#I’m hoping he says they all taste bitter so it can be genetic and not him being picky

[ijustwannasleepyo]

One of my coworkers is an ex marine and looks like he’s seen shit because he HAS seen shit, can easily take out someone three times his size, and yet I learned he doesn’t eat vegetables -like at all-and I’m just floored.

[hatredcurse]

009720kakashi​ | Kakashi:

“Ah” he said with a nod.

“Shinobi kill for far less than that.” That much was clear. Kakashi watched Sasuke looking over the scroll.

“Anything else on there we missed?” he asked, looking at his former student. Though you actually could hardly call him that really.

“Well they are all officially more or less neutral or allied nations at this point ne?” 

Kakashi remembered the incident vividly. He had been 15 back then and already part of ANBU.

“Kumo seems too obvious. Though naturally we cannot exclude it either.”

They also were a pretty good scapegoat since they had tried it before. He took the scroll back and put it in his pocket.

“Not all nation’s ANBU are equally good. They are all good enough for that. If it’s ANBU that would also mean that the respective Kage send them. ANBU is after all under a Kage’s direct command if we do not have a Danzō situation in one of the other villages that is, which is definitely a possibility. I do not have verified information about that though. However all Kage’s are still fairly new ne? Longest in office is Kazekage and we do know he has issues internally at times.” Like all of them probably had.

“I’d definitely prefer a rogue group. There is something else. None of the kids were from the main branch. With their deaths the seal should activate and destroy the dōjutsu. As we know this is obviously not exactly the most reliable thing. Ao did have one after all and I doubt he got it from the main branch. Clans being Clans the Hyūga are pretty tight lipped about the exact functioning of that seal. I suspect as long as you rip it out of a living person you are good to go. So either it’s as easy as that or they also found a way around the seal or are still trying to find a way.”

The copy nin arched one eyebrow.

“My superiors? Now that’s a funny way of phrasing it. It aligns alright.”

The question was how to proceed. They could hardly send out one team after the other as decoy in the hopes of getting somewhere.

“So I assume you have not heard anything that might be in connection with this?” He probably would have said so already if he had.

“Little trip to Ama then? We need to start somewhere ne?”

Hugging his forearms towards his middle, fending off the cold chill from the downpour, Sasuke took into consideration everything Kakashi counterpointed with. He nodded, his sights wandering around everything from the branch they’re standing on to the distant trees far from them.

“We would be fools to assume that every leader and their council are acting in good faith,” he remarked with a bitter, burnt taste in the back of his throat. Mentions of Danzo elicits a knee-jerk reaction; completely somatic and he was helpless against it. “The kages are all new, but that is not to say everyone who governs them is.”

“Were all the Hyuugas sent with you, seal-less? Either way, the Byakugan, like most doujutsu, are easy to implant. Side effects and attunement varies on genetic makeup, but I’m going to go on a whim that anyone with a level sense of control over their chakra can attain a level of mastery with it.” He was uninformed when it came to ritualistic practices with that clan. He only ever remember Neji with it, wasn’t sure if it was a priority with Hinata. For the rest of the clan, he was completely oblivious. “If they’re hunting for it, they ought to be more than proficient in such.”

The narrow of his eyes weren’t so obvious, given his downturn look upon his former sensei, but if he remembered him well enough, he would be keen on the expression,” no. If there were mentions of it, it would have been hushed whispers, behind closed doors, or spoken with code. Maybe if I dig far enough in my memory, I can be lucky enough to have stumbled across a mention of it.”

Eye-dealing was a serious business and if they were bold enough to attack shinobi, then Sasuke doubts there would have been open, careless communication about such things. At least within earshot of someone like him.

“Let us go before they draw closer to the village.”

Slipping off the branch, he dropped down to the road, planting himself into the ground before he started his path. 

“They didn’t have enough spares to assist you with this or did you miss me that much?” he asked, plain-toned, but full of jest either way.

[thememerman]

Can we just,.,.accept that both Crosshair and Hunter had their reasons for doing what they did?? And honestly neither of them really did anything wrong??

Hunter left Crosshair because he tried to kill them. He didn’t understand anything about the chip, he really thought Crosshair had just lost his mind. And as soon as he learned about it and how to fix it, we immediately jumped to episode 8 where Crosshair tried to incinerate them with a jet engine. He tried to communicate that the chip was affecting him, and Crosshair didn’t care. Hunter couldn’t even get himself or Omega out of that situation unharmed. He had no way to snag Crosshair from his squadron of stormtroopers out for murder. After Bracca, Hunter was focused on getting Omega back because she’s just a kid; she isn’t with the empire, she hasn’t been chasing them down and almost killing them. From Hunter’s POV, the possibility of getting Crosshair to come with them willingly or even at all is looking bleak and even though he knows it’s not Crosshair’s fault, he’s been so overwhelmed with trying to keep the people relying on him safe and right now he doesn’t think Crosshair is relying on him. And honestly, how were they even supposed to know where Crosshair was half the time? He wasn’t on Kamino 24/7 and the Batch isn’t exactly swimming in imperial informants. But that aside, of course he was thinking about Crosshair; Hunter is loyal to a fault and you can just see the emotional pain that flashes across his face whenever Crosshair is mentioned because that’s his little brother and he couldn’t save him and he feels like he failed. Hunter never was and I don’t think ever can be indifferent when it comes to the people he loves. Whether you like it or not, Hunter was trying his best to keep everyone safe and stop running suicide missions because the galaxy was changing and he was trying to change too. He did nothing wrong.

Now Crosshair.

To all of you calling him a Nazi and saying that the animators and writers intentionally lightened his skin just to make a racist show of dominance, stop it. He was referring to their genetic enhancements being superior. That’s it. He’s always hated regs because let’s be fair the regs were never exactly good to him either (AFTERMATH). Now let’s just take a look at how the chip works shall we!! We know from Rex and Wrecker that clones know what they’re doing while under control of the chip and they’re powerless to stop themselves. So we know in Aftermath that the chip was strengthened to an insane degree, and Crosshair could still see himself taking head shots on his brothers and trying to murder them and he couldn’t stop no matter how badly he wanted to. He was powerless. And then the Batch left; at this point he probably understands that his brothers had to go. They’d regroup. They’d know this wasn’t his fault and they’d come back.

Months pass. Crosshair doesn’t know about the solemn looks the Batch exchange when he’s mentioned. Crosshair doesn’t know that they can barely get food for themselves. Crosshair doesn’t know that Wrecker has flat out said he misses him. Crosshair doesn’t know how Tech said “it doesn’t appear he’ll be needing it” with a twinge of sadness in his voice while giving Omega his comm. Crosshair doesn’t know how much Hunter hates himself for leaving and that Hunter was always planning on going back to him someday because someday he’d have the perfect plan and he could save everyone this time. How could Crosshair know?

More time passes. Crosshair probably still has his chip on but he’s still in there, watching himself become more and more important to the Empire. No rescue attempts. Not one. How awful does he have to feel?? They went to get Echo out of Skako with no backup and they didn’t even know Echo and they can’t go back for him? And here’s the Empire, giving him power and some semblance of control. Things are changing fast and now he has nobody but himself to adjust with, and besides, he’s always had an egotistical side so maybe being a commander and putting the regs in their place isn’t so bad to him after all. He’s alone. He adapts or he dies, that’s the job and that’s all he has now.

Onto Bracca!! If Crosshair is telling the truth about getting his chip out, I firmly believe it had to have been after the events of Reunion. It wouldn’t make sense otherwise; “if I wanted you dead, you would be” sweetheart giving the order to have them incinerated and starting to walk away really seems like you wanted them dead and then going from ordering Omega to be executed to telling Hunter that if he cares about her he should let her go and be safe away from them??? You can’t tell me that Bracca!Crosshair wouldn’t have dragged Omega back into the training room and killed her right there just to keep them from choosing her over him. So let’s just assume for now that Crosshair wasn’t lied to and his chip is out (I’m still holding onto a scrap of hope to the contrary because A. there’s no scar B. HE’S STILL HOLDING HIS HEAD and C. my boy isn’t making any SENSE he just killed off a bunch of Imperial stormtroopers to convince the Batch to join his Empire that he cares so much about??) it had to have happened after Bracca I said what I said idc. If the chip is out, I’m sure his head is still an absolute foggy mess because lord only knows what cranking those chips up to full strength several times will do to you, but suddenly he’s realizing that he’s still angry with them. He’s still hurt. He’s still very much alone. Maybe they never cared about him at all.

And don’t get me started on any “if he did any of this willingly he is irredeemable” garbage. How many times did Kallus almost kill the Ghost crew?? I’m sorry, was it not Kallus who ordered the Lasat genocide?? Don’t take this the wrong way, I adore Kallus and his redemption arc was one of the most beautiful things about Rebels but the point is if he can do all of those horrible things for the Empire for years and is still allowed a redemption stemming from realizing everything he thought he was fighting for was a fiction, THEN SO IS CROSSHAIR. With that side note out of the way let’s think about how alone and betrayed Crosshair feels by the Batch and let’s realize that after they left Ryloth, after they left him again, what does he want?? He wants them. He doesn’t want to kill them, he doesn’t want them imprisoned and he doesn’t want to make them pay. He wants to fight side by side with them again, he wants his brothers back. And even though he’s so beyond hope that they still care about him, heck he literally said “don’t make the same mistake twice; don’t make me your enemy” he thinks they were enemies and he still cares about them so freaking much that he went through an entire elaborate scheme to get the whole Batch on Kamino and set up the stormtroopers’ deaths to prove his loyalty that they could have if they just gave him some of their loyalty too. “Loyalty means everything to the clones” is starting to get a really bitter taste innit??

The point of this longwinded rant my friends is to beg y’all to stop being so black and white about these two. They’re both human, they both have made mistakes and have regrets, they’re both trying their best to survive in a galaxy flipped upside down. Things played out how they had to and they’re both victims of the real villain of Star Wars, who has always been Palpatine. The fact that there is so much to unpack with these two characters shows how flipping amazing the writers are!! They’re so layered and complex it’s literally like they’re real!! So please. Stop hating on them so freaking loudly. They’re my boys and they both deserve a warm hug and a nap after the season they’ve had

[mmary-janee]

hello Mj💃🏽,ur dick cannons r soo good 10/10 u def deserve ur pussy ate for writing those😵‍💫💕 sanzu dickcannons pleaseee

𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ𝓈:thank you babe👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏽 I do in fact need my pussy ate,but let’s get this shit show going😮‍💨

𝒯𝒲:Mention of drugs because,Sanzu.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ * .♡

HORSE COCK SANZU SUPREMACY🛐🛐 okay okay let’s get this moving along…. Haru is 100%part of the pretty dick squad I take no criticism about that.I feel like both him and his brother are big so they def got the good genetics. But on a serious note now, he’s long, He’s 8.5inches normally and when he’s extremely turned on and on sum (💊)he’s 9inches, he’s also a sadist so RIP that pussyy Ayee.

Girth wise he’s average not to slim but not to overbearing at the same time. He is circumcised and his tip is rosy pink matching the exact shade as his hair. His cock is one shade lighter than his skin tone but reddens easily(he’s a slut for cock hickeys, give them to him). He isn’t actually much of a grower, when flaccid his cock sits at 6.3inches. It kinda bothers his sometimes because his cock is more visible than he’d like in certain outfits. Props to you for getting a view tho.

His balls are extremely sensitive,he is also a masochist so he’s into the whole torture thing and wouldn’t mind you making him cum with only stimulation to his balls, absolutely loves when you overstimulate him until he’s crying and begging you to let him cum while he’s tied up to you guys bed.

When hard he’s veiny, when he’s inside you can literally feel his cock pulsing inside of you like a second heartbeat, when he’s enveloped inside your tight velvety walls you can feel each vein and detail of his cock bullying your poor cunt.

He is curved a little upwards, you had better thank god because when you two are having sex his curve is angled perfectly to hit your g-spot, it’s like the missing piece of a puzzle.

His tip is leaky, very leaky. Due to his constant drug consumption the boys cum is NASTY ASL, it’s bitter and sour at the same time and this mf knows that his cum doesn’t taste the best but he makes you swallow it anyways🥲. When he does cum it’s slightly watery but thick at the same it has its own unique consistency. His favorite places to cum are either down your throat or on your ass.

Speaking of down your throat how could I have almost have forgotten, ZUZU HAS A PIERCED DICK😩🛐 and holy fuck does it feel good. When he teases your entrance rubbing his tip all over your wet folds and teasing your clit for about 10mins with his pierced tip and exactly when you begin to get needy and on the verge of loosing your shit he just says “don’t get to needy on me,any gentleman knocks before entering, didn’t you know that princess.” in a teasing voice.🛐 the piercing adds so much extra pleasure when he’s fucking you, you can feel him in your tummy while he’s hitting your sweet spot over and over again. Or when you can feel it down your throat while sucking the soul out of him.

His pubes are dyed pink, he trims regularly mainly because he doesn’t want his pubes getting in your mouth when you’re sucking him off and I don’t think you’d want that either

He is EXTREMELY open to trying new fun things in the bedroom with you,he can’t help the fact that he’s a kinky lil shit,but it’s okay because so are you. Two sluts just for each other ig.

(ONLY if you’re into it, you two would play a game where you take viagra pills and the person who abstains from anything sexual the longest wins and gets to punish the looser however they see fit)

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ * .♡

End note: I wrote most of this high off my ass and I’m pretty sure I wrote with with my pussy, so ignore any grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoyed reading babe<3

ℒℴ𝓋ℯ ℳ𝒶𝓇𝓎-𝒥𝒶𝓃ℯ🕊

[toiletwipes]

hoppípolla; part one

college!dream x afab reader but they pronouns

nervous college student you, smoked weed with dream one night and you couldn't ever forget it. starting a crush you knew would be the death of you. and at the moment, you had a terrible way of dealing with things. and things just kept happening, one thing after another.

a little author's note: i'm splitting it into parts because i like the attention and also because it feels right

2.37k words

----

he literally couldn't get any hotter.

you sit at a mini-bar, crossing your leg over the other, sipping at your sprite. there was he was, in all of his fucking glory, was dream. your classmate in your english course and the one person at this party who you knew, for an absolute fact, smoked weed. and although he wasn't smoking right now, the beer in his hand said that he probably wasn't going to be, tonight.

oh you knew, this was a college dorm party, and people tried all sorts of party drugs, and weed was the tip of the iceberg. no, you knew that.

but no one was also that hot.

well.

maybe they were but they just weren't dream, not a stoner, not someone who had damn good genetics, and someone who knew how to roll a joint perfectly. not to mention, his best friend sapnap? also your best friend.

he's the one who introduced you two, despite having shared english for the past year. and he's the one who brought you and dream to the party.

(yeah, you sat in the back, pulling at the cords of your hoodie, watching the sides of his face move with quiet notions, talking to sapnap as he drove and playing soft music to match the rain.)

thinking even more, you wanted to just get up and go outside, just the urge to smoke something and anything, something to fill your lungs as your mind numbs just even the tiniest bit.

you sigh, taking one more sip of your drink before leaving it at the mini-bar, slipping your hands into the pocket of your hoodie and sliding out a cigarette out of its carton. taking a step outside, you sigh in relief seeing the dry porch. several others sat in a circle, passing around a beer and two decent blunts. sometimes sharing a kiss, sometimes the smoke between their lips.

what you would give to do that with dream, you bemoaned silently, as you lit your own cigarette, inhaling the bitter nicotine as you enjoyed the patters of the rain.

wiping your hand down on a bench, and seeing as it wasn't as wet as you thought it would be, you take a seat and take another long drag.

"so, what did he say?"

a girl with a bright green mullet and the sides of her head dyed pink, and several piercings in an non-existent eyebrow, she stares at you expectantly. as if you had an answer.

"don't know. haven't really talked to him." you shrug, trying not to think about any of your past conversations with him. all dull, all about school, all about homework. there would be no reason for him to agree to anything dealing with you in any romantic sense. or sexually, if you even dared.

"you know what that means right?" you look at her with a pinched expression. "it means you start talking to him, then ask him to blow your back out, or whatever it is you want" you almost choke on the smoke coming out of you but you mostly laugh it off.

"yeah like he'd want to talk to me," you muse, finding the stranger oddly comforting as she came over to sit next to you.

"well you don't know that, do you?" you had to give her that. you didn't know. but it wouldn't take a genius to guess the right answer. "does he smoke?" she asks, turning to you and feeling like there's nothing really stopping you from becoming besties, you pass your cigarette to her.

"i know he smokes weed but nothing else as far as i'm aware." you lean forward onto your knees, pressing your chin into your palms. "but honestly, i don't know him that much to begin with, so like, what's the point?"

the mullet hands it back to you after a pondering puff, and when you take a drag, she answers. "well, the way i see it, you can ask him out or you hookup tonight, or try to move on if you're serious about him." she pats your knees, moving to stand as she stretched. "but really, i hope it goes well, and if you need anything," she flicks out a card and watches you take it with disregarding eyes, "give me a call." and without as so much another word, she's leaving in a Beetle with her circle of friends.

glancing at it, it's a card to the floral shop but with a name on it. pocketing it and then snuffing out the bud, you leave it dead on the porch, hoping to find sapnap and beg him to take you home.

you appreciated the nice girl for the conversation and maybe the start of a healthy friendship, but even just being with someone other than dream made your heart twist in your chest.

you didn't have time to search for your best friend as he clung to dream, who was dragging his ass close to the door, where you stood now.

and when you finally appeared in his vision, you see relief and a smile sink into his face. you don't know why but you push down a smile as he approaches you with long strides. but what happens next is downright hilarious.

"we have to go right now, sap just puked all over minx and she's this close to blowing this house up," his nose wrinkles with his smile, you notice, but you nod without much thought.

"need me to drive?" you offer, though, you hates nothing more than exactly that.

"please, i've had a few beers and i don't want to risk driving tipsy," he says and you want to just cry.

you nod as you hold your hand up for the keys, and upon them being dropped in the center, you swallow down the dryest, biggest lump in your throat.

hearing several honks behind you, you don't even move above the speed limit in the neighborhood, which was five. it was fucking raining and you happened to have the biggest crush in existence on the person sitting in the passenger seat.

"i know you're driving right now, but have you heard of this song?"

the first ten seconds are tense, piano notes building up to a release after the next twenty with a guitar and drums in the back.

you recognized it easily, finding it comforting. you smile as you glance behind your shoulder and flick your turn signal on. "it's called hoppípolla, isn't it? from that one movie with the cursed girl?" he laughs and your heart clenches, wanting to hear it more.

"yeah, i just wanted to see if you'd recognize it, i've shown it to like, ten people and only a few knew it." you knew it was silly to be proud to know it but you couldn't help it. you felt easy, easy to ply with.

"yeah, well, i do have an eccentric movie taste," you smile as you turn onto the next street over, finding sapnap's house immediately. originally his parents, but they were gone for a small vacation while it was the summer.

putting the car in park, you let out a breath, just happy to be done with driving for the moment. "you okay?" you jump in your seat, finding dream already out of the car with sapnap in his arms.

the man in question babbled with incoherent words, but you paid him no mind.

"um, yeah, i uh, i just- just hate driving," you grimace as you pull yourself out of the car, getting hit with the constant pelting rain.

he frowns, of all things, walking to the porch as you beat him there already, unlocking the door.

he lays sapnap down on the couch as you make your way to the kitchen, helping yourself to the gourmet chocolate cake left there by his parents' anniversary.

tasting as sweet as you thought it would be, but somehow so fucking bitter at the same time. maybe it's the way you want to cry but how lame would that be? found in your best friend's house crying as you ate their cake?

not cool.

wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, you pick yourself up and sit on the counter, desperate to change how your feeling. your skirt riding up your thighs, almost hiding in your oversized hoodie, not that you noticed.

and as if he could read your fucking mind, he walks in as he's ruffling his head of hair, as if he just got out of the shower. catching you on the counter, you had half a mind to stop eating cake and get down but you just didn't care at this point.

"want some?" you offered, sliding the platter of cake towards him while you tried to hide the fact that your face was blotchy and your nose couldn't stop sniffling. you hated the way pity looked in people. but when you turned to give dream a spoon, you saw nothing but a man with flushed cheeks and darting eyes. "are- are you good, dream?" you ask, almost disbelieving that this man is anything but flustered.

"you just, uh, well. i- i don't know how to say this but." he covers his mouth and face with one hand as he points to your lap. raising an eyebrow, you turn your head down to see the little, cyan bow on the front of your grey panties.

"oh fuck-" you dropped your fork as you yanked your skirt down and hopped from the counter, barely meeting his shoulders as you went to move away from him.

tears dropped from your eyes faster as you went to leave, when dream's arm shoots out to stop you, grabbing you by the arm as he protests you leaving.

"okay, it's bad but you can stay, um, let's just finish the cake and go to bed." you really didn't want to, dream seeing your underwear while you ate cake was forcibly checked off your bucket list.

turning around, you wanted to shrink and then be crushed like a bug underneath dream's shoe, but you settled for picking up your spoon and shoveling a bit of cake in your mouth until you couldn't think about anything else.

you flashed your crush, and he asked you to stay to eat cake. cake, of all things, you mourned.

wished somebody eat you out, you weep in your head, and come to your horror, dream starts choking on cake, coughing loudly as he punched his chest.

"i have a feeling i said something out loud." you feel humiliated as you just let the fork fall from your fingers, walking out of the kitchen, not hearing the man disagree and then as you're about to just pull your shoes on and leave, dream comes out of the kitchen and puts his hands on your shoulders.

"listen, uhh, i don't want to freak you out, but a few weeks ago, when- when we went to that party with george, he may or may not have said that you had, uh, that you have a crush on me and- is- is that right?" his words fell out of his mouth faster than he could trip over his feet. "do you like me like that?"

you wanted to melt into the ground.

"can i just go?" you whimpered out, turning your head as you tried to pull his hands off your shoulder.

"please answer the question," he begs, moving his hands from your shoulders to your cheeks, cradling it as he got closer. "because i cannot stop thinking about you, and every time we're alone, you always leave as soon as possible but then you looked so hot on the counter-" he breaks off, moaning under your stare as you listen with wide eyes.

"please say you feel the same," he begged pulling your face close to his as you gripped his arms.

"and what would you do if i did?" you whispered, eyes closing as you tried to hold onto your beating heart. his breath fanned over your lips, and all you could think about was him, him, him.

"anything you'd let me do," he says and you let out a broken moan when your two lips met, slotting against each other as if they were always meant for this. he moves his hands from your face to your shoulders and down as he moved to your waist. you grabbed a handful of his hair, the other holding the side of his face, and he moves his mouth from yours and licks a stripe down your chin to your neck.

"do you remember the day we first met," he murmured against your skin as you panted. "you were shivering while we waited for the professor, and you asked if you could borrow my jacket." it does ring a bell but you're not thinking too hard when he starts biting into your neck.

"and when you keep showing up, wearing my jacket, and that pretty, short skirt," he reaches up with one hand to hold onto your neck as he sucks a hickey right into your skin, painting as much as he could with such a pliable canvas as your skin.

"the things you do to me," he lets out a moan so broken, you wondered how he could be this affected by you and you not noticing for so long.

"we have all night, we can-" you let out a whine as he sucks hard into that sweet spot, "we can try to do it, everything, everything you and i want."

reaching down, he slipped his hands underneath your ass, picking you up with ease as he moved towards the guest bedroom. "i hope you're not planning on walking anywhere tomorrow," he pants in your ear, leaning you against the door as he uses the one hand to open it. kicking it behind him, he lays you on the bed, pushing up his hoodie to mouth kisses onto your stomach.

"as long as you'll have me," you spoke with need, your voice breaking just as much as his. and he nods hard, before he moves back over you to kiss your lips.

"you ready?"

[soulmate-game]

This is an alternate ending for my Bio!dad Joker / Bio!mom Harley AU. Or really, the timeline itself will be entirely different starting from the moment that Marinette’s plane lands in Gotham. If you haven’t read the original, you can do so here.

—*—*—*—*—*

“He’s going to find out, Mom.”

“No he won’t, don’t be silly! I’ve been very careful about hiding you from him, Nettie-pie.”

“Mom… I just have a bad feeling. I don’t think we can hide who I am from him. If he sees me, I think he’ll know.”

The phone went silent.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. If I was crazy about him, Sugar, then I’m head over heels for you. Not even he can stop me from caving his skull in if he tries his usual tricks with you.”

“... My plane leaves soon, I’ll talk to you when I land. And mom?”

“Yeah, honeycake?”

“I love you.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette often hated how accurate her intuition tended to be. She had barely even stepped out of the airport before she had felt the prick of a needle in her neck and the sensation of being shoved into a small, dark space before her vision cut out.

Looks like her mom wasn’t able to hide her existence away as well as they thought.

And unfortunately for Marinette, her darling asshole of a father had apparently had ample time to plan his first meeting with her. If he had just used the much easier to acquire Chloroform on her, then Marinette likely would have woken up early enough to come up with a plan. Chloroform was unreliable and wore off fairly easily. But no, he had actually had the time to steal hospital grade anesthetic.

Which meant that Marinette woke up with her wrists zip-tied to heavy links of chain above her head, and her ankles connected to the chain below her with what felt like ten layers of duct tape.

Lovely.

“Ah, there she is! Good morning, sleepyhead!” Those were the high-pitched, dramatic words she heard when she came back to consciousness. She didn’t even need to open her eyes to know who the speaker was— she had watched enough videos online and not-so-legally obtained Asylum and Prison footage to immediately recognize the speech patterns and tone that was echoing around her.

Apparently keeping her eyes closed was not allowed, because it was only a few seconds later that Marinette felt a harsh slap sting her cheek and whip her face to the side. Oh, that would become a bruise without a doubt. Her teeth betrayed her, cutting into the inside of her mouth with the force of the hit. So, when Marinette opened her eyes to glare at the sperm donor responsible for half of her DNA, she aimed her bloody spit right at him. It landed on his shoe, which only a few seconds later slammed into her gut.

Marinette gasped for air even as the chain she was on swung violently, making her dizzy and upsetting her stomach. Too bad she didn’t have anything in there to throw up on him, she thought angrily. The chain links rattled loudly, ringing in her head alongside the electric pain of both of her newly forming bruises.

“Honestly, is that any way to treat your dear ol’ Daddy?” Joker cooed with false offense, one hand over his heart. Marinette glared at him as best as she could as she continued to sway in the open air, the chain she was tied to being the only thing keeping her from plunging straight down into a vat of sickly green, bubbling liquid.

Marinette didn’t need to be told what that liquid was. And joker knew that, the moment he saw her look down at that vat and saw the realization almost immediately cross her face. So instead of explaining, he laughed. Loud, high, and deranged.

“Good, good! That idiot Harley kept you educated, at least,” he said between psychotic chuckles. “Ah yes, and she somehow managed to choose the perfect name,” he glided over to her, as if he was some ethereal demon of chaos instead of a human. His paper-white hand reached out, grabbing her chin in a crushing grip and turning her face this way and that. Inspecting her as if she was a piece of china and not a living being. “So easy to adjust. Right now, you’re Marinette. Just like how, all those years ago, your mother stood here as Harleen. But just as she was dunked into acid and became my harlequin,” he stepped back and grabbed Marinette’s shoulders. He spun her like a top, making the metal chain creak and clink as it wound into a few weak coils and then released back out, trying to go straight again. It sent Marinette twirling through the air in a horrid half-spin, one-eighty degrees one way before sharply spinning to the other side. Joker laughed.

“Just like that, you’re gonna go from boring old Marinette,” he stuck out his tongue like a child, as if the mere taste of her name was bitter. “And you’ll be reborn as my new little Marionette. Aren’t you excited?!”

“Fuck you,” Marinette spat, even as she tried to blink and return her vision to normal. She was far too disoriented to even come up with a plan— but she was still coherent enough to register that the sky was dark outside the high windows of the factory she was apparently in. She had been missing for a few hours then, which meant that her mom and Momma Ivy would have called for help a long time ago. Maybe if she just stalled long enough, it would get there in time. “I’m not a puppet. Not for you, not for anybody!” She snarled.

Joker rolled his eyes, but his smile still widened. “Oh, that’s what they all say. In fact, your mother put up a good resistance there for a while, but her inner chaos couldn’t resist me. You’ll bend even easier, I have no doubt,” her ran his hand along her cheek in a motion that was so gentle that it felt foreign, wrong, to her coming from him. She knew what he was doing. He was trying to whiplash her, take all her hope away before dangling the option he wanted her to choose in front of her like a carrot on a stick.

Too bad he didn’t know her at all. She cringed away from his gentle touch, revolted by the mere feel of his skin on her’s.

“And your accent is a nice touch,” he cooed as if her reaction didn’t bother him at all. It probably didn’t. “Exotic. Just the thing I need to freshen up my usual act a bit, the Boston twang my old Harlequins had is just… stale by now, don’t you agree?”

Marinette clenched her jaw at the reminder that he had tried to pass off a cheap look-alike as her mom when she disappeared, back when she was pregnant with Marinette, to hide her baby from Joker. How he had discarded that woman like trash when Harley went back to him, only to replace her again when her mom left him for good.

No matter how badly Joker spoke of her mom, Marinette knew that Harley had been the only Harlequin of his to actually last. The only one he kept around, and there was a reason for that. Now, he was looking for another replacement. One that was more than a cheap knockoff, and he was hoping that a teenager with not only Harley’s genetics, but also his own, would be the exact kind of right-hand prop he wanted. An obedient little puppet of chaos, just for him.

But Marinette was nobody's toy. She had been used and taken advantage of enough back in Paris, she had spent her whole life struggling to escape the side effects of her parentage. To deal with the things she inherited.

The obsessiveness, the way she was so quick to get attached. She knew she inherited that from her mom. But there was also the rage, the anger that Marinette constantly had to stuff down. Hide below the surface before it hurt someone. Keep under a tight reign and hide away in the back of her mind, her own dirty little secret.

The constant reminder of just who her biological father was. Because that anger, that viciousness, could only have come from him.

She had spent her whole life trying to carve herself her own identity, to create beauty with the chaotic elements she got from her blood. And she couldn’t blame her mother, not really. Her mother at least did her best to help, and always leant an empathetic ear when Marinette needed it. But Joker?

Oh, she could, and would, blame him even long after he was dead and gone. Because he was the one who hurt her mother, he was the one who twisted her and drove her to feel unfit to be a parent. And sometimes, Marinette thought it would be better if Joker never existed. Sure, that meant she never would have been born. But wouldn’t that have been easier, too? To not ever have to experience the struggle that came with being his daughter, a title she never consented to?

But she couldn’t change the past. She was alive, and she would use her life to spite everything that the Joker stood for. That would be her revenge. He wanted a toy?

Joker had been monologuing, but Marinette drowned it all out as she kept her periphery vision on the windows above her. Shadows moved out there, with familiar bright yellows and shadowy blacks. The bats were there. She just needed to stall.

She opened her mouth. Joker pulled a lever.

Marinette dropped.

Wire whizzed through the air, knocking the breath out of Marinette as it wound around her torso. She was barely able to piece together what was happening; one of the bats shot a human-safe grapple to try and pull her away from the acid.

But the chain and her restraints were stronger, heavier, and just dragged the grapple down with her body.

The impact sent a large wave of sickly green liquid surging over the side of the vat, and Marinette was dragged from view underneath the surface.

It burned.

She distantly felt the tape around her ankles peel itself away from her skin, the combination of acid and wetness rendering it useless. She felt the chemicals burning at her, sending painful tingles across every last inch of her skin. It got in her mouth, she didn’t have any breath in her to hold and ended up swallowing some. It seared her throat and created a river of lava inside her. It hurt.

It hurt so bad, she just wanted out. Out. Out. Out!

Someone pull her out now!

The zip tie around her wrist loosened enough for her to pull herself free, right as something heavy slammed into the heavy metal bowl. The entire container sloshed, slamming to fall onto its side. Marinette’s body was pulled alongside the rush of liquid as it flowed out, and she was able to breathe air again. Sweet, cooling air.

And then she hacked up acid, spitting and spewing it in an attempt to purge every last drop she had accidentally ingested. Like a cat choking on a hairball, she coughed and hacked and her chest convulsed and contracted to try and help her. Her ribs ached, she figured that the grapple that had tried to save her had ended up fracturing or breaking a rib or two. But all she cared about was breathing and getting rid of the chemicals she had inhaled. She needed it out. All of it. Out. Out. Out of her!

“Try to take a deep breath,” a gruff voice commanded, soft but solid. Something stable for her to cling to. So she did as it asked, forcing herself to stop hacking and instead focus on inhaling. As slowly as she could. It was difficult, the first few breaths cut themselves off with more involuntary coughing, but the owner of the gruff voice stayed nearby. Repeated it’s request. “Deep breath. Steady, now. In. Out. Good.”

Marinette was just starting to calm down, just starting to claw herself out of the haze of panic and adrenaline, when that wretched laugh cut through the air again.

“There you are! Heheheheh! My cute little Marionette!”

Marinette froze. She could barely think, barely understand her own emotions. But she knew she was different now. She knew there was no way back, he had taken it from her. He had taken her normality, he had taken all of her years of hard work and burned them right in front of her.

He had won. The bats hadn’t been fast enough. But, if her foggy mind was correct, Batman was the one trying to bring her back to lucidity. Batman was the one trying to help her get air back in her lungs.

Not her so-called father.

If he wanted a toy, she’d be a haunted doll. She’d harass him, haunt him, until he wanted nothing to do with her. She’d come back, like a possessed porcelain doll refusing to be thrown away. She would make him regret ever awakening the monster that she had spent so long forcing down. Because she was her father’s daughter, yes. But she was also her mother’s daughter.

And most importantly, she was Marinette Quinzel-Isley. Her own damned person. The Chosen wielder of the Creation miraculous. And she would never bow down and be used by anyone, ever again.

Tikki’s words from so long ago echoed in her mind. Resounded even louder than Joker’s laughter;

“That’s all order really is, Marinette. The decision to take all the chaos and madness around us, and make it make sense. Make it do something good.”

And wasn’t that everything Marinette had ever done? It was a part of her now. Like a tattoo she had inked into her very soul.

She took the chaos she was given, and turned it into something beautiful. And right now? Right now, the most beautiful thing she could think of was Joker’s face when she slammed her fist into it.

“Easy,” Batman repeated, but for a different reason now. Marinette’s lungs still stuttered a little, but her breathing was mostly under control. Now, he was saying it because Marinette was forcing herself to her feet. Her legs trembled under her, threatening to lay her out on the floor again. But she was every bit as stubborn as Joker, which made for a terrifying combination with her all-consuming fury. The acid had broken the mental chains Marinette had been using to hold it back, and now it burned fierce and bright in her eyes.

So Marinette kept herself up right, cognizant of Batman’s hand on her shoulder but ignoring it. She grit her teeth against the burning light of the room, everything suddenly too bright and colorful. Too vibrant. But it did little to distract her. She realized that one of her hands still gripped the heavy chain that had sent her drowning in the acid, and sent a snarl at her darling, jackass of a father as she whipped it out right towards him.

“Marinette!” Batman yelled, his grip tightening on her shoulder. But he didn’t pull her back, which spoke louder than any words he could have said to her right then. He wouldn’t save Joker from his daughter, he knew the man deserved at least this much pain. And sure enough, the metal links slammed right into Joker’s side, winding around him like a crushing whip.

But that was all Marinette had the strength to do. As soon as she saw Joker’s body hit the floor, writhing in agony and painfully loud cackles, her hand let go of the chain and her body tumbled down. Batman caught her.

“Red Hood, Nightwing, get Joker back to Arkham,” Batman’s order faded in and out of focus. Now that her most pressing desire was taken care of, the effects of the acid reared their ugly heads with renewed ferocity. Everything was too bright, too loud, and her thoughts echoed in her head like voices wrestling for supremacy. “Robin, Black Bat, stay on alert. Harley said that she’s incredibly trained,” he warned his partners. Marinette didn’t begrudge him, the only other two people who had survived being dunked into those chemicals hadn’t exactly treated him with kindness and pacifism. But she could barely focus on them anyway, too distracted by trying to reign in the chaos in her mind.

But Joker would never stay silent, even as he was dragged away in chains.

“Hehehahahahaha! Paper white, paper white!” He jeered cheerfully. “That’s my girl! Violent just like Papa!” Red hood knocked him out with a harsh punch to the side of his neck before he could say another word. But it was enough— enough for Marinette to gasp in realization.

Her skin. It was paper white, just like his. Not even Harley’s skin had been bleached like the Joker’s after her dip in the acid. That had always been makeup. Her mom had a healthy, peachy complexion like anyone else. A complexion Marinette had shared— until now. Now, she was unhealthily pale. Just like him.

A painful screech tore itself from her already raw throat, and Marinette’s fingernails immediately began to tear at her own skin. Red. Red was better than white— she didn’t want to look like him. She couldn’t. White was bad. Bad. Bad. Bad.

“Marinette! Stop!” Strong hands clamped around her wrists, pulling her hands away from herself even as she wriggled and tried to keep clawing at herself.

“No! No no no!” Marinette howled. “I don’t wanna look like him! I don’t wanna be like him!” She managed to get one hand free and immediately tried to tear away at her face. Batman was able to wrestle her arm away before she could do any damage besides a few angry red lines. “I refuse! I refuse! I refuse!” She shook her head, not feeling as tears flung themselves off her cheeks.

“Okay,” Batman’s voice was solid again, soft and grumbly and stable. She grabbed at it again, drawn to anything that might help bring her stability. She needed his unflappable attitude right then, and he probably didn’t even realize how badly. “That’s good. But you don’t need to rip your skin off to do that, you know that right?”

Marinette hiccuped, finally sinking down to sob as the weight of everything she had lost pressed down over the chaos of deafening light and blinding sound that continued to jumble around inside her head. “He changed me,” she choked out. Batman nodded even though she wasn’t looking at him.

“He did.”

“Th-that f-fucking bastard,” Marinette managed a sad chuckle before devolving right back into sobs. “I wo-worked so h-hard. N-never hurt any-anybody. Never… never yelled. Ne-never hit… Not people who didn’t attack f-first.”

“I know. Your mom told me,” he confirmed calmly. Solid, tethering. Marinette swallowed another gulp of air, trying to calm down. But everything was too much.

“Mom!” She suddenly realized out loud, turning and grabbing at Batman’s chest, clinging to his uniform. She didn’t even care that she almost sliced herself on a batarang, she clung to him desperately with wide, crazed eyes. “G-get Mom and… and Ivy! They… they can help. They know—“ Marinette paused to breathe, then resumed. “Momma Ivy— she gave me—gave me a diluted… th-thingy, years ago, I can’t remember—“ Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to get her mind to calm down. To work.

“The serum she gave Harley?” He asked. “The one that made her immune to poisons, and gave her increased physical abilities?”

“That!” Marinette agreed frantically, nodding. “I was too— too little, to give the real thing, so she diluted it,” she swallowed her spit and winced when it burned her throat. “It… I think it’s helping with the—the—the—“

“The chemical’s effects?” Batman suddenly sounded like he was paying much more attention than before, his shoulders a little straighter at her explanation. “You think it’s slowing down or numbing what it did to your mom and Joker?” Marinette couldn’t talk anymore, it hurt too much. Everything hurt too much, so she just nodded. “Good. That’s good, Marinette. Robin! Get Harley and Ivy down here, now!”

That was when the voices started. Sometime during the ten minutes it took to get her Mom and Ivy to her, they had apparently been waiting nearby anxiously incase the Bats had needed backup, the voices had built from ominous whispers to devious shouts, ordering her to do things like slam her elbow into Batman’s throat or see what happened if she splashed Robin with some of the acid that was still on the ground.

Her body didn’t move. She kept herself carefully still, focusing on ignoring her impulse to listen to one of the voices. She was still lucid enough to know that she would regret it if she did any of that. That the Bats were more on her side than any of the voices or the Joker were. But it was growing painful, and Harley and Ivy walked in to Batman trying to keep Marinette from hitting her own head. She had devolved to trying to knock herself out to get the voices to be quiet.

“Shut up,” she hissed, her voice hoarse and gravelly. “Shut up, shut up, shut. Up!” She was clearly talking to herself, her eyes screwed shut as she continued to try and hit her head. Harley gasped, hands flying to her mouth and eyes watering at the sight. This was something she had hoped she would never see.

“Harls,” Ivy spoke softly, putting a gentle arm around her wife’s back in support. It hurt Ivy to see Marinette in so much agony, but she knew it pained Harley even more. And much more personally. “Come on. We can help.”

“Y-you’re right,” Harley agreed shakily, taking a deep breath to try and compose herself before they both approached their daughter. Batman didn’t let go of Marinette, but did lean out of the way to give them access to her.

“Honeycake?” Harley called out softly, a little unsure how the chemicals were affecting her baby’s personality right then. The first few days were going to be the worst, and she knew that. The Dunk never took it easy on it’s victims. Marinette gasped, stopping her muttering and raising her head to look at Harley with wide eyes.

“Momma?”

Harley had to swallow heavily to shove back the sob that wanted to bubble up out of her. She had to be strong for her baby. She couldn’t break yet. But Marinette hadn’t called her Momma since she was little, now she called Pamela ‘Momma Ivy’ and her just ‘Mom’.

“It’s me, sugarplum,” she assured her daughter, kneeling down and cupping one of Marinette’s cheeks in her palm. And that was when she noticed it, and couldn’t help but widen her eyes in shock. But Marinette’s senses were so sensitive that she noticed it right away, and stiffened.

“Wh-what is it?” She grew frantic when Harley didn’t immediately respond, only winced in sympathy. Marinette knew that wasn’t good. “Mom? What is it? What did he do? What else did he do to me?”

“Darling,” Harley started, licking her lips nervously. “My sweet baby girl, your right eye… it’s green now, sugar.”

Marinette’s world froze. She tried to smile, but it came out lopsided and disbelieving. “No,” she somehow managed to breathe. “No, mom, I have your eyes. Your blue eyes. I love your eyes,” Her voice steadily got more and more panicked as she went on, not wanting to accept what her mother was clearly seeing. She watched as Harley’s face broke a little, a few tears escaping before the older woman could stop them. Marinette shook her head again, slipping her tiny wrist out of Batman’s hold and raising it to her eye. “No. It’s one of his tricks. He—he must have slipped a contact in my eye when I was passed out, that’s— that’s— that’s all—“ but her fingertip met her normal eye. No contact to be felt. Marinette’s hand fell into her lap limply. The room was absolutely silent as everyone gave her a few seconds to process just how much she had been changed, entirely against her will. She opened and closed her mouth, not sure whether she wanted to yell or curse or cry. Instead, her voice just came out in a very tiny, broken:

“...fuck.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette had gone mostly mute. She would say a word here or there, but for the most part she was doing a good impression of a vegetable. She stayed silent, as still as possible, and just stared at the ceiling of her hospital room.

She had been like that for the past two weeks they had been monitoring her in the Acid’s aftermath. Her ribs, which had turned out to only be bruised thankfully enough, had healed. Her cheek and torso were healed up too, only the barest hint of sickly yellow to show as a reminder of Joker’s hits on her. Sometimes the cameras would catch her talking to seemingly empty air, only for a nurse to rush in and see that Marinette had gone silent yet again.

Tikki was doing her best to help. She had been separated from Marinette, but Pamela had found Marinette’s purse and returned it— and subsequently Tikki— when they had gotten her to the hospital. She was the only person Marinette regularly spoke to, because Marinette knew Tikki understood. Tikki had been around since the Big Bang, she had seen worse things than a little insanity. Tikki had always been there to help her feel at ease with her mind and body. She shared a piece of Tikki’s soul, even, according to the tiny god.

But talking to anyone else was too hard. Too scary. She still had those damned voices at war in her mind, trying to convince her to do things that made her lock her joints and keep her body absolutely still before she acted on any of the coaxes. Possibilities she had never considered before came startlingly easy to her mind now— like how it would only take two seconds to tear her IV out and stab it into her nurse’s eye. How she could use her blanket to strangle Momma Ivy, or how she could fake jumping out the window and Harley wouldn’t waste a second trying to save her.

They were horrible thoughts. Intrusive, ugly, and far too loud. She didn’t want to act on any of them, but sometimes she found her fingers twitching only a second before she could follow through on one.

She spent a lot of time meditating, because of it. Which is why most people thought she was ignoring them. She didn’t mean to, she just needed to meditate. It was like her brain was a giant room filled with filing cabinets that held her thoughts and emotions. Her whole life, Marinette had carefully kept this room alphabetized, organized, and neat. Every file in its correct drawer. Until Joker had come along, and ripped the entire place apart. Tore certain files in half, broke her cabinets, ruined her filing system. And now she had to put the room back together, one drawer and piece of paper at a time.

That’s what the meditation was doing. She was getting reacquainted with herself. Learning what had changed in her mind and trying to adjust. She couldn’t be the old Marinette anymore, but she’d be damned if she let the Joker turn her into someone ugly like him.

So she needed time.

One day, towards the end of those two weeks, she got a visitor slipping through her window. Considering her room was on the tenth floor, she had it pretty narrowed down as to who it could be. Batman had visited her every night, a silent shadow in the corner, but he had already left for the day so it couldn’t be him. None of the other bats had dropped by after the second day.

She turned her head to see that that was now changed; Red Hood sat on her windowsill with one leg inside the room and the other bent on the sill itself. He looked the very picture of comfort despite being a stiff wind (or quick shove— no, bad brain) away from falling to his death. And then Hood took off his helmet, which was ugly enough to inspire some of the more violent suggestions in her brain and make them seem appealing.

“Ya know. Red Hood used to be what Joker called himself,” were the first words out of the vigilante’s mouth. Marinette’s eyebrows pulled down, and it was clear she was confused (and a little angry) at what he told her. He grinned, his eyes still hidden by the domino mask on his face. “Eh. The bastard killed me, ya know. I was the second Robin, a lifetime ago.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at that, and the violent voices dimmed and seemed to grow muffled. Marinette couldn’t quite understand what they were trying to tell her anymore, which made her figure that she had better pay attention to what Hood had to say. She licked her dry lips, and spoke softly. Her throat was still damaged from the acid, so she couldn’t speak very loudly yet.

“Then how are you… you know, here?”

The man chuckled. “Another group of assholes happens to have a magic pit in their basement. It’s a glowing green lake, ten different types of bad news. But it brings people back to life, and they dunked me in it without even caring for a second if I even wanted to come back.”

Marinette’s shoulders relaxed all on their own. It seemed to sink into her brain all at once, a simple:

Oh. He gets it.

“I guess the water doesn’t take it easy on your brain, either?” She hazarded an educated guess. He laughed, shaking his head.

“Not at all. I went off the deep end for a while, and killed a lotta people. They deserved it at least, but I don’t like how violent I was back then. Before I learned how to cope. Attacked people who were innocent. Red Robin almost died when I attacked him, back then, when he was just Robin.”

“Then why’d you keep calling yourself Red Hood?” She asked, tilting her head. He finally turned his head to look straight at her instead of just staring out the window. His grin widened, but it was lopsided. The grin of someone who was healed from some serious shit, but knew that it would always ache. A bittersweet expression.

“Cuz he doesn’t own that name. I made it into something that stands for at least a little good. Something that scares the assholes who don’t care about killing or abusing innocent people. Hell, some people take comfort in the name Red Hood now. And you know what that means?”

Marinette shook her head, and his grin widened into a shark-like smile.

“It means I stole it from him. The name Red Hood. He’ll never use it again, and now it stands for the opposite of anything he’d agree with. You can do that too, you know. Find something to steal from him, or use something he gave you, and make it your own.”

“Turn the chaos into something good,” Marinette said dreamily, clearly quoting someone. Red Hood nodded.

“Exactly. It’s not gonna be easy, but you got the choice here. You ain’t going back to who you used to be, but you can take the victory away from him.”

“... make him regret ever dunking me in that stupid vat,” she agreed, narrowing her eyes as they filled with determination for the first time since her body hit the acid. “He wants a puppet, an obedient little doll, I’ll give him Annabel.”

“There ya go,” The vigilante slid off the windowsill and approached her bed, holding out his hand for a shake. “I can help you get to that. What do ya say?”

Marinette was silent for a long minute, staring straight into his masked eyes. And then, a slow smile spread over her lips. “I got one question, Red Hood.”

“Shoot.”

“How do you feel about black cats?”

—*—*—*—*—*

This took four hours, holy hell. I’m actually happy with how this turned out. What do you guys think? I even got to max length on Tumblr 😂

[pandajaye]

Todoroki Family Ties (Part 8)

Characters: Enji Todoroki, Stepmom!OC!Ivy (Ivy is black btw), Child!Shoto Todoroki, Teen!Touya Todoroki, Preteen!Fuyumi, Child!Natsuo

Warnings: mention of abuse, sexual themes

After the short conversation over the phone, Enji came back inside and explained everything to Ivy after sending the boys to bed. “So, I’m taking Shoto and Touya with me to pick them up from their grandparents’ house. If you don’t mind, I’d like for you to stay here. I want Fuyumi and Natsuo to have a little more warm up time with their brothers before they meet you.” In three days, Enji’s other two children, his second and third born, were to be put back into Enji’s custody. He was filled with excitement and missed them so much but he kept his stoic expression while talking about it.

Two years ago, Enji’s ex-wife, and mother to his four children, Rei, was admitted to a mental hospital for assaulting Shoto. Of course this was kept under wraps from the press but those closest to the family knew what happened while the outside world assumed she was murdered. Ivy herself wasn’t made aware of the situation until recently either. It made the number two hero look bad and gave him a terrible rep. Everyone was scared to look his way and lots of people wanted him fired from the position of hero, but their simple opinions weren’t enough to budge the idea.

Rei’s parents were horrified by the real news and saw how people were reacting to the situation. It influenced them to ask Enji to give up custody to them for the time being until they saw Enji fit to be a father again. He loved them dearly and that’s why he didn’t fight on the decision. Touya and Shoto would need training for their abilities but Fuyumi and Natsuo would be better off with the ice side of the family. On the upside, the boys got to see them when they visited every other weekend.

Enji was allowed to see them too but in a more supervised visitation way before he had to leave. Every time he had to go, the little “Bye, dad.” from Fuyumi as she hugged him tight broke his heart. She’d often shed a few tears about it but Natsuo wasn’t as vocal about how he felt. He’d only give half hugs and keep his head down the whole time. But when that car turned and went in the opposite direction of the house, he never stopped watching it. Even after it was out of view. No matter what feelings he showed, on the inside, he wished he was in the car with him. It’s not that his grandparents were bad in any way, they were great! He just hated the way they talked about him behind his back. When they thought Natsuo wasn’t listening. But he always heard it. And it always made his mouth taste bitter and his head hurt. Sure his dad messed up, but he was still just that. His dad. Soon, lost time would be made up for, and he and Fuyumi were over the moon about it.

Three days passed by quicker than expected. Two more children would enter the four person household Ivy was used to and nervous was an understatement for how she was feeling. Enji had already left with Touya and Shoto and for the time being, Ivy was alone. She spent the entire morning preparing for Natsuo and Fuyumi’s arrival. There were treats set out in the living room and in their own rooms, generous gift baskets filled with more treats and some trinkets she hoped they would enjoy. Even a nicely decorated banner up that read ‘Welcome Home!!’ in big letters.

Now she just anxiously sat on the couch. Waiting. Imagining how they would react to this new woman in their lives. Wondering if they’d even like her. To be honest, if they wanted her to leave, she would. Their family already needed to heal, it’s not fair that this random person just showed up and joined in and they’ve never even met her before. What if they hated her? Oh god. She’d fall apart. “Fuck. Now I’m more anxious than I was at first.” Not that it was a spoken rule, but something about your new step kids seeing you having a panic attack for their first impression that didn’t seem right to Ivy. So a few deep breaths, and she was able to stop one before it started. Until the panic was revived when the door started to open. She scrambled to her feet and picked up a plate of snacks from the table. ‘Here we go.’

“Ivy, we’re home!” Enji opened the door and Shoto and Touya entered first. She wondered if the other kids came until she saw two more small beings behind Enji. First, a beautiful young girl with glasses. Hair white and eyes grey like Rei’s with small bits of red for decoration. She held on to Enji’s hand while he closed the door. Another kid appeared next to her. A boy. A bit taller than her. Though he was younger, he inherited Enji’s height genetics. For a ten year old, he was as big as Touya, maybe even an inch taller than his fifteen year old brother. Then again, apparently Touya took a while to have his growth spurt. The tall boy’s hair was white like Touya and his sister’s, three little stripes of red on each side just above his ears.

Ivy immediately wore a smile as warm as the sun. “Welcome home, guys! I’m Ivy, nice to meet you!” The two just looked at each other and then their dad, who nodded towards her. Their gaze went to her but they still didn’t respond. Ivy just stood there, frozen, too scared to move. Touya took the opportunity to take the cookies out of her hand and head to his room, Shoto gorged on all the other snacks and Enji reprimanded him to not spoil his dinner. “I-I’m sorry,” Ivy got down on her knees, “I guess I’m a little obnoxious. So much for a first impression, huh?” Her head rested in her hands. Maybe she could just turn invisible so they wouldn’t see her blazing embarrassment.

During her internal breakdown, a small hand rested on her shoulder. Ivy looked up, the 2nd oldest standing in front of her and giving her a small smile, her brother not far behind. “Hello. I’m Fuyumi. This is my brother, Natsuo. Or just Natsu for short. Nice to meet you.” After Fuyumi’s introduction, Natsuo stepped forward and smiled down at Ivy. “Hiya, stepmom!” He glanced and pointed at the table where his little brother was enjoying himself. “Is all this for us? For reals?” She nodded, a huge grin on her face. “Heck yeah, dude. I ain’t no evil stepmom. I’m fun and spoil my step-babies.” Shoto stuffed another treat into his face before giving a thumbs up. “It’s true! She’s really nice and sweet. You’re gonna love her. I know I do!” Natsuo took a second and hugged Ivy before running to join his baby brother.

Fuyumi stayed, kneeling in front of Ivy. “So.... you love our dad? Is he nice to you?” Obviously, Fuyumi was smart. There was no need to be dishonest. She knew how her father was, what he did, and know she was asking if he was the same as he used to be. “Well.... he’s had to work on his attitude and how he expresses himself. But he’s definitely gotten a lot better from when we were first together. He wants to be a better man for his family and atone for his actions. He’s really winning my forgiveness everyday.”

Ivy turned to look at Enji who had taken a seat on the couch and was watching the boys indulge. There was a content smile on his face. Seeing their happiness gave him some of his own. It was definitely a nice change from the dejected faces of the past. “Fuyumi,” Ivy continued. “You don’t have to forgive your father if you don’t want to. But if you ever find yourself wanting to, and you have questions, or really questions about anything ever, you can talk to me. I want to be here for you and your brothers as much as I can. I know what it’s like to have a conflicting childhood. I wasn’t surrounded by love like you have been, but that doesn’t lessen the significance of anything you guys have been through compared to my situation. I want us to be a family and I hope I can grow on you in good time.” Fuyumi hesitated before hugging her new stepmother. “I already know you will.” Ivy embraced the hug. The rush of oxytocin was so satisfying.

“Please excuse me.” Fuyumi rose and went to sit next to her father who grinned when she joined them. This was his second chance. He already missed a few years with her and Natsuo and he couldn’t bare to miss anymore. Enji honestly felt like he needed them probably as much as they felt like they needed him. The moment he found out he could get them back he had developed a certain glow. That was the look of a man who got his babies back, and eventually, they’d have to really sit down and talk about why they had to go in the first place. As for now, they just needed to enjoy each other’s company.

At dinner, Ivy got to learn even more about her new family members. Like how Fuyumi wants to be a culinary genius one day. And how one of Natsuo’s favorite moments was when a puppy approached him on the street when he was having a bad day and made him feel so much better. Ivy hung to every word they spoke, it was all just so interesting. It got to the point where every time Natsuo thought of something new to tell, he’d interrupt his sister which Enji had to try and prevent a couple times. Though he was excited that they were already intrigued by Ivy, there was still an order of manners that needed to be abided by.

Even at bedtime, they still had so much to say, but Ivy had to ask them to wait and tell her tomorrow. They groaned but listened to her and went to bed. “They are so amazing, Enji.” Ivy smiled up at the big guy next to her, a sparkle in her eyes. “They seem to really like you. I’m glad tonight was such a success.” He pulled her into his lap and kissed her. “I know. I’m so happy, too. They’re really great kids and I wanna be the best stepmama that I can be for them. So much has happened to those sweet babies and I wanna make sure they smile from now on.” While she was talking, Enji spread little kisses on her cheeks and neck.

Ivy was quietly enjoying it, falling into a trance, but shuffled when she felt his heavy paw dragging up her thigh. “Enji-” “You’re such a great stepmother, Ivy.” He whispered into her ear while nuzzling her neck, gently nipping at the skin. “Have you ever thought about becoming just a regular mother?” She could barely hear him over the blood that started to flow around ears from how hot she was getting. “Yes. Why? Are you offering to make me one?” They worked together to move her legs so that she was straddling his waist. “If you think you’re ready for it....” His hands breached the hem of the shorts she was sleeping in, there was an ease of access since she didn’t usually sleep in underwear. The feeling of his strong digits doing nothing other than simply working her most sensitive areas made her head fall back. “I would love.... to put a baby in you, honey.” In the midst of the sudden heat rising in the room, the sounds of sloppy kisses and horny giggles began to transpire.

“Oh, Enji!~”

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Lockscreens (ch.10)

tw: insecurities, minor anger-driven violence

Word count: 3.85k

Genre: Angst, fluff

All trigger warnings will be tagged and posted at the beginning of each chapter! This will have *manga spoilers*

Pairings: Bokuto x fem!reader, Kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: Nearly four years ago, Bokuto left the love of his life for volleyball. Despite all the time, he’s still very much in love with her. He comes home to a major surprise leaving him wondering…What happened while he was gone?

Masterlist | prev | next

ch. 10: All Caught Up (Present)

Present, the day after the game

“Bokuto-sehsu, that was a fantastic match last night! How are you feeling today?” 

“Thank you so much Au-san! We worked really hard, and we’re so happy for a MSBY Jackal victory,” he beamed, crossing his legs and leaning forward slightly. “I’m feeling great.”

“How do you guys normally celebrate after a win?”

“Well, we’ll normally go out for a bite to eat or something.” He adjusted his sports jacket, hands fiddling with the zipper. “If we’d just flown in that night though, we’d normally head off to bed after eating something in the hotel restaurant.”

“You guys must be hungry after all that running and jumping!” She laughed. “You’re from Tokyo right? What’s the best place for a post-game meal?”

He nodded eagerly. “Yes, I was actually the ace at Fukurodani Academy when I was in high-school. We normally go to Gyu-Kaku by the stadium after a hard-fought game, win or lose. I actually took the team there last night.”

“Gyu-Kaku? That’s actually one of my favourites!” They both laughed. “Now, obviously you’ve been involved with volleyball for a good majority of your life. I gotta ask, is there anything you regret about it?” Bokuto froze, his mind running this way and that. 

He wasn’t sure why this question was always asked, and he swallowed the weight of the lies on his tongue as he repeated the same lies he had lived and breathed for the past four years.  Bokuto forced a grin, “No, not at all. I love volleyball, it’s always been there for me. I’m so happy that I have a chance to continue with it as my career.” 

“Speaking of love, any special lady in your life?” 

The corner of his mouth twitched as he forced out a laugh, his heart shattering. Of course. Just another bachelor on the MSBY team. “Not at this time,” he acknowledged, knuckles whitening. Bokuto could almost feel the jagged edges of the pieces of his heart that he’d clumsily tried to reassemble. “It’s hard balancing all the travel and practice with a dating life.” 

“Well hopefully you’ll find someone willing to do that for you.” Au smiled. “Well folks, that’s all the time we have today. Thank you for coming out!”  

As Bokuto left the studio from his live interview, he let out an extensive sigh. It wasn’t often that interviewers asked him about his past, but he supposed it was expected considering he was local to Tokyo. He turned down the street, letting his music fade in the background as he remembered his past. Bokuto still couldn’t believe that he had run into (Name) yesterday, let alone that she was married to Kuroo for gods’ sake. He sighed, face darkening. Kuroo had been the one to introduce them after all. 

“Hey Bokuto, I want you to meet someone. Come to Gym 3 later for extra practice!” A hand clapped onto his back, sending the wing-spiker lurching forward. Glancing up, he nodded at the other first-year male. 

“Who else will be there?”

Kuroo shrugged, grinning. “You’ll just have to come and see, won’t you?”  

After all the practices, Bokuto entered Gym 3 to find it empty. He picked a corner, placing his bag and stuff down before taking a sip from his water bottle. “You’re Bokuto right?” The spiker jumped, dropping his bottle. He cursed, bending down as he picked it up. A soft giggle had him looking up. “I’m (L.Name, Name),” she introduced, bending beside him as she began to towel up the split water. Bokuto stared at her, open-mouthed. “You were really good today!” She beamed, standing up with the soiled towels. 

“Thank you,” he stammered, moving to stand beside her. “What school are you from?” 

She tucked her hair behind her ear, “Nekoma.”

“Oh! You must be Kuroo’s friend?” 

(Name) laughed, eyes sparkling. “You can say that. We've been friends since grade school.” 

Golden eyes widened. “He mentioned wanting to introduce me to someone. That must be you.”

“Funny, Kuroo said the same thing about you.” She bowed. “I’ll be in your care, Bokuto-san.” His cheeks glowed as he pulled her up from her bow. 

Bokuto frowned, arriving at his temporary lodging. Under different circumstances, he would’ve asked to stay with (Name) after reconnecting, but the circumstances being what they were, he figured renting out a place for the month would be better. He sat on his couch, lips pursed. Bokuto’s phone vibrated against his thigh. “Hello?”

“Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi!”

“I heard that you were back in Tokyo?”

Bokuto stood, his bitter expression lightening up just enough for a smile. He stood up, making his way to his kitchen. “Yes, I am! I’ll be here for a month.”

“How exciting,” Bokuto could hear the smile in Akaashi’s voice. “If you’re free, let’s meet up? I haven’t seen you in quite a while.” Bokuto filled up a glass of water, sipping it.

“I always have time for you, Akaashi!” Bokuto boomed, causing Akaashi to chuckle. 

“Thank you, Bokuto-san. I have to go now. I hope you’re doing well.” 

“See you soon, Akaashi.” 

Bokuto stood in the deafening silence of his kitchen. A heavy sigh left him, shoulders sagging. Akaashi’s calming presence had soothed some of his anxiety about being alone, but it was also a stark reminder that he was alone. Weary golden eyes scanned the kitchen.

“Kou! You’re making a mess,” she squealed, grabbing at his hands. He had been frantically whipping the bowl of cookie dough, causing it to splatter everywhere.

“No, I’m not!” He argued.

She pulled it away, wiping a bit of the splatter off of her cheek. “You sure about that?”

“Okay, maybe.” Bokuto sighed, grabbing a towel to try and wipe down the counter. He was startled when cold liquid landed on his cheek. “Huh?” He whirled around, wiping at his cheek to find a splatter of the dough on his cheeks. “Oh you’re gonna get it,” he grinned. A handful of flour went flying at her as she attempted to run around the island.

“Kou!” She shrieked, the flour landing all over her face. (Name) lunged for an egg, smashing it on top of his head. She froze, eyes widening at the silly sight. “Oh my god, you look ridiculous!” 

“You’ve got three seconds.” Bokuto wiped the dripping egg whites off of his forehead. 

She backed up, tripping over her own feet. “You wouldn’t do anything drastic, right Kou?” She cooed, panic rising in her voice.

“Of course not, love. I just wanna hug you!” With that, he lunged and cracked an egg down her shirt. Laughter filled the air as they chased each other around, their plan to make cookies long-forgotten.

He sighed. If only he could turn back time. Maybe he’d have this taste of domesticity for the rest of his life. A home instead of a temporary apartment. Someone who would come rushing to greet him once he came home instead of the void left in his heart and bed. Bokuto sighed just before his phone vibrated in his hand. 

Future wifey: When did you want to meet?

****

The next day...

“So, Bokuto is back in town? And (Name) is meeting him right now?” Kenma had Hikori on his lap, showing him how to play Minecraft. Kuroo was lounging on the bean-bag, alternating between watching his son and staring at his phone.

“Pretty much.” Kuroo sighed.

“How are you feeling about it?” Kenma patted Hikori’s head, pointing at something on the screen.

“I’m fine.” 

“No you’re not. If you were, you wouldn’t be sitting there sulking.” Kenma eyed his best friend disdainfully. “Not that I’m complaining, you know I enjoy Hikori’s company.” His yellow eyes surveyed the screen. “You can mine those blocks, Hiki.”

“Ok, Ken-san!” Hikori’s pink tongue stuck out as he examined the keyboard to press the right buttons.

“Fine, you’re right. I’m worried.”

“Why?”

“What if she still wants Bokuto?” Kuroo hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip. “I mean, they were together for almost four years.” Hazel eyes gazed with affection and a glimmer of resignation at his son. Turmoil overwhelmed him. Would Hikori prefer his biological father over him? Would she prefer Bokuto? No matter what, it had always felt that Bokuto was her first love, not him. “And they have something...permanently tying them together.”

“You’ve also been with her for the same amount of time.” Kenma cleared his throat, shifting his sharp gaze away from Kuroo. “I think that connection is more-so between you and her,” Kenma shrugged. “It’s not like he was involved other than genetically.”

“That wasn’t his fault though,” Kuroo argued. “If he hadn’t gotten the deal that day, he would’ve known and it would be him here instead of me.” 

 “But he did and it is you, not him.” Kenma looked down at his friend. “You’ve known each other for almost fifteen years. You’ve loved her for a majority of that time, whether you knew it or not.” He took control of the mouse, helping Hikori fight off a zombie. “She’s loved you for just as long. It doesn’t matter what they had together. You’ve already beat him in every possible way.” A smirk made its way onto his face as he watched Hikori play. “You’ve maxed your friendship levels. He’d have to start over at this point.” 

Kuroo rolled his eyes. “You’re such a gamer.”

“A rich one.” 

Kuroo’s face brightened as he cackled. “Thanks Kenma. You always know how to cheer me up.”

“Our friendship points are maxed out too, Kuro.”   

“Ken-san!” Hikori pointed at the screen excitedly. “I just caught this!”

“Good job, Hiki.” Kenma patted the boy’s head affectionately.

****

A few days later...

“Akaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“Can we meet up?”

“Of course. I’ll text you the address of a pearl drink place, okay?”

Akaashi hung up, sighing. It had been years since he heard Bokuto so...depressed. The wing-spiker had worked hard to overcome his “emo” modes from high school, and it no longer affected him during games, but apparently something brought it back and Akaashi had an idea of what that it might be…

“So you met (Name)?”

Bokuto nodded, chewing on the tapioca balls. “Yeah, we ran into each other at the game a few days ago.”

Akaashi hesitated. “How was that?” 

“S’okay, I guess.” Bokuto shrugged, spinning in the raised chair. The two sat in bar-stools at Akaashi’s favorite pearl tea shop. Though, it was only his favorite since it was so close to his work-place. “We met up to talk the other day and caught up. I didn’t know she and Kuroo got married.”

The former setter hummed. “Yeah, they got married before Hikori was born.”

Bokuto threw his arms up. “That’s the thing! I didn’t even know they were talking together. Let alone that they were interested in each other like that.” Bokuto sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I can’t believe I came back to find my best friend having a baby with my ex-girlfriend.”

Akaashi tilted his head, twisting the straw wrapper. “I’m more surprised you didn’t come back sooner with all things considered.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Akaashi cleared his throat, “I figured you would visit more after finding out that Hikori is your son.”

Bokuto froze, short-circuiting. “He’s what?”

Akaashi paused, looking up from his pearl drink. “She didn’t tell you?” His eyebrows furrowed. “They promised that they would.”

“Congratulations, Kuroo-san.” Akaashi nodded at Kuroo and (Name). They were at (Name)’s house as she hosted Hikori’s ‘Sip and See’ party and Aya’s baby shower. The coworkers had become exceptionally close after being joined together by parenthood. The expecting mother was entertaining other guests in the living room while (Name) and Kuroo entertained their guests in the backyard.   

“Do you want to hold him, Akaashi?” (Name) offered, arms cradling a bundle of blankets.

Akaashi smiled, bowing slightly. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course, I trust you.” She giggled, gently placing Hikori into Akaashi’s arms.

“I’ll be back, love.” Kuroo kissed (Name)’s head, nodding at Akaashi before heading over to greet his coworkers. 

Akaashi rocked Hikori slightly, a gentle smile on his face. “He has his eyes, y’know.” (Name) murmured, looking down at her son and carding through his soft locks. 

“Does he now?” Akaashi hummed. Hikori yawned, opening up his eyes as he woke up from his nap. With wide golden eyes, Hikori reached for Akaashi’s face. Akaashi chuckled, bringing his finger to Hikori’s small chubby hands. The baby squealed with laughter as he grabbed onto Akaashi’s index finger. “Does Bokuto-san know?” Akaashi peeked up at (Name).

“Not yet.”

Kuroo returned, catching their conversation. Akaashi kept his attention on (Name). “Will you tell him?” 

“Of course Akaashi.” Akaashi fixed her with a hard stare, raising an eyebrow. “I promise, we’ll tell him.” 

“Akaashi.” Gunmetal eyes slid to look over at Kuroo who grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. “We promise, Bokuto will know.” 

“I have to go.”

“Good luck, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi called after him as Bokuto sprinted out of the store.

****

“Thanks for coming in! Be sure to keep doing those stretches at home, okay?” She instructed, waving her client out. She stepped out of the hall, leaving one of the dance studios.

“Hey (Name)?” The receptionist called urgently, waving at the female.

“Yes? Is everything okay?” (Name) walked forward. Rei approached her, bending to whisper into her ear.

“There’s someone here for you. He’s been pacing the lobby for quite some time now.”

“Who is it?” Her eyes widened, brows furrowing. She didn’t have any more clients that day. (Name) glanced at her watch, it was almost time to pick up Hikori from the on-site day-care center. 

“He said his name was Bokuto?” (Name)’s jaw clenched, fingers twitching in agitation. “Oh, do you know him?” Rei asked, cocking her head. She could only nod, a million thoughts running through her mind. 

“Yeah, thanks for telling me Rei. I’ll go see him right now.” She smoothed out her clothes, taking a deep breath before she stepped into the lobby. “Bokuto?” True to Rei’s words, Bokuto was anxiously pacing up and down the lobby, looking over his shoulder at the double doors every few steps. Bokuto looked like a mess. His hair was all-over the place, golden eyes red. At the sound of her voice, Bokuto whipped around. His lip was swollen and bruised, no doubt from apprehensive chewing. 

“(Name)!” Bokuto sprinted towards her. “We need to talk.”

“It appears we do.” She looked around the lobby. “C’mon, let’s go to my office.” 

Silence clung to them as they took the stairs up to her office, which had been moved to a different wing. As soon as she shut the door, Bokuto whirled on her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That Hikori is my son!” He slammed his palm onto her desk, startling her.

Tears welled up in her eyes. “I...we...I was going to tell you,” she whispered. “When Hikori was older.” 

Name let out a sigh of relief, tugging the blanket under Hikori’s chin. Muscular arms snaked around her waist as the couple stood staring down at their baby. “Let him sleep,” Kuroo whispered into her ear, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek and gently tugging her towards the door. Kuroo slipped out first while she paused to turn on some classical music. Her husband was bustling around the kitchen, pouring them mugs of warmed milk. “Is everything okay?” He asked, glancing up at her.

“Do you think we should tell Bokuto?”

Kuroo’s hands froze as he stopped mixing honey in, eyes focused on the mug with an unreadable expression. “Bokuto?” 

She hummed in response. (Name) stepped in between his arms, wrapping her arms around his chest. “I mean, biologically that’s his child.” Kuroo hesitated as a hand reassuringly rubbed his back. “Hikori is still your son,” she clarified, “and he always will be.” (Name) pulled back, looking up at Kuroo, her lips brushing his cheek. ‘But I think he’d want to know. Heavens knows you would want to if the situation was reversed.” She shrugged as she bit her bottom lip. “Bokuto doesn’t need to know any time soon.”

Kuroo nodded reluctantly, resting his forehead on hers. “Why don’t we wait until Hikori is old enough to decide whether or not he wants to meet Bokuto?” he suggested, closing his eyes. “Introducing Bokuto too soon might cause confusion or unnecessary stress to Hiki.”

A puff of warm air blew across his face as she contemplated his offer. “That’s fair. He isn’t missing a father figure and he might get confused.” Her eyes glowed with determination. “Alright. Let’s hold off on telling him until he’s old enough to understand.”  Kuroo pressed a kiss first to her forehead then her lips. “Thank you for being so understanding, love.”

Kuroo let out a soft laugh. “Anything for you, my love.”  

“Don’t you think I had a right to know?” Bokuto was pacing around her office, aggravation evident in all of his movements. Fear locked her jaw. “Why didn’t you tell me when we met up the other day?” He snarled, running his hand through his hair again. The knock at her door shook her out of her reverie.

She cleared her throat, glancing at the door. “Yes?”

“(Nickname)? Are you ok?” 

She swallowed, steadying her voice and steeling her nerves. “Yeah, Iwaizumi. I’m fine, just dropped something.”

“Alright then. I’m next door if you need anything!”

“Thank you!” She pinched her nose, taking more deep breaths. “Look, Bokuto. You left.” She hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Years ago. I didn’t hear from you until. This. Week.”

“That’s not my fault!” Bokuto argued, grabbing her wrist. “You told me to go!” He threw her hand away from him, golden eyes narrowed.  

“I did.” She nodded, closing her eyes. Her nostrils flared as she took deep breaths. “I wanted you to be happy and to be the pro-player you always wanted to be.” 

“Babe, guess what?” She looked up from the tea-cup that sat in front of her, over the pastries as (e/c) eyes made contact with gold. Her eyebrows quirked up as she took a sip. Bokuto could hardly contain his own excitement as he blurted out, “I just got scouted!” 

Her eyes widened, choking slightly on the hot beverage. “Really? That’s great!” 

He nodded eagerly. “Yeah, it’s a two-year contract for now. They want to send me to their training camp starting next week and I’ll be gone for the next six months. After that, I’m going to officially join the team and everything!” A soft pout made its way to his face as he played with his fingers. He didn’t want to leave her - not when she was so close to finishing up school. “That means I have to leave this weekend.” 

Delicately placing the tea-cup down, a soft hand reached out for his. “Kou, it’s okay. This is the opportunity you’ve been looking for all of your life.” (Name) swallowed thickly, causing him to tilt his head at her. What was the matter? But his worries were quelled with her next words. “I’m not going to keep you here. Please, go live your life and you better be the best ace out there, okay?” 

Apprehension bubbled in his stomach, something didn’t feel right. He grasped her hand harder, fixing her with a paralysing golden stare. “We can make this work! I’ll come home to visit, and we’ll call every day, I promise.” Silently, he promised to himself, ‘And when you’re finished with school, I will come back and bring you with me.’ 

The corner of her lips graced him with a timid smile. “I’m sure we can.” 

“I love you.” Bokuto’s plush lips caressed her hand, squeezing it tightly once more. His heart felt warm knowing that he had her support. Knowing that he had a plan for their future now. Excitement filled him once more as he imagined it. Him, established in his professional volleyball career. Her, joining him in Osaka and building her own future as they joined their lives together as full-fledged adults.  

She squeezed back, looking at their intertwined hands. “I love you too.” 

His eyes widened, the memory hitting him out of nowhere sending a surge of fury through him. Bokuto lunged towards her, both hands now clasped onto her wrists. “Does Hikori know?” Bokuto demanded.

Her eyes widened. “Kou, that hurts,” she whimpered, trying to tug out of his grip.

“Does Hikori know?” Bokuto trembled like a leaf during the season's change.

“No, he doesn’t.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “We were going to wait until he was older so that he would understand.”

“So you hid it from both of us?” Bokuto scoffed. Hurt and anger crossed his expression. “Why would you lie?”

(Name) yanked her arms away, rage surging through her. Red marks were left on her arms and were rubbed furiously. “Bokuto, you left me. You ghosted me. You have absolutely no right to come in here demanding jack-shit from me after that.” She let out a deep laugh, eyes glinting dangerously. “Why would I tell my son that his father abandoned his mother especially when there was already someone else there to love and raise him?”

At her words, Bokuto deflated, anger dissipating completely. “I’m...I’m sorry, (Name). I didn’t…I.” Bokuto collapsed onto her patient table, face buried into his palms. “I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or to abandon you. It was just so hard, I didn’t want to hold you back.” Hot tears dripped down his face and splattered onto the ground. “Fuck, (Name). I was in so much pain when I left. I didn’t…I couldn’t…Not like this.” Bokuto’s body shook in sobs. Her anger faded as she watched him. Pity overwhelmed her, causing her throat to tighten.

She stepped closer, hesitantly wrapping her arms around his quivering form. Bokuto stiffened before burying his face into her shoulder. “It’s okay, Kou. I know,” she cooed softly. 

His body trembled as he clung onto her, struggling to breath. “I know I don’t deserve it but I...I wanna try again. Can I just try to be a part of Hikori’s life? We don’t even need to get back together,” he rambled in sheer desperation, tears soaking into her shirt. How could they? He had been replaced long ago and he hadn’t even realised it. “He doesn’t need to know that I’m his dad. Not yet.” Another sob tore through his body as his grip tightened. “I just want to be a part of his life. Is that okay?” 

(Name) bit her lip, glancing at the picture frame on her desk. Hikori and Kuroo stared back at her. Hikori was perched on Kuroo’s shoulders as they wandered the festival streets waiting for the firework show. 

“Please.” He whispered hoarsely, pulling back to reveal golden eyes that glistened with pain. “I know I don’t deserve your kindness. But please.” Bokuto took a shaky breath only to break out into harsher sobs. “Please (Name).”

*****

Fun Facts

💟 “Au” means ‘meeting’

💟 Though he was used to answering the ‘regrets’ question, it never not easier for Bokuto

💟 Bokuto had planned on renting the apartment for only a week - enough time to meet up with (Name) and then ask to stay with her, but ultimately extended his reservation in order to recuperate 

💟 Kuroo had never really gotten over his insecurities about Hikori’s birth

💟 Kenma loved showing Hikori how to play games, and they would often meet up monthly for game nights. (Name) refused to put Hikori in the spotlight though so Kenma wasn’t allowed to stream whenever Hikori was over

💟 Bokuto was overwhelmed with his own emotions and insecurities regarding Kuroo’s relationship with (Name) [more on this next chapter] 

💟 Japanese people call milk-tea/boba/bubble tea drinks ‘tapoica juice’ 

💟 Akaashi never brought it up to Bokuto because he assumed that Bokuto would have mentioned it to him if he wanted to talk about it. Unfortunately, Akaashi was not surprised about how things ended up happening 

💟 (Name) was surprised that Bokuto remembered where she worked. When they had met-up, Bokuto had seemed zoned out for a majority of it. 

💟 (Name)’s office was moved closer to Iwaizumi’s office due to reasons

💟 (Name) isn’t the type to get angry. But when Bokuto started making demands while getting angry and violent, she couldn’t help but lash out. She had been suppressing her own rage at him for years

*****

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[cupcakemolotov]

When Blood Calls for Blood

Hmm. This was supposed to be a mafia story for the AU Season that @klaroline-event is putting on, and instead descended into the depths of blood magic and werewolves, and some horror. Your guess is as good as mine as how that happened. Anyway. Hopefully this still works for Crime week. People ARE murdered.

Here you go. You can read it on A03 if you prefer.

Warnings: Blood Magic, Werewolves, Necromancy, death, some gore but not a lot, discussion about sex but no actual smut in this.

                                                           -

The brandy in her glass was excellent, but she hadn’t expected anything else. Klaus had come a long way from the boy next door with skinned knees and paint smeared fingers. That it’d been nearly a decade since she’d seen him hadn’t changed nearly as much as she’d have liked. Same tumbled curls, same dimples, same charm that lingered like a second skin over the sharper, harder parts of his smile. But now, his thinness had filled out into lean strength and he’d grown into the shape of his nose, the curve of his jaw. 

Caroline hadn’t expected to like the look of him as much as she did after all this time. Had hoped some distance would dull the want that had once lingered between them. She also hadn’t anticipated the way his gaze could still trace against her skin with the same intensity of a touch, but now with a new, markedly adult male appreciation that hinted at all sorts of fun things. Dangerous things, thoughts she’d pushed away much easier with the naivete of a teenager than she was finding herself able to do as a grown woman. 

Klaus had never been easy to ignore.

“Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we?” She asked once he’d leaned a hip against the desk next to him when she’d chosen not to sit. She didn’t know this man as well as she once had and she wasn’t prepared to be that vulnerable. Not yet. “We both know what you sent Elijah to tell me you wanted. I want to know why you think I should go along with it.”

A hint of a smile curved his lips. There was a strange sort of affection in his gaze which surprised her, in this childhood home of his, this house of horrors that had birthed monsters. She wished Enzo was there, to tell them if there were ghosts. If the rotting bones of Mikael beneath their feet still suffered.

“I’ve missed your directness, love. Most people are too afraid of me to try it.” His lashes lowered for a heartbeat, and his voice deepened. “And far too terrified to offer such blatant disapproval.”

Caroline gave him an unconcerned look. “I agreed  to this meeting because we were once friends. Not because I bought into the spiel that Elijah was selling. I walked away from this kind of life, and I had very good reasons to do so. You know that.”

A flash of something wolf-yellow glimmered faintly at the edges of his gaze, but she didn’t flinch. Klaus was dangerous. So very, very dangerous. Here, in Mystic Falls where they’d both spent their childhoods, it was almost possible to forget the lessons Chicago and New York had already learned. But Caroline had learned to deal with Klaus and his caustic mix of power and temper years earlier. A little of the wolf wasn’t enough to warn her off. 

Though it did intrigue her. Before, his control had been something held together by tenterhooks, his rage palpable. She had wondered if he’d buried it deep in his bones, left it to fester in muscle and marrow, but that glimmer told her he’d made a different choice. 

She was glad.

“Blood calls to blood, love.” There was something in his voice, a note that was sharp and apologetic both. “And you are Bill Forbes daughter.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose at the reminder. “I’m going to need more brandy if that's the angle you're taking. Thankfully, he only provided half my genetics, and none of my looks.”

The hard line of his shoulders eased, her words answering some unspoken question. “I know.”

Her expression sharpened. She did not like that he was able to read her so well. “If you’re not going to get to the point, I will leave.”

His laugh was soft, and unexpected. And it did nothing to lessen her mad. Reaching up, he briefly rubbed his neck and when his gaze returned to hers. The blue was gone, awash with gold and wolf. Inexplicably, her own tension gave, if just a little. She might no longer know the man, but she understood the wolf. 

“Elijah says you are well informed of my ongoings.”

She rolled her eyes. “As if that’s hard. A werewolf with the bad taste to be born to a witch, and who the poor manners of eating other witches is not, exactly, an unknown creature in the local gossip. Mystic Falls does so love it’s little horrors. It’s not like it’s hard to figure out where you’re going or where you’ve been.”

His dimples creased his cheeks. “That’s true. And yet, here you are.”

The implied threat was said teasingly. Caroline deliberately took a sip of her brandy. “If your wolf had wanted me dead, it would have made the attempt that when I was thirteen and tossed you three pine trees to save Enzo. If the man had wanted me dead, Elijah would never have sworn a binding saying this meeting was done in truce.” Her smile was sharp. “At least not knowingly. My magic is not kind when it comes to broken vows, and he hates me.”

His gaze narrowed at the blunt reminder, but his voice held no hint of anger. Just a hunting triumph. “I found Rebekah.”

And everything snapped into place. Setting her glass down, she stared at him. “And Elijah couldn't have led with that?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t…” Caroline stared at him for a long moment before tossing back her drink and moving towards one of the chairs. Ten years. It’d been ten years, and she understood everything those words meant. “Fine. I’ll bite. What is going on?”

To her surprise, he chose the chair next to her. His gaze holding hers, he deliberately tipped his knee lightly against her own. “Rebekah is in New Orleans.”

Her brows furrowed and her words were honest as she tried to ignore the feel of him against her. That sparking challenge in his eyes. “But you looked there years ago.”

That slow, thoughtful smile curled on his face again and she wished she hadn’t finished the brandy. “You have been tracking me.”

Caroline sighed and for the first time, looked away. She did not want to speak of the need to know he was still alive, to trust that he’d find some kind of reason after the death of his step-father. The wolf could have easily poisoned the man with its hate as the man could have destroyed the wolf with its rage.

“My father… the things he did.” Her words died and she shrugged. “I miss her too.”

They were survivors, her and Klaus. Enzo and Rebekah, though they were missing. Witchborn and powerful, they were the last remnants of bloodlines and blood feuds that should have never existed. Klaus, with his wolf and his rage. Enzo, with his affinity for the dead and his wicked sense of humor. Rebekah, the living embodiment of her mother’s hopes and wishes, but without the same darkness. And she? She was her father’s daughter, for all the Liz Forbes had done her best to temper it. 

“Then you’ll help me.”

And that blatant satisfaction, the roughness of his wolf in his voice warned her that he thought he had won. She let her gaze return Klaus’ face, and the force of temper clashed against his. She did not like being boxed in. He needed to remember that. “Will I? What I owed you was a blood debt and that was paid in full. What my family did to yours was terrible, but what Esther did to my mother was also terrible. There are no debts between us, not anymore.”

Enzo might argue that point, but her wiley best friend had been missing nearly as long as Rebekah. 

“You’ll help me,” Klaus repeated, unbothered by her irritation. Her temper, the surge of power that came with it, had always bothered him as little as his wolf had unnerved her. “And in turn, I will help you.”

“And what,” Caroline drawled, “do I need your help with? I’m perfectly capable of burying bodies on my own these days.” She wiggled her manicured fingers. “I don’t even have to break a nail to do it.”

That flicker of affection again, tempered by determination. He reached for an envelope that sat on the edge of his desk and handed it to her. “I’d have helped you regardless, but this might make things more comfortable between us.”

She snorted even as she opened the envelope to pull out a single sheet. “Things have never been particularly comfortable between us at all.”

Caroline ignored the deeply satisfied noise he made and looked at the picture. Enzo’s face, battered, bruised, stared up at her and she went motionless at the tangle of anger and fear that swept through her. “How…”

She’d looked. 

“It took finding Rebekah.” A bitterness in his voice she understood. “And once I did, I knew where to look. The scattered pieces of our past are not easy things, love.”

Mute with rage, she glanced back at him. 

“When the Witch Council attempted to end the feud between our families, they were not prepared for the realities of what that would mean.” His teeth gleamed behind his lips. “They were ill prepared for our families' hate, I imagine our cooperation never occurred to them.”

Caroline snorted. They should have been prepared for all of it. Feuding witches were no small thing. Though in her more charitable moments, she allowed that some things just could not have been foreseen. Not the fallout from Ester’s affair, not Bill’s jealousy, not Mikael’s malice. 

Rebekah should have been safe. They should have all been safe. None of them had been. 

“They should have done better.”

His smile held teeth. “Yes.”

It had been her and Enzo, who had held Mikael with their magic while Klaus had shifted to wolf to rip his step-father apart. Enzo, who had commanded the dead man to dig his own grave in the study Mikael had been so fond of. Later, Klaus had opened a bottle of expensive bourbon and they had gotten drunk listening to the sound of a shovel moving dirt.

It had taken hours to repair the foundation with magic.

Mystic Fall was full of so many nightmares. 

Her gaze returned to the picture in her hands. And something turned cold and brittle in her chest. “That is the symbol of St. Augustine.”

“Yes.”

She stood then and paced toward the window. When she spoke, her words trembled with magic. Behind her, the desk shuddered. She hadn’t been this close to losing her temper since the day she walked into her home to find it smelling of blood and her mother’s death. Had found what she had been meant to see. 

 “The Augustine Society belongs to the Witch Council.” Her fists clenched. “And have Enzo.”

She knew the Augustine Society. The horrors the Witch Council offered them. She knew, because her father had also belonged to that society before blood madness had taken him. And they had possibly the greatest necromancer of her generation, trapped. 

Fingertips brushed lightly down the bare nap of her neck. The touch was possessive, careful. An old trick, to anchor her. It made it no less personal. “So it is.”

Caroline closed her eyes. She hadn’t heard him move. “What did my father do, that you cannot claim your sister?”

“It’s a blood bind. I cannot break it.”

“No,” she murmured, letting the soft touches of his fingertips focus her. “You wouldn’t be able too.”

“But you can.” His words were lethal in their softness, coaxing in their delivery. “You're more powerful.”

“Flattery,” she said. Then she sighed. “But you’re not wrong. Still, the witches of New Orleans will never allow me into their city.”

They’d never allow Liz Forbes' daughter in their heart of power. The thought brought a faint smile to her lips. So strange, for a city to fear her mother’s blood.

Strange, but not unwise.

“I didn’t plan on asking permission.”

She turned to face him then, letting the window at her spine hold her weight and studied his face. Such arrogance, but not unwarranted. A full coven might face the nightmare he gave shape too with his bones, but perhaps not. Klaus had cut quite a swath through the witch families in the US. 

His mother’s perfect monster. 

“A blood bind will not be easy to break, not after so many years since it was cast.” She considered what it meant, how far gone her father had been in his madness. “I will likely need a sacrifice, and that is a magic I have sworn not to use lightly.”

“You won’t fall to the same madness.” The assurance in his voice was so, so arrogant. “I will not allow it.”

Caroline gave a bark of laughter. “You cannot know that, cannot expect to dictate such a thing.”

“But I can,” he disagreed. “I’ve seen your magic, Caroline. I’ve witnessed the price of it, the horror of it, and justice of it. Esther’s death was not easy. I know what you are.”

“Ester deserved more,” she said. “But we work with what we have. And I am no longer, sixteen, Klaus. What anchored me as a teenager will not work for the adult.”

Then it’d had been enough to cling to his wolf. To bury her face and hands in the thick pelt of his fur while she rode out the drowning horror, the unrelenting ecstasy of her magic, to let the sensation of fur on skin be the distraction from the siren call of endless power. The blood she wore on her skin.

She’d always liked his wolf. 

Blood magic was dangerous. And witches who practiced it always, always lost themselves. Caroline’s father had been no exception. She would likely not be either. Thankfully, she wasn’t just her father’s daughter. 

“And what,” Klaus asked lightly, eyes deepening to the blue of the man, something as dark as the working of her magic coloring his voice. “Do you need?”

Her nails dug into her palms and she lifted her chin. “What are you offering?”

Klaus’ head lowered until his nose nearly brushed hers, his mouth tantalizing close to hers. “Anything you want.”

Her teeth sank briefly into her lip and she sighed. “We both know how my father chose to feed his need and how well that worked for him.”

Satisfaction and a want so blatant and greedy on his face, she struggled to suck in her next breath. “Steven knew what he was doing when he agreed to join your father’s bed. He was aware of the risks. So am I.”

Her voice shook only a little when she spoke. “Rebekah’s temper is no small thing, Klaus. If she wakes up to me fucking her brother, I don’t think she’s going to be pleased.” 

His hand lifted to curve along her jaw, thumb brushing tantalizing across her lips. “Elijah can secure Bekah, once she is free.”

And Elijah would just love that. “So you are planning on telling him you found her.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “Both he and Kol will be needed for this. Even if only a mirage, we must show the world where our loyalties lie.”

Caroline winced. “They still haven’t forgiven you for not kiling me, then.”

When Elijah had appeared at her home to request her presence for this meeting, she’d almost hoped. 

“As they are not strong enough to oppose me, their opinions of your magic do not matter.” His jaw tightened. “From either side of your family.”

“Klaus…” She caught his hand. “They are not wrong. Blood magic is an abomination, not counting what my mother left me with her death. Killing me would likely make the world a better place.” 

His eyes flared with his wolf, and his words were near violent with intensity. “I disagree. Am I too, not an abomination? You protested quite viciously when my mother attempted to do just that.”

His voice sounded the same as it always had, when he spoke of her murdering his mother. Delighted satisfaction with a hint of growl.

Caroline rolled her lip tightly between her teeth. This was what her mother had never understood. What Esther had miscalculated. This tugging in her chest, as she thought about a world without Klaus. The way he dared her with his eyes and his worlds to repeat herself, to suggest he would allow the world to exist without her. The thing that had left her walking away from him, uncertain what lengths she could allow herself to go to preserve it. 

The boy who had painted her flowers and the man who understood the depth of what she could become, what she feared. 

But he’d found Rebekah. Enzo.

“You understand that if I agree to this, it won’t end with rescuing Rebekah and Enzo,” she said slowly. Likely wouldn’t end with her willing to walk away from him a second time, and the bloody future that promised. “I’m not that forgiving. If the Augustine Society was part of this, if they supported my father? Enzo will want them dead and so will I.”

“Oh, sweetheart, as if I’d object.” His mouth curved. “But why stop there? Not when we both know the Witch Council had to be involved.”

So much destruction. So much blood. Carefully, she reached up with her free hand and traced the shape of his mouth while he went carefully motionless. “It would be helpful, if the sacrifice had a tie to Bekah.”

His lips pursed against her fingers for a moment before he moved just enough to respond. “The Salvatore’s are in New Orleans.”

And that terrible anger, that thirst she’d managed to choke into behaving for ten years unfurled in her chest. “What a coincidence.”

And Klaus, whose monster knew her own, just smiled. “Isn’t it just?”

“How are you planning on explaining my presence in New Orleans?”

Mischief, sudden and startling, crossed his face. “The witches can hardly object to my bringing a date to Mardi Grais. The same as I have done for the past four years, in fact.”

Caroline blinked, and tried not to think about the twist of jealousy in her gut. “I am not pretending to be in a relationship with you.”

“Who said anything about pretending?” His eyes laughed at her but his words were serious. “Shouldn’t you take a man to dinner before post ritual sex?”

She glowered at him, just to be contrary. “No.”

He shrugged, unperturbed.“We’re still sharing a room.”

She choked on a sudden laugh, at how easy and playful he made this. As they weren’t courting madness and the wrath of the council as they freed their family. As if everything was just a matter of them going out and conquering their enemies with his teeth and their magic. 

Simple, really. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Caroline questioned. “This… this will change everything.”

Klaus lowered his head, pressing his forehead to hers and smiled, dimples bracketing a smile made of sin and blood lust that struck her in her chest. The smile of a predator well satisfied.

“Yes, I think it will.”

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 108

And we are somewhat caught up!  My queue has run out at least, and I’m astoundingly glad it has, because now I get to thank a bunch of people who have just detonated my inbox with love, and kept me going.

Before I get into the gratitude: If, at any point, a comment a character makes does not make sense, please let me know. Send an ask, even on anon, because I am well aware that everything in my brain does not get a chance to make it in the story (example: Charly’s triangle comment here, and the fact that Noah’s dialogue in the beginning has an actual translation…)

First, shoutouts to @charlylimph-blog​, @baelpenrose​, and @quantumizedinsanity​ for the characters in this chapter and for being very, VERY dear friends to me.  A global pandemic and nationwide protests, along with a job change and a major move, have done nothing to hurt friendships that are already cross-country from each other.

Annnnd to everyone who has been blowing up my notes with likes and reblogs: @dierotenixe(hang in there! i PROMISE!), @iamverypotato​,@itscryptifssil, @steadynightninja​, @thepalemarcher, @feral-possums-in-the-bog​, @26fancyraptors​(MISSED YOU!), @werewolf2578​ (we don’t talk enough, how are you!?), @experimentalspades​, @odd-dream-worlds​, @duchess-katala03​, @pineapplewitchboi​, @dark-choclat-cupcake, @littleshydragon​, and all the others. 

I held my breath, bracing for what I knew was coming. Nothing came after several minutes, to my surprise.  I slowly lifted my head and opened my eyes, focusing on drawing deep, even breaths. Maybe he got bored and wandered off.  Maybe he had mercy on me….

Yeah. And maybe Grey is making genetically modified fish that fly.

Slowly, carefully, I grabbed my fork and lifted a bite of pie to my mouth.  A glance at Charly showed a serious expression, nothing given away. Damnit. I knew she could see Arthur behind me, I was hoping for a telltale giggle, or a warning glance, something.  Right when a traitorous voice of reason spoke up belatedly to point out that Charly was never serious…

“You really will adopt anyone, won’t you?” Arthur asked as he came around to take the chair Jokul had just vacated.

Fuuuuuck…. Busted. “I didn’t adopt him!” I tried to argue. “I actually made a very concerted effort to avoid that!”

Unceremoniously, he snagged Charly’s pot pie, only to have his hand held at fork-point until he let go.  Without even acknowledging the lunch-standoff, he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “You tried to ‘avoid’ it by foisting him off on Zach Khan, your… nephew, thing, and his girlfriend. Still adoption-adjacent.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to interact with him.”

“Uh huh. And how will you explain to poor Hannah that dear Ivan’s partner isn’t invited to Insert Winter Holiday dinner, hmmm?”

“I hate you.”

“Lies and deceit,” he rebutted calmly. “You adopted me first. Before anyyyyone on this ship. I daresay you’re quite fond of me.”

I scowled at him, shoving my remaining lunch in his direction. “Here, before you start poaching this direction.”

An eyebrow arched in the general direction of my fish pie. “That looks suspiciously like dairy.  You wound me.” Grabbing my fork, he poked at the lumps of meat. “I would have thought you would be at least a little subtle in any assassination attempts. Have I taught you nothing?”

“Of course you taught me something,” I cooed, jokingly, while I patted his arm. “The fastest way to a man’s heart is six inches of steel through the ribs, slight upward angle.  Cyanide smells like bitter almonds, so always use shortbread cookies to administer it. Three pounds of pressure will tear off a human ear, and even a three year old can bite through fingers,” I recited. “Also, the pie is dairy-free, surprisingly. The ‘cream’ is silken tofu and aquafaba, turns out.”

Charly was choking with laughter, while Arthur finally smiled at me. “See, I told you that you love me,” he gloated before scooping up a scallop and some crust. As soon as he started chewing, his expression changed from one of amusement to something strikingly similar to Mac when I flick water in his face.

“Scallops,” I explained. “I had the same reaction.”

“Heathens,” he managed around the mouthful.  After he swallowed it, he gave the dish a considering look. “Not bad per se, but… There is no fish in this fish pie. What is aquafaba?”

“Chicpea juice.  Usually it’s used as an egg substitute.  I guess they used it for consistency here.”

Charly leaned forward, narrowly avoiding landing an elbow in her lunch. “And how can you tell that’s what’s in there?”

Glancing over at his student, Arthur shrugged. “She has a point. This,” he poked at the sauce, “looks like heavy cream.”

“Tastes kind of nutty, though,” I explained. “Anyway, enough about food. What brings you down here?”

“Galactic Core Curriculum,” he explained. “That’s the excuse anyway. Alistair - Cthulu damn his soul - told me you were eating lunch here after fifteen minutes of questioning. Tyche told me Charly was with you, so I figured lunch with you, lunch with one of my favorite students, plus I can kill two errands with one meal.” Charly stared at him like he had lost his mind, but he ignored her. “When I arrived - lo! What to my wondering eyes should appear, than a certain former cult leader harassing said friend and student! What person could resist such a temptation.” Deflating dramatically, he scowled at me. “Imagine my delight to hear you giving him relationship advice,” he intoned flatly.

“I got him to go away,” I pointed out.

“Before I managed even one strike in a highly one-sided battle of wits.“

“Mr. Farro,” Charly cut off, glaring for all she was worth. “Jokull came in peace, he leaves in peace.”

“Oh, he would have left in pieces. His ego anyway.”

“Fucking triangles, I swear,” Charly muttered, attacking her lunch with renewed violence.

“Anyway,” I forged ahead. “Jokul was here for fifteen, twenty minutes. You had your chance.”

He glanced away with a cough. “I… may have been resisting the urge to vomit.”

“Arthur.”

“Relationship advice is… not in my skillset,” he admitted. “Tell you your partner is abusive? Can spot a mile a way.  Great for getting people out of bad relationships, with concierge crowbar service if necessary. Not great for saving them.”

“Crowbar? Really?”

“You know, for prying people out of bad situations?” He genuinely looked confused, so I left that one alone.

“For what it’s worth, Jokull wanted to talk to you about what he’s going through right now,” Charly added.

“Why in any galaxy…”

I had to laugh at that one. “Everyone treats him poorly,” I shrugged before giving Arthur a pointed look. “He’s having a rough time right now, feels like he has no one to talk to except Ivan, and thought you would have some insight into that kind of thing.”

“What part of this,” he gestured to himself with a fork, “implies anything remotely close to wanting people to like me and therefore actually knowing how to accomplish that.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” I muttered. 

Giving me a hard, thoughtful look, Arthur’s entire demeanor changed. “Ah… On a more serious note, though… yeah.  I don’t get why people not liking you is a problem, but you’ve told me before it’s something that bothers you, so it’s feasible it bothers other people.  I’ll make a point not to make it worse.”

Clearing my throat, I pushed the conversation on to the next topic. “You mentioned two errands earlier. One for me, one for Charly?”

“Right.” The relief to be changing topics was palpable. “For you, Councillor, Galactic Core is almost finished. Eino is already considering other ongoing-education programs, and you’re going to need to start scouting educators again.  That late-twentieth through contemporary Terran history course? Big support-base, turns out.”

“You wouldn’t tell me this without a reason,” I pointed out. “And you’re a History teacher. Volunteering?”

“I want it done right,” he admitted. “The idea being bounced around isn’t for a requirement that everyone take the course. Not at the same time, anyway.  History-focused educators only, approved curriculum.”

“Approved?” I asked. “By whom?”

“A committee,” he shrugged. “Eino, obviously. Xiomara, with her background - which, by the way, is ridiculous - “

“We know, we know,” Charly and I groaned.

After glancing between us for a moment, Arthur continued. “And me.”

“Why you?” I asked. “No offense, just trying to understand.”

“No offense taken, I’ll explain that part later, but I promise it’s for a legitimate reason. The point is, Eino and his committee approve the curriculum and number of slots. You and Tyche make the decisions for who is allotted where.”

“Fair point,” I conceded.

“Fine. The area of history I focused on for my Master’s degree has an important component that ties a lot together and makes revisionism harder - wait. What?” I could almost hear the gears squealing as they ground to a halt. “Did you just say yes?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“That was… disturbingly easy,” he gave me a skeptical look.  When all I did was grin, he slowly turned to Charly. “As for you, I wanted to talk to you about the assignment that’s due next Friday.”

“I already turned it in,” she pointed out.

“Which is what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s a week and a half early.”

“Right….” she nodded slowly. “And I made sure it met all the criteria on the syllabus.  Plus I had three different people proofread it.”

“All of which is admirable, and it would be considered a very well-done assignment,” he admitted. “If you didn’t have an extra week and a half left to make it even better.”

“Mr. Farro….”

“You aren’t in trouble, in any way shape or form,” he reassured her. “But I know you are capable of doing better than the assignment you already gave me.  I wanted to offer you a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” Charly asked suspiciously. “This isn’t illegal, is it?”

“What? No…” he sputtered. “Illegal!?”

“Gotta be sure,” she nodded sincerely.  I was reasonably certain she was giving him a hard time, but it was still hilarious to watch.

Shaking his head, Arthur did his best to recover. “The deal is this: if you stick with the assignment you already sent me, I’ll grade it as it stands. But. If you re-do it and hand it in on the original due date, you’ll be eligible for extra credit for your extra effort.”

“But I still get the grade on the one you already have, either way?” she asked skeptically.

“I’ve already graded it, and you won’t get a worse grade if you re-do it,” he promised. 

“I’ll think about it,” she hedged carefully. “That paper was a lot of work.”

“That’s fair,” he nodded. “What if you sent me an audio recording, instead? No extra writing.”

“I can do that,” she agreed, sticking out her hand. After Arthur shook it, she glanced at the time. “Shit. I gotta go. Sophia, don’t be late back to work, okay? Tyche won’t care, but Alistair may stop letting me have extra marshmallows in my cocoa when I come by your office.”

After she left, I gave Arthur a very serious look.  He tried to ignore it, but after about five solid minutes of The Squint, he caved. “For the love of… She’s smart, okay? You know, I know it. The paper she handed in a week and a half early was much more insightful than anyone else in the class.  They were assigned a research paper on the underlying causes of the breakdown in relations between the Ekomari and Shalt-kri’i.  Everyone focused on political ideologies, trade resources, navigational route control.  Standard causes for war, from a Terran perspective. Do you know what Charly Harper wrote her paper about?”

“Food?” I asked, going out on a limb.

“So close! Cultural differences, plain and simple. Ekomari are vaguely mammalian, and their diet consists of native arthropods. Guess what Shalt-kri’i look like?”

“You’re kidding me…”

“Not even slightly.  And! To add insult to injury, in a very close to literal sense, Shalt-kri’i greet each other as friends by spreading their appendages, a lot like a hug.  Whereas Ekomari show aggression by… standing up on their hindmost appendages and spreading the rest to look bigger.”

“And no one caught this before?”

“Not on the Ark, no.” He spread his arms wide. “No one even considered it.  Sure, the rest are good points, and they did make everything worse, more than likely, but the start?  She nailed it.”

“Then why have her re-write the assignment?” I was honestly confused at this point.

“The way she wrote it, I could tell she wasn’t confident about the answer at all.” He looked about as frustrated as I had ever seen him. “You get her talking about engineering, or pranks, she knows she knows what she is talking about. I want her to know that she is just as right about this as she was about that.”

Hard to believe that this was the same man whose office I had marched into, out for a pound of flesh and the blood besides, because the same woman we were discussing left his class in tears and begged me not to make her go back.  However…

“Honestly?” I ventured. “I want to hear this recording when she hands it in. I’m really curious about this.”

“You think she’ll write it?”

“Pfft,” I scoffed. “I know she will. You gave her a challenge where she can’t lose, but stands a lot to gain. I just hope you’re ready for that sound file.”

“I honestly can’t wait,” he smirked.

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[mego42]

while I was not specifically prompted, @foxmagpie posted a fic request that made my brain go hmmmmmmmm, so I went ahead and pretended it was a prompt for me because I do what I want.

i want to read a fic from rio’s POV of 2.10 when annie reached out to him both because i think annie trying to arrange a business proposition would be hilarious but also because i suspect that rio thought beth was either orchestrating things or that it would be a way to get her back and i wanna get in his head about it

can we meet

All in all, it's a pretty standard text. Rio could probably scroll through his phone and find at least 15 others at any given point. More if he didn't dump his phones every week or two. Even more if he didn't have Mick filtering most of the bullshit for him. 

But that's the thing, he does have Mick, which means when these kinds of texts make it all the way to him, he knows who they're from and what they want. The problem here is he doesn't know who the fuck this is or what they want or, most importantly, how the fuck they got this number. 

And that last part especially is a big enough fuckin' problem that he shuts his laptop and scoops up his phone, swiping through to call and see who it is. 

"Hello?"

He doesn't immediately recognize the voice that picks up, though it pings something. He waits, still not saying anything, figurin' he'll either place it, or they'll give themselves away. It's fuckin' unbelievable the kind of shit people will say if he just keeps his mouth shut and waits 'em out. 

"Is this…" The voice trails off, and he's right on the cusp of placin' it, can feel a face bubbling to the surface when it continues in a whisper. "Gang friend?"

The fuckin' sister. 

Rio's mouth snaps shut so hard it sends a pang through his jaw, and he's pretty sure she heard his teeth click together over the phone. 

There are motherfuckers who would kill—hell, who have killed—for his number, and here's this suburban bopper callin' him up like she can summon him or some shit. Like she has the right.

And isn't that just like Elizabeth, makin' her sister call? After her pretty little fuckin' speech, that prim, butter wouldn't melt it's over, leavin' his cut on the goddamn nightstand like he was some kind of hired help. 

His phone case creaks, giving slightly under the force of his grip, and he forces himself to relax. He leans back in his chair, drumming his fingers on his desk, tryin' to figure out how he wants to play this.  

He fuckin' knew it. 

He's not about to pretend the victory isn't at least a little sweet underneath the bitter rage just thinking 'bout their stalemate brings to the surface. He knew Elizabeth wasn't gonna walk away. She couldn't, she didn't have it in her. 

It isn't enough, though, knowing he was right. It's barely a dent, a scratch, a fuckin' scuff in the debt she owes him, the mountain of shit he's gonna make her pay for.

"Hello?"

He hasn't said anything yet, and it's makin' the sister antsy, he can tell. There's a static, scratching noise, and he realizes she's put her thumb over the speaker or something because he can hear what she says next, but it's muffled. 

"Are you sure this is the right number?"

Something in him bottoms out—he's not exactly tryin' too hard to identify what. The bright, bitter flair of satisfaction's gone as quickly as it came, leaving a dark, hollow space behind. 

The sister's actin' out then, going rogue. Elizabeth knows damn well what his number is. She hasn't exactly been too shy 'bout usin' it whenever she needs a payday loan. Or other services for that fuckin' matter. 

He can't help but laugh at that, but it's a harsh, biting sound. The audacity must be genetic. 

"Okay, now I know you're there. Stop being a dick."

He should hang the fuck up, now that he knows who it is. Hang up, block the number, forget all about that bitch and the sister. It's probably the smartest thing to do, all told. 

Except. Except she fuckin' owes him, and Rio hasn't gotten to the top by letting debts go unanswered. 

"What?" He asks, giving the t an edge sharp enough to cut. 

There's a pause. "What like you didn't hear me, or what like what do I want?"

Rio adjusts a potted bromeliad's alignment on the corner of his desk, running a finger along the edge of one of the tall, spikey leaves. Mick had dropped it on his desk one day with no fanfare, only snide commentary about Rio needing to take a vacation, and maybe this'll get him thinkin' 'bout it.

The annoying part is, it's not like the disrespectful fucker's wrong. Rio knows damn well he's let himself get far too twisted up in Elizabeth's bullshit. Offerin' to deal with her problems, lettin' her get away with all kinds of amateur hour bullshit like bringing her fuckin' kids on drops. He never should've let her strong-arm him into cuttin' her in. It's not like she's the first person to try, should've dealt with her like he would anyone else, string her up and don't give her the option to not tell him where his shit is. 

Hell, further back than that, he never should've followed her into that motherfuckin' bathroom. Should've kept it business, should've never found out how soft those miles of pale skin really are, how far that delicate pink flush can spread, how unexpectedly dark and rich she tastes.

Disgusted with himself, he shoves up out of his chair, pacing around the tiny, concrete floors of the control room currently serving as his office in long, loping strides.

He should take a week. Tie things up, take Marcus to Disneyland, or some shit. Get some fuckin' distance. Perspective. 

"Hello?"

Now the sister sounds like she's getting annoyed, and Rio's really gotta do somethin' about the two of them runnin' 'round actin' like he's someone they can get away with not takin' seriously. Like he's some sort of pet. Defanged. Declawed. Fuckin' neutered. 

"Get to the point."

"I mean, I kind of did in the message." 

Rio can hear some kind of groan or somethin' from the background. Probably the friend. She was the only one of the three of them who ever seemed to really get what kind of waters they were swimming in. How deep they were and what kind of monsters lurked beneath the surface.

"Yeah, that ain't really how we do things."

"I know, I...look—" He has to yank the phone away from his ear when she sighs, loud as shit, right into it. "Something...I mean, um. I know Beth quit, but, uh…"

He tunes her out, the way she's going, she'll be stutterin' her way around to her point about a half an hour from now. 

She wants a fuckin' favor, a hookup. They always do. Not just these bitches but everyone. Once you're at the top, all people want is a piece; it's only a matter of whether or not they're gonna beg for it or try to take it. Every now and then, they try to earn it. 

It’s one of the things he'd liked best about Elizabeth from the jump. Yeah, sure, she was arrogant as shit, struttin' 'round in those heels like she understood the rules the world played by. Like she could twist anything and everything' round her pretty little fingers and get away with whatever the fuck she wanted as long as she batted those big, blue eyes just right. 

But she was willin' to work for it. She might’ve expected to be awarded a piece just because she worked hard and that was the fair exchange for her effort. And isn’t that a trip? The idea of livin’ in a world where fair meant somethin’. Still, that didn’t mean she wasn’t gonna get down in the dirt and scrap for it. 

Her problem is—well, one of 'em, he doesn't even have enough warehouses to house 'em all—she looked out at her tidy little garden and thought that was the dirt. She didn't want to accept there's a whole other subterranean playing field underneath all of that. 

He'd seen it though, the thing with teeth and claws she had locked up inside her. It'd come out in flashes and splinters, peaking through the bars of the cage she kept it in, eyes flashing, tail lashing, and he couldn't help it, the urge to see what would happen if he pulled its tail. Let it loose. 

Rio stops pacing, coming to a halt in front of one of the huge paneled windows in the exterior wall of his office, leaning up against the edge and looking out. The panes are dingy, giving his view of the Michigan winter sky a bleak, barren cast. Not that it needed any more of one. This warehouse sits on the edge of a train yard, the miles of rust and concrete below reaching out towards the horizon. All grey and dirty red, broken up by the occasional patch of strangled grass or vibrant streaks of neon tags left behind to defiantly mark the artists’ passing. 

"...I guess what I'm saying is, you know, you still have options in this, um, market. If you catch my drift. I'm hoping that we can figure a way to continue this mutually beneficial arrangement…"

The sister's still going, so he ticks through his options. 

He'd have preferred Elizabeth came crawling back all on her own. That'd be ideal. He hadn't decided yet if he'd initially shut her out, make her work for reentry, and then make her pay, or go straight to the main event. It would've depended on the circumstances, what was most advantageous at the time. All good plans are flexible. He’s learned the hard way to always take contingencies into account. 

She would've, though. Come crawling back. It was only a matter of time. She's had a taste now, she'd let herself go just enough, she wasn’t gonna be able to pack herself back away in that soul-sucking suburban box of a house, of a life. Not for long.

Beyond that, there was the money. She might've thought she had enough, but four kids, three mortgages, and a moron with a talent for squandering every last thing he's given? That's a lot of financial upkeep. 

'Sides, even if she thought she was in the black, he was still keepin' tabs on all of them—it wasn't even personal, just good business, they were too new, too green, too unpredictable to go without the extra surveillance—and he knew that wasn’t the case across the board. Elizabeth might've been in an okay spot for now, but the sister and the friend sure as shit were not, and if there's one way to get Elizabeth to jump, it's come through her people. 

And on the off chance that all of that failed to come to fruition—always a possibility, she's stubborn as shit and not above gettin' into some kind of dumbass, fucked up mess to keep from backin' down—he's got his little landfill insurance policy tucked away on ice if he ever needs to really force her hand. 

"So, what do you say?" The sister‘s finally run out of steam.

Rio runs his tongue along the inside of his lower lip and tucks it in his cheek. 

Now that he’s really thinkin’ about it, this might actually be a better option than any of the ones already on the table. There's no way the sister and the friend are gonna pull some shit all the way off, not on their own. He knows how to read a room, it’s been the thing that’s kept him alive more than once, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt, the two of them aren’t half as effective on their own. They don't have Elizabeth's steely determination, her gift for spinning bullshit into gold. Not only that but there’s too much friction there. They need Elizabeth to grease their wheels. He can toss 'em some piddly shit that don't matter and let 'em get tangled up. Give 'em enough rope and all of that.

And hey, it's not like he came after her—them. If anything, he's tryin' to help. He’s givin’ them the same opportunity to earn some money, build their own side hustle. He's practically the good guy here.

The thought makes him laugh, this time like it's actually funny.

"Okay, well, thanks for that. You know, you don't have to be rude. I just thought—"

"Park. 2 pm."

"What? Oh! Seriously? Okay, great. Wow, that is...phew. That is a load off, you don't even kno—"

Rio cuts her off, locking his phone and tucking it back in his pocket, then tapping his fist against the window. 

Three seagulls are down in the warehouse parking lot fighting over scraps of something. Even all the way up here, he can hear 'em cawing, screamin', tearin' into each other for the same piece of the pie. After a minute, one of ‘em rips whatever it is away from the other two, swallows it and takes off. The others follow a beat behind, and he watches the three of ‘em fly directly overhead until the building obscure his view. 

Either Elizabeth'll come to him, or this will give him a new string to tug, somethin' he can use to yank her right back under his thumb. He'll get her right back where he wants her and then he'll— He'll—

Well. He'll just have to see. 

[hailbop1701]

ReaperXFemaleReader

Doom: To Hell And Back

Chapter 5: Oh Hell No...

Hey everyone! Chapter 5 is finally done. I really struggled with this one for some reason. And I hope there aren't toooo many typos. Thanks again to @thottiewithashotgun for the editing as always. Doom doesn't belong to me I'm just messing with the characters and storyline a little bit.

You walked over to where Sam and Duke were whispering quietly, at the sound of your footsteps Duke looked up and gave you a toothy smile. “There she is. You all good?” he asked and you grimaced. “I’ll live. I’m gonna need to burn all of my gear though.” you grumbled.

Sam laughed softly and looked at you with a critical eye, “You said you were going to be careful.” she accused. You sighed and blew a strand of hair from your face, “I guess it’s not my lucky day.” you offered with a shrug.

Sam snorted and shook her head, “I feel like that happens often.” she whispered, making Duke snort. You glared at her without any of the heat and pulled your vest back on slowly. Wincing slightly as your shoulder and ribs twinged, Sam pulled the vest around you and helped zip it up. 

“Thanks,” you muttered and turned when Sarge stalked over, “Where are your surface entry points?” he asked voice tight. Sam hesitated for a second, “There’s a pressure door at the end of the north corridor” she said voice steady. Sarge nodded, “Destroyer, Kid, Portman, get there on the double. Give me an update.” he ordered to the three, who all nodded. “Whatever this thing is it cannot get back through the Ark,” 

Sarge then spoke directly into his Comm. “Mac, I want you to arm Pinky with a weapon, with some ST grenades, and seal the Ark door.” Sam perked up beside you, “There’s another door.” she said wide eyed. Sarge looked at her again, “Where?” he asked and Sam shifted and glanced at John for the briefest moment. “The entrance to the archeological dig.” she said with a sigh. You moved over to the open body bag and knelt down; you examined the creature with careful eyes. ‘What are you?’ you mentally ask. Reaching down you grip your knife’s hilt and give a sharp tug to free it from the demons skull. You lifted the blade and looked at it carefully in the light, a mixture of light and dark blood cover it. “Just like the other’s” you murmur. Sarge squats down next to you, “What do you think?” he asked quietly. Pursing your lips you think about what you have seen so far, “I can only make an educated guess. But I think it might be in the blood.” you said with a shrug, “I’m not an expert.” you added as Sarge opened his mouth to push you for more. He gave you a look that said a lot, 'elaborate,' was one of them.

“I think an autopsy would reveal a few things.” you offered your C.O. who in turn huffed impatiently. You both stood up, “I heard there was a body in Genetics; permission to get a blood sample?” you asked,  hopeful. Sarge looked down at you, eyes narrowed. He looked at you for a long moment before nodding. “Granted, don’t take too long. In and out and back here on the double.” he said. “Yes sir,” you said and sheathed your knife.

You moved around the room gathering the supplies you needed and stopped to reload both your main weapon and your sidearm. “Sam, can you start on an autopsy while I’m gone?” you asked your new friend. Sam had a few different expressions flit across her face before she stuck with determination. She nodded and looked at the body bag as if it was going to come alive at any moment.  You moved with others through the nanowall with a small wave to the two left behind.

You breathed in through your nose and steadily out your mouth; up toward the front of the line Sarge was losing his patience with Portman; again. You moved into the hallway that lead to the labs and the door sealed with a hiss behind you. Reaper quietly walked next to you and looked like he wanted to say something. He seemed to stop himself everytime he tried. “Something on your mind John?” you asked with a raised eyebrow. John hummed and looked down at you, “You sure you want to go off alone?” he asked and you rolled your eyes. “I’ll be fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” you reassured your voice betraying your annoyance. 

John chuckled, “I know you can handle it. If the dead demon in the infirmary was any indication. I just...be careful, okay?” he said carefully. You smirk and nudged him with your working arm, “Daaaaw, does this mean we're friends now?” you asked teasingly. John grumbled refusing to look at you out of spite. “I’ll be fine. In and out, like Sarge ordered.” you said stopping at the hall where you split up. 

Reaper looked at you for a second longer before nodding and heading off with the others. Taking a deep breath you turned back to the dark dimly lit corridor you had to traverse down. “I have the survival instinct of a lemming.” you muttered to yourself as you moved forward. The only sound was your light footsteps on the grated floor and your heart pounding in your ears. Tense with your rifle partially raised you look at each door hoping to happen upon genetics some point soon. As alert as you were your mind still drifted, ‘John was being weird. I mean I just met the guy; well his sister was worried about me too. Maybe it’s a Grimm thing. They have bad blood with this place. Sam's sweet, I'd hang out with her outside of all this if I got the chance. I should talk to her about that. John...I dunno. I don't think he'd ever talk to me outside of work.’ you thought and stopped short. Turning your head you read the plaque by the door. 

Genetics 

“Finally.” you breathed and moved to enter the room. You tapped at the door controls, and the door swooshed open. You looked into the dark room with mild apprehension, “Okay, ominous darkness; Check. Dead animal’s everywhere; Check. Giant spiderweds; Che-” you cut yourself off and take another look around the room. You aimed your rifle up and down the walls so you can see with your flashlight. Very large white webbs coated the room, “Oh this, I don’t like this at all.” you muttered with a shudder. Moving further into the room, you quickly scan the floor for the dead body that was reported. You saw a turned over table, blood, and debris but no body. 

“Fantastic.” you muttered and scanned the surrounding area again. You passed by a large terrarium that looked like it had seen better days, it was cracked and shattered on one side. You read the papers sitting next to it. “Test one complete on Birdeater arachnid. Oh hell no.” you whispered and whipped around training your gun on what you thought was watching you. All that was there was a white webbed blob of a figure stuck to the wall. “Found the body.” 

The hair on the back of your neck stood straight, something was definitely watching you. You slowly made your way over to the sack and pulled out your knife. Pulling your flashlight from your rifle you stuck it between your teeth so you could work. The bitter taste of the metal coated your tongue making you wrinkle your nose in distaste. You carefully cut the webbing away revealing an arm. Sheathing your knife, you calmly pulled a syringe from your hip bag.

As you uncapped the syringe a chittering came from behind you and it sounded big; swallowing thickly you stuck the needle into what you hoped was a vein and pulled the plunger back. You breathed a sigh of relief through your nose when you saw the curdled blood slowly fill the syringe. The chittering and hissing became louder behind you, squeaking you pulled the needle from the arm and capped it. The sound of shouting came over the Comms again. Something bad obviously happened but you couldn’t be concerned about it at that moment. You turned around slowly as you worked to reattach your light. 

And there it was; much, much bigger than it should be. The size of your aunt's old VW Bug, too big. Half up on the ceiling and half on the wall across from you one of it’s eight brown legs tapped in a slow beat, “Crow, report!” your Comm. screamed. Without taking your eyes off the spider you cautiously moved backwards toward the door doing your best to avoid the turned up tables and equipment. Glass crunched under your boots making you wince, the spider blinked and it's two front hooked legs tapped the wall in quick succession, “Crow, report damn it!” Sarge screamed at you through your Comm. 

Looking through your peripheral you saw that the door was closer now. You bumped into a cage of a mutilated cat making it tooth achingly squeal across the floor. The spider hissed and moved down the wall and onto the floor, a couple of it’s legs lifted onto a few stacked cages to accommodate for the lack of room. 

Taking a deep breath you quickly twisted and made a sprint for the door. A loud angry hissing erupted behind you and you broke through the threshold. In an afterthought you hit the button to close the lab door. A bang echoed behind you as you stumbled in the direction you came in. “Sorry Sarge, I uh found I dunno what that was. I locked it in genetics.”  you said almost breathlessly. “Get back to the infirmary on the double!” Sarge barked. “Ye-”you were cut off by the sound of a loud bang and crash. “Ah crap.” you muttered and watched as the giant spider squeezed through the doorway of the lab. You fired off a few shots before turning to sprint down the hall. “Report Crow!” Sarge ordered,

“It broke down the fucking door!” you yelped, skidding to a halt and firing off a few more shots. The spider screeched in pain and reared up on it’s back legs, “What is it?” Duke asked over the channel. You fired two more shots before turning and running again, “Spider, very big spider”

The line was silent for a second, “You’re joking!” Portman laughed as you banked a corner. A loud crash behind you caused Portman’s laughter to stop abruptly. "Shit, shit, shit," you chanted turning the corner leading to the airlock door. You saw that it was torn open and dove through it, the demon spider hissed behind you. You turned to see that it slowed down before following you through. 'It learned?' You thought dumbstruck, 'I need a plan, come on think of something (Y/N)!' And that's when you remembered Hunter's gift. Small explosive disks, perfect for taking down walls and giant spiders. 

Running through the atrium you pulled two disks from your belt and slid to your knees; you clicked in the centers and twisted around, with a flick of the wrist you tossed them. They slid for a second before coming to a stop under the arachnid. It screamed and reared up again, pulling your sidearm out you emptied the clip into its center mass. It stood there a moment before falling to the ground and curling in on itself. Panting you fell back onto your butt, “I think I got it.” you said breathlessly. You looked up  and was taken aback; everyone was there, weapons ready. Duke and the Kid started cheering and whooping in delight, Destroyer clapped and grinned. Sarge’s lip twitch and he nodded in approval. Sam’s eyes were wide as she took in the creature. Portman simply looked at it in disgust. Reaper walked over and pulled you to your feet, “Spider, huh?” he asked and you scowled. “I hate spiders.” 

You watched as Sam walked around the demon spider, fascination written all over her face. “This was in genetics?” she asked you, eyes wide. “Yup, in all of it’s creepy glory.” you said wrinkling your nose. “It’s male. It has to be Herman.” she said crossing her arms. “Herman?” John asked dryly. Sam nodded, ‘Did you see Karen too?” she asked and your mouth dropped, “Karen? You mean there’s two of them?” you all but shouted. Sam winced, “yeah one male and one female.” she said looking back down at the creature. 

 You looked up at Sarge innocently, “So what did I miss?” 

Tags:

@thottiewithashotgun

@dw-writes

@lauraaan182

@marvelouslytrekking

[frangipanidownunder]

A prompt: AU where Mulder isn't abducted but Diana returns (not dead) with an enticing new investigation during the Season 8 timeline

1

The light is so strong, magnetic, that he is physically pulled towards it. There are familiar faces smiling at him, it feels good to see them. They look happy, they look like they want him to be happy, all part of the same club. It would be only natural to step inside the circle. The light has a warmth to it, casting all doubts aside, bar one. Scully. Her hold over his heart is stronger than the compelling beam glowing before him. Skinner’s voice calling his name snaps his attention away for a second and by the time he turns around again, the light, the people, the urge has gone.

2

Scully’s news is a thunderbolt. That the impossible truth of their quest is revealed as a collection of growing cells in her uterus. It is both absurd and entirely right. The tears he cries with her are hard to quantify. Relief, happiness, fear, confusion. And profound love. They guard their secret like a precious pearl, hiding it away, only prising the clam shell open when they’re nestled together. His love for her, for this miracle is dramatic, overwhelming.

“I feel the same way,” she whispers to him, burrowed as she is in his embrace. They are tightly wound around each other. To hear her confession is utterly astonishing.

So, when Diana makes an appearance at the basement, it’s like the door to their secret world is blown off, leaving them exposed.

3

She slinks into the room with a half-apology and the promise of a new case. From his periphery, he sees Scully’s eyes narrowing, her arms pressing tighter across her chest. There is more than just her job to protect now. He listens to Diana, tries to recall the intelligent, proud, fierce woman she was all those years ago. She was a trailblazer in many ways. A woman in a man’s world, unapologetic, unafraid to stand out. Scully came a few years later and illuminated his life in a different way.

In the light of recent events, his view of Diana has focused to pinpoints of suspicion and intrigue. Why was she still here? To make amends? Her redemption was hardly impressive enough to grant an open audience with him. Yet there is something about her, the way she is standing before them, the way her eyes are almost pleading. Perhaps it speaks more to the absolute certainty of his place by Scully’s side, that he nods to the seat and she sits.

“There’s a case I’d like your input on,” she says, flicking her gaze to Scully every so often during her brief. Diana tells them about an organisation, Zeus Genetics, that, she claims, is involved with experiments on foetuses to create alien-human hybrids. Blood pulses in his ears. His automatic response to believe is subdued these days. Diana hasn’t quite picked up on the change. Scully gets up and leaves the office.

“Is everything okay between you two?” The way Diana says ‘you two’ makes his skin stipple. Is it that obvious?

He doesn’t answer her. “How do you think we can help you?”

“I’d like you to talk to someone. Someone I’m sure will convince more than I can.” She hooks her jacket over her shoulder, and adds a hopeful, “Fox.”

4

Someone turns out to be Duffy Haskell. Haskell claims his wife was murdered after giving birth to an alien baby. He has a grainy ultrasound and a wildly desperate look as his proof.

“Kath was a multiple abductee,” Diana says and looks at Scully a beat too long. Mulder watches Scully’s hands slide over her abdomen. “There are certain similarities to…events that you have first-hand knowledge of and I thought it pertinent to get your perspective.”

Scully looks at Duffy. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr Haskell. But I’m not sure what more we can offer that Agent Fowley hasn’t already gone through with you.” The look that Scully shoots at Diana is scorching. “Mulder?” Scully nods for them to leave.

He’s inclined to go but there’s something catching in his throat and he moves his arm out, holding onto Scully’s jacket sleeve. “Wait,” he says. “Mr Haskell, perhaps you’d be so kind as to leave the ultrasound and other information with us for a while. So that we can go over it. I’m sure you’ve provided Agent Fowley with your contact details.”

Haskell nods, leaves.

“There’s another group of people I’d like you to meet,” Diana says. “I’ll meet you in the car park.”

“Are you okay with this, Scully,” Mulder asks after Diana walks away. “Because if you’re not, just say the word.”

“I’m fine. What does she want, Mulder? I don’t understand her motivation. And I still don’t…”

“I know,” he says. “Neither do I.”

 5

At a table sits a number of people. A woman with red hair and kind eyes introduces herself as Lizzie Gill. A scientist, Lizzie explains she’s been working on human-alien cloning.

“What do you mean?” Scully asks. “How can that be?”

“Our efforts were funded by the Government. Most were unsuccessful, but recently, there have been live births.”

Scully rubs the bridge of her nose and blows out an exasperated sigh.

“Why are we here?” Mulder asks Diana.

Diana stands, pulls out a file from a drawer. Holds the Manila folder up. “This is a contact list of all the women who have been, and who will be, used as hosts for the experiment. They are all patients of the same pair of doctors. Lev and Parenti.”

There’s a sharp silence in the room. Lizzie Gill spreads her fingers flat on the desk. Scully presses a finger under her nose.

“I know about the IVF,” Diana says and Scully scrapes her chair back across the floor. The door slams behind her.

Mulder inhales, grasping for a reason not to follow her. “What the fuck is going on, Diana?” His fist smashes the desk and the file flips up, scattering papers across the surface and floor.

Lizzie swallows, bends to collect them. “Your partner’s name is on this list.”

“Fox…”

He swings to face Diana. “What have you done?” He begins to pace, tugging at the buttons on his cuffs, rolling the sleeves up.

“Fox,” she starts again, casting her eyes over to Lizzie, then finally back to Mulder, when he stops by the door. “Fox, please. It’s more about what I’ve been trying to undo.”

Lizzie nods kindly at him. “Your partner might do well to hear this.”

He can’t put Scully through any more trauma. Her emotional wellbeing is paramount. He’ll filter what he needs to. He’s about to sit in a chair when the door opens.

Chin up, eyes blazing, Scully speaks. “Tell me everything.”

A flash of guilty relief crosses Diana’s face. Her account of CSM’s interference with donations supplied from innocent husbands; of cloning with alien DNA from the Roswell crash; of speculation about an alien invasion are sobering, repulsive.

 Later, curled together in her bed, she whispers, “those other women, Mulder. The ones whose IVF treatments worked, what will happen to them?”

His fingers traces around her navel, flattens against the soft skin of her belly. He wants to tell her they’re not important, that he doesn’t care. But he can’t. He brushes a kiss against her cheek, tasting the briny track of her tears. “I don’t know.” She wriggles closer to him so that her head is under his chin, body half across his. “But I do know our baby will be safe.”

“Because Agent Fowley told us about Parenti?” She sniffs and lets out a bitter chuckle.

But it’s not that. It’s something resonant in his bones. A humming of certainty. A knowledge borne of some instinctual place.

Diana and Lizzie did not know about this pregnancy, its natural origins. “If you continue the IVF, you must find a new doctor. We can help,” Diana had said and there was something about the solemn tone in her voice that made him feel that she could be trusted.

“Nothing will happen to our baby, Scully. I’ll make sure of that.” He kisses her hair. “He’s gonna be fine.”

“He?” A tiny murmur of surprise. “How do you know that?”

“I just know.”

“He’s going to be special,” she says after a moment.

“He already is.”

[profitinaecho]

Echo Appreciation Day 2: A Missing Scene

Liz had asked Max to keep Diego entertained while she was at work for a few hours- with the promise of doing a certain sex act that was usually off limits if he helped her. He definitely would have helped her anyway, but that was definitely a bonus. Walking into the Wild Pony flanked by Diego, Max pauses when he sees Kyle sitting by himself cradling a whiskey at the bartop.

“What are the odds…” Max mumbles to himself, going over to his friend and clapping him on the back. “What’s up man? Have you met Diego?”

“The ex fiance?” Kyle’s brown eyes bug out comically, before remembering his manners and holding his hand out to Diego. “Nice to meet you.”

Diego shakes the shorter latino man's hands, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “You were her first boyfriend, Kyle.”

“That’s me.” Kyle affirms, realizing they are standing in size order- Diego, to Max then himself. “Do yall want to join me or would that be weird?”

“Not any weirder than us hanging out to begin with.” Max shrugs. He is secure in his relationship with Liz. He knows she loves him, but do all her exes have to have eight pack abs and be so damn attractive? The only thing they all seem to have in common is dark hair and dark eyes. Otherwise the three of them are so different- just like the role they played in Liz’s life story.

“What on earth would we have to talk about?” Diego smirks playfully, plopping down to the right of Kyle, while Max takes the seat on Kyle’s other side on the bar top. He is truly a mountain of a man and if Max were into that sort of thing, he could see where Diego would be the epitome of male perfection. It only makes him slightly insecure. Really.

Coming around the corner from the staff room, Maria sees Liz’s past and future relationships all sitting in a row and pauses a moment in surprise. Composing herself, she brings over a bottle of tequila. “You guys look like you could use this. Don’t worry, tequila is keto” Maria comments, setting down the entire bottle of wells tequila and three shot glasses in front of them. She is just glad that Michael isn’t here right now because he would be giving his big brother hell.

After they each take a shot of the cheap but cooled tequila, Diego asks, “Do you think she actually loved you or just thought it was what was expected of her?”

Kyle sputters on the shot he just took then coughs. Liz Ortecho puts him in more weird situations than anyone on earth- and she wasn’t even one of the aliens. “Uh. We were only together in high school. I think she enjoyed the protection and popularity of being with me because I played football and she got to wear my letter jacket. She just did it because it was safe. I was the training wheels before she started her life. Good thing too, because it would have been awkward if we had gotten married then found out I was her sister’s half brother.” Kyle shakes his head then takes the lime Max offers him to chase his shot.

Kyle pours himself another shot and takes it, while Max claps him on the back comfortingly. They both know that if Max had ever been brave enough to make a move in high school, Kyle would have been out of the picture. Kyle was just the one brave enough to make a move and had always felt comfortable to her. Rosa and her father had never liked him though- first because he was a douche in high school, and then because Arturo knew Max was the one for his youngest daughter. Max and Diego both follow with a second shot of their own. It’s been over a decade and Max isn’t bitter any more, but it is always weird seeing someone you know has touched your girlfriend. Kyle was her first, but Max will be her last. They are her past loves and he is her forever.

“You guys aren’t technically related. Liz checked your DNA.” Max hiccups. He’s always been a lightweight and two shots of tequila in a short period of time almost has him at his limit.

“She probably checked all of our DNA to see if we were genetically compatible to have children with.” Diego pipes up. He takes another shot, then smiles dreamily. “She always came up with the most genius experiments. Things no one would ever think of, with far reaching implications. She was determined to get a Nobel Prize.”

“She still will someday.” Max says proudly. He just hopes it isn’t using alien DNA that gets her there. He doesn’t need that kind of exposure for himself and his family.

Kyle pours them all another shot and jubilantly exclaims, “Cheers!” Standing up wobbly on the bottom rungs of his bar stool, Kyle reaches across the bar to grab 3 limes for them. “Woo!” He exclaims, popping a lime in his mouth to suck on and handing the other two men one as well.

“Liz always put the lab over everything. Me. Sex. Feelings. To this day, I don’t know if she said yes because she was sleep deprived and the ring was shiny or if she actually loved me.” Diego sighs dramatically, pouring himself another shot. Max is losing track of what shot number they are on and knows he needs to slow down if he is going to be driving. Based on the number of limes in front of each of them, he will probably be calling an uber.

“Really? We have quickies before she leaves usually.” Max tries not to be smug that he finally has something Diego doesn’t have- Liz’s love and attention. Maria gasps on the other side of the bar as she walks by. Max’s tongue is starting to get loose and as one of Liz’s best friends, it is Maria’s job to rein him in. “Shhhh! Liz can’t know we’re talking about her. She’s scary when she’s mad.”

“Hey, Max? Can I see your keys?” Maria asks innocently, taking the set of keys he offers her with the little cowboy alien on them. She will see how drunk they are when they are done but is prepared to call all three of them an Uber- or Liz.

Maria pulls out her phone and quickly texts Liz.

Maria: You might want to come get your boys.

Liz: Max and Diego? Why? Is Max doing karaoke again?

Maria: Nope. Worse.

Maria snaps a photo of all three men with empty shot glasses in front of them and an almost empty bottle of tequila. Max is leaning on Kyle to stay up and Diego is red eyed and crying. She quickly sends it to Liz.

Liz: OMG. I can leave in 30 if you keep them distracted. Why is Kyle there too? All they have in common is me.

Maria: He was here first trying to find a liquor with no carbs. On it, girl.

“We would have been married by now, you know.” Diego sniffs, wiping a tear from his eye. “I don’t know why I’m crying. She was just so perfect.”

“She’s not perfect. She has flaws. It’s a facade to make her feel worthy of love. But I love her anyway, easily.” Max stares off dreamily thinking about his first kiss with Liz.

“Dude. I’ve heard this story already.” Kyle rolls his eyes. “The sunlight was perfect and you laid it all out and she kissed you.”

While the men are distracted, Maria refills their tequila bottle with water. “Shots?” She asks, refilling all their glasses with water.

“This tequila tastes funny.” Diego sniffs it, then shrugs and takes the shot of water.

“I bought Liz a ring! It’s on hold at the jewelry store until I manage to get her ring size without waking her up.” Max blurts out, gesturing with his finger how he tries to tie something on her finger.

“She’s a size 5 aaaaaand one half.” Diego informs him helpfully.

“Thanks dude!” Max pulls out his phone and tries to text something under the bartop. Forgetting how to spell, he gives up and drops his head on Kyle’s shoulder. He feels sleepy.

————————-

At Liz’s voice, Max picks his head up off Kyle’s shoulder and beams at her. “Babe! I was jus tinking about you an you’re here!”

Liz shakes her head. “I sure am. Did you boys have fun talking about me?”

“She knows!” Diego looks around wide eyed. “How does she always know?”

Kyle hiccups, blinking at Liz. “She’s psychic.”

“‘Member what we all talked about? Shhhhh” Max puts his fingers to his lips and nods conspiratorially at his girlfriend's exes.

“Maria is the psychic. I just can’t imagine you men would have anything else in common to talk about.” Liz is trying to stay firm, but all three of them are a mess and she will definitely never forget the way they look right now. She is a little nervous about what they talked about but knows Max loves her unconditionally and isn’t too concerned. “Nobody is going to puke right? I’ll drop y’all off at home. Come on.”

“Their home, not ours right?” Max asks worriedly. He’s just gotten used to the idea of hanging with her past, he isn’t sure he can handle them in his house yet.

“Yes, babe.” Liz reassures him.

“And I get shotgun.” Max takes off for Liz’s car, bumping into a table on his way out and then slamming into the door.

Shaking her head, Liz rounds up the other two men and follows him. Nobody better puke in her car.

[yakumtsaki]

I taste just like ice cream, bitch I am so icy, heart cold like an ice queen, that's why they don't like me 🎵

-What the hell was that.

Traditionally I start Union updates with semi-relevant song lyrics.

-Why did you start an update at all.

Because it’s time, Shajar! I took a holy oath in my 2020 simming goals post to update Unions once a month, and I’m already a month late.

-But nothing interesting is happening. 

That’s never stopped me before. Now listen to Rico Nasty, cry some more about Sophie blowing you off, and shut up.

-Ugh please, I couldn’t be more over Sonia if I tried. I hardly ever texted her links to wedding pinterest boards and quizzes to determine if our parenting styles are compatible. 

Did she ever reply? 

-She did once and said ‘who dis’. Of course the letters unscrambled spell out ‘do wish’, meaning she did wish me to keep messaging her. I just don’t know where it all went wrong. 

-Hey there, 17 year old girl, maybe you’ve had enough neat whiskey for the night? We’re actually running out of bottles. 

-Beat it, ponytail, I need to dull my pain. I’ve just been stabbed right in the gut by the love of my life. Just like my style idol and general role model, space opera fascist Kylo Ren.

Shaj I really hate seeing you like this, and not just because the red neon light is super unflattering on your complexion.

-You can fuck right off too, I was perfectly happy with my dads who hate me and my imbecile sister and my brother who might as well not exist, noogie-ing people all day AND night long, but you had to be all ‘OMG IT’S SOPHIE MIGUEL SHAJAR GO TALK TO HER’. Life-ruining-moron. 

But I was totally right about you two hitting it off, I mean look how sad you are now that she dumped- yea never mind, that’s not a good argument.

-Look what I can do even though I’ve had 46 whiskeys!! How you like me now, Sophie???

-You’re paying for all these broken glasses, I’m going to need your name and a credit card.

-Yes, fair enough, my name is Cyneswith Union-

-I LOOK GOOD ENOUGH TO EAT

Yea, you really should eat something to soak up all the alcohol. And not to kick you when you’re down, but you should also disregard all those cliches about ~a smile being the most beautiful thing you can wear~ because MAN. Watch out Joaquin, there’s a new Joker on the prowl. 

-So.. 20 lobsters thermidor and our most expensive appetizers?

-Aha.

-Would you mind settling your bill now?

-Of course not! My name is Cyneswith Union and this is the credit card my parents got me when I was 6 because we’re super duper best friends! I love my parents! They don’t care about their other daughter at all, even when their other daughter is going through a really hard time because she got the emotional equivalent of a lightsaber wound in the gut. You know what, let me also get 20 bottles of your most overpriced champagne to go with the lobsters.

Feeling better?

-Well it’s hard to feel bad when you’re spending your parents’ money recklessly and with malice aforethought.

It sure is. Alright well, the sun is coming up, maybe we should head home.

-What’s the rush? What is going to happen if I don’t go home, my parents will get worried? LOL

God your life sucks. Ok let’s hit a couple more places.

-Greetings. Welcome to our establishment. I am a human employee from this planet.

Great, nice to meet you.

-I just want there to be no doubt that I am indeed an earthling, born and raised under the earth’s exosphere and not above it.

Leave us alone.

-And I’m the resident community lot sim with that one face template you hate! There must be one of us on every lot you visit!

-And I am here in my revealing outfit to use the dance sphere and make everyone uncomfortable!

You’re actually pretty, I need to keep you in mind for after Don Oates takes a wrecking ball to our genetics, but yea, let’s bounce, Shajar.

Time to visit the happiest place on earth, Deh'Javu Modern Art Museum, home to my favorite piece of art in any medium, The Toilet of Fire. Shove that Fountain up your ass, Duchamp. How we feeling, Shaj?

-This trash can reminds of Sophie :( She used to go around town throwing money she stole from charities in trash cans and then send them riddles for where to find them :(

Enough with Sophie, we’ll find you someone better! Like..

..your aunt! Get the hell out of here Brit Brit, you’re taking up townie space. 

-I won’t be long, Gunther’s amazing close-up portrait of my hair was rejected by the museum so I’m here to set this shithole on fire. 

In other words Gunther just painted a canvas black and called it a day?

-His art doesn’t cater to plebs. Yes, offense.

Our old friend Ugly Teen Townie is here so finally we can have some fun. Shajar had gone almost 12 hours(!) without noogieing someone and I was starting to worry for her health.

-Yes, yes, I’m starting to feel like myself again..

Good for you, Shaj!

-Hope you’ve made peace with your God, Ugly Teen Townie, this water balloon is filled with horse feces! 

-WHERE DID YOU EVEN GET HORSE SHIT

-I ordered it from some guy named Leod McGreggor.

-How about a another joke, MuRRAY?

-What?!

-Now you say, ‘no, I think we’ve had enough of your jokes’. Say it!

-No, I think we’ve had enough of your jokes.

-What do you get when you cross a mentally-ill loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like trash? Now you say ‘call the police, Gene!’

-Call the police, Gene!

-I'll tell you what you get..

-YOU GET WHAT YOU FUCKING DESERVE. HAHA oh man! Good stuff. 

Alright I’m starting to feel bad for Ugly Teen Townie, first he had to come to all the toddler birthday parties during the Victoria/Komei era and now this, he has suffered enough at this family’s hands. Time to go home, Shaj.

-Not so fast!

Wow, the Countess and Mrs. Crumplebottom on the same lot, top 10 anime crossovers.

-I have been sent here by the Limp Dick Vamps United organization to recruit Shajar Union.

Ugh you people are still around? Haven’t heard of you losers since the Count wouldn’t let Victoria bang him, which I’m still annoyed about. 

-Indeed we are, and it’s clear Shajar is ready to join us, dedicating her life to evil deeds without romantic distractions. I have no idea what Crumplebottom is doing here.

-I’m here to recruit Shajar to my own organization, Bitter Sims Worldwide Alliance. We’re always on the lookout for new members who want to spread their misery to their fellow Sim. 

It sounds like it’d be more effective if you guys just merged your organizations.

-I will NEVER merge my organization with someone who displays her bosom like a common whore. 

-Eat a dick, Crumplebottom!

-MAKE ME, FANGTOOTH

-Alright here I am, what the fuck do you want?

-Shajar, it is a pleasure to meet you! Ardent admirer of your work.

-What work, freakshow?

-Torturing everyone around you, what else!

-What? I don’t torture people around me, if anything they torture me.

-Why don’t you talk to me about it?

-I’d rather not, you look like a bejeweled snowman.

-Look deep into my eyes, Shajar..

-And now look deep into my razor sharp teeth..

-Ugh fine, let’s talk. 

-Is that Victoria and Komei’s teen granddaughter hanging out with a vampire?

Yes it is Kennedy, keep it moving.

-God, wtf is wrong with this family. 

Nothing now that you’ve been removed from our social circle, go away! Just kidding, you’re an icon and I’m marrying you in at some point. 

-Hard pass. 

Your loss, hombre. 

-It definitely isn’t.

-If I had known your turn on was vampires I would had set you two up!

STOP SETTING UP TEENS WITH ADULTS, LAKSHMI. And Shajar’s turn ons isn’t vampires, it’s fitness/fatness. Body positive queen. 

-Well, Shajar, you alphabetically listing all the people who have wronged you while I was trying to kill Crumplebottom telepathically has made for a very productive conversation. We’ll be in touch. 

-Thanks, Countess, it’s been real.

Shajar!!! Who cares about Sophie when you might bag a hot, rich vamp??

-Meh.

I’m gonna need you to be more excited about this prospect because a vampire spouse might just be enough of a draw to beat the comedic factor of fucking Don Oates turning us into an unintentional uglacy and I’m doing whatever I can to avoid my fate.

Ugh.

UGH

UGHHHHHHH

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO VICTORIA

-GET FUCKED, BROKEN FACED WEIRDO

God I miss you Vic 💔

-Donnie-bear, not to be not-nice, but mopping your pee off my front lawn is not exactly what I pictured doing during this date.

This guy won’t even mop up his own piss, what a catch.

Wow, manipulative much?? You are a piss piece of work, Donaldo.

-Don’t think we forgot about you, you 10-nice-point disgrace!

-VICTOR NO

-GET THAT MOP READY

-Finally, some peace and quiet.. Just me, alone with my broken heart, pondering my hopeless, loveless future..

-💗💗💗OMG SIS THERE YOU ARE. DONNIE AND I MADE OUT!!! 💗💗💗 But then grandma’s ghost scared him into soiling himself. 

-Good for grandma, hopefully next time she gives him a stroke. Now shut up and let’s eat in silence while I ponder my hopeless, loveless future.

-Okie dokie! 💗💗💗

-Um, I think mine has vomit in it.

-Yea I did that, but it’s just whiskey and lobster, if anything it increased in value. 

-Awww thanks sis! 💗💗💗

-Stop patronizing me, you little bitch. God I want to poke your eye out with this chopstick so badly.

-I love you too Shaj! 💗💗💗

And I hate both of you. Where’s your brother, I haven’t paid attention to him in 3 days. 

-He went upstairs, I think he’s pusshurt we forgot his birthday LOL

IT’S HIS BIRTHDAY????

-Don’t feel bad, I forgot it too! 💗💗💗

GODDAMMIT. WULF! WULF WHERE ARE YOU

-I’m here, I just grew up and dare I say it could not have gone better! 

Really?? Finally some good news! Let me look upon you-

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA

WULF WHAT THE FUCK

-I was Mozart musical genius boy but now I’m a sk8ter boi! Character development!

Ok this is the most iconic birthday look since Gunther grew up in the pirate costume, we’re obviously keeping it. 

-Great! And as if the fact I’m a Wyatt face template with 0 Jojo genes wasn’t enough to make me unelectable, I also rolled family! :D I’m doing everything I can to ensure I live that sweet motherlode spare life! 

Honestly you should had picked another outfit cause now that you’re dressed like this I unironically want you to win. Hoisted with your own petard.

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary:  It is public knowledge that Zoe Van Helsing is the last of her blood line. Not to mention that, in a sense, Count Dracula is too. However, after an unexpected night of passion, both their lives dramatically change when Zoe becomes pregnant. Two unconventional parents, one extraordinary pregnancy. What could go wrong?

Rating: M 

Pairings: Zoe Van Helsing/Dracula & Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: I love baby stories. I feel like Oprah in that sense- "You get a baby! And you get a baby! Everyone gets babies!" So yeah, here's another Dracula baby one shot. Forgive my sex scene, I'm not the best at writing them. I've only attempted a few times, I need to work on it. Anyway, I hope you like it! Please let me know your thoughts and if this silly thing is worth continuing! -Jen

                                             Chapter One

Sex. An act of intimacy between two individuals. Passion. Fury. Lust. Hunger. Sometimes animalistic. One might lose their mind, their sane mental processing. Their rationality. A fierce battle where there are a pair of losers or victors. It was in such a position, high on the blood of her enemy, that Zoe Van Helsing found herself in the nest of her greatest enemy.

"I shouldn't be here," she breathed, her lower back pressed against his table. "Why am I here?"

"You tell me," Dracula murmured, arms tight around her body. She could smell his scent, the earthiness behind it. It was almost pleasant. "I'm not the one who consumed my blood. That was you. You drew yourself here, dear doctor."

Zoe's arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted her up. It was like being in a haze. Euphoric. She was aware of her surroundings and yet, despite her detest of the vampire, she hadn't felt the urge to go. As he sat down, Zoe straddled on his lap, she could feel the heat beginning to pool in her core. Sanity be damned.

"Easy, doctor," he purred, amused as her fingers fumbled at undoing his shirt's buttons. "You seem rather rusty. When's the last time you've been with someone?"

She nearly protested when he pushed her hands aside, his own fingers nimble as he undid them himself. Zoe didn't want him to have the advantage over this, her primal needs ignoring her calm collective manner. Dracula's shift slid off with ease revealing his pale, toned chest. When the tips of her fingers ran across his muscles, the heat within her grew.

"My turn."

Zoe yelped in surprise as Dracula flipped her onto the mattress. He grinned devilishly, looming over her. In a matter of seconds, her own shirt had found its way to the floor. His fingers lingered over her bra, his smile growing wide as she squirmed underneath him. The vampire found the snap, pausing momentarily when he did.

"We can stop," he suggested. "Your choice really."

"No," she growled heavily. "Quit being a tease."

"I apologize," he smirked, a twinkle in his eye. "It's in my nature."

The bra was discarded in the direction of her clothes, something Zoe was not too concerned about at the moment. An unexpected hiss escaped her lips as the count lowered his head and began to kiss her bare flesh, lingering over her jugular. Her hands, as if with a mind of their own, found their way into his thick, dark hair. The doctor arched her back, biting her lip as he stopped just above her waistline.

"Pants are such an inconvenient thing," he whispered, his index finger tracing around her navel. "Wouldn't you agree, Zoe?"

"Fuck you."

"I can always call it a night," he suggested casually. "I'm in no rush."

"You're an asshole."

"Over five centuries and counting."

Zoe rolled her eyes, trying to remain posed as his fingers curled around her slacks. Slowly, he edged them down, letting them fall to her ankles. Momentarily, he looked up, his gaze dark and mischievous. Gingerly, he slid his hand inside of her panties. The doctor gasped, bucking her hips as she felt his caress. Her nerves were shockwaves, lighting up throughout her body.

"Please," she whimpered, grunting as his touch became more firm. "I need...need…"

"Hm?" He inquired, almost innocent. "Speak more clearly, Dr. Van Helsing, you aren't making much sense."

"Out of my head," she gasped breathlessly. "Out of my head and in me."

Dracula chuckled as Zoe attempted to push his own pants down, using her feet to press against the belt. He shook his head, clicking his tongue. It was amusing, watching her squirm. Now she was his prisoner. No see through cage, just a mattress in bed frame.

"What's the magic word?"

"I don't…" she moaned, feeling his fingers tease. "Please…I...invite you in."

The vampire grinned, leaning in close, lips brushing against hers. "You needn't ask twice…"

For the first time in her life, Zoe felt a sensation she'd never experienced before. Ecstasy.

"You're pregnant."

Zoe blinked, looking at her oncologist in confusion. She'd just come in for routine blood work to observe the progression of her cancer. Her doctor, Dr. Elliott, gazed down at her chart, not seeming to notice how in shock her patient was. After all, it wasn't as if she was aware of Count Dracula's existence or even the fact that Zoe slept with the vampire for that matter.

"That's impossible," Zoe said, much louder than she had intended. "I can't be pregnant. The test results…"

"Very strange actually," the other woman continued. "Not only did your blood work show accelerated hCG levels-something we look for in pregnancy, but your cancer...it's almost like it's going into remission," Dr. Elliott smiled. "Look, I don't want to cause you any sort of alarm, so I'm going to set an appointment up with a gynecologist. I want to make sure this isn't some fluke. Do you know when your last period was?"

"They're irregular," the doctor muttered. "Ever since I started chemotherapy. But I assure you, there is no way I could be pregnant."

"Have you had sex?" Dr. Elliott inquired, an eyebrow raised.

"Well…" Zoe thought back for a moment and then the realization hit her. A dread that crawled from the depths of her stomach, up her throat, and left a bitter taste in her tongue. "Five weeks ago, but it can't be. His genetics...he's supposed to be sterile."

"You'd be surprised, Zoe," the oncologist stated. "The human body works in mysterious ways."

"Not if you're not human," the woman growled. She sighed, massaging her temples. Migraines had been becoming constant lately. Anything threatened to set them off. This included. "When is the soonest I can have an appointment?"

"Based on your given condition, I think it's safe to say we can expedite things," Dr. Elliott said, returning to her chart. "Can you do tomorrow afternoon? After we see how things are, you can come back down to oncology and discuss matters there."

"The earlier the better," Zoe huffed, gathering her things. "Gynecology?"

"Twelve o'clock," the other woman responded. "I'll call if anything changes."

She nodded, a frown etched across her features. Not exactly what she had expected to hear today. Anger. Confusion. Fear. Battling cancer, being terminally ill at that, was one thing. The possibility, extremely high as it was, of being pregnant by her worst enemy, no less, was positively horrific to think about. The fact that he was undead didn't help matters either.

As she left the hospital, she desperately tried to push it all into the back of her mind. She didn't want to think about it. Pretend that it was a dream. A nightmare. There was no way. Simply no way. The tests were wrong and that would be proven tomorrow. Until then, she needed a drink. Wait, should she drink? Did she even care enough to consider the idea of what damage alcohol would cause? Dammit. Count Fucking Dracula.

Zoe found herself pulling into a drug store a few blocks from her apartment. It was as if she was on autopilot. Through the sliding doors, she immediately found herself in front of the feminine products. Pregnancy tests. Either a reassurance or a dreaded accuracy to her condition. Not knowing, or caring, which was better, the doctor pulled a few from the shelf and headed to the checkout line.

"Congratulations," the young clerk smiled. "I'll keep my fingers crossed!"

"I don't think we see eye to eye," Zoe muttered, sliding her card. "Plastic please."

The hallway was empty as the doctor made her way down to her door. The bag in one arm, she shoved the key into the lock with a little more force than necessary. Flipping the lights on, she walked over to the counter and dumped the boxes out. Morning. That was the recommended time. Screw it. She pulled a glass from her cabinet and began to fill it with water. A full bladder. She needed answers now.

Positive.

Zoe groaned, hurling the stick into the nearby trash can. She lifted another, her eyes flickering from the test to the box's instructions. Same result. Same outcome.

Positive.

She hunched over, holding her head in her hands. A migraine. So it began. This situation, all of it, was not helping. If anything, Zoe had begun to realize that she had the capability of despising Dracula even more than she already did. How could she've been so stupid? To drink his blood. To take it like some jello shot at a fraternity party. Nearing forty years old and still having foolish moments. As she was just about to look at her third positive test, her phone buzzed.

"No longer with the Foundation?"

She didn't need caller identification to know who it was.

"How the hell did you get my number?"

"Social media is a fascinating thing. Or, I took the liberty of confiscating your little friend, Jack's, phone. I just realized I had yet to reach out to you. How are you doing?" -Dracula

She shouldn't respond. Zoe knew she shouldn't. But her fingers began to type anyway.

"You couldn't have picked a better time." -Zoe

"Do I detect sarcasm? Forgive me, I have a hard time reading emotion over text. Emojis are wondrous things. You should try them." -Dracula

"Where are you? Out draining the blood of some innocent person?" -Zoe

"Home, actually. You should come over. I quite enjoyed our last visit." -Dracula

Not a good idea. It was an absolutely horrible idea. But her blood boiled and fight over flight took over.

"Yes, I think I will come over." -Zoe

"Oh? How spontaneous! I'll get the wine ready. Will red suffice?" -Dracula

But Zoe had left the conversation. Fingers clenched so tightly into her palms that they turned white, she headed for the door, grabbing her purse and keys on the way out. Her mind was far from thinking clearly and she was okay with that. Things needed to be settled now. It was only a matter of time before they would anyway.

She gripped the wheel tightly as she zoomed through the traffic lights leading to Dracula's home. Thankfully it was late enough that there were not many cars out. Parking, she stomped up the steps, her ever present migraine throbbing in her temples. Before she had the chance to knock, Dracula had already swung the door open.

"Ah, Zoe, what brings you to my humble abode?"

There it was, his smile. That grin. That ever present mocking face as if he was always right. Always having the upper hand. God, did she detest him. Their eyes were locked, his head tilted just slightly to the side as if trying to read her expression. Zoe frowned, fist tight as she took that brief moment of chance.

"You got me pregnant you asshole!"

And with all the strength she could muster, Zoe Van Helsing sucker punched Count Dracula in the face.