was cranked up double what it usually would be (already deafening) in an attempt to drown out his frantic overthinking. The windows shuddered with each guitar solo and Crowley was sunk so far down in his seat his foot was pressed uncomfortably against the gas pedal. If it weren't for the fact that the Bentley was somewhat sentient, he probably would have swerved off the road a mile or two back.

The moment he set foot in your home an uncomfortable burning sensation shot up his spine. He cursed whoever had blessed your house before realising that said uncomfortable feeling was in fact a combination of both his nerves as well as the conscious he forgot he had.

The drive back to the flat was tortuous, for Crowley at least. Your hand was on his thigh as he drove, drawing circles into the fabric. The ever-alluring sound of Freddie Mercury's voice droned on in the background as Crowley rehearsed what he wanted to say, swapping out words and rephrasing sentences before restarting altogether. The closer he got to home the more hopeless he began to feel and by the time he was holding the flat door open for you Crowley fought the urge to find the nearest cave, catacomb or other undisturbed dwelling to take a century-long nap in. He just wanted to wait this whole thing out.

The reminder that you wouldn't be here in a century served as an adequate kick in the arse as he closed the door behind him. 

His shoulders were slumped and his steps slow as he moved through the apartment's halls in all their bleakness. The only room in the entirety of the flat that had any real colour was his conservatory, filled to the brim with succulents and tropical plants. The moment he entered said room he was met with the sight of green leaves and an earthy scent heavy in the air. It was an impressive sight, really; plants that stretched feet off the ground, leaves proudly pointed skyward, (although given Crowley’s presence it is far more likely this display was out of fear.) Ivy vines had begun to climb up the walls, something Crowley had intended to deal with before deciding he was rather fond of how they contrasted the greyness of the polished stone they clung too. 

Among it all, in the very centre of the botanical display, the plant you'd gifted him proudly sat. A purple Iris, its petals bright and its leaves healthy and succulent. Its scent was sweeter than that of the other plants and the flower, despite its size, did not seem intimidated by the impressive foliage that surrounded it. 

Crowley’s fingers delicately ghosted over the leaves. the sentimental side of him liked to believe that the flower’s flourishing beauty was because it had been gifted to him by you. Something about everything growing better with love. The more reasonable part of him acknowledged that it was due to the fact the plant had been placed nearest to the window as well as being the first watered each morning and night. The battle between his sentiment and rationality was nullified by the fact that you were also the reason the plant received such treatment, favouritism having quickly steered his hand.

You just had that habit about you; inspiring beauty whether you meant to or not. 

As Crowley studied the flower that in so many ways reminded him of you, he imagined the leaves becoming dry and shrivelled, of the royal purple petals withering beneath his touch. He pulled his hand away.

He found you reclined along the couch, one arm covering your face whilst the other hung weightlessly off the side of the furniture. Your dramatic pose was reminiscent of some tragic renaissance painting and the sight was one that inspired such fondness Crowley didn't even mention how you had your feet up on the fine velvet.

“Tired, love?” He asked instead.

“You have no idea. Today was an utter nightmare.”

Even whilst talking about the most mundane of things your voice was siren-like, resonant with divinity. Crowley could listen to you for hours, for the rest of his life. Until his immortal heart stopped and the earth beneath him turned to ash.

“I feel better now that I'm here with you.”

The words sent a dagger into his side, the following guilt twisting it in place. He moved to join you on the sofa and with a gentle tap to your ankle, he watched you move your feet before taking a seat beside you.

Your eyes were on him, he could feel it. The tension in his body and the seriousness of his expression was not something you were used to. He spoke before you could voice your concern.

“There's something I want–” He swallowed. “Something I need to tell you.”

“Okay.” Your breathy laugh that encompassed the word was an admirable attempt to hide your nerves but Crowley knew you better. “What is it?”

Silence followed.

Crowley opened and closed his mouth a few times, no words passing from his lips despite how hard he tried to voice them. There was a building pressure in his temples and he felt like his forked tongue was tied in a knot.

“Crowley.” Your hand travelled across the plane of his thigh and grabbed his own. It was a comforting touch yet he fought the urge to pull away. “What is it? You're scaring me.”

Another twist of the dagger.

“I– I just, it's that...” Crowley made a noise that fell somewhere between a groan and a whine. “I... I'm–” foreswearing words altogether, he reached for his glasses. With shaking hands, he pulled them away. “I'm not... good.”

He couldn't bring himself to look at you, to see the horror and fear in your eyes. “I'm quite the opposite actually.”

He felt your hand leave his own, the skin you'd once touched feeling bare. His chest hurt, his eyes stung and when he finally turned to you your fear and disbelief sent another sharpened blade through his chest.

“What–” The word fell quietly, the beginning of a sentence you'd never finish. Crowley took the liberty of answering regardless.

“Demon, unholy horror, the reason children are afraid of the dark.”

When you said nothing, he continued.

“I wanted to tell you. I should have told you. I never meant for this to go so far. I tried to stop it so many times but then you'd say or do something and I– just never wanted it to end. And I know that's selfish but–” Crowley motioned to his eyes. “That's what I am. Selfish, unforgivable– a bad omen.”

As his words set in you remained unmoving. Your eyes hadn't left his, not since he'd pulled off his glasses and laid everything bare.

“Love...” There was another stretch of silence and Crowley felt like he was drowning; like he was back at Mesopotamia with wind and rain at his back and a wave so large it blended with the sky fast approaching on the horizon. “Please, say something.”

You said nothing.

Rather, you raised your hand against his cheek, thumb timidly tracing beneath his eye, as if to ensure it was real.

Crowley flinched.

“This is what you've been hiding from me? All this time.” You asked. “And here I thought you just really didn't like the sun.”

Crowley blinked a few times, lips falling in a frown. He backed away from your touch.

“Crowley...”

“You've just found out that I'm evil incarnate and you're making jokes.”

“What would you prefer I do?”

“I'm a demon.” Crowley ensured to emphasise the word. “I'd prefer you did what anyone else would do.”

‘Leave.’ This part was silent. ‘For your own sake.’

You didn't waver. Your hand fell back against his shoulder, testing the waters and when he didn't pull away you continued.

“From my understanding, demons are supposed to be cruel, unlovable. So if you're a demon,” your hand ventured to his neck, Crowley's eyes falling shut despite himself as you traced his jaw. “Then no offence love but you're not a very good one.”

Crowley couldn't quite place the feeling that took hold of him at your words, but it left him feeling both hollowed and relieved. His eyes stung again, but this time he was smiling.

“You're being far too conversational about this.” His fingers encircled your wrist, he could feel the steady beat of your pulse beneath his thumb. “This really doesn't bother you..?”

You shook your head. “And even if it did, I'm in too deep now to get hung up on something like that.”

Crowley tried to think rationally but instead, he thought of the beauty of the cosmos, of dark purple petals and perfumed air. Of your eyes and their warmth and this time the idea of a withering flower didn't even cross his mind.

“You're sure about this, falling in love with a demon. Dangerous business, that.”

“I'll take my chances,” you mused. “Besides, being without you is the only real hell I can imagine.”

Crowley chortled, boyish and pure, a noise that certainly should not have come from a demon. "Aziraphale been loaning you his books, has he?"

“No, but I am trying to cheer you up." You gently nudged his side. “Is it working?”

Crowley's reaction told you it was. His eyes in all their vibrant brilliance shone so bright you felt you were staring at the sun. When he reached for his glasses, your hand worked on its own accord to stop him.

“Leave them off, please? I want to see you." Your words were cleansing and for the first time in an eternity, he felt worthy. Worthy of adoration, of love, of you.

Crowley kissed you, and you did not wilt.

tag list: @bakerstreethound @miraclesoflove @doozywoozy @mywellspringoflife

[starg1rlie]

𐋃 return address : what kind of a student are they? [masterlist]

𐋃 sent from : various

𐋃 addressed to : @angryhope, @ajaxstar, @kiryoutann, @messyserver, @mobiussdarling, @samarill, @dinolvrrr, @xxfrostiee, @ehddsnys, @maaarshieee, @cesarsbeloved, @scaralvr, @nejibot, @dazaiscum, @shinobuko, @iiyumii. [if your user is in bold, that means i can't tag you properly. please message me, or send in an ask w/your user, or if you'd like to be removed from the taglist. to myst and cesar; my apologies if you did not want to be tagged ;-; link to taglist form ]

𐋃 post script : fluff and lil' bit of crack, i put characters in multiple parts, because i can see them as being both of them, gender-neutral reader, modern high-school! au (non-genshinverse), use of "childe's" real name (ajax), use of scaramouche's real name (kunikuzushi), alcohol mentions, anddd that's about it <3

always turns in his assignments late, doesn't give a shit

━━ arataki itto, tartaglia, and dottore

why should he care about some stupid assignment? he has better things to do, like talk to his friends, hang out with you, eat some good food, and just relax with his feet up on the couch. he does what, about half the work before he just tosses it into his backpack to turn in when he remembers (which probably wouldn't happen if the teacher didn't phone his parents). he just, doesn't care. if it's late, it's late, what does it matter to him?

finishes the whole damn thing the day before it's due

━━ arataki itto, bennett, razor, kaveh, pantalone, and thoma

he didn't necessarily forgot the assignment, he just, didn't have any time to do it earlier. in other words, he procastinated or got distracted by something else. typical of him, wasn't it? even though you'd sent him multiple text reminders, and even left a sticky post-it note on his textbook, he still managed to forget about it. he had to pull an all-nighter the day before the assignment was due just to finish it, and promptly fell asleep right after the teacher collected all of their submissions.

assignment? what assignment? legit forgot there was something due today lmfao-

━━ razor, bennett, tartaglia, kaveh, scaramouche, kazuha, and gorou

wait what? there's an assignment due today? he had no idea; the very thought seemed to have slipped his mind. frantically, he looked through his planner, just to double check if the date was right. he promptly let out a groan, seeing the big red circle that marked the due date for this assignment. better get cracking... hopefully you'd be kind enough to offer a bit of assistance to him, even if it meant having to hear a lecture.

diligently finishes all of his work before it's even due

━━ xiao, scaramouche, tighnari, al-haitham, albedo, ayato, xingqiu, baizhu, and zhongli

it felt good to have finished all of the work so early. now he didn't have to worry about the deadline, which...was about a week from now. the teacher had barely assigned it to the students yesterday, and he was already finished. it made his chest swell with a bit of pride. of course, he'd get the highest grade on the assignment than anyone. and then he'd get to show his grade off to you, which you'd probably be proud off and give him a kiss as a reward. ah yes, the reward. perhaps that was why he managed to finish the assignment in such a short amount of time.

is the class clown / party-goer, so he doesn't have time to do homework

━━ venti and heizou

there's nothing quite like karaoke night and a good ol' can of beer. so what if he's still a minor; so many other kids have started drinking at even younger ages, and no one's stopping them. guzzling down a fresh new can of beer, he stuffed a hand through his backpack to look for his phone, instead, pulling out a sheet of paper that stated an assignment was due by the end of the week. shrugging, he shoved it right back in there and pulled out his phone, cranking the music's volume louder. if anything happened, well, he could just phone you and drop the assignment on you to do for him; he had much more important and better things to do, and it wasn't like he had any time, right? these beer cans weren't going to drink themselves, now were they?

starts fights

━━ arataki itto, tartaglia, kaeya, and cyno

the words "fight, fight, fight!" were chanted like a mantra as he quickly dodged a blow that would have most definitely dislocated his jaw if he hadn't ducked. wiping a trail of sweat from the side of his forehead, he jumped back at the person who dared start shit with him, raising a fist, and promptly punching them in the face. he held his fists up in victory, grinning like a complete idiot while everyone else just cheers and drags the downed fighter away. of course, the lecture that he gets from you is totally worth it in his opinion, even as you yank him by his ear all the way to the nurse's office.

ends fights

━━ diluc, tighnari, albedo, and zhongli

this was the third time this week that his friend had started another fight. as exciting as some may find it, it was also quite the hindrance. he shooed all the speculators away, helping up his friend from the ground and lead him away to get his wounds fixed up. after that, said friend gets an earful from him, which ends up going in through one ear, and out the other...but he does have you to back him up; fighting and violence are never an option, especially in an environment such as this. doing such a feat was asking for unwanted attention from the school principal. wait, did he just recite that all from memory? huh, perhaps you were starting to rub off on him.

cheers on the fighters / speculates

━━ xingqiu, scaramouche, ayato, dottore, al-haitham, and heizou

nothing quite as thrilling as a class fight, now was there? he clapped his hands together in amusement, eyeing the two battling students, who were clearly trying to flaunt for the crowd to see. if he had to compare them to an animal, he'd probably do so with a peacock; they're as proud as they were arrogant. he winced slightly as one of them took a hard hit, landing on the ground in a defeated heap as the victor shouted triumphantly. time for another class, he thought before walking down the opposite end of the hallway. he'd provide a whole play-by-play for you, in case you missed it or were preoccupied with something else at that time. the way he narrates the whole thing sounds as if he were wishing he'd been the one who won the fight.

asks you to do the assignment for them

━━ heizou, arataki itto, tartaglia, kaeya, and venti

"pleaseeeeeee, i promise this is the last time i'll ask you for a favor." you could practically hear how desperate he was through the other side of the phone. letting out a heavy sigh, you agreed. "fine, but you better buy me a caramal frappe tomorrow before school starts or i'll shred your assignment!" he was quick to agree, promising to get you two caramel frappes, if that insured that you wouldn't ruin his precious assignment. turns out, blackmailing is actually more useful than you thought it would be.

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 16

Hello, darlings! I wanted to get this to you before I got too busy and forgot. My birthday is on Monday and I'm having a party on Saturday that I'm preparing for today, tomorrow, and most the day Saturday. I hope to get something out during that time, but I might not be able to get it up until Sunday.

Also I found out I was accidentally tagging @chaoticlovingdreamer twice! I don't think it did anything, but it was funny it took me this long to catch on!

Speaking of tagging, it used to be easy to tag from a copied list, just click on name, select drop down, move on to the next. But for some stupid reason I can't anymore and have to delete the last character in their username to get it to pop up. Is anyone else having this problem or is it just my life deciding to make it more difficult again?

Today for your enjoyment: communication, drunk Robin, and soulmate bonding!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

***

Eddie crowed inside when Steve blushed at his comment. “And for record, sweetheart, I could see us tangled in your sheets. Not just the hot sex but everything before and after. All I’m asking is to take it slow.”

Steve gulped. “I’ll go at whatever speed you need, Eds. Honest. You set the pace.” He gave Eddie’s hand a squeeze. “And if you change your mind tomorrow, I’m down for that, too. If you decide we’re better as friends, I’ll be your best friend, okay?”

Eddie smiled. “I think Jeff and Robin might take offense to that.”

Steve laughed. “Nah, nah, Robin is my platonic soulmate, that’s separate from best friend.”

Eddie grinned. “I guess Jeff is more like family then a best friend. All the guys are.”

“There you have it,” Steve said smiling at him, merriment sparkling in his eyes.

They walked hand in hand all the way the way to the Rainbow High Club. They were forced to let go to flash their IDs, but they stayed close to each other, blushing and smiling at each other every time they caught the other’s eyes.

Chrissy’s eyes lit up. “How have I never heard of this place?” she asked, trying to take in as much of the sights as she could all at once. “It’s amazing.”

“Who’re the DDs tonight?” Robin asked, gleefully rubbing her hands together.

Steve, Gareth and Mandy all raise their hands. Eddie pouted.

“Stevie, you’re not drinking tonight?” he whined.

Steve laughed. “I’m working on your tattoo tomorrow, sunshine. I am not working on you hung over.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

*

Now that Eddie and Steve knew where they stood with each other, that last barrier of tension vanished between them. They were laughing more freely. Touching more readily. Just having a blast knowing the potential for more was there waiting for them when they were willing to take that step.

Steve knew where the line in the sand was now and cranked up the charm to eleven. Just being a gentleman.

Eddie ate up the attention like a sunflower in summer following the sun. He felt that last bit of worry just clatter to floor like a chain coming off of a worn gate after so many years being locked away.

Jeff and Mandy ate it up on the dance floor, pulling Gareth with them as they got the shyer man to come out of his shell a little bit.

Brian even managed to get the DJ to play a little metal. Steve sipped on a Coke and laughed as he watched his friends get silly on the dance. He had barely finished his drink when Robin grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor.

He cussed her out but she just kissed his cheek and told him to move his hips for fuck’s sake.

His dancing was terrible, but he let himself join the crowd and sway to the beat.

Eddie said in his ear, “You know in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ being a bad dancer meant you were bad at sex.”

Steve snorted. “Seriously?”

Eddie nodded. “So you know I’ve got to ask...”

“No, trust me when I say I tango better in bed than out of it,” Steve said with a giggle.

“You got receipts for that, big boy?” Eddie asked, dropping his voice low, startling a gasp out of Steve.

His giggle turned into a full on laugh. “You want a list of my very satisfied exes?”

“And their phone number,” Eddie teased back. “If you’re going to win me over Casanova, I’m gonna need references.”

“I think I can handle that,” Steve said in total seriousness.

Eddie pushed him away, a laugh stuttering out of him. “Get off, you menace. Jeez!”

Steve backed up, giving him the space. “You started it.”

“Sorry I forgot you were Mr Charm Everyone’s Panties Off in high school,” Eddie said rolling his eyes.

Steve chuckled. “I’ve still got it, I just don’t date much because I have to run a shop.”

Eddie leaned back in. “And honey, I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve grinned.

*

At the bar a blond man with legs for days and a cocky grin leaned against the edge of the bartop with his elbows. Ink peaked out of the black tank top he was wearing and he had piercings in both ears and a snakebite piercing on his lower lip. He lowered his sunglasses as he watched Eddie and Steve on the dance floor. His bright blue eyes glittered with malice, the grin never leaving his face.

*

Steve got a giggling Robin up the stairs to their apartment and into her bed. He pulled off her jacket and shoes and rolled her under the covers. She made grabby hands at him when he stood back up.

“I’m going to get ready for bed and I’ll be right back,” he told her.

She pouted, but let him go.

Steve made a mad dash to his room, where he threw on his pajama pants and a faded band tee and rushed back to Robin’s room.

“Where you go?” she asked with a frown.

He shook his head and climbed into bed with her. She immediately latched to him like some kind of possessive sea creature. Like a an octopus or a barnacle.

“Why did you surround me with pretty girls?” she wailed. “All the pretty girls all at once.”

Steve snorted. Mandy and Chrissy were not ‘all’ by anyone’s stretch of the imagination.

“Mandy has a boyfriend,” he gently reminded her.

“Did you know she did ballet?” Robin whisper-yelled. “That’s why she has such long legs and great tits.”

“Yes, I was there when she told us,” Steve soothed.

“And Chrissy was athletic, too!” Robin continued. “Cheerleading is scary hot.”

Steve huffed out a small laugh. “What does that even mean?”

“The...” she made a weird motion with her hands, “and the woo...” she threw her arms in the air, “and the ‘yay!’ That’s scary.”

He rolled his eyes. “The tumbling?”

Robin hit his arm over and over. “That, that! Yes. And the hot is the uniform. Have you seen the uniform?” she growled.

Steve laughed. “I was in basketball, yes. You know one of the two sports that has cheerleaders?”

“The skirt is itty-bitty,” she slurred, putting her hands together as close as they would go without touching. “And no sleeves! Bare midriffs too. And and the cute little socks!”

“Can’t forget the cute little socks,” he agreed.

She slapped his arm again, this time harder. “And don’t you dare try to change the subject. I see you.” She pointed at her eyes and then at him, nearly poking his eye out.

“I didn’t change anything,” he muttered, “you started talking and haven’t stopped.”

“I saw you run the bathroom after the concert, gig, thingy...” she frowned. “What is it called the every day one not the tour-y one?”

“Gig,” Steve said gently.

Robin slapped his arm again. “Don’t change the subject!” she hissed. “You got hella horny watching your boy sing!” She threw out her arms and did hit him in the face that time.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I will be better prepared next time we go.”

“You have the hots for Eddie,” she said leaning in close.

But before Steve could answer, Robin was out cold. Her low tolerance for alcohol knocking her out at last. He carefully untangled himself from her embrace knowing that her drunken snoring would be like a buzzsaw in his ear if he slept in her room.

He pulled his shirt off and slipped into his own covers a smile on his face.

*

The next morning he had coffee and the greasiest breakfast sandwich he could find ready for his platonic soulmate when she staggered out of bed and into the kitchen. He handed her a small glass of water and painkillers, which she took under his watchful eye.

“I feel like I should hate for this,” she muttered into her steaming styrofoam cup.

Steve grinned, knowing full well that if laughed, she would straight on murder him and he really didn’t want to go yet.

“Also, don’t think you dodged the talk about you rushing to the bathroom after the show,” she grumped. “Because that was a bit pervy even for you.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he chowed down on his own less greasy sandwich. “I was totally unprepared for how hot he was that close up,” he snarked.

Robin raised an eyebrow. “He did seem particularly out to get you with that little number he was wearing last night.”

“Seriously,” he agreed. “But I’ll know better next time, plan ahead, sit behind the table.”

She giggled.

He propped his head on his hands, elbows planted on their counter. “But enough about that. I want to talk about two lovely blondes making goo-goo eyes at each other all night.”

She pushed his arm causing him to almost smack his face into the counter as he lost the support.

“Shut up,” Robin hissed. “She did not make goo-goo eyes at me all night. I would have noticed.”

Steve laughed. “I noticed you didn’t deny making goo-goo eyes at her.”

She blushed, and took a sip of her coffee to hide her embarrassment. “She’s so pretty and smart and how I am suppose to win her over when she so far out of my league.”

Steve came over and grabbed both of her cheeks in his hands. “Robin Eloise Buckley you are just as beautiful and smart and talented as she is. Just in a different way. I know right now you’re feeling morose because you have a hangover. So trust me in this moment, you are every bit as awesome as she is and if she doesn’t see that then we say?”

“Fuck that?” she whispered.

“I don’t think I heard you,” he said cocking the side of his head so he could tilt his right ear her direction.

“Fuck that,” Robin said with more conviction.

“There you go,” he said and gave her a fierce kiss on the forehead. “Now what I want you to do while I’m gone is watch the ‘Pride & Prejudice’ mini-series with that tub of Ben & Jerry’s I know you’ve been saving and when I’m done I’ll grab Chinese from that favorite shop on the corner, okay?”

She set the coffee down and gave him a fierce hug. “You’re the best soulmate a girl could ask for.”

Steve squeezed her back. “Hard same.”

She laughed. “You are such a dork.”

“Yes, but I’m your dork.”

***

Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1@a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat

[static-fucking-mess]

"Billy—"

A dull buzzing thrummed through Billy's head as he pushed his palms into his eyes. The explosion of color there brought on by the pressure could almost be grounding, but it felt like the whole room was spinning. His ears rang, and his stomach felt cold. Was he shaking?

"Billy—"

The voice came to him like a dull roar from above water. God it felt like he was drowning. The pressure closing in on his ribs made each breath like labor pain. He was going to be sick, God he was sure of it. Was he crying?

Billy nearly jumped out of his skin when impossibly gentle hands grazed the outsides of his arms. Wide eyed and alarmed, Billy flinched into himself with his hands balled into fists, like he was getting ready to defend against a strike. A cornered animal with fangs ready to bite.

All at once that voice from above water came crashing in on him like a soothing balm. Eddie's dark eyes filled with so much love Billy almost feared he would overflow from it. He had to close his eyes again. It felt like salt in a raw wound to be treated so softly when all Billy felt like he was made of violence and razor wire.

"There he is; hey sweetheart. You had a nightmare," Eddie whispered to him. Billy registered that he was in fact crying, as Eddie's calloused thumbs were brushing the tears off his cheeks. Billy clenched his jaw until it creaked, trying not to fall to pieces. But how could he not when his boyfriend's arms encircled him and cared for each little piece like it was precious?

"I know," Eddie soothed, his palm spreading between Billy's shoulders, rubbing down his back and up again in large, soothing circles. "Which one?" He asked with gentle concern.

"S... seeing them m... melt away. The cold... the..." the sauna dream... where the walls of melted faces would echo back to him the things that vecna had told him. The helpless feeling of screaming for anyone to believe him. Believe him. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't. That monster made him, he didn't WANT to hurt people.

"It's 2:16 am, we're in our apartment in Chicago. It's Saturday morning. We had— do you remember what we had for dinner? I totally forgot," there was a gentle humor in Eddie's voice. "Remind me, sweetheart."

Billy wrinkled his nose and stopped to think about what a bizarre question that was, his stuttering breaths coming just a little easier as he thought back to earlier in the evening when Eddie had the radio cranked, singing along to My Sharona in weird ass voices, just to make Billy laugh. He'd made—

"Macaroni and cheese. Right from scratch... with hotdogs in it."

His favorite.

"With lactose free milk and cheese," Billy added quietly. Because those things mattered to Eddie. Billy's preferences and health. The things that would make him sick.

"You said I added too much pepper," Eddie teased, pressing sweet kisses to his cheek, his temple, the top of his head. Each one felt like a tiny 'I love you'.

"You did," Billy grouched, fingers twisting and untwisting in the ends of Eddie's curly hair. "See...? Gave me nightmares," he accused, allowing himself that small edge of humor.

Eddie laughed, but covered his heart with his hand as he pulled back to look at Billy, his whole expression lit with affection. Like he was searching for all the little broken parts of Billy to piece back together and love.

"Well you have my sincerest apologies, Sir Hargrove. Next time I will pluck each pepper from thy noodles until it is unto your standard," he snickered, and stole a tender kiss off Billy's reluctant smile.

"You better, Munson. And I expect the hot dogs more plentiful next time too."

"Of course, of course," Eddie smiled, rocking them both back and forth until Billy was laughing in his arms.

"I love you," Billy blurted, before he realized he'd said it. And then it was out there, and he tensed for the blow to come. The one that would wrench all that comfort away. He waited for Eddie to react more profoundly than he did.

"I love you too."

Like it was as easy as breathing. Because to Eddie, it was. Billy Hargrove was easy to love. Every jagged piece of him. And more than any conversation about grief, or dinner, or comfort Eddie could spin, those three words did more to comfort away the remnants of the nightmare than anything else. Because someone who didn't love you wouldn't see him the way Eddie did. Eddie loved like it was in short supply and he had an unlimited amount to give. Every gentle touch and action spoke to it. Especially when he squeezed Billy right to him to try and sink those words into his bones.

"I love you too."

[hwapetals]

distractions

pairing - boyfriend!seonghwa x gn!reader genre - fluff summary - your boyfriend is tutoring you but you can't seem to concentrate on your work. author's note - i forgot everything about biology so i had to refer back to my notes <3 seonghwa is the same age as the mc, they do the same major but he's a year ahead due to mc's gap year. word count - 854 words

after taking a gap year off from university to enjoy life for once, you definitely forgot about everything you had learnt prior in your major, and seonghwa being the best boyfriend ever, graciously agreed to tutor and catch you up so that you wouldn't struggle when you got back to class.

as much as you wanted to pay attention to what actually mattered, it was not an easy task. you had your elbow on the glass coffee table, cheek cradled in your hand.

god, your boyfriend just looked so irresistible. seonghwa's long hair was parted, one side tucked behind his ear as he bit the back of a pen, eyes carefully scrutinizing your notes. he had a pair of circle glasses on, perched on the bridge of his nose.

instead of staring at your notes with him, you ended up just staring at him intently, your mind racing with thoughts about how lucky you were to have him. before long, you had zoned out as he read out your notes after fixing any minor errors.

"so, slow acting neurotransmitters last longer because....?" seonghwa spoke up, looking up at you before his eyebrows furrowed together, realizing that you definitely were not paying attention to his words. he leaned in close, blowing at your face to get your attention. "were you listening?"

seonghwa's attempt to divert your attention back to you worked, from how you shook your head an obvious sign. your body tensed up for a moment, your hands also starting to sweat from embarrassment.

"yeah, totally," you lied, with an awkward smile, wiping your hands off onto your clothing. you reached your hand out to place it onto his thigh before you awkwardly laughed. "okay, maybe not. explain it to me again?"

seonghwa didn't move but he cracked a smile, after sighing. he reached out to pinch your cheek teasingly as you scooted closer to him, the scraping of the chair's legs against the ground a little loud. "fine, i'll explain it again. don't tell me that you zoned out the entire time i was speaking to you."

he tried to feign annoyance, narrowing his eyes accusingly as he puffed his cheeks. you did feel a little bad... wasting his time like that but his damn reactions were so cute to you.

"i promise i didn't! only half of the time," you admitted guiltily, scratching your head. "but it's your fault! for looking like, this!"

you gestured to his entire physical being in a dramatic way. the gears cranked in his head for a moment to process what you meant, before he simply just laughed. who knew you were so easy to rile up?

"you got distracted because i look handsome?" seonghwa asked, thinking about ways to try to engage you more into the content, using himself. a little cunning, but number one, he loved praise and number two, he did genuinely care about your education and if this could help you concentrate, he was willing to use himself as a 'sacrifice'.

you nodded eagerly, feeling a bit of shame from how easily you admitted it. you squeezed his thigh gently, moving to grab his hand with a frown. "can you blame me? your face is a lot more interesting than psychoactive drugs."

"if you put it that way, not really," seonghwa joked, a small cocky smirk on his lips. "what about this? if you pay attention to the work, i'll, uh, stay over tonight and treat you. sounds good?"

"deal!" your response was almost instantaneous. you were one simple person, spending time with someone you loved as well as getting food sounded like the best thing ever. "i'll hold you to your word."

"wooow, you think i would trick you? never," seonghwa gasped in a theatrical way, pulling you in closer by the shoulder before kissing your temple.

"i didn't say that!" you retorted, melting into his touch as you snuggled up to him. your eyes turned to look up at him, turning away quickly out of shyness when you see how intently he was staring at you.

"i know! but seriously, we've got to start getting a bit more serious about this. i'll have to, i don't know, start writing up quizzes for you," seonghwa said sternly, patting your arm tenderly.

"well.. if you're gonna make me do tests, will i get a special reward in return for passing? like a steak dinner?" you questioned, mostly as sarcasm but you weren't really expecting him to say yes.

"why not? you deserve it for working hard, but only if you score over eighty percent. what? need to make sure you've got motivation," seonghwa suggested, but it was more like a thought-out plan of what he wanted to do.

you just sighed, almost like a disappointed reaction but you understood why and you appreciated it. and if it meant you got to spend a lot more time with seonghwa, you were sold.

"fine, let's start now! i’m gonna make sure to order all the expensive menu items once you treat me.”

“hey, you know that i’m also a not-very-rich college student too!!”

[ultra-raging-ghost]

I REACHED POST LIMIT SO HERES MY POST FROM 9:20 ONWARD

"Goodbye my three little ones, your father has to go"

"Im sorry chat, i guess ill just speak from the heart. the way i lost dapper and pomme i dont think i really.. had time to process, so losing him like this feels like losing all three of them at the same time"

Visiting bagis... poor zeno fucking died to a rooster LMAO i missed bagis place so fucking bad

searching for pepito.... where is my baby.... where is my little pepito, there pepito is

Bad doesnt really know what to do with himself, hes still sad but richas is like. Officially gone. Which is a crazy thing to process. I was having a hard time dealing with it but i think richas' final goodbye made me feel a lot better about it,it doesnt feel like theres a nail in the back of my brain now, im a little more content with this at least. Wont really be happy about it, but more content with it

We're gonna go leave a richas flower (blue orchid) at bagi's old base <3 just like how we left a cornflower at a place special to pomme.

hehehe agent 18/panks_ is in chat and theyre tormenting bad for fun

Offering pepito the opportunity to visit one last place, bad plans on coming back and visiting a couple final places sometime soon, not tonight but soon. Probably gonna end after pepito picks where to go

pepito cant think of anywhere, bads picking one more place to go

PEPITO TIME AT THE OFFICIAL DAPPER TIME SPOT??? LETS GOOOOO

Pepitos gonna be temporarily dapper while in the official dapper time spot <333

bads back, i got so comfortable in the old house that i forgot we have to leave. Just a wave of sadness washed over me, it feels like leaving home all over again, it feels like we should be able to walk into the old spawn from dappers train station and see pierre and pomme and etoiles again

pomme in chat... assuring bad she and dapper wont be leaving any time soon. Bad promises us he has some really fun stuff hes been working on he thinks we'll enjoy, this journey isnt over

while waiting for pepito we're reminiscing on when he had to triangulate the Dont have Your Gun thing that was playing that he couldnt find LMAO

currently visiting the old subway bad was building with dapper underground.... the new terrain generation generated a FULL end city RIGHT next to it!!!!

gonna visit bobby fields another day, thats another day issue, but dapper wanted to go see it with him lol

Bad found out Lullah and Richas were leaving yesterday, sounds like he didnt know chay was leaving till today

BOOOOOOOO BOOOOOO BOO IS HERE!!!! HELLO BOO!!!!!!

Pepitos playing around in the balloons Boo left <33

Bad: Yeah i remember when pomme and dapper came in one of these end cities and scared the muffins out of me Pomme: ?????? Pomme: bro you were dead Bad: I STILL REMEMBER.......

We're gonna go play Wordlos (or however you spell it) one last time before leaving the old spawn <3 gonna see if we can get it to work!!!

kinda works!!! Kinda!!! It mostly works!!!! gonna play!!!!!

"I am so proud of your spanish uncle bad!!! its a great advance to know how to explain something, its the most important thing"

We're looking at the paintings, this is it for the day. Richas logged off with bads statue painting so hes probably never gonna see that again LMAO "thats why we get screenshots"

Pepitos saying a little goodnight to the ghosties <33 pepitos gonna eat all of us up because we're so cute. "I see everything, too. EVERYTHIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGG". Pepitos telling us to rest, eat, and drink water, and do our favorite things. We deserve it, to remember not to be sad it ended but be happy it happened at all <3

Bads planning on streaming tomorrow, hes not 100% sure what we'll be doing but he isnt gonna let this crank his steam

Pepitos planning on getting on tomorrow! or whenever! pepito doesnt know when pepito gets on LMAO

Thats all for todays stream, ending at 10:15, goodnight bad, richas, pomme, and dapper <3