#doing things on teenage brain impulse and immediately thinking 'Why did I do that exactly?' is the relationship I believe

[ll-underestimated-ll]

Nightmares do that for me, in a very trapped in my own skin kind of way.

Does anyone else ever like visualise their Beast?

[greenninjagal-blog]

The Rumor Mill Game (pt4)

I swear I didn’t forget about this au. This chapter is just....long.

Welcome back to this mess of an au :) If you need a refresher, you can find Part Three [here!] Or if you’re new check out the first part [here!]

Summary: Logan is...dealing with the fallout of him and his coworker, Remus, having created a rumor about them being married and now apparently having a kid except not because Logan screamed at the top of his lungs that Virgil wasn’t his kid. His boss has a different definition for what “dealing” actually means. 

Words: 8292 (Holy shit remember when this au was 2k words)

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up like this.

Granted when he hadn’t exactly been expecting anything. He hadn’t been looking ahead, hadn’t been making plans, hadn’t been thinking at all. Which was most likely how he ended up outside the bar in the first place. 

Logan could, of course, count the number of times he had been drunk on one hand. College had been a time for experimenting, and of course for his twenty-first birthday his friends at the time had been insistent that he needed to imbibe an unholy amount of alcohol in one night. They had turned it into an experiment, where Logan documented exactly what he was feeling after each drink and he still had the notes in his desk at home, despite the fact that his handwriting had become illegible after the fifth drink and someone had spilled an orange soda based tonic on the third page. The notes themselves were worthless, but they served as a memoir to people who he no longer associated with and a younger version of himself who had still been learning.

And Logan did have a soft spot for that imbecile: Twenty-one-year-old Logan Ackroyd who still believed in the goodness of people and who wanted to change the world and who could fall in lov--

Logan pitied him-- that kid he used to be-- which he was certain that his younger self would be indignant about. Logan always did hate when people pitied him. Those emotions had rarely ever been genuine, rarely ever been helpful, rarely been productive. What was he to do about people feeling bad for him? About others being disappointed? About others making assumptions about him and how he felt?

He didn’t need pity, and he didn’t want it. Not when he got rejected to his first three colleges, not when flunked that English class and had to pay to retake it the next year, not when he had bought that ring and gotten down on one knee and made a whole carefully edited speech and--

And he’s not nearly drunk enough to deal with these types of thoughts. Or any thoughts for that matter. Wouldn’t it just be great to stop thinking? 

Then he wouldn’t have to remember the looks on his coworkers faces when he storming into the office less than fifteen minutes after initially leaving for lunch and demanded that Beatrice turn in her overdue spreadsheets in twenty minutes or he’d have her fired before slamming his office door hard enough to crack that frosted glass, or the look on Remus- fucking- Prince’s face when he tried to act like everything that had happened was not his fault and that Logan had taken the game to far by himself without any sort of prompting from Remus, or the look on Virgil’s face when Logan lost his self control.

Like an idiot. Like an asshole. Like someone who doesn’t think before he acts.

Like someone who should be alone for the rest of his life, because he can’t seem to get a hold of those useless emotions of his. 

And Logan wanted so very badly to blame Remus Prince for this whole endeavor, the whole production, the whole catastrophe. He wanted to say that without Remus he never would have gotten that angry, wouldn’t have had that conversation, wouldn’t have even gotten Thai today. 

Logan wanted to say that, but really it's his own fault. If he had just dismissed Remus’s rumor in the beginning, if he had just told Jen and Quin that his personal business was his own, if he had just ignored the urge to get coffee and finished the spreadsheets without getting up that last night.

His fourth finger itched around the base, the area where that little silver ring had been sitting for less than a day. It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, because Logan had never worn a ring before and now suddenly the absence of it caused his skin to crawl in a most unpleasant, unproductive way. 

Distantly Logan realized that by gifting Remus such a wonderful present, he had also thrown away four hundred dollars. And perhaps ironically Logan noted that he feels annoyed about it-- four hundred dollars had been sitting in a pocket of a dress jacket in the corner of his office for over nine months and he had tossed it aside in a fit of impulsive anger.

Logan had not been hurting for money recently, with how decently he was paid, and the amount of overtime he worked, and how little time he had taken off since that disastrous night.

But perhaps he might have been able to return it to the jewelers and weathered the terrible, awful pitying looks they would give him when he requested about their refund policy or a location where he might be able to sell it himself. It was a ring that was worth four hundred dollars and he had given it to Remus, and isn’t it funny that that’s farther than he got with the one for whom the ring had been originally intended?

And as Logan downed his next rum and coke of the night, he hoped that Remus found a better use for it. Newton knows it hadn't done any good for Logan. 

(Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that he had screeched “He’s not and never will be our son!” Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that Remus had hummed mischievously “I think I enjoy being fake-married to you, Logan." Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the the way his last partner had said “We should see other people”. Its stupid, stupid, stupid--)

“Hmmm,” A voice behind him said, “I thought I would find you here!”

Logan didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he heard the voice and felt every atom in his body figuratively threaten to combust. He wasn’t drunk enough to be thinking about him, and he most certainly wasn’t drunk enough to turn and look at the incessantly, perky man that had decided to sit down next to him.

Logan waved at the bartender and ordered another rum and coke and watched his freshly emptied glass disappear like the handful of others he didn’t bother to keep count of.

“And I’ll have two waters, please!” Patton Hart added with one of his peppy, happy, insufferable laughs, before turning to face Logan. “Hiya, Lo! It's been so long since we’ve seen each other!”

“Not long enough,” Logan disagreed, with a rueful smile that should very clearly, very precisely detail how much he does not want company at the current moment. “Don’t you have things to be doing tonight, Mr. Hart?”

Patton hummed, pressing his lips together as he thought-- a monumental task for someone like him, surely. Logan was partially convinced that if he removed his glasses he might be able to see the squirrels beginning to run on that rusted wheel in the other man’s brain. If Logan was of a less logical mind he might even be brazen enough to call this the first time Patton had used his brain all week.

“Well,” Patton said, carefully settling himself on the stool next to Logan. “I was graciously informed by my son that he would be enjoying the perks of being a teenager with no bedtime tonight and along with where exactly I could shove my homemade lasagna.” He laughed lightly, “Kids, these days! He really does keep me on my toes!” 

Logan did his best not to roll his eyes. “I do not know the whereabouts of your son, Mr. Hart.”

“Patton,” He said easily, “And I’m not here for my son. I’m here for you, Logan.”

“If this is about the glass in my door, you are very capable of taking that out of my paycheck.” Logan told him.

The bartender placed Logan’s new rum and coke in front of him and he reached for it almost immediately, only stopping when Patton’s hand landed on his forearm.

“Mr. Hart--”

“Patton,” Patton corrected with that smile that Logan suspected was the worst thing in the world. Worse than Virgil’s blank expression when he told them to get out, worse than Remus’s smug one when he suggested that Logan did indeed enjoy the ability to manipulate his coworkers, worse than Beatrice faulty excel sheets, than broken glass of his door, than a ring he never wanted to see again and yet he still felt like it was missing from his finger.

“Mr. Hart,” Logan said again, “I am going to get horrifically drunk tonight, and I will be calling out sick tomorrow, regardless of what you say. So my advice to you is, say anything of importance now, before I am too incoherent to register and respond accordingly.”

“That doesn’t sound too smart there, kiddo!” Patton said, like he was any older than Logan was.

“I do not feel like being smart right now,” Logan said snippily. Because being smart involved thinking, and Logan had done quite enough thinking for the day. He was tired of thinking, tired of memories, tired of the lump in his chest that had formed during his lunch break and hadn’t dissolved in the eight hours since. He was tired.

“Would you like me to be smart for you?” Patton asked.

Ah.

Yes, Logan remembered suddenly with just a few words why he hated Patton Hart so much. Why he hated those too-wide brown eyes, those stupid freckles, that soft smile. Why he hated the way that Patton had tracked him down despite the fact that he had turned off his phone, the way that Patton had ordered two waters, the way that he hadn’t taken off his jacket. The way that he had taken out his keys and put them on the bar counter between them and Logan could pick out his own house key from the jumbled mess of bits and bobs.

“I heard something pretty interesting today,” Patton said, when Logan didn’t reply because he was too busy remembering why he hated Patton so much.

“Please don’t pretend like you didn’t know about my so-called affair before I did.” Logan snapped. “Honestly, Patton!” Logan dropped his arm from the glass and instead pressed his knuckles to his forehead. “Playing dumb about your own company is my least favroite thing about you.”

“I thought you hated my laugh the most.” Patton looked at him, letting the smile slip into something more serious.

“I hate everything about you.” 

“Pay for the drinks, Lo.” Patton told him, “And I’ll take you home. We can have some of my lasagna and watch a space documentary, like we’re twenty years old again.” 

Logan hated Patton and hated the way his chest ached at the offer. His knuckles bore into the side of his head, jabbing the frame of his own glasses into this temple. He hated the way that Patton was looking at him, soft and sweet and naive.

He hated the way his fingers itched to take Patton’s hand and go home.

“And after all that,” Patton continued so lightly, “You can tell me all about how Remus Prince got under your skin.”

 Logan’s hand slammed on the counter, so suddenly he surprised himself. Patton, however, didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink, didn’t react other than to hold that smile. 

“I am not drunk enough to be talking about Remus Prince,” Logan spat. “Especially not to you, Patton.”

Patton was quiet and at first, Logan really had thought that he had won something-- he thought that perhaps Patton would grant him mercy and let him drown his sorrows alone and miserable in a bar until he forgot his own name. But Patton was too good of a friend and Logan really should hate him less for that.

“You know,” Patton said with a cold type of humor that doused Logan with awareness. Bad awareness. The type of awareness that sunk it’s metaphorical claws into Logan’s chest and pierced straight through his heart before Patton finished what he was saying. “I think….yeah that does sound familiar. Do you remember the last time you said you weren’t drunk enough to tell me something?”

Logan did.

Logan couldn’t forget if he tried. 

And he had tried so very hard for so very long-- except that Remus Prince had waltzed into Logan’s life, had called him a Robot, had smirked at him and run their coworkers around like cattle with pretty little words. Except that Remus Prince had gotten bored and decided that the only logical next course of action was to mess with Logan’s personal life. 

Except that Remus Prince had played along with the rumor game, and smiled at him, and kissed him, and---

And Logan had started thinking---

And Logan’s mouth had started moving--

And Virgil face had--

Logan reached for the glass in front of him, reaching for the cool ice and the spritzy carbonation and the burn of the rum.  

Patton watched him, blinking in the long, slow, dumb way of his that had fooled just about every person that he had come in contact with. With the goofy smile and the habit of deliberately misunderstanding key phrases and making puns and jokes when things were tense, it was hard to see him as anything other than a rich son who became CEO via thinly veiled nepotism. 

Logan knocked back the drink, blinking back the burn behind his eyes that were from the alcohol and definitely not from the lump in his throat that had started dissolving.

He didn’t want to close his eyes, because he knew what he would see when he did: a nice suit, a fancy dinner, a walk to the bridge dotted with fairy lights of all things. He’d see that stupid ring, that stupid face, that stupid end of the night that everyone had told him would be nice, and perfect, and everything he would ever want! 

And he didn’t want to think about how it had not been nice or perfect or anything either of them had ever wanted!

He didn’t want to think about how years ago he had come to a bar just like this, and tried to get so drunk he could pretend that it hadn’t happened, and Patton had shown up then and offered him a job and--

“He wants to go by Janus now,” Patton said, picking up one of the waters and taking a sip.

Logan squinted at him and tried not to be happy about the distraction from his own thoughts, “Who?”

“My son,” Patton said, like it was obvious he had switched back to a neutral topic. “He told me earlier during our phone call he wants to go by Janus, now. He said he’s hated the name Dante for forever. Can you believe it, Lo?”

Logan couldn’t actually. Because he had known Patton since they themselves were teenagers, since before Patton had brought up how empty being a CEO was without anyone to come home too, since Patton had first invited him to Sunday brunch and introduced him to the child he called “son”. Logan had babysat Dante when Patton had business trips and Dante had always been proud of himself, of his better-than-the-status-quo lifestyle, of his name that held power and prestige and weight.

Dante had been practicing saying his name in the mirror since before his voice cracked. Dante Hart, future CEO. Dante Hart, son of Patton Hart. Dante Hart. 

“He’s a teenager,” Logan said, “He’s rebelling.”

“Maybe so!” Patton laughed, and it dwindled down to something that was easier felt in the air than definable in terms Logan was familiar with, “Gosh, I love him so much, Lo. My baby! He’s growing up so fast now! The other day he told me he had a boyfriend. He’s at that stage where he doesn’t want me to help him anymore!”

And despite the buffoon having not had a single drop of alcohol, Patton was tearing up. Logan gritted his teeth at the implications of a weepy, teary, so-full-of-emotions Patton. He had spent enough time in college trying to console him as he figured out the whole “Why does it always have to be about sex? Why can’t I just love hugging someone, Lo? Why does everyone make me feel so broken?” Logan hadn’t been any good back then, and he definitely hadn’t gotten better with time. 

After that disaster with the last guy, Logan had decided that feeling things, frivolous things, emotion-like things, were not something he was into anymore.

Logan learned from his mistakes, after all.

Even the mistakes that started with “R” and ended in a $400 ring being thrown away.

“Is that why you’re here, Mr. Hart?” Logan asked, in that way of his that told even Patton with his squirrel run brain that it wasn’t actually a question at all. “You can’t baby your son anymore so you’ve moved on to the next best thing?”

Patton stuck his tongue in his cheek and set his water back down. “Patton.” He stressed. “And I’m not here to baby you, Logan. I’m here to be your friend.”

He said “friend” like it was a word in the dictionary Logan didn’t know. It was infuriating: the insinuation that Logan had never cracked open a dictionary before, that he was so unknowledgeable about the concept of a friend that Patton was about to show him the online Oxford dictionary definition, like someone who played dumb all day and peppered his windows with sticky notes in the shape of a game of Frogger knew more about something than Logan who had clawed his way up from nothing and was constantly needing to prove how he earned his position.

Patton nudged the second water in Logan’s direction.

Logan stared at it, at the condensation on the glass, at the ice cubes, at the refraction of the low lights from the bar counter. He stared at it like it was a portal back through time that would allow him to slam some sense into poor, pitiful twenty-one-years-old Logan before he let himself fall in Love.

Before he bought a ring or stopped taking days off unless Patton tromped down to his office himself. Before Remus Prince borrowed his cup and before Logan got it in his head that he was serving revenge rather than idiocracy. Before he let himself think too little and say too much and hurt a kid that had never deserved to be upset before in his life.

“If my son wants to be called Janus, I’ll call him that,” Patton says softly. “Because even if it doesn’t make sense to me, it means something to him. And even if my friend is struggling with emotions that don’t make sense to me, I’m still gonna try to help him, Lo.”

Patton ducked his head just a little, just enough that he managed to catch Logan’s strategically averted gaze and make something out of it: a swell of guilt, a sense of hope, a pinch of safety and unadulterated kindness.

His throat was dry, but it was the type of dry that couldn’t be fixed with a glass of water.

“I made a kid cry,” Logan said, because self loathing is a coat he had thought he’d outgrown but he can still fit his arms in the sleeves.

Patton nodded. “Yeah, I heard about that.” He sipped his water. “I think we all have at one point or another.”

“See, the distinct difference that you are missing here, Patton, is that you are a father.” Logan snapped, “And your son will cry at the drop of a hat if he thinks he can get something out of it. And you would never harm a child! Not for any reason in the entire world!”

“And you would?”

“I did.” Logan felt himself sink into the chair, sink like an anchor in the ocean, sink like the floor below him had turned into a blackhole. “I did, I did it. What type of person does that make me?”

“I hate to break it to you, Lo,” Patton said, as kindly as he could, which Logan knew was truly, sickenly nice. He wanted to choke on the sentiment but he found that he couldn’t quite make his chest hurt the way he wanted it too when it came to Patton’s pity.

 “But that just means you’re a normal person.” Patton smiled dumbly, tilting his head and shrugging. “Everyone says things they don’t mean sometimes.”

“You don’t.”

“I do,” Patton countered gently, “Like when I hired Beatrice before realizing that she had lied about knowing how to use Excel.”

“Fuck, Beatrice,” Logan agreed, because if he closed his eyes too hard he thought he might still see grid patterns as much as he might see Virgil’s hurt expression and he hated it so much. So much. 

“I also told-- Janus once that I would get him anything he wanted for his birthday, and he asked for a snake.” Patton shuddered, almost comically, “And you saw how that turned out.”

“I’ve always been impressed with his ability to sneak things into the school buildings,” Logan sighed. “I doubt anyone has ever forgotten that Show-and-Tell.”

Patton chuckled quietly. It was almost lost in the buzz of the other patrons in the bar. He drew a smiley face in the condensation on his glass and Logan reached over to wipe it away, like he had done a hundred seventeen times since college.

“So….Lasagna?” Patton offered. “We can make some garlic bread too.”

“I regret ever meeting you,” Logan said, even as he picked up the keys on the counter between them. He wished that Patton didn’t look so self satisfied, so pleased, so smug when the words tumbled from his lips, but Patton had never been one to pertain to the wishes and whims of Logan like that.

Settling his tab was quick; a pile of bills from his wallet that he didn’t actually check, but decided the bartender deserved anyway and then Patton linked their elbows together so that Logan couldn’t walk off the way that he used to when he would agree with Patton just to get him to shut up. Logan snagged Patton’s glasses from his head and fogged them up with his breath, before taking on the tedious task of cleaning the fingerprints off the lens meticulously while walking in a wobbling straight line. 

Patton laughed like silver bells and it alone brightened the entire street with a type of magic that Logan had long since given up on trying to scientifically explain. The poet in him that Logan had buried under Calculus classes and Statistics courses and a Business degree and only let out when the alcohol out weighed the blood in his system, whispered that it was because it was Patton and his aloofness, and his kindness, and his generosity that never made any sense, and wasn’t that reason enough for the universe to lighten up?

It was drizzling outside, scattered raindrops and dark heavy clouds that whispered of a thunderstorm later. Patton skipped, Logan rolled his eyes and let himself be dragged towards the familiar pale blue punch buggy. It was the same exact car from their college time together, if one ignored the frankenstein replacements of just about every single component in it. Patton clung to the car the same way he had clung to the delusion of Logan being a good friend; sticking close through every breakdown, excusing every letdown, and spending far too much money on it when economically it would have been more beneficial to just let them go.

A wave of self loathing wrapped over Logan again when he pulled on the car door. Patton was genuinely a good person, a good friend. He was stupid at times and he made decisions that made Logan was to strangle him, but he cared so much more than other people. He offered fourth and fifth chances when Logan would have stone-walled his offender at one. 

Not to mention, he had come out in the rain to find Logan specifically, probably traversing through three other bars to find the one that Logan had chosen to be his misery echo chamber.

By some sort of lucky happenstance, Logan had originally walked far enough to hail a taxi  to get to this bar, leaving his car in the safety of the parking garage where Patton’s company paid a nice sum for security. Logan had tried to argue about that expense with him back in the day, but Patton had pulled out a picture of his toothy grinning son-- Janus-- and said “Lo!! What if my son comes to visit when he learns to drive?! I don’t want to worry about him getting attacked in the parking garage!” 

Logan had brutally pointed out that his son would never visit him during work, and so far he had been correct in that assessment, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the slightest bit guilty about his bluntness even so much time later.

Patton had always looked for the best in people, had more strength than most of humanity, had more hope in happy endings that Logan had trust in fact and numbers.

“Is your son okay with me calling him Janus? I’m unsure of etiquette on this. Should I wait until he tells me his preference or should I just make the switch and not bring it up to him?” Logan asked with a sigh as Patton pulled out of the parking spot and set them towards Patton’s house on the other side of town. Unobstructed and following the driving laws, it would only take them about fifteen minutes, and yet Logan wondered about the possibility of Patton having Advil in the car.

The back of his head was already aching from the days events: banging his head on the keyboard all morning leading up to his disastrous lunch date, Remus, Virgil, squinting at spreadsheets until he couldn’t make out the numbers anymore, and the of course stumbling his way to the bar and dealing with Patton.

Patton giggled. “Oh yeah! I asked him earlier if it was okay to tell you. He said he wanted you to call him Janus now. He also said to tell you, you can take a hike.”

Knowing Janus, it was probably something more volatile than “taking a hike”. Most likely it had been something that might have required him to put a full five dollars in the swear jar that they kept on the counter next to the cookie jar. Not that it would matter much. Logan had stayed over at their house dozens of times and every single time he had come across Janus taking that money back out of that swear jar.

As far as Logan was aware, the swear jar had never actually been full. Patton must have noticed at some point-- probably that very first time Janus had taken the money back out-- but he was irritating insistent that he play dumb about it. Thus, Janus continued to swear in excess, Patton continued to make him put money in a swear jar for no real reason, and Logan continued to never understand either of them.

The radio in Patton’s car had been broken fifteen times since Patton had gotten it, but Logan assumed from the silence of the drive that it was now sixteen. He rested his elbow on the window and watched the drizzle turn into a steady rain and the windshield wipers flutter across their vision to occasionally bring them clarity.

The night life was somewhat dreary. The driving pace was slow, and they hit every single stop light in the city because that was just Logan’s luck. There were a few people running around in the rain: a family with a small child who was jumping in every slowly forming puddle on the sidewalk, a couple sharing an umbrella walking so close together they appeared as if to be one misshapen form, a group of friends chatting outside a 24 hour dinner in raincoats, and a few smokers huddled under an alcove with embers burning just enough for Logan to make out their forms through the downpour. 

Logan realized almost immediately that the pit in his stomach was much more bearable if he instead focused on the raindrops on the window that are much easier to look at, much less representing something that Logan had always expected he might one day have, much less accusatory in wondering what is wrong with him that he can’t act like a normal human being, this isn’t working, who wants to marry a robot like you--

That was the reason why he wasn’t expecting the sudden jerk of the car coming to a hard stop at a yellow light that they absolutely could have made. 

“PATTON!” Logan yelled.

The car behind them blared it’s horn and Logan rubbed his neck and reset his glasses from the sudden movement, ready to question what exactly Patton thought he was doing, because truly of all the things Logan was not in the mood for, this was one of them. 

Except that before Logan could get any words out, Patton had put the car in park and whipped off his seatbelt to kick open his door. A wave of rain came pouring into the car as the man threw himself from the driver's seat like there was something wrong with the car, and for a second Logan entertained the absurd idea that they were going to blow up.

Which truly, would have just been a fitting end to his horrific day.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, grabbing after the other’s coat to pull him back inside before the rain soaked into the seats. “Get back in th--”

The other man ignored him, frantically waving to someone in the rain. “REMUS!! MR. PRINCE!! OVER HERE!!”

If Logan knew slightly less about human biology he might have been inclined to say that his heart jumped straight to his throat and climbed its way up his esophagus to strangle him. He wouldn’t have recognized the figure on the street corner on his own: Remus Prince was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans with holes in the knees. He was soaked to the bone, without an umbrella, and his usual bouncy brown curls were matted to his head, as if he had been walking out in the rain for much longer than the rain had been sweeping through the city.

He was standing with the smokers under their minimal tarp, although he, himself, was without a cigarette at all. When he turned at the call of his name, there was only confusion and exhaustion in his face. None of the smugness, or the ego, or the energy that he usually had.

Logan didn’t know why that bothered him. He was hurting from earlier; that was good. 

After all, it was Remus’s ridiculous game that he had dragged everyone else into. 

((Logan’s finger itched and he dug his nails into his skin so deeply he was afraid to glance down in case there was blood pouring off hands.))

Remus ventured out to meet them, dodging across the lanes of traffic without a care in the world, or perhaps with a death wish. Remus didn’t seem particularly like he would mind getting run over by the way that he opened the back door, climbed in, and shook the excess water out in the interior of the car like some type of undomesticated dog. 

“Is this a kidnapping?” He asked, rain dripping down his face. “A murder? Do I get to know your name before you dismember me, cutie?”

Patton laughed joyfully, even as Logan felt his face screw up at the sound of Remus calling their boss “cutie”. It was beyond unprofessional, even if Remus was apparently unaware that his career hinged entirely on not insulting Patton. It took a lot to make Patton angry enough to fire someone-- his patience was the best and worst thing about him, as Logan had been reminded every time they interacted-- but once Remus crossed that line, not even a cockroach like him would be able to drag himself out of the metaphorical wasteland Patton would make out of his life.

Cutie, honestly. Who calls anyone they’ve just met cutie. Logan could understand Remus having called him Lovebug and Lolo, but cutie? 

For Patton?

Patton climbed back into the car, snapping on his seatbelt and managed to get out of park at the very same moment as the light turned green. He wiped his sleeve along his glasses, and brightly said, “I’m Patton! And you already know Logie here!”

“Logie?” Remus repeated, sitting back against the seat taking in Logan for the first time. “Oh shi--”

“Do not call me that,” Logan said. “Patton, you can drop me off at the next corner. I will walk home.”

“Don’t be silly!” Patton said, in the same tone that he had used during their college days to coax Logan into driving him to the nearest grocery store after he had successfully managed to pull two all nighters in a row. Logan hated that tone, and Patton knew that well.

“If you do not stop the car, I will throw myself from it while it is still moving.”

“I can get out, actually!” Remus said far too loud for the small car. Logan resisted the urge to turn around and scowl at him. Surely, his pea-sized brain had managed to figure out that he was the point of contention here and that his best move would be to shut up, so why had he decided to open his mouth? “I need to get home anyway. Big day tomorrow and everything.”

“Oh?” Patton said delightedly because Logan would not ever play into subject changes willingly. “What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m getting fired,” Remus said with a nonchalant shrug.

Patton blinked for a moment-- his squirrel-run brain jamming at the sudden twist of the words because whatever he was expecting from his visitor it was not that. Logan resisted the urge to reach over and give him a shake at the shoulders: of course he wouldn’t be able to expect anything with Remus Prince. The man was insufferable and illogical and he wrought chaos for fun. 

With everything that had happened, did Patton really think that there was an exaggeration in there?

Remus wanted attention. And he said whatever he needed to in order to get it: a fake affair, a fake divorce, a fake child-- Of course he would say he was getting fired tomorrow if it got Patton to have to use all of his meager brain cells to figure out how serious he was.

“Is that something to celebrate, Mr. Prince?” Logan cut in coldly. “Getting fired?”

“And here I thought that you would be happy, Ackroyd,” Remus said. “Unless you think you’re going to miss me.”

“If only I would be so lucky,” Logan said, digging his phone from his pocket, and turning it back on. The screen was blindingly bright and Logan’s eyes ached just glancing at it in the corner of his vision. “Patton, pull over. I am not doing this tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever again.”

“I’m not going to let you walk home after however many rum and cokes you had, Logan.”

“Patton,” Logan snarled. “If you continue to treat me like you treat your son, I will tender my resignation tonight. Pull over now.”

Patton opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was swallowed up in Remus’s empty voice speaking. 

“You went drinking?”

“Do not talk to me, Mr. Prince.”

“You’re not even yelling.”

Logan wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, which may have irritated him more than the fact that he was so insistent about continuing to talk when Logan was liable to push the car to crash and kill all three of them. Remus was already staring at him, his expression dark and serious in the passing car lights and somehow Logan thought that he looked vulnerable. 

Logan gritted his teeth as his headache pulsed behind his eyes. 

“Shut up,” he said. “And put on your seat belt.”

“Or what? You’ll divorce me?” Remus pushed forward between the seats until he was just a few inches from Logan’s own face, grinning with all his teeth. It was at once the same smile that Logan had catalogued through every week of working with him and also something completely foreign.

Remus had pulled him into a kiss earlier that morning, and Logan remembered the taste of pickles on his lips just as well as the smirk he kept as Logan walked away. But this expression is somehow inverted, somehow shifted, somehow a weapon more than a challenge.

“Boys,” Patton said. “Please don’t fight in my car!”

“If you did not want us to fight, why did you invite him in this car?” Logan asked. “You, of all people, know my opinions on--”

“Logan, you’re drunk.”

“What does that have to do with this?!” Logan bit out. He glared at his phone: there were three missed calls from Patton and a handful of text messages from him that Logan couldn’t actually read in the combination of the bright phone light and darkness around them. His eyes were blurry even with his glasses on and the frustration of not being able to read only heightened as he made out the notification for his email which meant that Beatrice had managed to finish her work (allowing Logan to be able to go fix it) or that news of him yelling at a child made it around the office and now he was going to harassed by them as well.

All because of Remus Prince’s inability to shut up. 

 Patton threw a hand out and grabbed Logan’s phone from his hand and carelessly tossed it over both their shoulders to Remus.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, rubbing the irritated tears from his eyes. “Remus, give it back!”

Remus, however, was just staring at the phone in his lap like it was some type of bomb. Logan’s phone locked itself and the screen went dark, and still Remus sat inhumanely still in the seat, staring at it, with a type of blank expression that Logan oftentimes related to their coworkers when Logan asked them to perform any sort of math without a calculator.

“Remus,” Logan said again.

Remus jerked at the sound of his voice, snapping out of whatever fit the phone had put him in almost meekly-- if Logan could describe anything Remus did as meekly without it being a blatant falsehood. “Meekly” itself had never seemed to be a word in Remus’s vocabulary which was another irritating fact about him that made Logan break out in figurative hives.

Logan knew how Remus was.

He knew Remus.

It didn’t matter that he had never talked to Remus before today, that his thinly veiled contempt for his coworkers kept him from being willing to stand in their presence more than he was being paid to, that this fake affair was the first stupid relationship of any kind he had gotten outside of Patton and his son since his last boyfriend had dumped him on the night he was going to propose and hadn’t he thought he’d known him too? Isn’t that what led to all this? 

It didn’t matter. 

Logan was smarter, now. Logan was better now. Logan was--

“I don’t…” Remus said, trailing off as he stared at the messages popping up on Logan’s phone and Logan wondered why it felt like his lungs had shrunk right in his chest. “I don’t think you should be reading these right now.”

“He definitely should not!” Patton said, with a very convincing amount of forced happiness. “Hold that for him will you, Remus? Oh and why do you think you’re going to get fired tomorrow?”

Remus looked up at Logan and then at Patton and then back at Logan, like Logan was supposed to know what that meant in addition to every other stupid look he’d given Logan all evening. Logan shoved his glasses up to his hairline and rubbed his aching eyes, and yet somehow that still didn’t fix the pounding in his head or the exhaustion hollowing out his bones. It also didn’t make Remus disappear from the backseat, which was equally annoying, even though Logan hadn’t truly thought he was a shared apparition for him and Patton.

“You didn’t mention anything about today to your… what are you a fuck buddy?” Remus said.

And Patton laughed. 

Logan grabbed the door handle and yanked on it, but of course the ridiculous safety locks were engaged, and Logan had spent far too many sober years getting locked in this car to try to puzzle out the broken locking system in order to drunkenly throw himself out of the car. He was not in the habit of wishing for miracles, or even believing in deities, but he imagined that some powerful entity was finding ruining Logan’s life to be semi enjoyable.

“See this is why I can’t fire him!” Patton said through giggles and Logan thought maybe he was being addressed for this. Patton met Remus’s gaze through the rearview mirror and shook the last bit of water from his damp hair. “You make everything so entertaining!”

“What?”

Logan grit his teeth and yanked on the door handle again. “Remus, meet Mr. Hart, the CEO and your boss. Also put on your seatbelt.”

Remus blinked at them both, leaning between the seats and definitely not putting on his seatbelt. Logan counted backward from ten, reminding himself that one of the hiring requirements for Patton’s company has always been must be the stupid beyond belief. He’d known for a while that his coworkers were idiots on a good day, hazards to his health on bad ones, and yet somehow in the whirlwind of the day he’s had, Logan had forgotten that Remus counted as a coworker still.

“I’m not… getting fired?” Remus said, acting much like a computer after being turned on. “Why do you know my name then?”

Patton shrugged, flicking on his blinker to change lanes before the next light. “You have interesting ideas for your advertising strategy! Of course I would know your name! I’m sorry about vetoing that last one. I know Logan liked it, but I wanted to stick to the family-as-a-whole angle.”

“Patton,” Logan warned with an edge.

“Logan liked…?” Remus echoed, before turning towards Logan with a look of bewilderment that annoyed Logan far more than it had any right to. “You actually look at my shit?”

“Put on your seatbelt, Remus,” he said, because wasn’t it obvious that Logan looked at his things? Before the whole Robot incident Logan hadn’t had a problem with Remus at all: he was effective and efficient and the rumors were irritating but below him to indulge in. Before Remus had dragged him figuratively kicking and screaming into this mess, Logan approved the budgets that came with the projects Remus created.

He still did that, just with more anger than before. Petty feelings for Remus himself aside, his work was objectively good. 

Logan knew that about him.

“So!” Patton said over both of them, with his signature grin that Logan suspected he would still be wearing even if Logan decided to kill him right now. It must be the by-product of being controlled by rodents running on a wheel. “How was your volunteer work Remus?”

Remus froze in the back seat, going unnaturally still again. “Are you some kind of stalker-- uh sir?”

“Will you knock that off?” Logan snapped, which only made Remus’s shoulders jump straight to his ears. “And put on your seatbelt.”

“Just curious!” Patton said, ignoring Logan entirely. “Darlene is a good friend of mine! I make sure to send monthly donations to the organization since I don’t have a lot of free time to jump over and help.”

Remus didn’t say anything to that. He swallowed audibly and leaned back against the seat, dragging fingers through his wet hair and then tucked his arms in his own armpits. Logan pressed a palm to his forehead watching the street lights bend from behind his eyelids because that was easier than staring at Remus act like Patton was trying to pull his teeth out.

“You actually do volunteer work?” Logan said. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Ha,” Remus said without any inflection. Logan thought that was the quietest that he had ever been. Where was that stupid ass smirk? Where was the stubbornness that pushed back against everything? Where was that loud voice and that confidence?

“Put on your seatbelt,” Logan said again.

“Why do you care if I wear the belt or not?”

“Remus put on your seatbelt or, so help me Newton, I will climb back there and put it on for you, myself!”

The air simmered from the acid in his tone, making the silence figurative chafe against his ribs. Remus stared at him, blinking slowly, with the street lights casting roving shadows on his face. His dark eyes were just so-- so--

Logan dug his nails into his palm. Why was it Remus Prince could make him feel like this? What gave him the right?

“It’s okay!” Patton said, setting the car to park. “We’re here anyway!”

Logan reached up and pulled his glasses back onto his face properly, but it still took him a moment to realize that they were near a bunch of townhouses, double parked outside one that Logan had considered moving into all those years ago when he had first been looking for an apartment for after college.

Remus too, apparently needed a moment to recognize the area. “We… are at my apartment? Holy shit, you are a stalker.”

Patton giggled, flashing Remus with his blinding smile and reached back to pick up Logan’s phone from his hands. “Thank you so much, kiddo! We’ll wait until you get inside all safe and sound, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“You will not,” Logan said. “Tomorrow you have a business deal two hours away to complete and if you miss it--”

Patton stretched back in his seat and let out a hugely exaggerated yawn. “But they’re so boring! Maybe I should bring Janus with me. He always makes my business deals entertaining. I love when he sets his snake on people. He looks so happy and he laughs and--”

Logan squeezed his eyes closed and recited the first twenty digits of pi in his head to keep from grabbing Patton’s squirrel run brain and slamming it into the steering wheel.

“Homicide is wrong,” Logan said.

“I’ll help you vouch for insanity,” Remus said. “I mean, tied together through a murder, and possibly hiding a body is much more juicy than a fake marriage that’s falling apart. We’d be the talk of the office.”

“They would not find any body that I hid,” Logan said. “Nobody would.”

Remus opened his mouth to say something more, but whatever it is he decided against it. Instead he slid over the seats and kicked open the door right behind Logan and stepped out into the night air.

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Hart, sir,” he said, strangely formal, then squinted and added, “Daddy?” 

“I’m not firing you, Remus,” Patton said. “No matter what you call me!”

Logan ran his tongue over his teeth counting each and every one. Remus looked at him but ultimately finally adhered to that whole shutting up thing. He closed the door to Patton’s blue punch buggy and started towards the door to the apartments.

“Oh,” Remus said, and turned back at the last second. He knocked his knuckles on Logan’s window a few inches from where Logan’s gaze fixed itself on a light. Patton apparently knew more about what to do than Logan because he pressed the window lowering button and Remus reached his entire arm into the window to drop a small object right into Logan’s lap.

Logan caught it mainly due to reaction rather than skill and his skin tingled at the familiar item. Even in the dark, Logan’s fingers roll over the shape of the ring that had always reminded him of the worst day of his life. It was still warm from being in Remus’s pocket.

“I think that should stay with you,” Remus said, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. “You know… for the next boytoy you take to your sex dungeon or whatever nerds like you do on weekends.”

And then he turned around and fled towards the apartment building. Patton turned off the hazard lights and slipped back into traffic and Logan wondered if he would be polite enough to not comment if Logan started crying right then and there.

His throat felt swollen, his tongue too big for his mouth, and the headache thrummmmmmed painfully. 

Logan knew Remus Prince.

“You know that Remus Prince isn’t gonna be like him,” Patton said to fill the silence.

“Remus Prince isn’t like anyone.” Logan didn’t whine. To whine would be unbecoming. And childish. And embarrassing.

So Logan didn’t whine and Patton mercifully didn't call him out on his not-whining.

And neither of them mention the choked tone that Logan had for the rest of the night.

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up with him clutching that ring like a lifeline, but as he ran his fingers around the rim, he wondered if it had fit on Remus’s finger at all.

(Part Five)

[creacherkeeper]

im getting a little too in my family feels today and so INSTEAD of feeling those im just going to ramble for a second about why i fucking love paladin!aelwyn because. im. just like this i guess im coping leave me alone

cw for discussions of child abuse, maladaptive coping, drugs and alcohol, self harm, destructive tendencies, basically everything we see in canon and the implications

aelwyn is ... SO interesting to me because for as much of her interiority as we see, as much of her as we think we understand, as much as i could ramble about her character for hours, we know ALMOST NOTHING about her in actuality?? (besides ... one key thing)

(this is like 2k and probably incoherent someone please stop me)

okay. listen. almost everything we see aelwyn do in s1 is maladaptive rebellion against her parents and home life. the drinking, the drugs, the partying, perhaps some of kalvaxus (though i dont think we fully understand how much of that was forced on her as well, kalina WAS watching her when she was talking to adaine about it). you can say like, oh aelwyn is a party animal, she's impulsive, she makes risky decisions, she's bitchy and rude, and its like. okay but IS SHE ACTUALLY. because under her parents thumb she had an EXTREMELY limited amount of freedom, and usually when people are suffering from very little control over their life, they WILL act destructively over the tiny bit they can, either harming themselves or their environment or people lower than them in the pecking order, because in a way, that feels like a reclamation of autonomy. saying "you have so much power over me but can you stop me from hurting myself and destroying what you havent managed to claim yet?". its just like, kind of what human brains do and frequently has little to do with a persons actual personality or impulses, its just. desperate brains trying to control SOMETHING because autonomy is a fundamental human need and when thats taken away we get. very bad off. (this is one big reason eating disorders are SO common with abused kids.) so i think a lot of the s1 aelwyn we see is like. this is a very desperate, abused teenager "acting out" in the only way it is possibly somewhat safe for her to do so because, on a psychological level, the self destruction is weirdly the only emotional tether and its either this or just dissociate all the time (something we do see she has problems with in canon)

and yes, she did treat adaine horribly in s1. she fully did. obviously what we get in canon is what happens but a moment thats interesting to me is in episode 1 where adaine has attacked aelwyn several times, who either does nothing or just bounces it back, when she says "i never cast spells at you" and siobhan immediately retcons it and says "yes you do, all the time" (i havent gone back and watched this bit so i might be wording this wrong). obviously its an improv show and the canon is built between performers as they go, but that was interesting to me. that brennan hadnt intended for her to have fought back in that way. she definitely feeds into the emotional abuse from their parents and participates in all the toxicity there, but we know in canon that she did that because of overwhelming fear and self preservation. and that her self hatred because of it just fed back into the cycle and made her feel like she wasnt good enough to even try to break free from it. this is very common in golden child/scapegoat sibling relationships where the golden child SEES what the parents are capable of and becomes a participant in the abuse out of fear for their own standing. in any way siding with the scapegoat child not only directs abuse at themselves as well, but frequently makes things WORSE for the scapegoat because the parents will take out the challenge to their power on them even more. so, if aelwyn DID ever try to defend or help adaine when they were small, she would have VERY QUICKLY learned that made things worse for everyone. and just. sectioned that part of her brain off, as she's done with so many other things. (and i dont think im reading too much into the forest scene with the abernants to say their parents were VERY QUICK to turn abuse towards aelwyn if she stepped out of line even a little. like, you dont flinch when a hand moves unless. you know. dont need to say it just something to think about. as far as we saw in canon, she had done everything they asked of her leading up to the forest, and we DONT KNOW what happened in it but we do know brennan specifically called out how in broken spirits she was when adaine was summoned, even though they did the ritual to avoid all of the nightmare bullshit)

(the house party is literally a whole separate post but i think its fair to point out that 1) she was super under the influence when that was happening which DEFINITELY is in no way an excuse for her behavior but worth remembering when trying to analyze that 2) her losing that fight did canonically have DRASTIC consequences for her and even if she didnt know exactly how that was going to turn out, i think she knew how bad it might be. and she did not know adaine or any of the bad kids were going to be there in the first place)

all that said, it feels in some ways counterproductive to say that aelwyn is an extremely devoted and protective person (yes we're getting to the paladin shit i know i've been rambling a while) but i think that thats strangely ALL WE ACTUALLY KNOW ABOUT HER. because we've established that her self-destructive and abusive behavior in s1 is almost entirely psychologically scripted for her by her parents, we dont know how much of her villain shit in s1 was LITERALLY UNDER THREAT OF DEATH because we know at least killing the oracle was and we dont know how much of the rest of it was mandated by either her parents or kalina other than that she probably was under orders not to tell adaine the truth, and we know participating in all of this caused extreme self loathing in her that she refused to show to anybody and was too terrified to act on in any way

so, like. what does that actually leave us?

here's what we do know about aelwyn:

- of all the schools of magic, she went into abjuration

- the entire bbeg plan from season 1 hinged on aelwyn's complete faith that her level 1 sister was the most prodigious diviner in the world

- right after (?) the house party, she locked her memories where only adaine could find it with a note basically saying "theres so much bad blood between us but i know only you could find this"

- she desperately wanted to protect adaine and the fact that she was too afraid to do so made her hate herself (and her knowing that adaine now knows this is the turning point in their relationship)

- despite everything, even in the nmk forest, she still loved her parents

- the SECOND she is shown genuine love and affection and care from adaine, and adaine says whatever you do, i am here with you, all her actions from there forward are just about protecting adaine from their father, very nearly at the cost of her own life

- with what she probably thought were her last words (and would have been if adaine hadnt given her the tincture), all she wanted to communicate was how to help adaine and the bad kids, and how despite everything she had always believed in her

- at five levels of exhaustion, unconscious, she used her first spell slot after nine months of torture to build a shield around adaine

NOW we get to paladin!aelwyn. because, once everything is stripped away, the abuse and the control and the maladaption and the threats and the torture, EVERYTHING we ACTUALLY can glean about aelwyn's personality and inner core is that she's protective and devoted. and of course classes arent locked by personality, but that just screams paladin to me. its her WHOLE THING. adaine even says "wizards dont have heals, we dont care about other people" and of COURSE that isnt true for either of them, but? mechanically? aelwyn chose the wizard school that DID let her protect, and DID let her help, but i dont think, at this point, going forward, thats really going to be enough for her (and we could also talk about the parallels between them, how often adaine uses her portents to help other people)

i think a lot of the different reads on aelwyn come from this fundamental disconnect between her actions and displayed personality vs who she actually is and what she actually wants. and i think there are very different interpretations of what thats going to look like for her going forward. but i think, for a girl who's most hated characteristic about herself was her self preservation at the detriment of others, her perceived selfishness, and her fear ... isn't choosing to be braver and more selfless and more protective and shedding that self-preserving instinct for the betterment of others ... and MECHANICALLY being able to act on all those things ... the logical next step? i think its going to be a LONG TIME before aelwyn can love herself, but what other way is there to try? if adaine loves her, and adaine believes she can be better, isnt being better because she trusts adaine kind of a form of self love? saying, i dont believe in myself, but i believe in the person who believes in me, and maybe, in a roundabout way, thats the same thing. she was never able to TRY to be better before, because trying to improve even a little, even when people arent watching, when a harmful force has so much power over you and your actions ... like, the mental dissonance is honestly TOO much to even try, thats WAY more terrifying than letting yourself be bad, to the point where thats psychologically impossible for a lot of people. but now she actually has space and freedom and CHOICE and she CAN embrace the instincts she always had to shove down, she CAN be the person she knows her sister needed her to be

i dont know, i think theres an inherent love letter to yourself in wanting to be better and wanting to improve, even if you justify it by saying its for someone else. and now aelwyn actually CAN improve, and thats probably going to be extremely awkward and scary and there will be set backs and backslides for sure. but. i dont know. i think she wants to make up for lost time. because she never wanted the time to be lost in the first place. and if a protector is who she always wanted to be, whats stopping her from being that now?

[babbushka]

Better Luck

Flip Zimmerman x Reader 

A late night bubble bath takes a deadly turn, when a face you thought you'd never see again comes crashing into your home. Lucky for you, Flip doesn't take too kindly to people trying to harm the most precious thing in the world to him.

5.6k ; Content warnings for home invasion, stalking, murder, graphic descriptions of violence, mild gore, blood, misogyny, implied/referenced past domestic abusive, and NSFW (Bathtub sex, murder kink, PIV)

(events of Hide Your Smile are mentioned)

Also available on AO3! 

                                              ----------------------------

It’s been a long day, you know. Flip was out late, was out for a real long time, but now he was home, and his muscles were sore, he was achin’ for a bath. So in the bathroom you are, naked and lounging among a pile of bubbles, fragrant and delicate as they pop in the air around you.

He’s looking at you with that doe-eyed expression of his, the one he gets when he’s had a couple beers or has been away from you for too long. This is the latter, you know, his eyes are clear with sobriety, just soft and sparkling with love. You look right back at him, admire the way his wet hair makes those ears of his stick out, admire how his dimples crease and crinkle around his goatee when he smiles.

“Penny for your thoughts, foxy lady?” Flip asks you after a moment of sweet eye contact that you reciprocate half hidden behind the suds.

“Just thinkin’ about how handsome you are, it’s unfair.” You reply, lifting your foot to rest it cheekily on his shoulder.

“Oh yeah?” He grins, huffing and puffing on the cigarette he’s got, blowing smoke towards the vent in the ceiling, turning to press little smooches against your ankle, “Why don’t you tell me all about it.”

“Come a little closer and I just might.” You nudge him towards you with your foot, and he stubs out the cigarette to move across the tub and cover your body with his.

His mouth is on yours teasingly. His lips are plush and full and just barely out of reach, making you work for it, making you giggle and grin and nip little bites at his cheek. He smiles and you cup his neck and hold him close, his wet hair shagging down around his face and enveloping you both in a curtain of brown. Your eyes slip closed and he gives in, breathes in deeply the scent of you and the soap and the suds and –

There’s a CRASH! downstairs.

Flip freezes, he hears it first, his reflexes attuned to the world around him ever so quicker than yours.

His voice is hard all of a sudden, jaw clenched together as he’s lifting himself out of the tub, grabbing a towel and ordering you to, “Stay here.”

With the thud of your heartbeat pounding behind your ears, you ignore him and follow him out of the tub immediately. The thought of leaving him to deal with whatever that crash was alone is simply unbearable, almost as terrifying as the thought of staying upstairs by yourself. Not now, you couldn’t sit in this tub alone now. You don’t even bother to drain it, only going so far as to blow out the candles so they don’t catch onto the curtain and burn your house down.

Flip sees you getting dressed hurriedly beside him and is already frowning, scowling deep and heavy as he tugs on the pair of jeans he was wearing earlier that day and a t-shirt from the hamper. You pull on a nightgown, just something to cover yourself up. Neither of you are completely dry, but there’s another crash from downstairs, and you can’t find it in you to care, not when your heart is racing as fast as it is.

You stand behind Flip silently, not daring to make a single sound, not going to make a single breath as he grabs his gun from the dresser and begins his descent down the stairs.

It’s dark, downstairs.

It’s quiet.

Flip avoids the creaky floorboard and you do the same, hovering just before that step, not wanting to make Flip angry by going any further. You’re lucky he let you go this far.

He goes farther.

There’s a SMASH! then, the sound of glass shattering, likely the little window above the sink in your kitchen, and Flip bolts.

He’s deadly silent as he runs through the pitch black of the house, Flip is. You can’t see anything, can’t hear anything, there’s no sound of struggle or gunfire yet, not yet. Just the heavy thud of boots on carpeting and wood panel flooring, and your heartbeat hammering hammering hammering in your ears. You’re trying not to scream, and the impulse is getting harder harder harder to hold back when you finally hear,

“Let me go! Let me – I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” It’s a man’s voice, a man who you recognize, and the blood drains from your face when you do recognize it – it seems almost like a lifetime ago, an age ago, since you’ve heard it.

The sounds of struggling are loud now, scuffling as Flip wrestles and wrangles the intruder to the floor. You descend the stairs slowly, in disbelief, your body going numb, going cold, as you hear the crunch of a nose being broken and the grunts that accompany it. You’re frozen, frozen in place as your eyes widen as far as they will go, vision blurred from the way you’re shaking. Are you shaking? You can’t tell, you’re numb, you can’t feel anything.

“Shut the fuck up.” Flip shouts, his voice louder than anything you’ve ever heard before, it echoes in your brain a thousand times. When you turn the corner you can see him standing over the man, pistol whipping him in the face with the butt of his gun, shouting so hard that his face shakes, that spit flies and catches in the moonlight, “I said shut up!”

You hug the corner of the hallway that faces the kitchen, where the sliding glass door is open and broken – not the window then, you think fleetingly – and Flip whips around to face you.

His face is deranged, eyes wide and black and filled with rage, blood dripping down from his fingertips from where the man’s nose was broken under his fist, his gun. The expression on Flip’s face is one that you’ve only seen once before, a long time ago when you were just a teenager, when he…well. You don’t need a reminder of what he did, how he saved you then.  

Flip turns to face you more fully, and you can see how your husband has this intruder pinned so beautifully underneath him. Flip has one big knee slammed down on the cavity of his stomach, bent over to grip him by his throat. The gun is in his other hand, and though Flip looks just shy of feral, the gun does not shake. Despite that, despite his calm, you feel something clawing up your throat, a scream, a shriek of terror when your eyes adjust and the familiar outline of the man’s face is revealed to you.

Time stands still.

He looks so different, and yet exactly the same.

It’s a little hard to tell, with his nose smashed in the way that it is, with blood dripping oozing flowing down onto his lips – but you know him, you know this man. A friend of…his, your ex. The very same one that Flip disposed of over a decade ago, that ex. This man, one of his cronies, you remember these features.

They’re as disturbing to you now as they were then, the face that haunted your every step. Standing outside your window in the dead of night, lurking behind parked cars in lots, always on the same side of the street – following, watching, waiting.

Hunting.

He’s older now, hardened, the man. But the thing that has yet to change, the thing that chills you more than anything else, is the look in his eye. That sparkle, the glimmer of madness, the vacant shine – like a shark.

“Alex? Is that you?” You stand in silence for too long, holding your breath. The words fall out of your mouth seemingly on their own, like you’re surprised you remember the name. But how could you forget? How could you, when he had done everything in his power to make you pay for what happened to Josh?

Alex's ribcage expands under the pressure of Flip’s knee, and he takes in a ragged breath, a strained one. He’s in pain, you can tell, he has to be in pain, but he doesn’t show it.

“Answer her.” Flip doesn’t shout this time, his brain working a million miles a minute. He looks at you, confused, concerned. He waits, his eyes on you. It’s easy for him, restraining Alex, the man is as thin and gangly as he was back in high school, like he never grew into his body.

“Long time no see.” Alex grins at you, blood on his teeth.

You come closer, one foot in front of the other as you enter the kitchen. Alex doesn’t struggle against Flip’s hold, he knows it’s of no use. But he’s slippery, a slimy bastard, he’s going to wait for an opportunity to get out from under Flip’s grip and then he’ll lunge for you.

You know this.

You know Flip won’t give him the opportunity.

“I thought they put you away for good.” You say, your voice entirely too calm.

“So did they.” Alex replies, his grin wider.

You give him a sparing glance, he’s still in his prison uniform, covered in filth and grime and muck. Irrationally, a flare of anger shoots through you for how you just mopped the floors. Flip seems to notice that at the same time, and he breaks his silence.

“You know him?” He asks you gently, calmly, a voice so laced with venom that it’s soothing and terrifying at the same time. Flip wants to rip him to pieces, his jaw is clenched so tightly that you’re worried for his teeth.

“He’s the one I’ve told you about, the one who wouldn’t ever leave me alone back in high school.” You reply, nodding slowly as you take a few more steps closer closer closer, inching towards the monster who has sought you out once again, “Remember I called the cops but they said they couldn’t do anything since he only stalked me? They found him trying to kidnap a girl at the college, found a padlocked cooler in his truck, knives. She was the fourth girl he had gotten to.”

“I remember.” Flip turns his attention back to the man underneath him, who is now starting to squirm, starting to get flighty. He’s waiting for his opportunity, he doesn’t know he’s not going to get one, not with Flip, not when Flip continues, “Liked cutting women up, isn’t that right, Alex? Liked hearing them scream for you, got off on it, right?”

“Maybe.” He’s struggling, the pressure on his lungs, on his throat growing too much for him. You watch watch watch, as Flip makes up his mind.

“Is that what you came here for tonight? To cut my girl up?” The questions are hypothetical, but they’re not at the same time. Flip knows what he’s going to do, he just needs Alex to say it so he has the permission.

“Maybe.” Alex chokes, and Flip doesn’t like that.

“Maybe’s not a fucking answer!” Flip shouts so loudly that the veins in his neck stand out as he grasps Alex's sandy blonde hair as tightly as he can and bashes his head against the floor, blood splattering out from the broken nose in an arc across the wood paneling.

“What are you going to do with him?” You whisper then, your heart racing, thudding hammering pounding in your chest.

“What do you want me to do?” Flip looks up at you with wide open eyes, his gaze imploring, near begging.

“I want you to kill him.” You say without even thinking about it.

You say it too quickly.

You’ve been wanting to say it for so many years.

But this…this is different than the last time. The last time you were both young, much too young.

The last time it was an accident, a mistake that had to be covered up.

The last time Flip hadn’t planned on killing the boy who beat the shit out of you.

(You don’t know, but yes. Yes he had.)

He’s a detective now, a lieutenant now. He could lose everything if someone were to find out. He could be locked away for the rest of his life, he could be put to death. They just reinstated capital punishment, just this year, you know. You know you know you know – and yet.

And yet, Flip cannot imagine doing anything else to this man, cannot imagine any other outcome for him.

“Honey-bunny?” He asks you softly, sweetly, as Alex begins to struggle more significantly underneath him, growing impatient, growing scared.

“Yes Phil?” You whisper, watching watching watching.

Flip looks at Alex, mulls it over for a moment before licking his lips and instructing,

“Go put a tarp down in the basement.”

                                                        ---------------

It’s surreal, doing this. The moment the words leave his lips you’re running, bolting down the hall and to the stairs that go down down down. As soon as you’re out of sight, you hear a gunshot, and a scream.

You don’t look back.

The basement’s not the most frequented place in the house, you almost forget that it’s there half the time. Nothing but storage, big cardboard boxes labeled with holiday decorations that it’s not time for.

There’s a single lightbulb that flickers on and off for a moment before settling on the low light of an orange glow. You have to search for a minute for where the tarps might be, eventually finding them in the back from when you had all those renovations done last year. Your friends playfully mocked you for keeping them back then, but who was laughing now?

Clearing a space on the floor, you put the tarps down, and as quickly as you can, you push all the boxes as far out of the way as possible.

It’s only a minute before Flip is kicking the door in, Alex screaming and thrashing in his hold. Your stomach churns when you see that he shot a hole through Alex's cheek, has hooked his finger through it and is using that to pull him down the steps. Flip doesn’t give a shit if his cheek tears clean through, he doesn’t care, he’s seeing red.

“You picked the wrong fucking house to try, the wrong fucking woman.” He throws Alex's body onto the center of the tarp and before he can even try to get up, he kicks Alex in the chest to knock the wind out of him.

The tarp is already going slick with blood as it gushes out of the bullet hole in Alex's cheek. Flip rips open the buttons of Alex's, taped to his body are knives that he must have smuggled out of prison. Makeshift torture tools, shanks and shivs that he spent who knows how long working on.

“Just kill me already!” Alex begs, but Flip shakes his head.

“No.” He grits out, yanking the duct tape off Alex's flesh as he tears the knives away from his torso. “No, that’s too quick, too easy for you. You don’t deserve that.”

It’s like an out of body experience, watching this. You step closer, placing a hand on Flip’s shoulder. He doesn’t recoil, he recognizes your touch, he knows it’s you.

“Flip, let me do the first one, please?” You ask, watching Alex's eyes widen far far far, so far that they’re almost popping out of his skull. You take one of the knives from Flip, slide it from his palm to yours as you whisper in his ear, “Please, I want to do the first one.”

“Go ahead, I’ve got him princess, my sweet girl, I’ve got him.” Flip encourages you, turns to kiss at your cheek, the soft skin by your jaw, your ear. Something about the praise, about the tone of his voice, the full faith he has in you, makes your pussy throb. Your thighs press together when he says, “Go ahead.”

Flip holds Alex in a headlock, and before the man can say anything, you’re stabbing him in the gut, hard.

The knife slips into his flesh easily, and you watch in morbid fascination as it sinks deeper deeper deeper, until it’s all the way in, piercing slicing serrated and cruel. You look up to Flip, half terrified for what you’re doing, and half enthralled. You’ve never done this before, you’ve never done anything like this before – not even the last time.

There’s no going back now, you both know. Not now, not now that there’s a knife embedded into his stomach.

Flip nods.

Alex screams.

“No one can hear you, no one will come for you.” Flip says lowly, dangerous and dark as Alex writhes shakes scream scream screams in his hold. “Do it again, ketsl.”

You yank the knife out and stab him again, a little higher this time. There’s muscle here, something, you don’t know, you never paid very close attention in anatomy class. You have to slam the knife in a little harder to get it through, the force of the impact blurring your vision for a minute.

“You’re doing so well sweetheart,” Flip’s voice is quiet, but loud. So loud in your brain, in your mind. He might be whispering, he might be screaming, you wouldn’t know. “Let me take over, you’ve done enough.”

You pass him the knife again, and he’s quick to continue what you started. Again again again, Flip stabs him, ripping the knife out and plunging it back in, slashing him up. You’re turned on, so turned on by the way Flip does this for you. It’s revolting, sickening, how wet your thighs become, but you love it, you can’t stop watching the way Flip’s muscles move flex tense as he kills this man for you.

The more Flip does it, the more cathartic it becomes, the more elated you feel.

Tears bubble up, well up in your eyes, but they’re not of sadness, they’re of relief.

“Remember how no one wanted you? How no one ever spoke to you because they thought you were a lunatic? Remember how I tried so hard to be a friend to you? I did everything I could for you, I stood up for you, listened to you, cared for you!” You don’t hold the words back, the volume of your voice growing louder and louder with each stab of this knife, the knife Alex had brought to use on you. “And this is how you repay me.”

Alex thrashes, rages against Flip’s hold. He kicks his legs out in fury, his eyes blank, blood choking up through the wounds in his stomach, pouring out of his mouth, of his cheek.

“This is your fault!” Alex screams, “Your fault! You – you led me on! You lied to me, I thought you were mine! You were supposed to be mine!!”

“I don’t belong to anyone.” You smack him sharply across the face for the audacity of his words, “But if I did, it wouldn’t be you.”

Alex hemorrhages on the floor, seizes, the toll of his wounds taking over him. The force he must have exerted in his screaming fit must have ruptured something, you watch him shiver and tremble uncontrollably on the floor, rolling in his own blood.

“I’ve had enough of your noise.” Flip says to Alex.

Flip grabs Alex's face, hooks one hand around his upper teeth, the other around his lower, and snaps the jaw clean off its hinges with a sickening crack!

It’s unsettling, the way that it hangs there, unattached by anything other than muscle, limp and weak.

He then reaches inside one of the cavities made by your stab wounds, and squeezes Alex's heart, strangles it, forces a heart attack, making him thrash and gurgle hot steaming blood in his throat, until it stops.

It all stops.

It’s quiet, again.

Flip lets Alex drop limply to the floor, the tarp crinkling, slick with blood. He pulls his hands away, smears the red against Alex's face to close his eyes. He doesn’t want him looking at you, not even in death.

“Holy shit.” You breathe, looking down at the corpse in your basement.

“Are you okay?” Flip faces you hesitantly. He’s covered up to his forearms in blood, chest heaving. He’s afraid of scaring you, afraid of causing you more stress, you can tell.

“Yeah, just,” You reach out your hands for him, your own blood-stained hands, hands that somehow, somehow feel more clean than they ever have before. Flip gently takes them in his own, you admire how broad and handsome the palms are as you look up at him and whisper, “I’ve been living with the fear of him finding me in the back of my head for a decade. And now thanks to you, it’s gone. Thank you – Philip, thank you.”

The tears are back, the intense relief of this nightmare being over hitting you like a ton of bricks. Flip crushes you to his chest, wraps his arms around you and lets you cry, lets you mold yourself to his body and tuck your face under his chin, lets you let him hold you.

“Nothing will ever hurt you, not as long as I’m around.” He caresses the base of your skull, pets your hair down, neither of you caring about the blood on his hands. He kisses your temple, “You understand me? Nothing, no one. I’ll kill them, I’ll kill anything that ever dares to try.”

You pull away slightly, just enough for you to look up at him with tears of love and relief in your eyes as you whisper, “Kiss me.”

He doesn’t hesitate, the taste of iron and salt on his tongue is intoxicating. He licks into your mouth and you sigh into his, exchanging silent I love yous in the way your lips move together. It’s slow, it’s unhurried, it’s careful yet fulfilling in all the best ways.

“I’m so wet for you Flip.” You mumble against his lips, bringing one of his hands to slip under your nightgown, for him to feel how much you want him, how much you want him to, “Fuck me, hard.”

“Not here.” He pulls your hand back up to kiss at your wrist.

“Phil,” you whine, worried for a second, but he just shakes his head sweetly and kisses your wrist again.

“No sweetheart, not here. Not where he can see you.” Flip leads you towards the stairs, bringing you away from the body, the corpse that bleeds slowly, steadily on the tarp. He doesn’t let you look back, pulls you slowly, gently up the stairs. “I don’t want him looking at you.”

“Take me to the bathroom then, the tub should still be full.” You remember suddenly, “Let me wash you clean.”

You smile at one another, Flip locks the basement door just for good measure, and up to the bathroom you go.

It’s strange, being back in the rest of the house. On your way up to the master suite you see the tracks, the mess that will have to be cleaned up in the morning. The glass from the sliding door, the mud, the blood. You’re too wound up to care right now, too focused on the ache between your legs.

But still, it will have to be dealt with.

Flip brings you to the bathroom, and the tub is still filled. He keeps the lights off, it’s so dark, dark everywhere in the house. Dark enough that this almost feels like a dream. The water, somehow, is still hot, and it makes you wonder how long you were even really gone.

It could have been ten minutes or a weekend, you don’t know. There are no windows in the basement.

Flip steps into the tub first, and you follow after, sitting with your legs straddling his thick strong waist. His cock is hard, it bumps up against your thigh as you settle yourself above him, trying to get a good position for you to sink down down down, the stretch filling you as his cock bottoms out.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. I’d do anything for you, anything.” Flip groans, dunking his hands in the bath water to quickly rinse them of their grime, before cupping your breasts as you sigh and moan softly above him.

“I know handsome, I know, I would do the same.” You bite at your lips, your hands bracing on his chest as he gets more comfortable in the hot water of the tub. You can only imagine that the water must be stained red, clear.

Something about that makes you anxious for a minute, so you unplug the drain and let it quickly empty, before plugging it and turning on the faucet once more. The pipes creak from the sudden demand for hot water, boiling hot, steaming hot, and Flip sighs happily as it soothes his tense muscles.

“You’ve got such a tight pussy.” He moans as he gets his purchase on the bottom of the tub and thrusts up slightly, pushing his cock further into you. “I could live here, I want to live here, ohhh fuck.”

You let out a little yelp from the feeling of it, of how he drags that cock of his in and out of you, how you can feel all the thick veins and ridges pushing and thrusting against your walls. You settle back against his thighs where his knees are bent in the tub, looking up at the small mirror that he bolted to the ceiling some years ago.

“Look how good we look,” You gasp as he thrusts faster, as you bounce on his cock, his hands on your tits and pinching at your nipples. “Look how nice we fit together, Flip, fuck – oh Flip!”

“So beautiful.” He sounds drunk, you think with a smile, drunk off your pussy. He watches his cock disappear in and out of you instead of looking at the mirror, and that’s fine with you because you can barely see straight as it is.

“Oh yes, yesyesyes, please, more, Flip!” You watch yourself get fucked, watch as your mouth drops open, as you bounce bounce bounce, his hands gripping you grasping you all over, holding you tight, fucking you fast. His hand moves somehow in slow motion to rub hard circles on your clit, making your body shudder, drooling all over yourself.

You come, and maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the relief, maybe it’s the sheer power and strength of the man underneath you, but when you come it’s like firecrackers in your veins, sparking up and shooting up your spine, making you gasp sharply, loudly.

“Say my name over and over again and, once you think you’ve said it loud enough, scream it.” He snarls, close to an orgasm himself, just teetering right over the edge.

You move your hips in little circles that make his head thunk back onto the rim of the tub, make him whimper and snap his teeth together as his thrusts fuck you through the bliss of orgasm.

“Flip, Flip – Phil! Philip oh, yes, yes!” You shout shout shout until your voice breaks and it goes up to a high pitched scream, the feeling of his cock throbbing pulsing spilling inside you enough to make you dizzy.

“Shit.” He groans low and dark as he bites down hard on your throat, hands squeezing and kneading your tits.

And then there’s nothing but the sound of heavy breathing once again. But this time, this time it’s bliss, sheer and utter joy that permeates from his body into yours as he comes down from his high.

You smile down at him, big grin, so happy, tucking his wet hair behind his ears as you shut the faucet off. The tub is filled to the brim, water sloshes over the side of the porcelain, but you don’t care. Your body is still tingling, nerves on fire, warmed inside and out.

Flip gives you that doe eyed look of his again, and you once again cannot help but think how handsome he is. You huff out a laugh, how surreal the entire ordeal was. You wonder if you’ll scream, if you’ll cry, if you’re just in shock.

You don’t feel like you’re in shock, you feel like you’re flying.

“Penny for your thoughts, foxy lady?” Flip asks, reaching up a finger to caress the bridge of your nose.

You both break out into absurd giggles, and you shrug, reaching across the tub to grab his pack of camels. The little match glows redorangeyellow when you light it, and the both of you stare at the small flame as you bring it to the cigarette you’ve stuck between your lips. It burns the edge of the cigarette, and when the tip glows red you pass it to Flip, to your husband.

There’s a sizzle as you drop the match into the bathwater.

“What are we gonna do?” You ask him, voice broken, barely above a whisper.

“About what, ketsl?” Flip hums, breathing smoke thick and heavy out of his mouth and nose on the exhale. It travels up up up and clings to the mirror on the ceiling, the mirror that’s now foggy with the hot steam of the bath.

“The body in our basement.” You reply casually, as if you were asking what he’d like for lunch.

He shifts a little, more water sloshes around. If there were more light in the bathroom, if it weren’t so dark, you might be able to watch it wash away the blood on the tile, thinning it out until it disappears.

“Don’t worry about that.” Flip whispers, his hands rubbing soothingly against your back, your sides. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You won’t get in trouble?” For the first time your voice wavers, the thought of anyone taking your husband away from you dripping like a cold terror down your spine.

“No one’s going to find out, I promise.” He shakes his head, assuring and reassuring you.

You have every reason to believe him, to trust him, so you do. Wholly and completely, you do.

                                                       ---------------

The next morning you wake up alone. It’s early, but that’s just because you’re used to waking up early with Flip and his job. The alarm clock is ringing, and you have to roll over to Flip’s side of the bed to turn it off. Carefully, you slip out of bed and tip-toe downstairs, blinking in surprise at what you find.

There’s no mess anywhere. Nothing, no mud no blood no prints or marks. You creep down to the basement, find it perfectly clean and empty. The only sign of trouble is the broken sliding door, but even that has been taped up with big pieces of paper, all the glass swept away.

Flip comes home then, the front door opening and closing softly. Tucked under his elbow is a brown paper bag, the smell of freshly baked bagels filling the living room as you go to meet him.

“Clyde knows a guy who’ll come fix the door.” He says after he kisses your cheek and wishes you a good morning.

“Clyde knows?” You take the bag from him and go over to the kitchen, him following hot on your heels like the duckling that he is.

“It was my turn for a cauliflower.” Flip smiles against your cheek as he smooches his favorite spot there again and again and again, as you pop a bagel into the toaster, wanting him to have at least something small to eat before he has to go to work.

“I’ll swing by the bar later, bring him lunch.” You resolve, thankful for your friends.

“Keep an eye out for the three o’clock news.” He whispers, even though there’s no one there to be listening. He turns you to face him, kissing you properly, soundly on the lips, “Love you ketsl, I’ll be home early tonight.”

You grin at him, not bothering to flinch when the bagel pops out of the toaster, and slather cream cheese and lox on it for his drive over to the station.

He’s got an icy cold Shirley temple waiting for you when you walk into Duck Tape, Clyde does. Clyde doesn’t ever really smile much, he’s too much like Flip that way, but he looks at you warmly, opens his arms up for you as you walk behind the bar and give him a tight hug.

“Hey darlin’, I was hopin’ you’d come round.” Clyde taps his knuckles under your chin playfully.

“Heard you helped my man out today.” You offer him a nicely packaged lunch and a smile.

“Wasn’t no trouble at all.” He replies. Even though there’s few patrons in the bar at this time of day, he still keeps his voice down. Thankfully Clyde’s always been soft spoken, no one pays it much mind.

The news turns on then, a breaking report just out of town. You and Clyde both force yourself to be as casually interested as possible, as a woman in a blazer stands just outside a line of yellow tape and police cars – cars you recognize, one car in particular that you recognize – explaining how a convict had escaped and was found mauled to death by a wild bear late last night.

“Damn,” One of the regular men at the bar whistles, “What kinda bad luck? Breaking out of jail and gettin’ killed after not ten minutes of freedom.”

“Pretty bad.” You reply with a nod.

“To better luck.” The drunk raises his beer and tilts it towards you.

You grin, pick up your shirley temple and clink the glass against his.

“To better luck.”  

[tory-ben-hi-shelton]

my favourite quotes from exposure

Multiple sets of handcuffs appeared and were applied. Bailiffs began peeling off the dog-pile like layers of an onion. And there, at the bottom of the scrum, was Kit. He was panting like a marathoner, arms still wrapping the Gamemaster's legs in a death grip. He'd clearly been the first to react.

"Oh, man!" Shelton had both hands on his dome. He seemed winded, despite not having moved during the attack. "Things just got real in here."

"Sorry I froze in there, Tor." Shelton frowned as he shirt wiped his glasses. "Not exactly my 'One Shining Moment', huh?" I waved off his apology. I knew Shelton hated how skittish he could be.

I try to hide the eruptions, but the guys can always tell. They do their best to support me even though it makes them uncomfortable. It's very sweet, but teenage boys make lousy grief counsellors.

The previous semester, Ben had been in half our classes, too, despite being a junior. Obviously, he was no longer around. Sometimes it felt like a limb was missing.

"Jason might be there," Courtney chirped. "He likes you."

"Oh." Not a brilliant response. "Yeah, maybe. I might have a thing, though."

Wonderful. Good job, good effort, Tory.

Behind me, I heard Hi fake coughing to cover his snickers

"I should be a secret agent." Hi blew on his fingernails, then buffed them on his lapel. "Or a magician. Maybe both. Someone write that down."

My hands shot for the Ray-Bans, but Ben caught my fingers mid-flight.

"It's not nice to grab," he said calmly.

"I can't handle all this tension," Shelton moaned. "Too much fighting."

Hi nodded, watching Ben dissapear down a side street. "We need to work on our conflict management. Maybe attend a seminar."

"Make your own?" Hi shifted to look at my face. "Victoria Grace, have you been holding out on me?"

"Tell me everything."

"You're not gonna be happy," Hi warned. "Don't kill the messenger."

"Or his good-looking buddy," Shelton added.

"On Saturday Ben and I drove to John's Islands to see Skyfall."

"You did?" Hi said sharply. "Thanks for the invite, jerks."

Shelton raised his palms. "You were at temple. We're suppose to wait around? Plus, you've seen that movie like five times."

"You still could've asked," Hi grumbled. "I don't—"

"Guys!" I clapped my hands once. "The story, please."

"So many gentleman admirers," Hi mused. "Must be tough, being a heartbreaker."

"Zip it. Unless you wanna see a leg-breaker too."

Ella adopted a mock serious tone. "Will you bodyguards consent?"

I giggled. "If Shelton and Hi are my bodyguards, I don't like my chances. And yes."

"See this?" Ben glanced at the mirror and pointed to his chin. "This is my 'couldn't care less' face."

"Boys?" I stood and faced them. "Something to share?"

"It was a secret." Hi aimed a kick at Shelton, who dodged easily. "Ben made us swear not to tell."

I crossed my arms. Waited.

"Tell Kit we're cutting a music video," Hi suggested as we walked. "Something real gangster, so we need to smash-cut our dance routines. Lay down some visuals. We could offer to let him freestyle rap over the second verse."

"Come on, Sambo!" Hi winked. "Live a little. What are we going to do, rob the place?"

The guard crossed his arms. "Wink at me again, Hiram, and I'll throw you to the wolfpack."

"Did I not mention that?" My brain was truly deep fried. "We went together."

"Oh." Hi and Shelton at once. Ben looked away.

"Hey, wait." I leaned closer to the screen. "You guys wouldn't have wanted to go. I took Ella so I wouldn't be paraded around like Whitney's toy poodle." No one spoke. Nonplussed, I decided to change the subject.

I glowered at Ben from the backseat. I'd given Hi shotgun, having sensed this argument was inevitable. I didn't want to be close. The urge to slap might become overpowering.

"Why don't we use our friendly words?" Hi suggested. "Let's take five, and everyone can say something we like about each other. I'll start. Shelton you're super at—"

"Shut up, Hi!" Ben and I shouted, the first thing we'd agreed upon all morning.

"Must be hell to keep the pH balance correct. I know how it is. I owned a goldfish once."

"Once?" Shelton asked.

"It died. Almost immediately."

"Nice work."

"It's a cultural thing," Hi was saying. "I think you're being insensitive."

Hines snorted. "Do you want me to cuff you?"

"Kinda."

"A minute alone, Tory. I'd like a quick chat."

Ben shot forward. "You can stick chat right up—"

Hi waved at me from across the yard, waiting for his mother to arrive. Apparently he'd body-blocked the first cops to chase me through the house. The police were none too pleased. I owe you one, Hi. You bought me enough time.

Entering the Virals chat room, I found all three boys present.

Uh oh.

They'd met there ahead of time, before alerting me. To discuss me.

I glanced up to see Shelton holding latex gloves. Hi had the ziplocks. Ben handed me a cotton swab and stopper. "Anything else?"

Despite the circumstances, I smiled.

Ruth popped her son on the back of the head. "Mind your manners, Hiram."

"Why does everyone do that?" Hi muttered. "And that was child abuse. In front of the police, I might add."

He looked away. The harbour breeze ruffled his silky black hair. My hand found his, almost by its own volition.

I couldn't be mad at Ben anymore. It was like being mad at my left arm. And right then, I needed my arm back.

A smile quirked on my father's lips. "And you, Mr. Blue? Ready for a good ol'-fashioned backyard barbecue? My daughter will be there."

Ben's uneasy smile was his only response.

Ben reached up from where he was lying with his eyes closed. Smacked Hi's dome.

Hi rubbed his head. "I'm getting pretty tired of that move."

"Then quit being a dope." Ben's lids remained shut.

"Hey, sure. No problem. I just need to—"

Hi lunged for Ben, intending a flying body slam. Ben caught Hi in midair and tossed him downhill in one quick motion. Hi tumbled, rolled, and dropped over the berm of the sand.

"That was dumb." Hi informed the blue sky.

Ben started talking about Wando High. I countered with news of Bolton. Before long, we'd exchanged stories, catching up on the last five months of each other's lives. I hadn't realized how much I missed Ben. How badly I wanted him back at Bolton.

He was right, of course. I was keeping several secrets from Ben. Like how comfortable it felt to be alone with him. How much I'd missed his reassuring presence. His quiet strength.

Ben removed his shoes, plunged both feet into the lapping salt waters Then he leaned back against a post, sighing contently. The little-boy maneuver brought a smile to my face.

"You're staying out here?" Shelton asked. "Alone?"

"No big deal. I don't want Kit to see what I'm up to."

"I don't like it," Ben said. Behind him, Hi looked uneasy.

"No one knows this place exists." I pointed to the other room. "And there's an 85 pound predator in there that loves me. I'll be fine."

...

"Text me when you get home." Ben requested. "Please don't forget."

I hid a smile. "Will do. Bye, guys."

I sat forward at the table. "Okay, so ... like, don't freak out."

That got their attention.

"About?" Ben took the seat across from me, next to Hiram.

"There was an incident last night." Oh so calm. "I'm perfectly okay, but on the way hone someone attacked me on the beach."

"What?!" Three stunned voices.

"That's why you didn't text," Ben muttered.

Ben shook his head in wonderment. "Incredible. It's nice having a genius around."

"It's only genius if it works." But I flushed at the compliment.

I squeezed Ben's shoulder. "Who's the genius now?"

He snorted, looked away.

"You let her go alone?" Ben scolded, slowly working his way down to where Hi was beached. "That defeats the whole purpose!"

"I'm aware of that, Benjamin." Hi tried slinging a leg onto the riverbank, but it flopped back into the rolling current. "But she'd figured out you sent her away from the mine on purpose. You try telling Tory what to do when she's pissed."

"I'll pass."

"How's the leg, detective? Or did my wolfdog bite you in the ass, instead?"

"Hey, at least it's not your birthday. Worst one ever, by the way."

His fist came up. I dapped it with mine.

"For Tory," Shelton said.

"For Tory." All jokes shelved.

Coop was rolling in the leaves, pinning someone beneath his massive bulk.

Ben dove on the tangle with a voice-cracking whoop.

I was no longer alone. The Virals had found me. Ben was beaming, unable to hide his relief. He turned quickly, wiping his glowing eyes. Shelton darted forward and crushed me with a hug. Coop was dancing and bucking, his tail wagging so hard he had trouble keeping balance. My boys. My heroes.

"Do you confronted the twins alone, without waiting for us?" Ben couldn't keep the anger from his voice. "After making us promise not to do anything like that?"

"We can discuss my impulsiveness another time—"

"Oh, we will." Ben assured me.

I ejected the spent clip from the HK45, slammed the new one into place, then worked the slide to chamber a round. Then I held the weapon loosely at my side, barrel pointed toward the ground.

"I'm terrified of you right now," Hi said wide-eyed. "And in love. Take me shooting with your aunt Tempe next time."

"Take the SUV and go. I'll stay with Ella and handle the fallout."

"Out of your mind." Ben said immediately.

"We could drive away without anybody knowing."

"I'm not leaving Tory to face this alone," Ben insisted. "Get serious!"

I spoke softly. "The cops will eat you alive, Benjamin Blue. You have to go."

Ben tensed, ready to argue.

"Detective Hawfield died. This is going to get serious. It's way too much heat for you. Please be sensible."

Ben hesitated. Then his shoulders slumped.

"Maybe you're right." Deep breath. "But you're taking away the other possibility, too."

"I don't understand." I glanced over my shoulder at the approaching vehicle. "What other possibility?"

He smiled wanly. "Ben Blue, The Hero. That kinda would've been nice."

I paused, at a loss for words. My heart broke for him.

"But that's okay." Ben dug keys from his pocket. "After all, we're Virals, not heroes. And that's fine. Plus, I'm not really the hero type."

He turned to leave.

Impulsively, I grabbed Ben's arm. Pulled him close. Smashed my lips against his. The kiss only lasted a second, but also an eternity. Then I stepped back an shoved Ben towards the Explorer.

"Of course you're the type." I was grateful the darkness hid my blushes. "Now go."

Ben stared, stricken, thunderstruck. Hi and Shelton watched, wide-eyed with shock.

"Weirdest birthday ever," Hi whispered.

"Corcoran will survive," Ben commented sourly. "He always does. We crack the case, he gets to be the hero."

My head whipped to Ben. Was that bitterness?

I saw no trace. Ben was smiling, relaxed for the first time in days. Maybe months.

As my father strode away, Shelton and Hi both unleashed dramatic yawns.

"Welp." Hi stretch his arms over his head. "I'd better go check on various things that aren't right here. You coming, Shelton?"

"Oh you know it." Hiding a smile. "Stuff to do. No time to waste."

I descended two steps.

Stopped.

Shot back up.

Wrapped Ben in a bone-crushing hug.

Startled, it took him a moment before he hugged me back.

"He didn't say anything to me," Hi repeated. "And if Shelton were sick, I'd be the first to hear about it. At length."

"So what's the plan?" Ben asked.

"Go inside. Look around. Improvise."

"Brilliant." Hi stroked his chin. "Quick question: Is having no plan the same as having a terrible plan, or are those different categories?"

[captain-yeet]

Don't You Knock? (Felix Volturi x Reader One-shot)

Summary: Finding out that vampires and soulmates existing in a single day is exhausting, let alone discovering you're the mate of one. The night after the Newborns came to Forks, you get a surprise visitor in the dead of night.

Pairing: Felix x Reader

Word count: 2.8k

A little something I’ve been working on this past week and also to celebrate a wee follower milestone. Come get y’all JUICE, enjoy!

Slamming the door to your apartment with accidental unnecessary force, you shrug out of your frozen jacket and tossed it to the floor. Today had been eventful, to say the least. It began with helping out your supervisor with paperwork down at the police station and ended with a vampire practically starting a riot over you.

Oh, and vampires exist now. Neat.

You were only a few years older than Chief Swan's daughter and he had asked something rather odd of you a few months back after she returned from disappearing to Italy; "Keep an eye out for her, will ya?"

So, you found a way to insert yourself into Bella's life, like a friend with older sister vibes. She was none the wiser, and so were you in terms of what kind of shit the silly girl had gotten herself into.

Shrugging out of your pants, you let out a content sigh. "Right, relax time," you breathed. No vampires, no pyres of burning bodies. Just me and some pasta.

You were just planning on tailing her and the gaggle of pale friends of hers to see what exactly they were up to. You'd seen them while out on a hike and immediately your suspicion grew when you saw Bella being carried down the hillside by her boyfriend Edward Cullen, accompanied by the largest wolf you'd ever seen.

Following them at a distance, the sight you stumbled across made you let out a very loud "What the fuck is going on here!?"

Bodies burning but with no horrid stench. One of the Cullen boys ripping apart a corpse with his bare hands and tossing it into the pyre. A naked boy on the ground writhing in pain, being lifted and carried off by more shirtless guys and one woman. A teenager curled up into a ball on the ground.

"Y/N what are you doing here?" Bella cried.

"What am I doing here? What the shit are you doing here, what exactly have these people roped you into?" You had snarled the last part, backing away from the two approaching Cullens.

The doctor's wife had whispered a quick explanation to you. They weren't human, but vampires. Vampires existed what the actual heck. Bella was in danger but isn't any more.

And the Volturi, the "vampire police" were arriving soon, and you had no time to leave before they did.

An hour passed and you hummed a song to yourself while you washed up the plates after having a quick dinner. The day had turned to custard and you just wanted to forget about it for a moment and go to bed.

The buzzing of your phone made you jump. Picking it up, you saw the name on the screen and sighed heavily.

Caller ID: Bella

"What now?" You groaned, leaning against the counter. You pressed the answer key and held the phone gingerly up to your ear. "Hello?"

"Y/N, are you home?" came Bella's voice through the speaker. There was a hint of urgency in her tone that had you immediately tense.

"I am, why? Has something happened?"

"Listen to me," she urged, "you need to leave, Alice has a vision that -"

Your brows knitted together in confusion. Bella had given you some information about her boyfriend having some kind of mind reading gift but you didn't realise that extended to the rest of the Cullens being gifted too. "She had a what now?"

A short sigh. "Someone is coming for you! Please just trust me and go!"

Pushing yourself off the counter, you paced in your kitchen. "Who?" you deadpanned, fear growing in your heart.

"Y/N go!"

Suddenly you heard the creak of that one rickety window in your living room shutting. You grabbed the closest thing to you; a pan. "If I don't call you back by tomorrow morning assume the worst," you murmured in a hushed voice before hanging up.

Placing your phone down, you grasped the pan firmly and stalked to the corner leading into the living room. You couldn't hear anything but the sound of a dog barking outside and the steady rain that had begun as you drove home. Taking a deep breath, you rounded the corner and entered the room.

Nothing. No one was in sight.

"You know that pan isn't going to do much," a deep voice commented from behind you.

Yelping in shock and fear, you instinctively turned and swung the pan with just the one hand at whoever it was behind you. An ice-cold hand gripped your wrist, stopping your attack.

The tall intruder raised his eyebrows at your clumsy attack, red eyes boring into your own with intensity. You were caught off guard by how ridiculously handsome, tall and muscular he was, which you knew was probably the last thing you should be thinking about right now. You swung at him with your free hand and he caught that too. Now you were pinned.

"Easy, I mean you no harm," he said firmly, his tone ringing with authority. He began walking forward, still with you firmly in his iron grip making you step backward till your back hit a wall. "If I let you go, will you calm down?"

"You broke into my apartment and you want me to be calm?" you hissed, the last word turning into a screech.

"Please, I -" the man struggled with his words for a moment. "I just want to talk. About what happened today, if you'll give me a chance."

You glared at him for a little. He could end you very quickly if that was what he wanted to do. You knew that after what you saw of him today. He was a killer, through and through.

So, you conceded with a solemn nod.

The man was pleased with your cooperation, releasing your wrists and stepping back away from you. You set your poor choice of a weapon down on a table and leaned against the wall, quickly wiping away a stray tear that began trailing down your cheek before crossing your arms and staring him down with a hard glare.

Red eyes traveled up and down your figure, at first with curiosity that dissolved into something else, something more akin to fleeting lust and you suddenly remembered your lack of pants. "Don't you vampires know how to knock? It would have given me time to make myself more decent."

A low chuckle came from the man. "That would have been a politer choice, but I guess I miscalculated things." With a pause, he added, "not that I'm complaining, it's a nice view."

He winked and you cursed yourself for the impulsive flush of heat to your cheeks. It really should be illegal to be that good looking and that infuriatingly forward.

Padding over to the couch, making sure to have the front of your body facing him and not your rear end, you made yourself at home and placed a blanket over your lower half. Resting your hands in your lap, you sheepishly looked up at him. "I'd feel more comfortable if you sat down."

Moving slowly, you assumed so he wouldn't frighten you, he sat next to you on the couch on the furthest end, giving you some space. "Where would you like me to begin? I'll answer any questions you have if you'll also grant me the same privilege."

You thought for a moment. Many pressing questions came to your mind at once. You weren't sure where to begin. "Okay," you agreed with a heavy exhale. "Well, the first question I have to start with is who are you?"

"Fair," he smiled and again your heart skipped a beat. "My name is Felix, as you know already, I'm a member of the Volturi who are tasked with enforcing the secrecy of our kind."

Your brain took a moment to process the information. "So... you're essentially the vampire police?" you concluded with a raised brow, earning another chuckle from Felix.

"I guess you could say that although we're closer to being a governing force, now let me ask the same of you."

Glancing away briefly, you let your eyes roam around your apartment before meeting his curious red ones again. "My name is Y/N and uh, I work down at the local police station here in Forks - a cadet, got in thanks to my okay-ish GPA." You felt yourself rambling so you quickly shut up before you embarrassed yourself further.

"You don't strike me as a woman who'd aspire to be a cop," he mused, his head cocking to the side.

You shrugged meekly. "Maybe so, but I've always wanted to try making a small difference and I figured why not try and work towards becoming an officer?"

"That's admirable."

Heat flushed to your face. You racked your brain for more questions. "Well, if you're a vampire, how old are you?"

"About 2,000 years old, give or take."

A strangled hysteric laugh caught itself in your throat, making him purse his lips and stare at you like you'd grown another head. "I'm sorry," you said quickly, "it's just... wow that's a... long time to be alive." Taking a moment to compose yourself, you gave him a small smile. "You look amazing for your age, I gotta say."

A grin spread across his handsome face, and again your heart skipped a beat. You couldn't deny he was incredibly handsome - ridiculously so. "Immortality does wonders," he replied with a wink, clearly enjoying making you flustered.

A question popped into your mind at that moment, one that had been plaguing your thoughts since you left that clearing "... What is a mate? Why is it so significant for, your kind?"

You recalled the moment the two of you locked eyes for the first time. You remembered Edward Cullen's hiss of anger and shock and the way this man before you stared at you. It was like he was a deer in headlights and time itself had stopped. The pyre had disappeared, every confusing new thing that had surrounded you in a matter of minutes gone.

In that finite moment, it was just you and this tall strange man who gazed at you like a blind man seeing colour for the first time.

"Straight to the point, aren't you?" He murmured, chuckling to himself. Eyes downcast, he paused to think about how he wanted to answer. "My kind lives for a very long time," he began, lifting his gaze back to you. "Some of us will find another that we connect with so intimately that nothing else compares. A mate is a life partner, someone who feels as if they were made for you."

Resting your chin on your hand, you listened to his explanation earnestly. The idea of soulmates felt like a silly girl's fantasy, but you couldn't help but feel a tug at your heartstrings at his words. "And me?" You asked softly, scooting a little closer to really lock eyes with him. "Edward said I was your mate."

Mate. The term felt so foreign to you, it rolled off your tongue strangely.

With that announcement, the clearing had become chaos. Angry snarls from both Volturi and Cullen alike sounded through the area, you'd been pulled behind a blonde golden-eyed woman.

And many protests.

"Impossible!"

"That's absurd, Felix would never become attached to a human."

The voice of reason had come from Doctor Cullen. "It isn't impossible - look at Edward and Bella. If this is true then it's up to them to decide their fates."

Felix's reaction was the one that stuck out to you the most "You seemed so angry, back in the clearing..."

During the outcry, Felix's face was the one you focused on. After moments of staring at you with thunderstruck wonder in his eyes, he balked and you could have sworn you saw him say "No," to himself, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose like he'd suddenly gotten a bad migraine.

He sighed. “It was more shock than anger. Of all the things I had prepared myself for dealing with when we arrived, meeting my mate was not one of them.” Shaking his head, he offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry that the way we met wasn’t under better circumstances. Having you see me like that on our first meeting...”

 “I wish the circumstances had been better too.”

Another memory flickered in your mind. The young girl on the ground. Her screams as she cried out in pain, Felix stalking toward her with a stoic expression. There was no doubt in your mind that even if this ‘soulmate bond’ thing was true - and a tug at your heartstrings swayed you to believe that maybe it was - the man before you was dangerous.

 “You killed that girl,” you stated bluntly.

 “I had orders,” he retorted, the stoic mask returning. “I had no choice.”

You were shaking your head before he finished speaking. “That doesn’t mean that what you did was right!” Exasperated, you raised your hands. “Just because someone orders you to do something doesn’t mean that it’s the correct course to take! Don’t you have a mind of your own?”

Felix opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it, jaw clenched.

Okay, maybe don’t try to aggravate the vampire, Y/N, you cautioned yourself. Hands falling with a slap on your exposed thighs, you sighed. “Shit, I didn’t mean to go off like that.”

Silence followed. You watched him carefully and he watched you, neither making a single move for a while. 

 “You’re afraid of me.” The words left his lips calmly, not phrased as a question but rather a statement.

Lips parting slightly, you felt your face turn into a grimace. Your emotions were all over the place at this point in time and you didn’t know what to do about it or how to feel. Maybe you were scared of him - he did break into your home after all. And a rational part of your conscious knew that being afraid was probably a good thing. But at the same time? You felt a sense of hope - hope that this whole vampire mate thing may be true and that he really wasn’t here to kill you or worse.

 "I guess I can’t blame you for feeling that way,” he sighed. “Do you still want an answer to your original question?”

Biting your tongue for a moment, you nodded. “Yes, tell me.”

 “Meeting you was a shock, that is true. It’s just...” A pause for a moment, and in a more gentle voice he spoke once more. “I have been around for a long, long time. Centuries. In that time I thought I wouldn’t ever find my mate as I watched others find theirs - I even became somewhat promiscuous, because if I was never going to find the one, what was the point? Why not fool around with whomever? And then you appear before me and I’m shaken to my core.”

The room was silent save for the frantic beating of your heart, the patter of rainfall and the distant sounds of life around your apartment building.

 “I fear I’ve ruined my chances of you accepting me as yours,” Felix confessed.

 “I... may be willing to accept you - or at the very least give you, us, a chance. But you must do something for me first if you’re willing?” Is this a bad idea? A great idea? Maybe both, you concluded.

Felix’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do you want me to do?”

You pointed at the door. “Leave my apartment and knock on the door.”

Suspicion turned into amusement. “You want me to leave and then come back in?” he repeated, playful sarcasm in his tone.

You felt your lips twitch up into a smirk. “Yes, that is indeed what I want. If we’re doing this I want to give it a real shot with a proper beginning - no attacking anyone with a pan and preferably with pants on.”

The two of you eyes each other a moment before you broke out into a fit of giggles. Felix shook his head muttering something along the lines of “Strange human” before taking your hand gently in his own, pressing his lips against your knuckles in a feather-light kiss, sending your heart beating overtime. "As you wish."

Letting your hand fall from his grasp he rose to his feet and walked away from you. Opening the door to your apartment wide, Felix faced you and stepped backward with a smirk, closing the door behind him.

When he closed the door, you stood up and rushed to find a pair of pants. Luckily you’d conveniently left some unfolded laundry out in the living room after a late-night trip to the laundromat. Shimmying into some comfy leggings, you murmured to yourself, "Feel free to knock now, big guy."

Not even five seconds later, and there was a short knock at your door. What, they have super hearing too? you chuckled to yourself.

Taking what felt like the millionth deep intake of breath for tonight, you opened the door for your “unexpected” visitor.

Pursing his lips trying not to laugh, Felix nodded in greeting. The man towered over you and for a brief moment, one of his hands running through the dark shaggy locks of hair, you wondered how his head didn’t hit the doorframe. And also how soft his hair was to touch. “Hello, may I come in?”

 “Since you’re so polite, of course you may,” you greeted him, stepping back to allow him to enter.

 “Does this mean you’ll give this a chance?” he took a hesitant step forward, watching you for any sign of discomfort, “you want to give a future with me a chance?”

You nodded. “It’s not every day a vampire comes to my door asking to be my lover,” you replied teasingly, winking at him as he had done to you earlier in the night. And besides... if you're serious about me being your mate, then I want to give this a go."

An earnest, genuinely happy smile lit up Felix’s face. You’d never seen a more beautiful man in your life. Beaming back at him as he entered your apartment, you knew from this night onward your life would never be the same. Were you ready for that? You weren’t quite sure.

But for now, you were certain in your feelings; if soulmates were real, you’d feel like a fool to pass up your own. Whatever the future held, you’ll face it.

You’ll face it with him.

[thekytchensynk]

Happy Birthday Sero

Have some nonsense because why not right?

“So, surprise party. What do you think?”

Jirou just stared at him for a long few seconds, chewing on a piece of pocky. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“A surprise party,” she repeated, inflection turning it into a question. 

Sero nodded, then looked around the room. Had he … interrupted something? Sure, being asked to help plan a surprise party wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence but his classmate was acting like she expected him to be pulling a prank on her.

Leaning back in her chair, Jirou gave her silence another few seconds before asking, “Why me? Why not Kaminari? Or Kirishima? No offense, I like Mina and all, and I’m happy to help. But aren’t you guys like her best friends?”

It was Sero’s turn to let a silence settle. How to explain without it sounding kiiiinda mean. His eyes meandered over the fresh-cut grass of UA’s lawn, the scent of which still hung on the air, but no easy answer presented itself in the landscaping.

Defeated, he slumped back over his knees. “Have you met them?” he muttered. “They’re great, seriously, but Mina can sniff out something like this at a hundred paces. If I ask them for help, this will stop being a surprise party within a literal minute.”

Jirou sighed. “You know it won’t be that much better with me, right? She can see when basically anyone is hiding things from her, right?” Her voice dropped to a mutter as she added, “‘S like a radar, I swear.”

“Yeah. But you and I have a little cover when it comes to birthday planning around now,” Sero said.

Jirou looked pointedly away. “How do people find this stuff OUT.” When she looked back at him, he raised an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes. “How? How does she always…”

“It’s a gift,” Sero agreed. “A really irritating gift sometimes. It’s like she can see into your brain. Which is kinda why I wanna do this?”

“So like … the surprise is the present?” Jirou asked. 

“Yeah.”

After considering this for a few more seconds, Jirou nodded. “All right, fine. We plan a surprise party for Mina? And if people ask, we claim the party’s for each other? That’s not gonna raise some eyebrows?”

“We’re teenagers living in a dorm building together. Passing someone a pencil in class raises eyebrows,” Sero said. 

“Fair. All right. Let’s do it.”

“So, a surprise party! What do you think?”

Kaminari and Kirishima exchanged a look. Then, as though acting on an impulse from a single, shared brain cell, they looked back to Mina and said in unison, “We’re in!”

But almost immediately, Kirishima added, “But … if we’re all in on it, isn’t he going to get suspicious?”

“He might suspect, but he’s not going to get, like, aggressive about it,” Mira said. “So if you feel like you’re about to let something slip, just leave. It’s only for a week anyway.”

Kaminari looked thoughtful, frowning at the floor with a somewhat unwarranted intensity. The other two stayed quiet, glancing at one another and then just watching, curious where this was going to go.

“Won’t we need a lot of stuff?” he asked at last. “I mean, food, and a cake, and music, and decorations?”

Mina dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “It’s not that big a deal,” she said. “You handle the music, yeah? Kirishima, can you work out the decorations? And I can do the rest?”

The grins on their faces told her all she needed to know.

This was gonna be fun

A couple days later, Sero and Jirou sat on a couch by the window in the common room between classes. Outside, bright summer sunshine slanted down toward them and only the tinting in the glass kept it from blinding the pair. 

“So, I stopped by his room and asked him about it,” Jirou was saying, staring down at her phone as she talked. A music playlist took up the screen. As she spoke, she thumbed down the list, scanning the songs included. 

“And?”

“He can’t,” she said. “Maybe you should have asked him. Aren’t you two friends?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Sorry to ask you to do it. I’ve just been trying to figure out the rest of the food. I asked about it at the cafeteria, but they said we’d need a teacher’s permission.”

“And we can’t get that?” Jirou asked, finally pocketing her phone again. 

“Who am I going to ask? Mr. Aizawa?” Sero groused. “I-”

“Whacha talking about?”

Both Sero and Jirou jumped at the voice that materialized between them, and they slid in opposite directions on the couch. Leaning her elbows against the back of the couch, Mina continued, “Woah. Sorry, Was I interrupting something private?” She grinned wickedly at the two of them.

“We were hoping to get permission for a pizza party in the dorm for the end of term,” Jirou said smoothly. “Never thought there’d be this many hoops though.”

Mina’s eyes narrowed as she studied Jirou for a long few seconds. Her searching expression was enough to make Sero struggle not to fidget, and he wasn’t even on the receiving end of it. 

After an excruciatingly long few seconds, Mina straightened up and added, “Aww man. A pizza party sounds awesome.” Then with a wave, she wandered off, heading apparently up to her room.

The pair watched her go before both basically collapsed back onto the couch. 

“Like a radar!” Jirou hissed. “How does she do it!”

Mina scowled at her phone. Was anything going to go right?

Sorry, but Mr. Aizawa caught me with the streamers! He thinks I was going to use them for some sort of prank and took them. Forgive me!

Kirishima’s text wasn’t long, and didn’t contain anything that took more than a cursory approach to decipher, but she kept reading and rereading it, hoping that this time it would say something different than she’d read the last dozen times.

It wouldn’t be so bad if this were the only thing, she mused as she closed the app and leaned her head back to stare listlessly at the ceiling. But first Kaminari had managed to fry his speakers. Then when he’d asked Jirou about borrowing hers, but she’d said they were too heavy to be safely moved down to the common area, and too delicate to be trusted around their rowdy classmates.

She half suspected sabotage, especially given all the time Jirou and Sero were spending together lately. Could they have figured it out and be trying to mess with her?

No. She didn’t think they’d do that. What would be the point?

She had to admit to herself that maybe, she was just feeling a little bit lonely?

She liked Jirou -- she was absolutely cool and smart and had great taste in all sorts of things. But Mina also liked the comfortable camaraderie of their little squad, and lately, that had been fractured. Most nights, either Kaminari or Kirishima were out later than usual helping her. Sometimes she herself was. Bakugo, who thought the whole surprise party thing was stupid, was just avoiding them. And Sero…

He had to suspect something, and his instinct about the source seemed preternatural. Lately, it felt like every time she walked into a room, he walked out. If she walked up to talk, he’d get nervous and excuse himself. He seemed to have replaced hanging out with them with hanging out with Jirou.

To be honest, it kind of hurt. She was starting to regret the whole thing.

“Two more days,” she muttered to herself. “Just two more days.”

“Tomorrow’s the big day,” Jirou said around a bite of her breakfast. 

“Thank god,” Sero said, pushing food around his plate. “This is way more stress than I wanted. I know she knows we’re up to something. I just don’t know if she knows what yet.”

Jirou glanced over his way. “Of course. You act like a toddler with his hand in the cookie jar whenever she walks in the room.”

“I’m not good at this sort of thing!” he protested, before giving up entirely and pushing his barely touched meal away. “And nothing is going right-”

Which was an understatement. After the cake failure and the food failure, Iida had come up to him, awkwardly and entirely unasked, to convey that the teachers had told them there were to be no defacing or making a mess of the dorms as part of their end-of-semester celebrations. And while their planned decorations weren’t for the end of the semester, he assumed Mr. Aizawa would not appreciate the difference in this particular circumstance.

Not to mention, he thought people would be psyched about the idea of a party. But once he started inviting some of their classmates who could keep their mouths shut last night, the reactions were … let’s go with “uninspiring.”

Oh. OK.

I’ll try to make it.

Huh. All right.

You’d have thought he was inviting them to a study session instead of a birthday party.

It was frustrating. 

“Oh, and about the music,” Jirou said.

At last, the one thing that would be going right.

“I forgot I agreed to let some upperclassmen borrow my speakers for a tournament,” she concluded. “Sorry about that. My phone has an OK speaker though, so we can use that.”

“Ah. Right.” 

Looking down at his own phone, Sero wondered what god he’d offended.

“Uuuugh, this is a disaster.” Mina whined. She “sat” in a chair upside down, with her back on the seat, her legs up  over the back and her head toward the floor.

“It’s not a disaster,” Kirishima said bracingly. 

She raised her head and looked over at him. “No food, no decorations, music off your computer speakers and almost no one except us three definitely coming,” she said, leveling a stare at him despite the odd angle. “How is that not a disaster?”

“Maybe everyone’s planning on coming and just didn’t say so?” he asked awkwardly.

“Yeah! You know people like to keep their weekends open,” Kaminari threw in. 

“Right, right. Well, maybe you can save the day, Kaminari.”

“Me?” He sounded genuinely puzzled. “What?”

“Did you ask Satou about the cake?”

He brightened up. “Oh, yeah!” But then his face fell again. “He said he wouldn’t be able to though. Sorry.”

With a sigh, Mina let her head drop back toward the floor again. “See?” she said, gesturing vaguely in Kirishima’s direction. “Disaster.”

This time he didn’t object.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

Jirou waved for him to stay in his room. “I mean, with what? There are just a couple decorations, so that’s easy enough. And if Mina corners you, you’re going to spill the beans.”

Probably not incorrect. Whatever she thought about the party, he was honestly going to just be glad to have the whole thing behind him, he thought as he puttered around his room wasting time.

What if she hated it? She wouldn’t get mad -- she generally took things in the spirit they were intended. But he didn’t want to disappoint his friend. Or make her uncomfortable. Not that a party would. But maybe he misjudged? What if the surprise bit did?

He glanced at his phone. Five minutes to 2 p.m. Time apparently flew when you worried yourself slightly ill. Just about time to go down and prepare for the “surprise” part of the surprise party.

As he reached the fourth-floor landing, he heard footsteps and turned to see who it was.

Ah crap.

Mina looked as surprised to see him as he was to see her. Hadn’t Jirou said not to worry about keeping her in her room, that she’d set something up? Why was she here?

For her part, Mina’s accustomed bright smile took a couple seconds to make itself seen. He wondered if his shock was showing too clearly on his face, because it seemed like she looked uncomfortable to see him.

“Hey!” she chirped. “Heading somewhere?”

“Uhh,” he said articulately. “Yyyyeah.” Idiot!

“Where to? She asked, starting down the first couple steps to the third floor, then looking back and waiting for him to follow.

Well, this was it. There was literally no way he could get her to go back to her room. There was no real way to warn the folks downstairs she was coming down early -- assuming anyone was there except Jirou, of course. 

Time to just get this over with. He followed her down the stairs. 

“So hey, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a couple days,” she said as they headed down. 

“Yeah?”

“Have you been avoiding me lately?”

 You act like a toddler with his hand in the cookie jar whenever she walks in the room, the memory of Jirou’s words prodded him helpfully.

“Huh? No, not really. Heh heh,” he said, trying to brush it off, but he could just feel the awkwardness in his tone and posture and this was turning into a total mess. How did these stairs get so long?

Mina looked a little doubtful, but nodded. “OK. Then are you and Jirou like…” she trailed off.

It took him a couple seconds to put together what she was even asking. Once he did, his face heated up. “Wh… no!”

“Because you know if you are, we’re cheering for you.” That mischievous grin on her face told him they might also needle him. But it didn’t matter.

“That’s seriously not it. She’s cool and all, but … that’s not it.”

Her smile faded again, just a little. “Something I did then?” she asked as they rounded the corner and stepped onto the final staircase, to the ground floor.

“No! Seriously Mina, I’m not avoiding you or anything. It’s just been kind of a weird week.” He supposed the one good thing about how she kept peppering him with questions was that it hept her focused on their conversation instead of peeking ahead and maybe seeing all of the nothing they’d put together for her party. “Sorry if I gave you that impression though.”

“All right.”

“We good?”

She sighed. “Yeah, we-”

“SURPRISE!”

Sero thought Mina jumped at the sudden chorus of shouting voices. It was hard to know for sure, because he definitely jumped at the sound. He’d been expecting it as they reached the ground floor, of course, but that had been a bit louder than he was prepared for. Turning to look at the common room, he saw ...

He saw a party. There were streamers, and a “Happy birthday” banner and food and a cake. Jirou’s sound system was set up in the corner.

And as far as he could see, everyone from their class and a few more besides were here.

He gaped. This was … unexpected. Then he looked over, to see Mina looking just as flummoxed. 

As people got the party started, Kaminari hurried over and grinned at Mina. “So, what do you think?”

“Where did all of this come from?” she asked. She sounded as confused as him, actually. 

Wait a second.

Before he could voice his suspicions, Jirou wandered up. “You should see your face,” she said.

“I thought everything fell through,” Sero said.

“Well of course,” Jirou said with a wry smile. “We were all conspiring against you both.” Kaminari looked over at her and nodded, still looking totally pleased with himself. “It’s a good thing you never compared notes.”

“Wh.. how could we?”

“And that’s what we were counting on.” she chuckled, then gave him a little wave and wandered off.

At nearly the same time, Kaminari gave Mina a little shove toward where Kirishima stood near the food. “Come on, he’s been like this close to spilling the beans for four days or something, if you don’t let him finally tell you everything, he might literally explode.”

Still a bit bemused, Sero watched them go before wanding off to join … whatever this was.

It was about an hour later when Mina found him chatting with Asui and Uraraka about some new single that had recently come out. As Asui leaned over to show Uraraka her phone so she could pull up the video, Mina plopped down on the couch next to Sero.

“So,” she said, settling in.

“So.” he agreed.

“Has the last week been as frustrating for you as it’s been for me?”

“Yuuuup.”

By design, apparently. It had taken less than a day for Kaminari to spill the secret to Jirou, who informed him of Sero’s side of the equation. From there, the planning had spread until the only people not in on it were, funnily enough, the two who started it.

“I owe Kaminari and Kirishima an apology,” Sero said, shaking his head. “I was sure if I asked them they’d give it away. Instead, everyone kept it from us.”

“I thought I was noticing a few little things,” Mina said thoughtfully. “But you were acting so suspicious that I didn’t really pay the rest of the weirdness as much attention.”

“Yeah. I was pretty sure I was going to give it away too,” he laughed.

“I didn’t suspect this at all, honestly,” she said, looking around. “And I definitely didn’t expect they’d all play both of us.”

“Well, I appreciate the sentiment,” Sero said. “Thanks for trying to plan a party for me.”

“Thanks for planning one for me too!” she replied. Then her smile turned sly as she added, “But mine would have been better.”

“Yeah yeah.”

They sat there for a few seconds, surrounded by the music from Jirou’s speakers. Then Mina hopped to her feet and held a hand out to him. 

“Let’s go. Birthday dance.”

“Come on, I’m terrible at dancing,” he said, taking her hand and letting her help him up.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s a birthday dance,” she said matter of factly.

And who could argue with that?

[quicksilversquared]

The Felix Fiasco:Chapter 2/2

AU of the episode Felix

Instead of cutting off what his father was going to say, Adrien inadvertently let Mr. Agreste out himself as Hawkmoth. With some help from a friend- and some surprise visiting family members- and a bit of luck, Paris might just find itself one supervillain down by the end of the day.

links in the reblog

Felix had had his story all ready when he stepped in the house. He had been taken off guard by the news, of course, and had run on impulse. Ever since the first akuma had showed up all he had heard was about how much of a villain Hawkmoth was, so of course his first reaction wasn't to be all-in. But he had had time to sit alone and think about it, and- well, he wanted his mom back, of course, just like his father did. And magic could do that, so- well, he wanted to know more, and to see his mom, if possible. After all, it had been ages, and he missed her.

And Adrien's father and Nathalie ate it up. There was no suspicion at all.

Seriously, how were these people supervillains? Sure, Felix was confident in his acting abilities- that was why he had agreed to this whole thing in the first place, because he was positive that he would be able to weasel his way through the situation- but he had figured that there would be more persuasion involved, them drilling him to make sure that he wasn't about to run off again and immediately report them to someone once he knew more. There had been some questions, sure- they had wanted to know if he had told anyone, to which they got a very quick "no!"- but nothing like what he had expected. Apparently the desire to see his mom again made "Adrien" turning to the dark side completely believable.

And then his mom and Adrien- or, sorry, "Felix"- arrived, and they had to interact normally, but as each other.

(At least Adrien had thought to have them practice that part in Marinette's room after they switched clothes. If they hadn't...well, Felix had far less confidence in Adrien's acting abilities, even if Adrien was the one between the two of them to do voice acting and shoot commercials.)

"This is nice and all, but Adrien and I were in the middle of something before you arrived," Mr. Agreste said after a few minutes of- well, admittedly awkward conversation. Felix's mom had apparently decided to continue on with the main reason for their visit- getting back the rings- and that was making Mr. Agreste less than thrilled. It probably was keeping him from getting suspicious, though, considering that Amèlie could have a one-track mind when she wanted to and her not bringing the topic up would be strange. It was a trait that ran in the family, really, so Felix refused to consider it a bad thing. "If you could, ah, wait-"

"They could hang out in my room!" Felix blurted, mimicking what he could remember of his cousin's eagerness as best he could. He gestured widely up the stairs. "There's a foosball table, and, uh..." He wracked his brain. What else had Adrien told him was in his room? Hopefully things hadn't changed too much since his last visit. "A climbing wall, and- well, you'll see."

"Thank you, Adrien!" Amèlie told Felix, beaming. She placed a hand on Adrien's shoulder, clearly ready to guide him up to the room, and then cast a disparaging look at Mr. Agreste. "Hopefully we'll get to hang out with you soon enough. Don't keep my nephew from me for too long, Gabriel."

Mr. Agreste only gave a short jerk of his head that might be interpreted as a nod, landing a heavy hand on Felix's shoulder and steering him forcefully towards what- if Felix was remembering correctly- was his office. Nathalie shut the door behind them, flipping the lock.

For the first time, Felix was nervous. This wasn't going to end in, like, human sacrifice or something, was it? It was all fine before, when they were around other people, but now Felix was on his own. If something went sideways...

No. His uncle wouldn't hurt the boy who he believed was his own son, right? Right-

-no. In a flash, Felix remembered what Adrien had said that had gotten his mom so enraged. Adrien had been attacked by akumas before- targeted by akumas, even, and Mr. Agreste had akumatized himself and attacked Adrien. Maybe it was just because stuff would likely be put back at the end of the attacks and so a little danger was considered acceptable, but that didn't exactly make Felix any less nervous.

"Your mother is down below the house," Mr. Agreste told Felix, guiding him to a specific section of floor in front of a painting of his aunt. It was weird. "We'll have to take the elevator. It's really only designed for one person, but we can make it work for two."

"An elevator? Where?" Felix asked at once, glancing around. He wasn't seeing any doors around in the too-open, too-clinical room. "In here?"

"In the floor, obviously." Mr. Agreste leaned forward, pressing several spots on the painting- buttons! Before Felix had a chance to memorize the pattern, they were going down, down, down. They passed another track that headed to the side and then- if Felix's eyes weren't deceiving him in the dark- upwards, and just kept going down.

Felix had decided: he Did Not Like This.

"It was quite difficult to get all of this installed without anyone noticing," Mr. Agreste commented idly as the elevator went down. "I had to call in a foreign company, make some payments to keep them quiet- not that they ever saw your mother or her condition. I had to keep her in one of the back rooms for a bit- it was quite dicey, making sure that neither you nor the household staff went back there. But the cavern already existed, and some of the scaffolding, so it wasn't quite as expensive as I had worried."

Felix had to struggle not to comment at that. How much of the money he had spent had actually belonged to Mr. Agreste, and how much had come from the Graham de Vanily family fortune? Surely he wasn't making that much money off of the fashion business, considering that everything Gabriel sold was either regular clothes with a brand stamped on them and sold at a huge markup, or absolutely hideous "fashion" that Mr. Agreste dreamed up, at least as far as Felix knew. The quality of the designs had definitely taken a turn for the worse after his aunt vanished, which suggested that either she had been doing a fair bit of designing herself or had simply been in charge of the editing.

"It was quite hard to keep you from noticing, of course, but I had hoped to pull off this whole thing without you knowing at all." Mr. Agreste paused as the elevator slowed and they descended into a huge cavern. Felix was not particularly comfortable knowing that this existed under his cousin's family's mansion- like, who had decided to build a house over this? It should have just been a park, and that way when the ground inevitably decided to collapse, there at least wouldn't be a building over it. "But it has dragged on for long enough now that I- well, Nathalie, at least- thought it might be a good idea to let you in on the secret, and you can be our eyes and ears on the outside."

"What do you mean, Father?" Felix asked, cringing on the inside. Having to call someone else- and someone as awful as Gabriel Agreste- father, so soon after his own dad had died...well, he would rather pass. But if he wanted to act convincing, he needed to address Mr. Agreste just like Adrien would. At least Adrien normally called Mr. Agreste father instead of dad, because Felix really wouldn't have been able to stomach that. Perhaps the two words were technically very similar, but it was just different. "How could I possibly be any more helpful than any news coverage? The Ladyblog has quite a bit of content."

"It has dropped in both quality and quantity recently. Both because your friend Alya has decided to trust Ms. Rossi and her stories, and because she's become so distracted by that DJ boyfriend of hers that she's not following the attacks as often." Mr. Agreste sniffed, leading the way off of the elevator even before it fully came to a stop "Typical teenaged romance single-mindedness. Foolish, and something that they will no doubt regret later on. They have become blind to everything except for each other."

Felix glanced away as though he was uncomfortable with how his- well, Adrien's- friends were being discussed, but inside he was trying not to roll his eyes. Adrien's friends were obsessed with each other? That was rich coming from the guy who had turned into a supervillain in an attempt to save his wife and had rather deliberately put his son in danger multiple times for the same reason.

(Also, this cavern was insane. There were rusting metal walkways over moving water below, and an opening somewhere up above that was shining light down at the cluster of plants at the far end, and- well, it was weird.)

"But you, Nathalie, and I can discuss specifics later," Mr. Agreste told him. "I know Nathalie had some ideas. It will require working in tandem with Ms. Rossi- she's one of my allies, though I don't know how much she suspects."

Felix blinked. "How- how much she suspects? What have you told her?"

"Very little. She is acting on my requests as Mr. Agreste- requests to deliberately get people upset enough to akumatize. Oh, don't look like that, you know that it causes no lasting harm," Mr. Agreste snapped when surprise and disgust slipped onto Felix's face. "And she is slippery enough to smooth things over again afterwards. But she's also been very cooperative with Hawkmoth, agreeing to become akumatized even without emotions clouding her judgment." He sent Felix a considering look. "You could do the same, actually. I'm sure it's something that Nathalie has thought of. With cooperative akumas, I can plan a design and powers in advance, instead of having to come up with them on the fly."

...Felix did not like this Ms. Rossi character already. He also wasn't sure who she was- she wasn't one of the people that Adrien had mentioned- and he didn't want to say anything that would give that away.

"But enough about that. You wanted to see your mother." Mr. Agreste headed up the walkway, shoes clicking with every step. "This way, stop dithering about. We don't have any time to waste- your aunt will start nosing around if we take too long, no doubt, and I shudder to think of what her reaction might be if she gets wind of this." Even from behind, his scowl was evident. "She's too nosy for her own good. The sooner she and your cousin leave, the better."

Felix had to force back the absolute rage at that. How dare his uncle call his mom nosy. Granted, maybe she sometimes was- he got irritated with her prying at times, he was a teenager and wanted his secrets, darn it- but for Mr. Agreste to say that, as though what he was doing wasn't a hundred times worse?

It was absolutely hypocritical.

"And here we are," Mr. Agreste announced, stopping in front of a tube... thing. He pressed a button, and the sides retracted to leave a glass case, with Emilie Agreste laying inside on a padded surface, deathly still.

It brought back memories in a rush, memories that Felix would have rather stayed deep inside. Memories of his father laying in a coffin- narrower than this one, to be sure, and wood instead of metal and glass- but with that same cream-colored silk padding and arranged in that same position, down to the flower bouquet held in his hands. Those waxy, too-pale cheeks, everything a little too neat and perfectly done up to truly look alive.

He wanted to be sick. Why couldn't Mr. Agreste have his wife on a bed, or at least in something far less coffin-like?

"She is alive," Mr. Agreste was saying, stepping closer to the foot of the- he was going to call it a chamber, Felix decided- and resting a hand there. "And the machines- they're to keep her stable. She was using the Peacock Miraculous even though it was broken. She was trying to be helpful, and this is where she ended up." He gazed up at his wife, clear longing on his face before he shook it off, his expression shuttering as he turned back to Felix. "Once I get the Ladybug and Chat Noir Miraculous- well, I want to use the ultimate power to change history, so that she wouldn't end up here."

"Won't there be a price, though?" Felix asked. He and Adrien had talked about it while they were swapping outfits and hairstyles and buffing out the few differences in their facial features with makeup, and Adrien had assumed that any wish made with the two main Miraculous had to result in kickback somewhere. Frankly, Felix had to agree with his cousin's assumption. That made a lot of sense. "A consequence for changing things?"

Mr. Agreste shrugged. "Perhaps. But I'm not going to concern myself about that right now. My kwami, Nooroo, had been most unhelpful about giving me information about that!" His voice rose with every word and Felix cringed back automatically.

He wasn't ever going to be jealous of his cousin ever again. Maybe they had both lost a parent- and maybe there was a possibility that Adrien's mom wasn't completely lost- but at least Felix's remaining parent cared about him. She wouldn't raise her voice, and she wouldn't look at him like Mr. Agreste had looked at "Adrien", all closed off and uncaring.

If Felix hadn't already felt bad for his initial plan to screw up his cousin's reputation as payback for Adrien not coming to Felix's father's funeral before, he definitely would now. It couldn't have been more obvious that his cousin already had enough to deal with.

"Master, I'm not allowed to say more!" a high-pitched voice protested, and Felix startled as a small purple creature appeared over Mr. Agreste's shoulder. "And it's unpredictable, and-"

"That's enough." Mr. Agreste swatted away the small fairy, focusing back on Felix. "I will interrogate Ladybug and Chat Noir's kwamis once I get my hands on them, and I will find out the best way to go forward. You don't need to worry about that."

Felix would beg to disagree, but he thought that it was probably not the best time to knock heads with Mr. Agreste. So he decided to turn to a different topic.

"What was Mom trying to do with the Peacock?" Felix asked, glancing back up at his aunt. "Who was she trying to help?"

Mr. Agreste frowned deeply, letting out a loud sigh. "She was trying to come up with a magic solution to cure your uncle's illness, to help him and possibly you and your cousin as well." He glanced up at Emilie again. "She fell into a coma before the test results came back telling us that neither of the two of you had inherited the genes for his disease."

Felix blinked. He knew that he had gotten tested to see if he had the genetic disposition to get the same illness that had killed his dad, but why- why would Adrien? They were related on his mom's side, not his dad's. "Inherited his disease? How- how would h- I inherit Uncle's..."

Mr. Agreste spared him a short look. "There were fertility issues, I thought we told you this before, Adrien. I mean, perhaps we didn't mention that your uncle helped out, but I thought that would be obvious enough."

Wait. He and Adrien were genetically brothers?

Well, that would explain how they looked similar enough to pass for each other with a clothes change, a hairstyle switch, and a little bit of hasty contouring with some makeup to cover up the few differences. Felix had known that technically, if one just considered genetics, that the two of them would be half-brothers since their moms were identical twins, but this...

Well. Felix had wondered how he and Adrien had ended up looking so alike when their fathers looked absolutely nothing like each other.

"Ah," Felix managed instead, deciding not to make any comments about how really, it was probably for the better that Mr. Agreste hadn't been able to have kids. Unlike Felix's own father, Mr. Agreste was- well. Not exactly model material, to say the least. "That- yes, okay."

He would have to ask Adrien how much he knew about the whole fertility issues thing, because he had never been told. That- that seemed like the kind of thing that would be really important to mention, like, years ago.

Also, did Mr. Agreste ever share information with his son in a way that didn't involve dumping it in one abrupt, overwhelming go? That seemed like it might be somewhat damaging.

"I'll admit, we should have done an exam for potential health problems first and made sure that everything came back healthy, but your aunt and uncle offered and Emilie seemed quite fond of the idea, so we were a bit lax on our screening." Mr. Agreste's face pinched, clearly irritated. "Not that it would have been easily available at the time, anyway. Add in the fact that we were rather fond of the idea of knowing the donor, instead of having it be some faceless, homely nobody who might have a dozen kids already across the country, and- well, never mind that. Your screening came back clear, after all, and with Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculous, we will fix the damage from the broken Peacock and get your mother back."

"I- right."

"But I think that's enough information for now. We don't want your aunt to come snooping because we're taking too long." With another press of a button, metal shutters closed over the glass chamber and Gabriel Agreste turned, leading the way back up the walkway. Felix glanced back once before hurrying after him, trying his best not to fall behind. "With your help, now, we'll be able to get the Miraculous in no time and have your mom back with us. Like I said, it will very likely involve you working with Ms. Rossi, and I expect you to be on your best behavior with her. If we can get Ms. Dupain-Cheng akumatized...she has avoided my butterflies on more than one occasion now. I suspect that she would make quite the powerful akuma. Her creativity could make her more than a match for Ladybug."

Felix only just hid his disgust at that, instead turning a distressed look on Mr. Agreste. "But- but Marinette is my friend!"

"Akumatization causes no long-term harm, Adrien, we have already been over this. And I thought it would be obvious enough already considering how many times some of your other friends have been akumatized. It's not as though her akumatization would be any different." Mr. Agreste sent him an exasperated look. "If it would distress you that much to upset Ms. Dupain-Cheng, then Ms. Rossi can take care of that bit. You would just need to stay out of the way and not rush after her to try to offer comfort."

Felix knew full well that Adrien would never agree to that, not after Marinette had pulled him in and offered comfort during his breakdown. Still, he had to agree- or at least pretend to. "I- I'll try."

Mr. Agreste's lips flattened. "No, Adrien, you will. There is no try. I am not asking for an impossibility here."

Felix swallowed a sigh. He wasn't surprised, really. "Yes... father."

"Good. And I plan to change the timeline, to keep your mother from ever falling into a coma in the first place, so Ms. Dupain-Cheng won't even remember her akumatization." They stepped onto the platform, and Mr. Agreste tapped the button that would take them back up. Felix tried his best not to scowl as they ascended into the dark tunnel again, trapped with no space to step back and away from the madman that was his uncle. "So you see, I am not the villain after all. Paris will not remember this, if all goes to plan, and we will have your mom again."

For a moment, Felix was almost tempted to forget the whole stop Hawkmoth thing. If Mr. Agreste changed the timeline- would he change it so that the Peacock wouldn't be broken, and Mrs. Agreste might actually be able to find a cure before his dad died? After all, it sounded like she had been trying to find a cure for all of them, not just in case Adrien had the same condition. But...

Well, all signs pointed to it not being a particularly good idea for him to trust Mr. Agreste's stories. He was clearly a madman, and it was incredibly likely that there would be consequences for such serious magical tampering. Maybe their immediate family wouldn't see those impacts- or maybe they would, and Felix would lose his mom instead- but either way, Felix knew deep inside that his dad wouldn't approve.

They went up and up, and Felix turned his attention to his secondary plan- stealing the Miraculous. Adrien had guessed that it was hidden under that hideous ascot- not that he had actually seen the pin, he was just assuming based on where he had seen Hawkmoth wear his Miraculous- and getting it unnoticed would be difficult unless he could figure out a plan. Maybe he could pretend to lose his balance and fall against Mr. Agreste, but how to make that look realistic...

Despite his earlier show of confidence, stealing the Miraculous was always going to be a long shot. Rings were easy, and bracelets. But pins, and particularly hidden ones?

Felix shifted, shuffling his feet as though uncomfortable- and that wasn't hard to act at all- and was about to 'trip' over his own feet when the elevator gave a sudden jolt. Felix's carefully-planned 'fall' turned into a real one, right against Mr. Agreste's chest.

And as luck had it, right against the bottom edge of Mr. Agreste's ascot. As the elevator gave another jolt- good god, please don't let it actually break now- Felix let his hand slide under the ascot (a clip-on, how utterly tasteless and embarrassing for a fashion designer) and felt the bottom of a pin at once- hopefully the Miraculous, and not just a normal pin. As Mr. Agreste's attention was on cursing out the elevator system and trying to keep them upright and not getting their clothes caught in the few bits of exposed machinery, the pin practically shifted itself into his hand and Felix unpinned the Miraculous, letting it slip out of his hand and up his sleeve, trying not to flinch as the pin suddenly changed shape.

Somehow, miraculously, it was mission complete. And his uncle seemed none the wiser.

With one more jolt, the elevator started moving normally again, just as though the near-breakdown hadn't happened. Felix frowned against the darkness, then narrowed his eyes when he caught a glimpse of something small and dark up above, something that vanished into the shadows before he had a chance to get a better look. There was another flicker of movement on the other side of the tunnel, but it too vanished before Felix could figure out what it was.

"Do- do we have rats?" Felix asked, still frowning into the darkness as they continued upwards. "I thought I just saw something."

"Perhaps. The cavern is not exactly completely insulated from the world, so while I shudder to consider it, it's not impossible. Did you see something?"

Felix shrugged, taking a step back- well, as much of a step as he could, without risking stepping too far back and into the walls they were moving past- and letting his hands fall by his sides again. The Miraculous slid back down his sleeve and into his hand, and Felix pocketed it at once. "I thought I saw something small moving along the side of the tunnel, but it's too dark to see."

Mr. Agreste just let out a noncommittal hmm.

After another few seconds, the floor above split and they ascended into the office. Nathalie glanced up as the elevator platform clicked into place on the floor, giving them a brief smile and nod before returning to her work. Felix stepped away from Mr. Agreste at once, giving himself a bit of breathing room.

"I don't think that I have to remind you not to tell anyone," Mr. Agreste instructed him sternly. "Don't make me regret trusting you. I know that you want your mother back as badly as I do, and this is what we need to do. The opinions of the city do not matter."

"Of course, Father," Felix lied at once, very aware of the weight of the Butterfly Miraculous against his leg. "Should I go check on Felix and Aunt Amèlie now?"

Mr. Agreste nodded, leading the way over to the door and unlocking it. "That would probably be for the best. If my memory serves me correctly, your cousin has rather sticky fingers. You wouldn't want too many things to go missing."

Felix very nearly felt offended, but then promptly remembered that his original plan for their visit to the Agrestes had included snitching his cousin's phone and just now, he had stolen his uncle's magic jewelry and was planning on trying to steal his ring for his mom if possible.

Maybe he did have somewhat sticky fingers, but only when he had a goal. It wasn't as though he was a common pickpocket.

"Of course, Father," Felix said again, stepping out of the room. "Will we see you at dinner?"

"No, I've wasted quite enough of the day already, so I'll be taking my meals in the office as usual," Mr. Agreste told him. He scowled. "No matter what opinions your aunt has on the matter."

Felix tried not to smirk. His mom would absolutely be vocal about that, and it would be hilarious to see the face-off. Mr. Agreste well deserved her ire, after all. "Right. I'll see you later, then."

He didn't get a response, and he hadn't expected one. After lingering another half-second, Felix trotted up to Adrien's room, hoping that his memory would serve him right and his cousin hadn't changed rooms or anything since he had last visited. Thankfully, the door handle he remembered gave, and Felix stepped into the room that he remembered, excessive even by rich people standards. His mom and Adrien were there, hovering anxiously by the door. They both let out a sigh of relief when they saw Felix, letting him into the room at once and locking the door behind him.

"How did it go?" Amèlie wanted to know at once, ushering him further into the room and handing over a makeup wipe and a comb so that Felix could start putting his appearance back to right. "Did you see Emilie? Did your uncle suspect anything?"

"Well as it could have, I suppose." Felix shrugged. He hadn't been ill despite the- well, despite the reminders of death and coffins that he really hadn't needed- and Mr. Agreste hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. "I saw Aunt Emilie, yes, and I don't think he suspected anything, and, well..." Felix let a small smile slide onto his face, reaching into his pocket and pulling his hand back out, opening it where both his mom and Adrien could see. "I managed to grab this when the elevator malfunctioned on the way back up."

The twin gasps this time made Felix grin. Amèlie reached out as though to take it, then drew her hand back. "That- you're sure that's the Miraculous?"

"It sprouted wings after I grabbed it, so I assume so, yes." It had been so hard not to react when he felt the brush of wings sprouting out of the Miraculous, but Felix had managed it. He tapped it, a little curious, but- no. He couldn't want it. He wasn't going to be like his uncle. Felix refused. Besides, the Butterfly itself really couldn't do much beyond make tacky villains in an attempt to take Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculous, and considering that his uncle had been trying and failing to do that for ages, the likelihood of Felix actually succeeding in a much shorter timeframe- after all, a non-zero number of people knew about his plan to get the Miraculous- was pretty much nil. "And, well. I managed to get this set up before coming into the house, and it's a good thing, too."

Felix pulled his phone out of his pocket, finally hitting the end button. The screen blinked up at him, announcing that he had been recording for just over forty minutes and his phone's storage was nearly full. It had been a last-minute idea, really, but he was glad that he had thought of it now. His uncle had said quite a few interesting things, and it would be important evidence soon enough.

Adrien grinned as soon as he recognized what Felix was holding. "That's great! More proof for Ladybug and Chat Noir."

"I'll make some copies of the file this evening," Felix told them. He turned his attention to Adrien. "Do you know of a Lila Rossi? Apparently she was freely working with Hawkmoth."

Adrien's jaw dropped, and then a slow grin spread onto his face. "No way! That's great- I mean, it's- well, she's a terrible person," he hastened to explain. "She likes lying to get her way, and it's frustrating to listen to, but if we fight her, then she might get akumatized and cause a lot of problems. I know Marinette has been butting heads with her a lot, and Ladybug loathes Lila, so for Lila to be ousted as willingly working with Hawkmoth..."

Felix smiled at that. "Yes, I gathered that she might not be the kindest character. Mr. Agreste was talking about having her deliberately upset people to get them akumatized, and apparently your friend Marinette was next on his hit list."

"He- what? No, he had better stay away from her, how dare they go after Marinette-"

"Oh, is she your girlfriend?" Amèlie asked in delight. "I did wonder, since you two seemed quite close, but I didn't want to pry, it didn't seem the time."

Adrien promptly turned pink, which seemed like a pretty clear answer to Felix, but he was also shaking his head. "No, I- we're friends! And she does so much for all of us, to help everyone out and keep people happy so that people don't get akumatized, and so for them to target her..."

...yeah, Felix's cousin was pretty obviously sweet on this girl. Before Felix could call Adrien out on that, though, there was a knock on the window and Ladybug waved at them from the other side. Felix stepped that way, ready to hand over the Butterfly Miraculous at once, but Adrien stepped in front of him.

"I want to make sure that it's actually Ladybug," Adrien murmured, just loud enough for Felix and his mom to hear but not Ladybug, who was still standing outside of the window. "The Peacock is still out, and we've seen some odd sentimonsters recently. You put yourself in danger to get this, and I don't want to lose the Miraculous right back to Nathalie again."

Felix nodded, letting Adrien take the lead. He wasn't sure how Adrien was planning on ensuring that this Ladybug was the real one, because Felix was pretty sure that his cousin wouldn't know anything more about Ladybug than any other person in Paris did. He could admit, though, that the timing seemed pretty strange, since how would Ladybug know to come now?

"Hi, Ladybug," Adrien said, pushing open the window and stepping aside to let Ladybug in before Mr. Agreste or Nathalie could spot her on the security cameras. "Um, how are you?"

"I'm- well, I've had an interesting day," Ladybug said, rubbing the back of her head. "Marinette waved me down when I was out for a run- I had heard horns and yelling, so I thought that there was maybe an akuma out and so I was searching- and told me about your father and that, well..."

Adrien nodded. "That he's Hawkmoth."

"And that you were maybe going to try to get the Miraculous, if possible." Ladybug glanced between them. "So I was mostly curious about what more you had learned, and if you maybe...?"

Adrien nodded, then paused. "Ah, one quick question, just to be safe- when Jackady was attacking the house, what did I do when I got to my room?"

Ladybug blinked, clearly puzzled by the question, but only for a moment before her expression cleared in understanding and her cheeks turned pink. "You, uh, went to go take a shower."

"And what did we talk about after I came out?" Adrien asked, just as pink as Ladybug was. She smiled at him, bright and happy.

"I saw the picture of your mom on your computer screens...and I said that you had your mom's smile."

"Okay," Adrien said, nodding and flashing her a wide grin. "Thanks, I just- I just had to make sure."

Ladybug nodded, smiling back. "That's fine. I understand wanting to be careful, and I appreciate that. It's really smart."

There was a pause.

"I got the Miraculous," Felix announced when it seemed as though neither Ladybug nor his cousin were about to speak. He produced it from his pocket. "I understand the Peacock is still at large, but I didn't want to push my luck with trying to find it."

"It's not worth it, not when we know who has it," Ladybug agreed. She took the Butterfly Miraculous, popping open her yo-yo as she did. After another good look at the pin, she tucked it into the yo-yo and snapped it shut. "That's incredible that you were able to get it. I would have thought that Mr. Agreste would have been too protective of the Miraculous to let anyone get close to his neck."

"I got a lucky opening and I have practice swiping things unnoticed," Felix told her, ignoring the fact that anyone would be able to figure out that there wouldn't be many positive applications of that particular skill. That was entirely beside the point. "I also got an audio recording of my entire experience with Mr. Agreste and our visit downstairs. I'll be making a copy of it tonight- mom, what hotel are we staying in?"

His mom frowned, thinking. "I don't recall- it's not the Grand Paris, I know that much, because the last time we visited and stayed there, it was a bit too expensive even for my tastes and I wasn't particularly impressed by the place. It reads as more of a bragging rights project than an actual high-end hotel, so I decided to go elsewhere." She frowned in thought for a moment more and then smoothed out her expression automatically- after all, she couldn't get frown lines, that wouldn't be nice- before digging out her phone and navigating to her email, showing Ladybug the confirmation email before tucking the phone back in her pocket.

"Here, I can give you a USB drive now," Ladybug said, popping one out of her yo-yo. Felix tried not to stare, because seriously, how many functions did that thing have? But maybe he shouldn't be surprised, because it was magic, of course it could do whatever Ladybug wanted. "And then I can pop by later?"

"Well after dinner," Amèlie told her. "We're staying here for our evening meal, and then leaving an hour or two later, as though we were taking the last train of the evening out of the city."

Ladybug nodded in understanding. "Okay, I think I know when that is. I'll give you some time to get settled in before I stop by. And I thank you for turning the Miraculous over. I know not everyone would. The idea of powers like that- well, it's too much for some people to resist."

...well, okay, now he was going to feel guilty if he didn't say anything. Also, everything that he had heard before about the Miraculous and the wish that the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous granted was just guess and conjecture, and he- he wanted to know. Surely as the holder of one of those Miraculous, Ladybug would know more.

"I..." Felix trailed off, glancing to the side. "I will admit, I considered it for maybe a couple minutes. The opportunity to have my father back...and with the price, well, what if we traded my dad for Adrien's father? It's not like having the world be down one supervillain would have been awful, especially because my dad was actually nice. He cared about others, not just himself, and he wouldn't have even considered doing what Mr. Agreste did." He glanced back at Ladybug. "But that's not how the wish would work, would it? That seems too neat and tidy, to be able to pick and choose the person to trade."

"It's definitely more unpredictable," Ladybug agreed. "Even Chat Noir and I's mentor- he's been studying the Miraculous for years, and he made a really dumb mistake that caused a lot of destruction. You would think that he would use the Cure and fix that, but even he doesn't want to mess around with the Wish. There's just no way to control what the price would be."

Felix nodded. "Okay. Thank you." There had been no opportunities missed, after all. That would keep him from staying awake at night, wondering and wishing and cursing himself for not at least trying.

With one last bright smile, Ladybug thanked them again and took off out the window, vanishing quickly. They all watched her go before falling into a somewhat uneasy silence as Adrien and Felix finished swapping back their appearances. Once they were finished, Felix's mom spoke up again.

"We'll have to be careful going forward," she told them. "Adrien, your father is bound to notice that his Miraculous is missing at some point today. I doubt that he would try to make a fuss with Felix and I here, but once we leave- well, I don't think that you should stay here tonight."

"I can lock my door and sneak out," Adrien offered. "I've done it before, and even if Nathalie and Father have the key to the door, I know how to block the doors so that they can't be opened. And, uh." He ducked his head, a small smile on his lips. "Marinette just texted me and said that I can stay over at her house, since they have a guest room."

"Oh, good. Perfect." Amèlie beamed at them. "So I think that unpleasant business has been as sorted out as much as possible, then, and we can move on to more pleasant topics and actually enjoy the rest of our visit here. So. Uh. Ideas?"

"Uh, maybe just one," Felix starting, figuring that- well, he was curious, and this was probably as good of a time for it as any. After all, the visit was already a bit awkward with his uncle's impending arrest for domestic terrorism via magic supervillains, so surely it couldn't get much worse. "Earlier, in the cellar, Uncle said something about him and Aunt Emilie having fertility problems and Dad helping out. Uh, can I just ask- what?"

  Gabriel Agreste let out a long breath once the Graham de Vanilys had finally, finally left, barely sparing Adrien a glance before heading back into his office and calling up a generous glass of scotch to sooth his nerves. His in-laws were as absolutely infuriating and interfering as he had remembered, barely deterred by the loss of Amèlie's husband, it seemed. Add in the fact that Amèlie still couldn't get her thick head around the concept that, family heirlooms or no, the twin rings belonged to him now, and the fact that Adrien's dash after learning about Gabriel's secret identity had caused no small amount of stress, and the fact that Amèlie hadn't accepted no for an answer and had forced Gabriel out of his office for dinner, just to make her stop pestering him and shut up- well, it really was no wonder that Gabriel had been nursing a small but persistent headache for most of the day.

But now they were gone- at least for now, he didn't doubt that they would be back in another couple of months to pester him some more, that family was nothing if not annoyingly persistent- and he could take some Advil with his scotch before settling in to plan out how he and Adrien could work together to take down the superheroes. With any luck, they could steal another Miraculous from one of the lesser, temporary superheroes and Adrien could use that to tip the scales. Gabriel wouldn't allow it for many battles- Adrien would only go out if conditions were solidly in their favor, because if he got his identity exposed that would be a disaster- but it could be the extra thing they needed, a strong akuma plus a sentimonster plus him and Mayura and Adrien.

"I could design the perfect akuma to make Ladybug and Chat Noir pull out one of the temporary heroes," Gabriel mused to himself once his drink was gone and his headache had receded, already rising to head for his elevator. He could plot better up in his lair, and he would also be ready if any negative emotions showed up in the city. There had been a surprising lack of them so far today, and he didn't understand why. "Which could very well mean re-akumatizing one of the people who got that reaction again. That could be difficult, unless I can direct Lila, perhaps." That wouldn't be hard, he was sure, considering that the girl seemed to jump on every opportunity to attack Ladybug. "But I might need to plan this one out some more. Nooroo, remind me what akumas brought out the B-team."

There was silence. Gabriel frowned, his fingers mid-reach towards the elevator buttons that would whisk him up to his lair. "Nooroo?"

Nothing. Dread started to pool in Gabriel's gut, and he scrambled to pull off his ascot, tossing it to the side to get a clear view of his neck.

His neck, which was- for the first time since he had put the brooch on- bare.

"No, no no no!" Gabriel snarled, sure that there had been a mistake. He dropped to his knees, snatching up his ascot and rifling through it in case the brooch had simply gotten snarled in the knot of fabric. His search yielded nothing. "Come on, come on, I couldn't have lost it!" The only new person who knew about him being Hawkmoth- who would have any idea about the hidden brooch- was Adrien, but he wouldn't dare steal his father's Miraculous. He wasn't anywhere near slick enough, after all- it was Felix that was the silver-tongued thief- and besides, he had clearly been very interested in his mother's return.

So where had it gone?

"Okay, breathe," Gabriel muttered to himself, determined not to let himself panic, even as he undid the pin-on ascot so that he could flatten it out. Panic led to dumb decisions, which could mean an end for him. "Adrien couldn't have taken it without tipping me off, he has no control over his emotions. He would have been nervous, and I would have been put on high alert. Maybe I just didn't fasten it right this morning and then it got knocked off."

Yes, that had to be it. Gabriel remembered that he had had to scold Nooroo in front of Adrien when they were in the underground cavern, so he had had the Miraculous then, at least. Which meant that it might have gotten knocked off down there. Where the walkway was not solid and there was rushing water down below.

That would not be good. Visions of the Miraculous getting whisked away by the rushing water danced through his head, and Gabriel's blood pressure spiked again before he remembered that Nathalie still had the Peacock Miraculous. They had to be careful with their usage of it, sure, but surely they could manage a transformation and a sentimonster that could sniff out the Butterfly Miraculous and return it. They might have to wait a week to make sure that Nathalie had fully recovered from her last transformation- or maybe it would be smarter for him to use the Peacock. The thought made Gabriel clench his hands, because the mere idea of subjecting himself to the peacock's weakness was-

Something was wrong. It hadn't been immediately obvious, but when he clenched his fists….

Gabriel's gut twisted as he looked down and then once again, he froze. This time, it had nothing to do with his missing Miraculous. Instead, Gabriel was staring at his bare hand. Specifically, his bare ring finger.

His ring. It was gone. Gone. Just like his Miraculous, vanished into thin air.

No!It-it couldn't be! He had been so careful to not let it out of his sight, and he certainly had never taken it off for more than a minute at a time to clean it. It wasn't as though he would take it off for any other reason- the smooth surface of the ring was hardly going to snag on any fabric, and he was hardly going to deign to do any sort of baking- which meant that it had been removed. Somehow. Without him noticing.

Two incredibly important pieces of jewelry gone without a trace in the span of a day. Gabriel scrambled for his phone, suddenly paranoid that maybe the Peacock had vanished from Nathalie's possession, too. If it had- well, then all was lost, wasn't it?

No. No, it had to be a coincidence. There hadn't been a single opportunity for Adrien to steal his Miraculous, but there certainly had been an opportunity for Felix to palm the ring when they shook hands. He should have been on the lookout for that, should have been on high alert the entire time that his sister-in-law and nephew were within his sight, should have put the ring in a safe until they were gone.

And by now, they were on a train back to London. Gabriel couldn't go after them, and even if he could, Amèlie wouldn't admit to her son taking the ring. They would hide it and play dumb and never let him see that they had it. No, it was well and truly lost to him now, and maddeningly so.

But that didn't mean that the Butterfly was. If he summoned Nathalie back to the house at once- she would be annoyed, certainly, since she had only just left, but as soon as she found out what was going on she would understand the urgency- then they could start the work of figuring out where the Butterfly had gone.

He wasn't going to let Emilie down.

(a/n: If ML is going to make Adrien and Felix inexplicably identical, I'm going to give them a completely bonkers justification for it. In this case, the chances of them looking so similar are a LOT higher if they share a father on top of having identical mothers.

This was meant to be the second and final part of the story, and it very well might be- I do like my open endings, after all- but it is possible that I might return to this story at some point and write a part 3 that ties up a few of the lose ends. It depends entirely on my inspiration and amount of other projects I have on the go, though, so no promises.)

[ardenttheories]

And onto that odd little meta piece I was talking about. It’s really more of a fandom observation.

Despite not knowing what Bro looks like, the entire fandom seemed to gravitate towards two ideas: Twunk, or Hunk. Every piece of fanart I’ve seen usually has him thickly built, trim down the waist but broad shouldered and coiled with muscle, or at the very least with some sort of defined musculature that usually isn’t present on other characters. E.g. x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x

You’ll also typically find a theme with the artist’s choice of expression or facial features; strong jaw, sharp nose, often frowning. 

And this all comes from...

This sprite. A sprite, mind you, that’s exactly the same as this:

And yet the expression of this character is wholly different. 

He’s often drawn slimmer, with slanted shoulders and either a thin dorito-waistline or a relatively similar shoulder to hip ratio. He often has more curved features - his jawline, his nose - and his expression almost always determined or soft. E.g. x, x, x, x, x, x

And for emphasis: this is how two artists chose to draw them side by side. E.g. x, x

It’s also very rare to see people draw Alpha Dave the same height as Bro. From memory - and I got into Homestuck roughly during the height of the Alpha kids’ popularity - most of the fanart I saw with any instance of Bro and A!Dave in the same image had a pretty fair height difference. 

Again: this comes from the exact same sprite. When you layer Bro’s sprite over A!Dave’s, you’ll be able to fit them together pixel to pixel (except, of course, the arm - A!Dave’s got his arm up holding the sword, unlike Bro - and the jawline - which is much more curved than Bro’s, but when we actually see Alpha Dave’s sprite in canon, it isn’t really long enough to focus on this tiny feature [especially when you consider that Grandpa Harley has the same face shape, but people still draw him with a defined jawline]). 

So, why so different? Why would people draw these two characters so wildly different when, for instance... 

Both Moms are drawn almost exactly the same. 

It’s pretty obvious when you think about it, but it’s also an incredibly important thing to note if you ever plan on creating your own characters. 

Character interactions define how we view characters that have yet to be introduced or do not have a wholly set image. 

When we think of Bro, we have to be realistic: we know absolutely nothing about who he is as a person, or what he looks like, besides the information that we get from Dave. So, when we get the information that he’s physically abusive, that he has cameras around the entire apartment, partakes in puppet snuff for the sake of a pornographic website, leaves such pornographic paraphenalia around the apartment for a young Dave to see, and that he’s emotionally closed off and distant, we immediately start to form an image of him in our minds that’s based on what we can define as an amalgamation of toxic masculinity and male abusers. 

It’s not exactly hard to imagine why the most common fanart of him circulates as a tall, imposing, broad figure who barely smiles and would be incredibly hard to get around in a small, dark alley. 

We also need to remember, of course, that Dave is a child while he describes Bro. An adult is almost always going to be tall and imposing to a child - is always going to be stronger and physically more capable than a child. 

Bro could be the most average joe you’ve ever met, but because we learn about him from the viewpoint of a child who quite literally cannot fight back, the image of him becomes tilted to the buff end of the spectrum. 

He becomes someone we would fear seeing. Someone who could overpower us, and not just a child under his care. He is big and strong because that is how Dave sees him, and that is how we come to understand him as a character.

Big, strong, violent, with sexual overtness and a lack of emotion. It’s pretty much the only way you can imagine him, even when his sprite is incredibly lacking in detail. 

So, why the softness for Alpha Dave? 

Pretty simply, because we already know who Dave is by the time Alpha Dave is introduced. People already had an idea of what Dave looked like, who he’d be when he grew up. People had already decided that Dave, being so different from Bro, being such a hero, would never be able to achieve the same sort of toxic masculinity that Bro did - would never have the same shape, the same musculature, that comes with that toxic imagery. 

 We also got told about him by a young teen who absolutely idolised him. Who emphasised his good traits and spoke about how absolutely badass he was. 

The connotations with Alpha Dave are so much more positive than with Bro. That in and of itself would have changed how people drew him. But when you combine him with the concept that he’s Dave, the Dave that went through all that abuse and came out the other side hating everything that Bro stood for, it’s hard not to draw him as Bro’s nigh complete opposite. 

So, he’s smaller. He’s got less of that musculature that people associate with toxic masculinity (the ability to overpower someone smaller), and he has a much closer shoulder-to-hip ratio (something that makes him take up less space, and come across as less imposing). He smiles more, he emotes more, he’s much more emotionally open - and even when he’s meant to be “cool”, it’s often with some sort of smug or determined look, not the ever-present blankness or snarl that we see from Bro. 

He loses all of the traits that we’d associate with an abuser. Instead, he becomes a pretty ordinary hero - someone who can stand up and fight back, but isn’t overly heroic or powerful. Someone who might still struggle, but can handle things. 

This is despite the fact, of course, that we know nothing about Alpha Dave’s upbringing or life besides what Dirk tells us - and Brain Ghost Dirk, at that. Unreliable narrators are not a good place to find valuable information, and, once again, the in-comic sprite is literally the exact same as Bro’s.

Fandom perception is an incredibly powerful thing. 

So, what about Dirk? How does he fare in all of this?

Dirk’s actually a weird figure in everything, and this comes down to a very simple yet paradoxical concept:

We already had ideas on who Bro was, yet we actively get to see who Dirk is. 

It’s very hard to go into something expecting one person and getting another. We can see all those notes in Dirk that we saw in Bro - the toxic tendencies, the hyper masculinity, the divorced note from people and emotions - but we see them within the specific framework of a teenager with mental illness. 

This isn’t just an asshole, abusive adult. This is that adult’s younger self in a better mindset to try and do good by the people he loves. We see this time and time again - when he says how much he cares about Roxy, when he expresses his guilt that he couldn’t be romantically invested in her, when he shares the fears he holds of his splinters, when he admits that Bro is exactly what he could be and is genuinely scared of being - that he is the foundation of Bro, but not Bro in a very important way. 

It’s also needless to say that people connected with Dirk in the exact same way that people connected with Dave. When you look at a lot of vent art involving him, it’s almost always about mental illness - anxiety, impulsive or intrusive thoughts, a desperate need for control in life, self harm or a dislike for oneself - and a fair bit of generic art revolving around Dirk includes some sort of deeper mental struggle. 

He’s a victim, in a similar way that Dave is, but he’s also just far enough that he could be a villain. 

You find that a lot of fanart therefore shows this paradoxical nature. 

In some, he’s softer. The ratio between his hips and his shoulders is narrower, his jawline is more curved. E.g. x, x, x, x

In others, he’s sharper. He’s drawn with more defined muscle, with a stronger jawline and broader shoulders, and though he’s definitely slim you can definitely see just how close he is to becoming the same figure as Bro. E.g. x, x, x, x, x 

And in others, he’s an odd mix of both. A brooding figure with a softer jawline, but still imposing and sharp in his own right - or even the complete opposite, with sharp features and defined shapes, but slimmer and smaller, much less imposing. E.g. x, x, x, x, x, 

So, I think we can make a pretty firm observation that the way Dirk is drawn reflects how the artist views his journey and his struggles. Whether he’s his own person, closer to Bro, or somewhere stuck in between. 

As you can see from most of this art, there’s a few ways that people draw Dirk; raring to fight and smug/confident, fairly sombre and down, almost tired, or standoffish and closed off. Even this is somewhere in between the way people view Bro and Alpha Dave. 

So, it’s then interesting to take a look at the Epilogues. 

New art of Dirk was produced in line with the Meat Epilogue. And while I really only know of one piece that catches my eye every time I see it, I think it’s important to point out that, in almost all of these images, one of two body types appear for Dirk:

1) Broad, muscular, tall. He takes up space and commands attention. Sharp features, wider shoulders.

2) Smaller, less imposing, yet somehow intimidating in just the expressions he makes and the way he holds himself. If you can imagine any fuckboy you’d be scared of being cornered by at a party, you’ve got a good idea of this style of fanart. 

In other words, either tipped way more to looking like Bro, or so close to looking like something you’d be scared of IRL - which perfectly reflects how uncomfortable he feels within the narration of the Epilogue, and some of the more questionable things he has happen in it. 

I also want to just add in as a side note: almost all of the links I added about Dirk go to Pinterest for sake of ease for people to find other images for reference, since I’m really just collecting the art I like most. On most of the Dirk ones, scrolling down will reveal the aforementioned vent art; on most of the Dave ones, scrolling down will reveal much softer, sweeter pieces of art involving him and people he’s loved throughout the comic. Just something interesting to add into this discussion - think about what that means for how people view either Strider.

So, what was all of this about?

Honestly, it’s me just pointing out how important character opinions and preconceived ideas are to the way people view other characters. So much of the way we see Bro is influenced by how Dave sees him and our cultural understanding of what toxic, hypermasculine male abusers look like. So much of the way we see Alpha Dave is based around our understanding of Dave, and what little we can fill in from Brain Ghost Dirk, rather than on who he actually is as a person (and we could be wrong; we could be very, very wrong). So much of the way of the way we see Dirk is influenced by Bro, and yet by what we see in canon. 

If we had different ideas and different opinions from different characters, we might draw each of them wildly different. But it is this specific combination of lack of physical description and cultural association/character perception that ensures we draw them the way they are. 

[doeeyeddarlingxo]

Myriad Misadventures - Chapter 22

The Myriad Misadventures of a Midgardian Queen-In-Training - Chapter 22

AO3 | Previous | Next

Word Count: 1614

Pairing: Loki/Reader

Rating: T

Myriad Misadventures - Chapter 22

“Do you have a death wish?” he hisses as soon as you land back in the hallway, pulling you into a little enclave carved into the wall, no bigger than a broom closet. Your dress barely fits. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m not letting you face whatever attacked her alone!” 

He sighs. “This is not a time for any of your silly Midgardian sentiment, girl, this is - ”

“Girl? I have a name. And this isn’t sentiment, this is me being a decent human being, because you don’t deserve to die.” He takes a step back - as far as the wall allows, anyways - and his eyes soften. Does he really think I think that little of him? Although, considering he did try to enslave your entire species… Ok, we don’t have time for this. “So, like, just tell me what we’re up against, yeah?”

He pauses a moment, considering whether or not he should. “Chitauri.”

“Chi what now?”

“Aliens. They...helped me when I tried to conquer Midgard.”

You bite back a bitter remark. “Aren’t you guys friends, then?”

“I was looking for a kingdom. They were looking for a snack. Consequently, I banished them to a far end of the universe.”

“Okay, see, what I don’t understand is how the hell they were able to get in here.”

He runs an agitated hand through his hair. “They’re shapeshifters, but there are protective charms surrounding the palace. It shouldn’t be possible, but the shape and form of Lady Alexandra’s wound are unmistakable.”

“What about the other girls? And the staff?”

“Look.” He points out into the hallway, and you see the air is tinged red. Lady Amara had taught you the security protocol before your first lesson, and you recognize the warning. “Chitauri have incredible powers of hearing, but they’re completely color blind. The rest of the palace residents will see the signal and know to take cover.”

“Right.” You nod. “So...what’s our plan of attack?”

“The infirmary will already have put up barriers, so I can’t send you back there.” He sounds reluctant, not to mention frustrated. But you know that he knows that he’s going to have to trust you if his plan is going to work. One of him against an army of shapeshifting monsters? He wouldn’t stand a chance. “I - ”

“We.” He glares at you, and you cock your head innocently. “Go on.”

“We are going to wait here. They’re bound to come back to where they left Lady Alexandra, to...dispose of her.” You wrinkle your nose, reading between the lines. If I hadn’t found her… “Then I will attack, and you will run to safety.”

“Like hell I will.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Don’t you think I’ll be safer here with you than wandering the palace on my own?” you point out. “I can barely make it from the dining hall to my room without getting lost.” He purses his lips, and you know you’ve got him there. Against your better judgement, you grab his hand. It’s cool, and soft, and feels oddly familiar.  “Let me help you.”

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

Even after last night’s candor, he would never have expected this. Any rational girl - any rational human, rather - would have broken down in a panic by now at the very thought of the Chitauri. Any rational girl wouldn’t have left the infirmary with him to begin with.

Clearly, (Y/N) is no rational girl.

But what she lacks in self-preservation, she apparently more than makes up for in fearlessness - he vaguely remembers an advisor warning him about the impulsivity of Midgardian teenagers, back before the competition was announced - and while that would make it a little more difficult for him to keep her alive, it was...admirable. And useful. And comforting. In the farthest back corner of his brain, he is a little relieved that he isn’t alone. 

He and the Chitauri hadn’t exactly left off on good terms.

 She’s holding his hand almost the exact same way she did the night before. She’s made no mention of last night, so he’s assuming she either doesn’t remember or doesn’t want to bring it up. He’s perfectly content to go along with the latter. She looks so determined, her juvenile features tense and focused, and it almost makes him smile.

It makes him want to trust her.

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

“If we go through with this,” he begins, and you have to try to keep from grinning, “you have to do as I say. These creatures are incredibly dangerous, and the last thing I need is for you to be injured, as well.”

“Roger that. But, um, before we start...d’you think you could maybe make it a little easier for me to move around?” He stares at you blankly, and you gesture to your skirt. “I’m wearing a shift and stuff underneath, but if you could zap away the hoop skirt and dress and stuff, that’d be really, really helpful.”

He looks thoroughly scandalized. “I hardly think it’s appropriate for a lady to run around the palace in her underthings.”

You roll your eyes. “See, at the moment, my options are run around in my underthings and live, or try to lug around twenty pounds of steel-boned death trap and die.” 

After a moment, he acquiesces, snapping his fingers. You immediately feel lighter without the mountain of fabric weighing you down, but you notice he left the corset. You clear your throat expectantly.

This he protests at. “If I remove that, you’ll barely be clothed at all!”

“Yeah, and if you don’t remove it, I’ll barely be able to breathe. Trust me on that.” He’s reluctant, but obeys. You relish in the sudden freedom, taking a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“Don’t,” he mutters, agitated. 

You giggle at his discomfort - honestly, you’re more than covered up in what you’re wearing, shoulders and kneecaps and all - before remembering the seriousness of the situation at hand. “So, what - ”

Suddenly, he claps a hand over your mouth, and you respond with silence. He removes his hand, but presses a finger to his lips. “Listen.”

You hear the sound of hissing and clanging down the hallway. He snaps, but nothing changes as far as you can see. You look up at him for some cue as to how you should proceed. 

“When I signal, you are going to run across the hall and to the left, in the direction of the dining halls. I can distract them, and render you invisible until you turn the corner. I’ll try to lead them somewhere we can at the very least trap them in. Keep your eyes and ears open at all times, understand?” You nod mutely. “Good. Now!”

He give you a slight push, and you stumble out into the hallway. You half expect the two monsters to look at you, but they’re more preoccupied with a figure at the other end of the hallway, a figure in a puffy green dress who seems completely unaware of their presence. You can’t see which contestant it is they are about to attack, but you know you have to help her. Instead of running around the corner, you take off towards them, your stocking feet making no sound on the carpet.

Just as you're about to call out to distract them, you catch a glimpse of the girl’s hair...and her dress...and then her face. 

Me?

At that moment, Loki grabs your arm and pulls you back. Just as the monsters turn to look back, you round the corner. He reprimands you as you keep running. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted to be killed...”

“What was that? It was me, but not - how?”

“An illusion,” he snaps. “Faster, run faster!” 

He releases your arm as you round another corner, heading in the direction of the kitchen. It’s one of the hardest parts of the castle to reach, and the only way to it is by way of the dining room. There’s no way for the Chitauri to have found it without being noticed. Behind you, you hear inhuman cries. You glance back, and, to your relief, see Loki sprinting after you, no Chitauri on his trail.

“Two down?” you call back. He nods, catching up with you. The two of you stop running, and he waves his hand, causing a green flash of light. “What’s that?”

“Invisibility charm. I should be able to hold it indefinitely as long as you’re in range.”

“Nice.” You take a moment to catch your breath. “So...you killed them, then?”

“Yes. And I...retrieved information.” You notice a smear of dark maroon under his jaw, and on the back of his other hand. Oh. “There aren’t many of them. They are still weak - this is a mercenary attempt, an independent group of rebels.”

“How many is not many?”

“Four, including the two we saw.” He sounds doubtful. “Unless they were lying.”

“And if they are?”

“If they are, they aren’t off by much. They wouldn’t be able to sneak in many more than ten.”

You laugh weakly. “Oh, good.” You brush back some loose pieces of hair out of your face. “You know, I don’t know why you were so concerned about me before. I’m not exactly the most competent contestant here.”

He shrugs, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “Yes, well, we have to appeal to the teenage demographic somehow.”

Was that a joke? Or is he really serious?

He grins fully, and actually laughs, and you find yourself joining in at the ridiculousness of it all. As you chuckle, you hear someone cry out from the direction of the kitchen. It’s a familiar voice, and your heart sinks. 

Meg.

[taexual]

EXO / Mafia AU - Their child’s first day of school

Request: Could I request EXO or Got7 mafia au where they’re being overprotective of their only child’s first day of school?

this is not as angsty as most of my other mafia aus, but I hope you still enjoy!

OTHER MAFIA AUs: BTS / EXO / GOT7

Xiumin

Minseok had many different reactions. He was excited, of course, and his daughter’s happy smile as she watched her future classmates with awe and curiosity in her eyes, made him feel even happier. But he was also nervous. He’s never gotten his daughter out of his sight before. At least, not for this long.

“Everything will be okay, Minseok,” you told him after noticing the worry in his eyes. “She can take care of herself.”

Minseok looked at you and sighed. “I know. I’m still worried, though. I won’t be there to protect her from anyone who tries to hurt her.”

“You won’t always be there to protect her anyway,” you said, taking his hand in yours for comfort. “She’ll have to do it herself. And she will. She won’t let anyone hurt her. You taught her well.”

Minseok smiled finally. His smile widened when his daughter turned around with wide, wondering eyes.

“Daddy!” she screamed. “Will you go with me?”

Minseok seemed so pleased to hear her ask for him that you saw him nearly burst with happiness.

“I’ll walk you to class, sweet thing,” he said. “And I’ll pick you up after it’s over. Is that okay?”

Your daughter looked a little discouraged after she found out her dad wasn’t going to be with her for this adventure, but she still nodded, never wanting to make Minseok sad.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll tell you what happened there.”

Minseok chuckled. “Okay. I’ll be waiting for you to come back, sweetheart.”

“I’ll try to hurry,” she reassured him, making him laugh. “So I can see you sooner.”

“That’d make me happy,” Minseok told her, lifting your hand up to kiss it. “Mommy and I already miss you.”

Suho

He could see the terrified eyes of his son as the driver took your little family to school, but he struggled to come up with what to say.

“Are you scared?” he chose to ask the little boy who was clutching your hand tightly.

Your son shrugged his shoulders, not ready to admit anything. “I don’t know.”

Junmyeon raised his eyes to meet yours and saw you wordlessly encourage him to calm the child down. Clearing his throat, Junmyeon placed a hand on his son’s head, brushing it through his hair in a comforting manner.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Junmyeon said. “Starting school is a big deal. But you’re going to be okay. You’re strong, aren’t you?”

“Like you?” the boy asked, his eyes hopeful. Which little boy didn’t want to be like his father?

“No. You’re stronger,” Junmyeon said and watched his son start smiling. “You’re going to do great in school. I know you are.”

“I will miss you,” the boy said, giving you a look, too, so you wouldn’t feel excluded.

You squeezed his hand. “We’ll miss you too, sweetheart. But we’ll be waiting for you to come home, okay? You won’t even notice that we’re gone when you meet all of these new people.”

“That’s not true,” your son said, now looking at Junmyeon. “You are important to me.”

Junmyeon felt himself start smiling as he immediately recalled where his son had learned this sentence from. He raised his eyes to look at you for a moment – this time telling you that you were important to him wordlessly – and then looked back at his son.

“You’re important to me, too, buddy,” he said. “Don’t forget how much we love you and don’t be afraid to have fun.”

“Being a good student is important, too,” you added.

“Of course,” Junmyeon agreed. “But we won’t love you less if you fail everything. Try not to do that, though, or your mother might—”

“Don’t threaten him on my behalf!” you interrupted.

He laughed at this, before meeting his son’s hopeful eyes and kissing his head quickly. “We love you, buddy. You’ll be great.”

Lay

When you and Yixing stepped into the school building on the first day of school, your daughter holding both of your hands, everyone in the hallway stopped talking simultaneously. Maybe they’ve heard rumours, or maybe it was your intimidating appearances that caused them all to stare at the three of you.

“Why are they looking at me?” your daughter asked and you could see how much pain her scared voice caused Yixing, who stopped walking and squatted in front of her, so they’d be at eye level.

“Because they have nothing better to do,” he told her, brushing a strand of her hair – that you must have missed when you braided her hair this morning – away from her face. “Don’t worry about them, okay?”

The little girl looked at the few people around. “They look mean.”

“Look at me, darling,” Yixing asked and the little girl turned to look at him in an instant. “They’re looking because they don’t know you, okay? If they ever decide to give you trouble, you tell me right away. Do you hear me? You tell me who’s being mean to you and I’ll take care of it.”

She nodded and Yixing placed a kiss on her forehead before giving her a wide, reassuring smile.

“You’ll be okay, my love,” he said. “Your mom and I are with you. We won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

Baekhyun

He snatched the award for the most embarrassing dad in the school on the very first day, after dropping his son off in a limousine. Not just that, but he also managed to convince his child that this was the traditional way of arriving to school.

“Why is everyone else walking then, dad?” your son asked in a small voice.

Baekhyun didn’t miss a beat. “Because no one is threatening to kill them.”

“Baekhyun!” you scolded him with a horrified look on your face.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he laughed – not quite understanding why he wasn’t supposed to talk about killing people in front of your six-year-old son – and placed a quick kiss to your cheek before turning back to look at your child. “That wasn’t right of me to say. They choose to walk. Maybe they like it better.”

“What if I like walking better, too?” your son asked, sounding even more flustered than before.

Since your son was the only child you and Baekhyun had, Baekhyun was especially fond of him and never left the boy unsupervised. There was always someone with him. Usually that someone was his father, who loved him more than anything else in the world, and did everything – literally – to keep him safe.

“You can’t walk,” Baekhyun declared, earning a glare from you. “Okay, mommy says you can. But I’d rather you didn’t. It’s safer for you inside of cars than out in the open.”

The boy nodded, clearly having more questions but not daring to ask anything else.

“Are you excited for your first day of school?” you asked, changing the topic and giving your son a big smile so he’d feel more confident.

That seemed to work because your wide smile was suddenly mirrored on your son’s face. “Yeah!”

“That’s great,” Baekhyun said, smiling, too. “Now let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”

“You want to walk him to the door?” you asked. “Or are you going to let him go on his own?”

“No. I want to drive him to the door. My son will not walk anywhere on his own unless that’s absolutely necessary.”

“You’re being ridiculous, Baek—”

“Come on,” he said, turning away from you and picking his son up to seat him on his lap. “Say goodbye to mommy and daddy. We’re going to miss you while you’re at school.”

“Will you be here after?” the boy asked worriedly.

“Of course,” Baekhyun said, giving his son a quick hug that got the boy to smile again. “We’ll always be here, waiting for you.”

Chen

You kept teasing Jongdae about how your son, dressed for his first day of school, looked just like Jongdae did on your wedding day.

“You even share the same smile,” you said and then heard your son squeal loudly when your dog licked his face. “Oh, and the same voice.”

Jongdae smiled at this. “You think he’s going to get all the girls when he goes to school?”

“Obviously,” you replied. “He’s my little heartbreaker.”

“What if he gets bad grades, though?” Jongdae asked suddenly, no longer watching his son chase the dog around the yard. “Is it going to be a problem to explain to the school authorities why a teacher suddenly didn’t show up to school?”

“Jongdae, you will not be killing our son’s teachers,” you said, never having imagined that you’d be saying this sentence. “If he gets bad grades, we’ll work with him and help him.”

“Oh, but he shouldn’t get bad grades,” Jongdae said, suddenly. “He got your brain.”

You watched your son approach the three teenagers that stepped on your lawn. “He got your sense of fear.”

“I don’t have one,” Jongdae replied, smirking.

You watched as your son expertly scolded the teenagers – leaving them dumbfounded – that were making a shortcut through your backyard. “Exactly.”

“I might have to work with him on his impulsiveness, which, I’m assuming, you’ll say he also got from me,” Jongdae said and you nodded, confirming his thoughts. “But that’s later. Let him enjoy his childhood right now. And I’ll go take care of those assholes who decided to walk through my lawn.”

“Don’t set a bad example for your son!” you called out after Jongdae as he headed to the front door.

“I’d never!” he replied. “I won’t even threaten them! Probably!”

Chanyeol

He kept a cool exterior as his daughter hugged him goodbye on her first day of school. He hugged her back, gave her the flowers to give to the teacher, and watched her hug you as well. He was smiling through clenched teeth and only when his daughter ran off towards the school, did he allow himself to reveal his true emotions and turn to you with tears in his eyes.

“Chanyeol, are you—” you started to say but he was distracted by his daughter’s voice and turned away before you could finish.

“Dad!” your daughter was yelling from a few meters away, as she violently waved goodbye to her father. “Bye!”

“Bye, baby girl!” he called out to her. “Be good today!”

She nodded obediently and ran towards the entrance of the school without turning back again.

Sighing, Chanyeol looked at you, feeling a tear slip from his eye. “Don’t look at me like that. Today’s my daughter’s first day of school.”

You just smiled. You and your father never had the kind of bond that Chanyeol had with his daughter, so you admired it every day. You managed to break Chanyeol’s walls down and fall in love with him in a matter of a few months, but your daughter managed to do all of that and more within the first few seconds of her life.

“Let’s go,” you said, pulling him towards your car. “We’ll come back to pick her up after the school day is over.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, unmoving. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be waiting until her lessons are over.”

You raised your eyebrows. “That’s five hours.”

Chanyeol shrugged his shoulders. “Five hours it is.”

This was starting to become amusing. “So you’re going to stand here for five hours?”

“Not necessarily here, but sure,” he said. “I don’t want to leave in case her lessons end early and she has to wait for us. What if something happens to her? You didn’t let me put a gun in her backpack.”

“Chanyeo—of course I didn’t let you! She’s six!”

“That is precisely why I’m not leaving,” he said, decidedly. “I need to protect her.”

D.O.

His daughter’s first day of school was the most stressful day he’s experienced in his life. While she laughed and jumped around, he watched every single child around her in horror.

“Y/n, I can’t do this,” he finally said to you. “Maybe we should just homeschool her?”

“You have nothing to worry about,” you replied. “She’s happy here. She’ll make friends here. She wouldn’t have that if she was homeschooled.”

Kyungsoo eyed the boy who picked up a flower to give it to your daughter. “I don’t like that guy.”

You laughed. “They’re just playing.”

“They’re just—he’s going in for a hug! That’s it!” Kyungsoo already started to walk towards his daughter but you grabbed his hand, stopping him.

“Don’t,” you said. “Let her enjoy this day. That boy is just playing, and look, she’s pushing him away anyway.”

Kyungsoo turned around to look at his daughter pushing the boy off of her and smiled.

“That’s my girl,” he said, a proud smile replacing the angry expression he’s had on his face before. “Someone needs to teach that boy about consent. You don’t go around hugging random kids.”

“I’m sure your daughter will be the one to teach him that,” you said.

“I should have taught her some self-defense before letting her off to school,” Kyungsoo voiced his thoughts. “Who knows what could happen in there?”

“Did something happen to you while you were in school?”

“Of course! I almost died three times. And that’s just in the eighth grade.”

Your eyes widened. “Okay. I’m sure our daughter is stronger than you. And smarter. She’ll know how to stay out of trouble.”

Kyungsoo turned to look at her playing an aggressive version of tag with a few of her future classmates and smiled. “Yeah. She is smarter than me. But I still need to know she’s capable of protecting herself.”

Kai

Jongin was the proudest father in the whole school, no competition. His son hasn’t won any awards yet and he wasn’t exceptionally talented in any of the fields that Jongin’s family required him to be talented in, but that child was the most precious to Jongin, despite all of that.

“I can tell he’s going to be at the top of the class,” Jongin said as he drove the three of you to school on your son’s first day. “He’s as smart as we are, isn’t that right?”

“Mommy says she’s smarter than you.”

“She definitely is. In certain areas of life,” Jongin replied, momentarily turning to look at you in the passenger seat. “And you’re a lot like her, too. But you know what you got from daddy?”

“What?” the boy asked curiously.

“If you say your good looks, I swear, Jongin,” you cut in, making him laugh.

“No. But now that you mention it…” Jongin winked at you before finding his son’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “You also got my courage. My sense of danger. All of that runs in the family. I just know you’ll make us proud.”

“Is it okay for me to make you proud?” the boy asked, still learning to tell the difference between right and wrong. This process has obviously been slowed down by his parents who used sarcasm in front of him when talking to each other.

“It’s more than okay,” Jongin replied, watching a smile spread across his son’s face. “You’ll be good at school, won’t you?”

“I will!” the boy said, suddenly very hyped and motivated. “I will make you proud!”

Jongin’s smile was just as wide now. “That’s my boy.”

Sehun

Sehun lived in a state of denial, refusing to admit that his baby daughter had grown up and was getting ready for her first day of school.

“But there’s so much she doesn’t know yet,” Sehun said, furiously trying to fit all of his daughter’s pencils into the pencil case. This looked so ridiculous, given the fact that he was dressed all in black and had a pocket knife hanging from the belt of his pants, as well as a pistol hidden in the back of his jeans.

“That’s why she’s going to school,” you told him and continued to watch him struggle with the colorful pencils, not trying to hide the amused expression on your face.

“Yeah, but she’s—” he stopped mid-sentence when he saw your grin. “Oh, stop smiling. I’ve never brought any pencils to school with me. I don’t know how these things work.”

“Let me do it,” you said, finally taking the task over. “And what do you mean you’ve never brought any pencils?”

“I was homeschooled,” Sehun said. “And I’m sure my definition of school is much different from yours.”

You had an idea what kind of ‘school’ Sehun had to attend when he was younger, so you didn’t question that.

“Did you ever want to go to real school?” you asked him instead, after having put the pencil case with the pencils into your daughter’s backpack.

“A lot of times,” Sehun admitted, sighing. “I always thought I’d have had more friends if I had gone to a normal school. But I couldn’t do that. Those were the family rules.”

A shiver ran through you all of a sudden. “But our daughter—”

“There’s not a chance in hell I’m taking normal childhood away from her,” Sehun cut you off before you could even finish. “I’d never want my daughter to experience what I experienced when I was her age. She’s going to go to a normal school, make friends, break boys’ hearts, and she’s going to have the time of her life. I’ll do everything to make sure of that.”

other EXO reactions / masterlist / ask (requests are closed)

[god-damn-demetria]

Demi Lovato’s Overdose

Okay, first of all I wanna say that I don’t know what happened last Tuesday. We all don’t know what happened exactly, and all I’m going to say in this post is MY OPINION and is all PURE SPECULATION. I could be right, I could be completely wrong. All I know is that all the hate and the media, that's probably mostly false, are annoying and it fucks me up that it even goes this far.

So, let’s get into it all. What are the “facts” we have so far?

1. Last Tuesday, June 24th, Demi was found unconscious in her house in LA. As far as we know, Demi was found at around noon and she was alone. Apparently, she was out celebrating her dancer Dani Vitale’s birthday (I’ll get to her and the other dancers later) the night before (which we do have this video off as the only evidence) and then headed home and had a party at her house as well.

2. At first, TMZ reported that Demi overdosed on heroin, which was later reported to be false. What substance was found in her blood is unclear at this moment. Apparently, paramedics gave her narcan when they arrived and took her to the hospital. At this point, all we know is that she’s still there and dealing with her withdrawal.

3. Later that day, after hours of worrying and being scared it was reported from her rep that she’s awake, stable and responsive.

4. It’s been reported that the last few months or weeks (we don’t know the real timeline here) Demi has been struggling with her addiction again and relapsed on various occasions.

Here is what I think about this all:

When this tour started, she seemed to be in a fantastic place. She was happy, bubbly, celebrated her sixth year of sobriety and nothing pointed towards a possible downward spiral, at least not at the time. The only thing that, looking back on it now, probably should’ve concerned some people is her sudden break with CAST Center and everyone involved (especially Mike, because he’s literally been with her every day during the American leg of the TMYLM Tour), her manager Phil and two of her absolute best friends, Marissa Callahan and Nick Jonas. But even then everyone, myself included, thought that there must’ve been a reason for it and it wasn’t really our place to judge because we didn’t know what happened. It was just weird that she suddenly cut off four people at once. Even her tweets seemed to tell us a story that no one really got. It was shady and messy. But hey, I just thought that whatever happened between her and those people probably hurt, and we all know that she is impulsive and stubborn. It wouldn’t be the first stubborn, shady tweet she’d send out. I was a little worried at that point because I knew how much these four people meant to her and I just thought “Oh my god, what if she got hurt really bad?” But again…it wasn’t really our place to judge, was it?

Another thing that probably should’ve concerned a few people was the fact that she went to Coachella. I mean, yes…she was good with going to parties and staying sober and clean, but Coachella is a whole other level. That’s not the right place for a recovering addict. But I tried to stay positive and told myself “Hey, she’s strong. She just celebrated her six years of sobriety. She can handle it.”…that was until she released “Sober” and I immediately thought that it must’ve been the whole Coachella thing that fucked everything up, combined with a few wrong people surrounding her. But we all know Demi, and we know how good she is at putting on a smile and not letting people know what’s happening in her life. I saw her live in concert in June, and she was just the Demi we all love and adore. Nothing seemed off. Even though, according to some posts and reports, she must’ve already been back to using drugs and drinking.

In “Sober” she sounds vulnerable, ashamed and embarrassed about relapsing, and in her lyrics, she promised to get help. I was positive about it. I never judged her for her relapse, and I never will. It’s part of recovery. She’s human like everyone else, and humans make mistakes. Sometimes, they can’t help but to make them when there’s that little guy called “addiction” sitting in the corner of their brains. In recovery, he’s constantly whispering to you that you need a drink/drug and that it’ll make you feel better and it won’t hurt anybody. Nobody will notice. Usually, he’s not loud enough, but then there comes a point in your life when everything else around you is quiet and all of a sudden he sees his chance and starts shouting all these things at you as loud as he can. And in order to make him stop, you give in. You do what he tells you to do so he finally shuts up.

Let’s move on, though…After “Sober” I hoped she’d be okay. I never saw the overdose coming. I would’ve never thought we’d get to this point where we almost lost her forever. Knowing that breaks my heart just as much as it breaks yours. But all if this doesn’t take away her six years of staying sober, clean and healthy. That’s a fucking accomplishment and nobody can take that away from her!

So…let me get into all the bullshit that’s been going around on Twitter. Let me start with Mike Bayer:

Mike was her life coach for how many years? Ever since she left Timberline Knolls, as far as I know. He was always an incredible person, never said a bad word about her and in Simply Complicated, he told us about what happened with Demi when she first lost control. And he also told us another thing: “The most important thing to Demi is losing people. It’s losing people that care about her and that love her.” Doesn’t that sound like that’s exactly what happened this time around? You gotta keep in mind that this overdose is a whole other level. Her first struggles weren’t as server as this one. So, what if all Mike (and Phil, Marissa and Nick) wanted to do is help her, but she blocked him? What if she didn’t think her problems were as bad as they apparently are and didn’t accept his help? What if she pushed him away because she was annoyed with his constant attempts to help? So Mike did what he had to do and stepped back. I have to admit, I wasn’t fair to him during that time. I was kind of mad at him, especially after that article came out saying she was fired from CAST because she relapsed and that contract she apparently signed or whatever that was…Looking back at all of this now, it was probably all to help her.

Let’s move on…Next on the list is Phil McIntyre:

He was Demi’s manager her whole career. He was the one who saw that Demi was special and had a God given talent, he stood by her side through her first breakdown and still continued to see her potential. I’m not gonna comment on his ability as a manager, because I literally don’t know shit about management, and neither do you, but I still see posts on Twitter constantly bashing him and calling him a bad manager. Do you all forget that he literally helped the Jonas Brothers becoming one of the most successful bands in the late 2000s? And you know what? Let him be a bad manager, I don’t give a fuck…but at least he is a really great human being who cares about his clients more than he cares about money and fame and success. Imagine if Demi would’ve had a different manager, one that pushes his clients so hard to make the most amount of money. One that doesn’t care much about his clients' well-being…one who pushes them so hard that all they can do to cope with the pressure is drink or do drugs…would you really want Demi to be managed by someone like that? At the vulnerable state that she’s constantly in? I don’t think so. Phil apparently staged an intervention, which might’ve been the breaking point in his and Demi’s relationship. So she “fired” him and Lauren Einbinder took over.

Next please…oh yes, Marissa Callahan:

Where do I start with Marissa? Her and Demi have been the absolute best friends for years. They shared some of the same struggles when it comes to mental health issues and Marissa has always been by her side. To me, the two of them were always friendship goals. I personally don’t think Marissa was ever a bad influence to Demi. When Demi started drinking, they were both young and stupid, so we can’t really blame her for anything. There are many teenagers who introduce their friends to alcohol. That doesn’t necessarily mean that these friends will end up becoming addicts. But with Demi, it was a little different. The underlying, undiagnosed mental health issue was part of the reason she developed this addiction, and neither her parents, nor her best friend Marissa could've possible seen the outcome of an early alcohol consume. So, please stop blaming Demi’s addiction on her. If it wasn’t her who introduced her to alcohol, Demi would've eventually gotten in contact with it another way. That’s what happens with teenagers. Okay, so…their friendship was one of the strongest I’ve ever seen. Just earlier this year, they were on vacation together for…how long was that…14 days? It was a long vacation and they seemed to have such a good time. And suddenly, about two or three months later, Demi unfollows her, posts shady tweets and when asked about her best friends, she just names Sirah and Matthew. Usually, Marissa would’ve been on top of that list as well. So, the fact that Marissa probably stepped away as well shows how server Demi’s drug use must’ve been. Just like Mike, Phil and Nick, Marissa wasn't enabling it. And who wants to watch their best friend destroy themselves? No one. Since all attempts to help Demi obviously didn’t work, Marissa stepped away, probably for her own mental health as well.

Now my favorite…Nick Jonas:

You know why he’s my favorite? That dude knows what he’s doing…and it worked the first time. Just at the end of 2017, Demi and Nick were at such an incredible place in their friendship. They were recording each other’s performances on each other’s phones, flew home in the same private jet…just a few weeks before that, Demi basically admitted to having some sorts of feelings for him in two of her songs. In an interview, she said that the person she wrote these songs about loved them and told her he wrote songs about her as well. I’m not saying this because I ship them a lot, but they were slowly heading towards something much stronger than friendship. I personally think that if all of this wouldn’t have happened, instead of getting the report of Demi overdosing, we would’ve gotten some kind of romance update on them. So how come that a friendship as strong and powerful as theirs suddenly ends with her unfollowing him on all social media? Listen to this interview at 7.15min. Nick basically explains it all. He stepped away to save himself from a possible heartbreak that he would’ve suffered if he would’ve kept watching her going down that spiral. And it’s not like he didn’t try. He also once said that the first time she was struggling, he tried to talk to her, but she cut him off. Just like she did again now. I hate to see people tweeting that he’s the reason she relapsed, or that he’s a bad guy in all of this. Just like Marissa, he probably just didn’t wanna witness his best friend ruining herself. I’ve been there, too. I’ve had friends struggling with mental health issues, and in order to keep my sanity, I had to step back at a certain point. So don’t judge him!

Now that I touched on Mike, Phil, Marissa and Nick, let’s get to the messy part…the one where everyone blames her dancers and even members of her family:

I wanna start with Dianna. People are really sending her hate and blame her, when all she was probably doing the past week was being worried as fuck about her daughter? Like…do you even realize how fucked up that this? This woman almost lost her child. She was almost at a point where, instead of planning which treatment center is best for her, she had to plan a funeral. Give her a fucking break! I’m not saying that everything was right in their family, but I think people tend to forget that Dianna herself struggles with mental health issues. So maybe she didn’t even see the depth of the problem. Maybe she couldn’t quite understand how server the whole situation was. And guess what, guys? Maybe she even tried to do something…but Demi is a 25-year-old, grown ass woman. And an addict. And stubborn as fuck. Do you really think she would’ve listened to her mother? Besides that, she’s manipulative. What if she told her mom that everything is okay? She can be super convincing, so what if Dianna believed her?  It’s incredibly rude to assume Dianna had something to do with all of this. She is a mother. And from what I’ve seen the past few years that I’ve been following this family, she’s a great one. She loves her daughters.

And now…the part you’ve all probably been waiting for: Demi’s dancer

I honestly don’t even know where to start. Do I start at the American leg of the TMYLM tour? Or do I jump right into the European leg? Do I compare this tour with others that didn’t have dancers? I should probably do all of that. So…I’ve said it before, and I will say it again: The Future Now Tour was and always will be the best tour Demi has ever put together. Why? Well, not only did she travel through America with her best friend, but she was also surrounded by people who really, really cared about her. She had an incredible team, her best friend and she was the happiest I’ve ever seen her. She was free. Whenever they had a day off, they’d so some fun things…things that didn’t necessarily trigger her. And did you guys notice something? There were no dancers. In my opinion, she never needed dancers. Demi’s talent doesn’t need some extra special effects. She could play a two hours show with just her piano and a guitar, and people would still be fascinated by her.

But…I liked the dancers. There were fun, and from what I’ve seen on Instagram, they all had an incredible time. Everyone seemed so genuinely nice and funny and Demi seemed to love them as well. But what did they do when they had a day off? They were partying. And sometimes, Demi joined them. Like I said earlier in this post, there was a time where Demi could easily be part of a party and not care at all. She would drink her red bull and that’s it, but this year was different. She relapsed, and was surrounded by people who consumed alcohol. I’m not saying they caused it, or that they are to blame for it, but Demi was no longer at a place where she could be around that. Could they have done something about it? Maybe, but maybe they didn’t even realize what was going on before it was too late. That being said, let’s focus a little on two of the dancers that have been on top of the “let’s blame people for Demi’s overdose” list the past few days. And these people are Jackie and Dani. Now, Jackie fucked up. I’m sure all of you have seen the video of her doing coke on her Instagram. That’s pretty messy and I definitely don’t agree with what she did. And I seriously hope that she didn’t do it around Demi. While that could’ve been a triggering point for her, it still doesn’t mean that we can blame Jackie for Demi’s overdose.

Now Dani…I’m really conflicted at this point. I love Dani. I’ve met her. I’ve talked to her and what she said to us, how she treated us and what she then offered us was beyond anything I’ve ever experienced or expected from someone. She was one of the nicest, kindest and most humble people I have ever met in my life. She was so patient with us and really, really genuine. She’s always been getting hate, for ridiculous shit like being responsible for Jojo to leave the tour. People even said that she kicked her off and took her place…like bitch, they were literally both on that tour in America. Nobody took anyone’s place here. So I was already like “Damn, she doesn’t deserve that. She’s so fucking nice.”. So when I saw that everyone was now attacking her for causing Demi’s overdose, I was like “Okay, hold the fuck on…” Here’s what we know: Demi was at Dani’s birthday party. That alone is nothing to be extremely worried about. Like…Demi going to her friend’s birthday party? How fucking normal from her. Damn, Demi. And we all didn’t know how server her drug use was at this point. And guess what? Maybe Dani didn’t know either? Just like Demi’s family might not haven know just how bad it really was? We don’t know what happened at the party. We didn’t see any videos or pictures of her drinking with Dani. What if she didn’t do any of that while Dani was around?

Okay, let’s continue…Even though it was Dani’s birthday party, and Demi reportedly continued partying at her house with some people, that doesn’t mean Dani was there as well because for all we know, the party at Demi’s house had nothing to do with her birthday anymore. So…let’s say she was no longer there…how can you blame her for the overdose? How can you blame anyone who was there for the overdose? The only plausible explanation about when Demi overdose is the next morning, a little while before she was found. At that point, I’m 100% sure nobody else was at the house anymore. Didn’t someone say Demi was alone when it happened? Okay, it was probably one of these oh so reliable sources, but it makes the most sense to me. Like…yes, there were probably people enabling the drug use, but I can’t imagine anyone really letting someone overdose and possibly die. So nobody left her alone. Nobody just “watched” her overdose. She was alone, I don’t think it was her intention to overdose and she was lucky someone found her in time. If she would’ve overdosed that night…and then someone found her around noon…as hard as it is to hear, but then she wouldn’t be with us anymore. So stop blaming Dani. And stop reading too much into her statement.

I could say a lot more things…about the guys she’s been seen with (you know…when everyone thought she was out with G-Eazy?) for example. Or Dilmer, which I’m not gonna get into because those of you who follow me know how I feel about them as a couple. But this is already long enough. Like I said, I don’t blame anyone.

I’m gonna say this once and for all: THE ONLY ONE TO BLAME FOR DEMI’S OVERDOSE IS HER FUCKING ADDICTION! None of the people she’s been surrounding herself with forced her to do anything. She did that all on her own, because her addiction got stronger. Remember that little guy I told you about earlier? Yeah, he was yelling like a motherfucker!

[ellanainthetardis]

Prompt: "Given that Haymitch looked like a boy who was pulling on Effie's ponytail to catch her attention, Finnick wasn't sure he could really throw the proverbial first stone." could we get a fic where Haymitch is literally doing that with them as kids or teenagers? doesn't matter if Hunger Games AU or Modern AU. just want them as kids grating on each others nerves 'cause it's actually their first crush or something. (and maybe they meet again when they're older) I'm willing to bribe with chocalate and cake. ;)

I turned it into one of the Hogwarts au because of reasons ;) You can find the other ones in the series here but you don’t need to read them to understand this one  [x]

An Invitation To Madam Puddifoot

History of Magic was the most boring class ever and Haymitch didn’t think any of the third year stuck in that classroom with him would have disagreed. His only consolation was that the Slytherins shared that class with the Hufflepuffs so, at least, he wasn’t suffering alone. His best friend sat right beside him and suffered with him, not something that was always possible given that they belonged to different Houses.

Unfortunately, Chaff was currently perfecting the art of napping with his eyes right open and wasn’t offering much in order of distraction. On his other side, Johanna had given up on even pretending to be interested and had placed her head on her folded arms, clearly asleep.

Haymitch’s eyes wandered around the room but there wasn’t much to see aside from students just as bored as he was so it wasn’t any wonder that his gaze ended back on the most interesting thing in the classroom. Which was saying something because it wasn’t that interesting. There just wasn’t many girls who dyed their hair bright colors every other week.

Euphemia Trinket, third year Hufflepuff, Pureblood if there ever was one, Effie for her friends, had always sported bright colored hair ever since he had known her. He could still remember watching her getting Sorted from the Slytherin table and praying she wouldn’t get sent to the same House as him because she looked annoying. Who in their right mind dyed their hair purple for their first day at a magic school? Even for wizards that was extreme for an eleven year old.

It was dyed a soft shade of pale blue, that year, and it was currently tied in a high ponytail that kept swinging left and right every time she moved her head to whisper into her best friend’s ear. The fact that she was sitting right in front of him was distracting. He watched the blue hair sway in front of him for a while, mesmerized for no other reason than the fact Binns’ droning was sending him into a trance state that would probably have made the old Divination teacher very happy, until the movement and the incessant whispering started annoying him.

What was so fascinating that she couldn’t shut up for five minutes? Her fellow Hufflepuff friend seemed riveted by the tale. Gossip, probably. She was that type of girls who lived for gossip. Shallow and superficial and rich… A typical aristocrat.

He kind of hated her for all that alone. His muggleborn roots and, above all, the misery he had grown up in couldn’t forgive that.

He didn’t really know why he did it. Maybe because he had been spending the last fifteen minutes thinking about her and that was fifteen minutes too long. Maybe because he wanted to see if her hair was as soft as it looked. Maybe because he was bored and that was the best distraction. Or maybe it was because her eyes always slid over him as if he wasn’t standing there at all, dismissed before he had even opened his mouth – although he was very used to that, Muggleborns weren’t exactly welcomed with open arms in Slytherin.

He grabbed the ponytail just as it swayed back into place when she lifted her head. He let go just as quickly.

Damn, but it was soft…

He was very aware that Chaff had snapped out of his nap and was staring at him with a small frown. He was also very aware that Trinket had turned around with a perfectly shaped eyebrow lifted in inquisition.

He ignored both of them and pretended to be transfixed by Binns’ third rendition of whatever Goblin rebellion he was on about. He even took a few notes for good measure.

When it became apparent he wouldn’t say anything, Trinket narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips and turned back around. Chaff leaned back in his chair and watched him, waiting for his next move, having apparently concluded that this was all a plan to have some fun. It wasn’t like they weren’t in a habit of pulling pranks after all.

He felt compelled to tug on her hair again five minutes later. Because Chaff was clearly waiting for him to keep up with the game and he couldn’t explain to his best friend what had possessed him to touch her hair in the first place. His desire to know if it was soft didn’t seem like a good enough reason.

This time, when she turned around, she didn’t look inquisitive, she looked annoyed and not at all convinced by his innocent act. Still, she didn’t say anything. She huffed, turned back around and combed her fingers through her blue hair. Her friend Livia was tossing him curious looks and, after he had scowled at her, huffed too and focused back on her notes.

A few minutes later, Livia whispered something in Trinket’s ear and they both giggled as if it was the funniest thing ever. Somehow, Haymitch knew it was about him.

He was far less gentle when he tugged on her ponytail for the third time and she was far less amused when she whirled around. Her wand, he noticed, was now in her hand and he smirked because… What was she going to do? Hex him in the middle of a class?

The bell ensured he would never get the answer to that question. With a collective sigh of relief, everyone started packing up. Jo jumped in fright and then slammed her book in her bag, grumbling all the while about useless classes. Distracted both by her and Chaff’s guesses as to what they would be served at lunch, he put his own things away.

But that was without counting with Euphemia Trinket who wouldn’t be ignored. She planted herself in their path in the corridor.

“What is your problem, Abernathy?” she hissed.

The wand was gone, he noticed, and Livia was standing a few feet away, clearly there for moral support but not close enough that it really counted.

She had balls, he thought, to confront the three of them when they had something of a reputation for being troublemakers. Never mind the fact that two of them were Slytherins and most people still thought Slytherins were the devil incarnated.

“You know my name. I’m shocked.” he snorted.

Jo was confused and frowning but Chaff rolled his eyes and made a dismissive gesture that probably meant Haymitch would handle the situation.

“Is this what it is about, then?” Trinket retorted with a touch of disdain that immediately had him on the defensive. “Ensuring I know your name? There are better ways to do that, you know. If you wish to ask me out to Hogsmeade, the proper way is to actually ask me and not tug on my pigtail like a child.”

“Excuse me?” he half-scoffed, half-laughed. And maybe half-panicked too.

She pursed her lips and looked him up and down as if she was evaluating him. “You are quite good looking despite the pimples… Of course, Seneca already asked me to go to Madam Puddifoot’s with him and he is a four year and he is also on the Quidditch team so you will understand why I cannot go with you this time but perhaps on the next Hogsmeade week-end I would consider it.”

Seneca Crane was not only older, he was in Slytherin – so maybe she wasn’t so prejudiced against his House – and such a pompous asshole, Haymitch avoided him at all costs.

As for the pimples… He struggled with the impulse to cover the red one on his forehead. His mother swore they would go away eventually. But maybe he should check the library just in case they had a spell that would…

He stopped himself right there. What was he even thinking? Who cared what he looked like? He certainly didn’t. He wasn’t like one of those stupid teenagers who only thought about looks. He was better than that.

“Oh…” Jo crooned in a voice that was full of laughter. “How adorable… Madam Puddifoot…”  

“It is the best place for a date.” Trinket agreed with a disapproving look for the other girl. “Not that you would know.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I think you’re getting ideas…” he mocked, still smirking. “Ain’t interested in taking you anywhere.”

“Your grammar is atrocious.” she snapped. “You would have to make an effort if you wish to court me.”

“Court…” He started repeating the word only to choke on it, torn between amusement and fright. He resolutely ignored Chaff who was doing his best not to burst out laughing but was clearly struggling to keep it in. “I ain’t courting you!”

“You called me sweetheart.” she scowled.

“I call everyone sweetheart.” he spat. “Even Jo. Everyone knows that.”

“It’s fucking annoying.” Johanna complained. Not for the first time.

Trinket didn’t like that one bit. She glared a bit. “You pulled on my hair.”

“’Cause it’s blue and ridiculous and it was right in my face.” he scoffed. “Not ‘cause I want to take you on a date.”

Who even made that kind of leap? That was jumping to conclusions alright.

If glares could kill…

She placed her hands on her hips, pursed her lips tight and tilted her head to the side, staring him down as if he had murdered her whole family and her pet too. “You are insufferable.”

“That’s a five syllables word. Careful, you’re gonna give yourself a brain sprain.” he taunted.

“I am surprised you know a five syllables word.” she retorted without missing a beat. “In fact, you are such a stupid boy I am quite shocked you can read at all.”

She turned on her heels and stormed away, grabbing her friend’s arm on the way, leaving him to stand there, fishing for a comeback that was too late in coming. Oh, but he hated when he didn’t get the last word…

The moment the two Hufflepuff girls had disappeared around the corner, Chaff finally roared with laughter. Johanna snickered with a little bit more dignity.

Haymitch chose to walk forward and leave them there to have it out.

Except his friends were more difficult than that to shake off and it wasn’t long before they were right back on either side of him, quickening their pace to keep up with his long strides.

“So? Madam Puddifoot… Big fan of tea parlors, yeah?” Jo mocked mercilessly.

“Should have said you had your eyes on Trinket, buddy…” Chaff added, still laughing. “I’d have scooted ahead for you…”

“I don’t have my eyes on Trinket and I fucking hate tea.” he snapped, glaring at both of his friends in turn.

“Sure didn’t look like that when you were petting her hair…” his best friend chuckled.

Haymitch rolled his eyes but he knew he would never hear the end of it.

That would keep them going until June probably.

[amoureuseeee]

An Hour Ahead

written by j.r. olalia

       Ladies and Gents, do boredom seem to kill you already? Let us help you by becoming an audience in the latest breakthrough of the most advanced and fascinating research center in the world today. Sign up now, and witness the unraveling of the depths of what lies ahead of us all!

_____________________________________________

           Posters advertising the experiment of Lab-Alpha are widespread across the quiet streets of the town where Cass, short for Cassandra, lives. The year is 2092, and people have seen pretty much of what technology could do. In this period, smartphones do not have a physical body but are inserted through microchips in your brain, usually done in infants right after they are born.

            Long-distance communication happens by sending an impulse from one brain to another. This particular method challenges those who are easily distracted and lacks focus. The skies are now home to highways for vehicles known as flight cars. Nothing appears surprising to anybody anymore. At least not to Cass. Our girl is a typical teenager who happens to be very curious about the idea of time travel. She thinks that this particular field of study was left rotting by the relentlessly advancing cultures of the world. Perhaps it is due to the fear of people from the consequences of obstructing the natural flow of time. The early TV shows, movies, and even the historical comic books that made us fantasize about going back and forth in time also taught us of the dangers that time travel poses.

          Just as when Cass was about to leave her favorite rusty chair in the Green&Blues Ecopark, she received a sneaky embrace from behind. “Not thinking again about time travel, are we?” It was Pietro, Cass’s childhood friend.

         “Pietro! I didn’t know you were coming home today.” 

      “Well, my friend,” Pietro paused and sat beside Cass, “you think you can enjoy the show alone?” She looked at him with absolute confusion. “What show?” Pietro smirked excitedly as he revealed a poorly folded piece of paper decorated with a bright yellow ribbon. It was an invitation.

 Dear Mr. Pietro and Ms. Cassandra,

We, at Lab-Alpha, highly appreciate your interest in our research. The registration forms you sent us last XX-XX-2092 are now approved by our team. On XX-XX-2092, a flight car will escort you directly from your homes to our main facilities. We are very much excited to have you as our audience.

Best regards, Lauvais Dr. Lauvais Head of Operations at Lab-Alpha

      It took quite a moment and a bit of pinching on her elbow before Cass came back to her senses. “Pietro... you... are... THE BEST!” And the two gleefully rushed into the house of Cassandra to have a snack and prepare for their trip.

     At the exact date and time indicated in the letter, a flight car appeared and startled the lying cyber-cats in the backyard of Cass’s house. Upon the landing of their service, the two went frantic over the things they might forget to bring. When everything seemed in place, they stiffly walked towards Henry, their escort to Lab-Alpha, in an attempt to contain their excitement. A flight car takes at least two minutes to start. When the engine of their transport began to cough, the mother of Cass went running outside as if being chased by an untamed meta-lion. “You forgot your lunch boxes!” 

     “Don’t worry, ma’am. We serve great food at Lab-Alphaaaaaaaa”

        Henry’s voice echoed in the skies as they vanished into thin air. Soon enough, Cass and Pietro were awakened by the flashing lights of cameras. Theentrance of Lab-Alpha was flooded with photographers and spectators alike. “Woah! This looks nothing like a laboratory.” Said Pietro in full astonishment. 

         Cass, meanwhile, remained silent upon witnessing the magnificent research center up close. “Sir Pietro and miss Cassandra, may I present you to Dr. Lauvais, the very mind of Lab-Alpha.” Dr. Lauvais jokingly took his introduction from Henry. 

         “Oh, please, Henry. I need not present myself with such grandiosity. “Pietro, Cassandra, I am more than pleased to meet you than it appears to be. But my confidence in satisfying your exceptional interest in the possibilities of time travel is steadfast. Come.”

          Pietro had to pull Cass, for, until this point, she was still completely frozen and mute. The deafening crowd outside was completely inaudible within the research center. While they were approaching a highly-secured room, the workers of Lab-Alpha, distinguishable by their all-white uniforms, stared at the two visitors as if they were about to become lab rats of a mad science experiment. When the doors opened, disinfection smoke was released. “This decontaminates the subje--- Uhm, I mean the guests, before nearing the device.” The enthusiasm of Pietro and Cass kept them from picking up the signals of what was about to commence.

           “Now, now, Daisy. We do not want our guests to feel uncomfortable.” Dr. Lauvais quickly scolded Daisy, the one who almost slipped away their plans. “Very well, all looking functional,you two, sit over there. We reserved you the best seats in the house.” Said Dr. Lauvais, then gave off an awkward smile. “Hang on.” Cass finally declared. “I thought we are just here to see the experiment.” “That is correct.” The prompt response of Dr. Lauvais was cut by a series of questions from Cass and Pietro. “Then why is there a need for you to put us inside a dome of glass, at the center of this room?” Cass inquired, sparking the tension in the room. “And why are we the only audience? Is this not open to public viewing? We saw your posters.” Remarked Pietro.

...

          There was silence until Dr. Lauvais intervened. “Fine. You got us. From the very start, you are meant to be the subjects of this experiment. But please, do not leave now! We are about to show the world the possibilities of time travel!” Pietro looked at Cass with much anxiousness and regret. The look he gave Cass spoke the words he could not manage to say. After all, it was he who put them both in this situation. Cass, on the other hand, remained calm and unbothered.

         "I don't mind." Everyone in the room was shocked by what Cass just said. "I am sorry, what?" Asked a confused Dr. Lauvais. "Yeah, what?" Asked a more confused Pietro. "Well, this is my dream. I wanted to be in this. And besides, what could go wrong, anyway?" Cass's positivity and excitement, despite knowing that they had just been tricked, made Pietro feel uneasy. "Are you sure about this?" Pietro asked Cass while Doctor Lauvais and the rest of the personnel of Lab-Alpha prepared the device. "Actually, I was hoping for this. Just think of it this way, we are about to experience time travel for ourselves. Isn't that fun?" Said Cass, while she also tries to calm her nerves.

          "Uhm, Dr. Lauvais?" Dr. Lauvais did not hear Pietro. "Dr. Pietro, may I ask something?" Asked Pietro, a little louder this time. "What is it, my child?" "I was just wondering why there were no other participants in this experiment. Isn't this the biggest breakthrough ever made on the planet?" 

         "All set, doc!" Daisy shouted from an elevated platform in the room, interrupting Dr. Lauvais, and Pietro's conversation. "Well, there is no room for doubt now, Cass and Pietro. All the best of luck." 

        "Where exactly should we expect ourselves to arrive?" Asked Cass, who appeared to be intensely excited. "Since this is just a prototype, you will most likely be an hour ahead of us, I'm afraid." Replied Dr. Lauvais. Cass expressed a great deal of disappointment on her face while Pietro shyly cracked into a smile. Just an hour? That is so uncool. But safe. He thought. 

         "Good luck, kids! Oh, and upon your arrival, this pod will lose all of its power. So be sure to recharge it by connecting this cord to any S-type socket. Have fun, and stay alert!" After saying this, Dr. Lauvais joined Daisy on the platform for the countdown. "Launching in five, four, three, two, and..." Pietro held hands with Cass so tight that her last words before leaving were 'ouch, Pietro!' "one!"

...

        When Cass opened her eyes, she was alone. "Pietro? Pietro?" She removed the strap from her chair and continued looking for a person. "Pietro? It's not funny if you arrived earlier and thought of leaving me out here alone!" She kept on screaming but still got no answer. "Dr. Lauvais? Daisy? Hello? This is not a joke!" Eventually, she decided to leave the room. Upon opening the door, Lab-Alpha was in chaos. Shattered pieces of glass were on the floor, and the workers were bruised and lying with their now pinkish uniform because of blood. Cass was terrified by the sight in front of her. She ran outside and what confronted her was worse. Flight cars crashed against each other, collapsed buildings and other infrastructures, the streets were on fire, and there were no people to be seen. She tried to focus and somehow managed to send a distress call from her head, but no one was online. She just went an hour ahead of her time. How could all this happen in an hour? Cass went walking outside and saw the News Tower's screen still functioning, although half the screen was already crushed.

WXRNXNG!! AN XSTXROID IS FXST APPXOACHXNG. GEX TX YOXR HXMES TX

STXY SXFE.

        It does not take a genius to decipher the message. Upon reading it, Cass went back to Lab-Alpha to warn the people of her time that, in an hour, the world faces its doom. When she arrived, she immediately turned on the pod. It did not open. It needed recharging. Now, Cass's present reality relies on her return, and she only has an hour.

#CreativeWriting #ShortStory

image source: 

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/37/3d/97/373d97b78a7b9

1a847aa22ee2ddeb52d.png

[lalainajanes]

THESE PROMPTS LAINE HOO BOY kc + “I bet I can dance/move/act like that and I don’t even have to be a dancer/stripper/actor/whatever wait are you turned on?” sex

I Like Your Style

When his doorbellrings at 8:17 PM on a Wednesday, when he’s not expecting a soul, Klaus decidesto ignore whoever thought that dropping by - uninvited and unannounced – was a good idea. His phone hasn’t made a soundall evening and surely, if there were some sort of emergency, someone wouldhave tried to call first. He shifts on the couch, sinking deeper into thecushions, and continues with his Netflix surfing.

He cannot concentrate,idly scrolling without really absorbing anything, as the doorbell will not stopringing. If anything his guest becomes morepersistent, making the irritating ringing infinitely more so by tapping out a melodyof short chimes and long clangs that are familiar. And not in a good way.

Klaus is given a briefreprieve, a moment of blessed silence, and he thinks he just might have managedto out stubborn the doorbell maestro.

Only to be immediatelytreated to another, equally impassioned, performance. Which just about pushesthe limit of Klaus’ patience.

He tosses his remoteaside and pushes himself to his feet before stalking towards the front door. Apassing glance at the mirror in his hallway tells him he’s probably not fit forcompany, he’d already showered and hadn’t bothered with a shirt, but since he’sreasonably certain he doesn’t actually likehis visitor – he might not be able to place the song but it was awful – he doesn’t feel the need to makehimself presentable.

An impulse he regretsupon first opening the door. Caroline Forbes might not have been invited but,standing on his porch in a yellow sundress, her blonde curls loose about hershoulders, she’s far from unwelcome. Klaus is already fully aware of herquestionable taste in music and, since it had been a boon to him just lastweek, it’s in no way a deal breaker. Her lovely blue eyes widen, her sunnysmile dimming slightly as her eyes drop, raking over his torso. There’s a hintof shock, no healthy amount of interest, and more than a dollop of heat as hergaze lingers over his shoulders and flickers lower.

Perhaps there’ssomething to be said for not being presentable. He might even flex a little as he crosses his arms and leans againstthe wall just inside the doorway, silently waiting for Caroline to realizeshe’s quite shamelessly objectifying him and failing to be subtle about it.

It’s unfortunate that thereare no witnesses because Klaus knows she’s likely to deny it later.

Caroline visiblyshakes herself, her spine straightening, and meets his eyes once more. There’sa brief flash of chagrin but determination quickly masks any embarrassment.When she speaks it’s cheery, “Hey, Klaus. Are you busy?”

He glances down athimself pointedly, “Not particularly. Why do you ask?”

“Because I think it’stime we settle our little disagreement.” Caroline tells him.

Klaus wracks hisbrain, trying to figure out what she means. He and Caroline disagree –frequently and often at great volume, much to the amusement of his siblings andtheir assorted friends – so narrowing it down isn’t easy. He’d seen Carolinejust last Sunday, at a dinner at Rebekah’s (a monthly affair where she orderedgourmet takeout, plated it on her designer table wear, and pretended like sheknew how to operate her range). Caroline had spent the evening gleefullytaunting him about his love for the pop group they’d taken in a few days prior.Klaus had been roped into chaperoning Henrik who, in the midst of an epicteenage puppy love, had wanted to take his girlfriend to see her favoritegroup. Klaus, unwilling to face a crush of teenagers alone had, in turn, manageto cajole (and bribe) Caroline into tagging along. He was supposed to help herpaint her living room this weekend, the price they’d agreed upon.

He’d gotten off easy,really. The flashing lights, high pitched screams, and so called music had beenalmost bearable with Caroline at his side, bright and joyous and dancing alongwith the crowd. At one point she’d turned in his direction and he’d quicklyfaced the stage, adopted a look of concentration so she’d not realize he’d beenintently watching her, and not thespectacle he’d paid an exorbitant amount of money to witness.

He’d overdone it andCaroline had taken his feigned interest in the performance as a sign that hewas a secret girl groupie (her words, not his). She’d been texting him gossipabout the band member’s tumultuous love lives and links to interviews posted onYouTube ever since.

He’s mostly beenignoring it, certain that any heated denials would be taken as further proof ofhis supposed ardor. Eventually, he and Caroline would find another subject tospar over. They always did.

What pressing disagreementdoes she thinks needs to be solved immediately? Klaus has to admit he hasn’t aclue.

She shifts her weightwhen he remains silent, hefting a large bag he’s just now noticing higher onher shoulder. “I’m going to need your bathroom for like twenty minutes. AndI’ll have to borrow a chair.”

That just confusesKlaus all the more. “I’m lost, sweetheart.”

She lets out anannoyed huff, pointedly keeping her eyes trained on a point somewhere to theleft of his head. “You told me all your drooling at the concert was over the‘grace and athleticism’ of the dancing, remember? Which I called bullshit on,of course. But you were all blah blah blah artistry blah blah blah years oftraining.”

Klaus fights a wince,recalling that particular argument. It wasn’t his finest moment but he’d had tocome up with something to explain awaywhat she’d seen as fascination. And then Caroline had gotten so offended,calling the choreography ‘cookie cutter sexbot thrusting’ and he hadn’t beenable to resist countering, just to see her color heighten and her hands gesturewildly as she attempted to prove her point.

It was his usual instinct,one he rarely bothered fighting. Really, it was a miracle Caroline hadn’trealized his interest. Every single one of their mutual acquaintances hadremarked on it. Klaus suspected there was even a betting pool.

“And you’re going toprove me wrong… how?”

Caroline’s smile is aslow thing, hinting at an ace up her sleeve, and Klaus is both wary andintrigued. She meets his eyes, hers filled with challenge, “Why don’t you letme in and I’ll show you?”

Wordlessly, Klaussteps aside, waving her in. Sucks in a harsh breath when she pats his stomach,her hand lingering in a way that feels deliberate. She doesn’t look at him,merely strides ahead. “Living room first,” she calls. “We’re going to need tomove some furniture.”

He still has verylittle idea of what’s happening but Klaus follows Caroline’s lead. Obliges herwhen she asks him to push his couch against one wall, the coffee table againstanother. She seems to consider the rug but then decides it can stay. She avoidshis gaze, manner brisk and businesslike, only stopping when he taunts her aboutit, pride stealing across her expressive face. Her eyelids grow heavy when shelooks at him a new weight and anticipation there. She stands close to him,closer than necessary, doesn’t shy away when his skin brushes against her barearm or her clothed back. When the room has been rearranged to her specificationsshe nods her satisfaction. “Perfect. Time for wardrobe. I’ll be right back.”She collects her bag and strolls from the room before Klaus can think to pepperher with questions.

He settles in to wait,finds he can’t mourn the change in his evening’s plans. Not when it seems likeCaroline’s are going to turn out to be far superior.

She strives for calmas she changes, rolling on the shimmery fishnets and wriggling into the blackleotard she’d tracked down yesterday. The scoop neck was modest but it was cutlow in the back. Somehow it still managed to keep her boobs in place soCaroline figured it was worth the drive out to the dance shop she hadn’t evenknown existed until this plan had occurred to her.

It had seemed geniusat the time. Now, minutes away from actually doing it Caroline can maybe admitthat it was a little crazy. That she didn’t do her best thinking in the middleof the night when she’d been tossing and turning and mentally rehearsing newrebuttals and quips for the next time she saw Klaus.

She notices her handsstarting to shake when she retrieves her makeup bag and she sets it downcarefully, taking a deep breath. Clown makeup was not on the agenda for theevening. Though if her lipstick happened to get a little smeared later on shewouldn’t exactly object.

She eyes her phone,resting innocently on the countertop and debates calling one of her friends fora chat. They’d all been dragged to a dance class over the last week, some moregood naturedly than others, and they’d probably be good for a pep talk (Elena)or at least willing to listen to her vent her nerves (Bonnie).

If Caroline called Katshe’d likely even get yet anotherlecture about how she really didn’t need to try so hard, that she could havesaved herself the muscle strain and expense if she’d just shown up at his doorin a trench coat and some fuck me heels. ‘I don’t even like him, Caroline,’she’d said, after taking a deep drink of wine. “And I hate lending people my shoes. But I will do it, for you. And forme, so I don’t have to listen to your verbal foreplay ever again.”

Caroline had insistedthat it was just her duty to prove to Klaus how very wrong he was. She’dspecifically come today because no one thought Wednesday was an appropriate day for a booty call. She’d beensnippy and irritated that her friends hadn’t bought a single word of herdenials.

Standing in Klaus’bathroom, jittery and nervous but also excited, Caroline’s beginning to realizethat she might owe each of them a round of ‘I told you so.’

Assuming this wholething didn’t blow up in her face and she had to flee to another state inhumiliation.

She’s totally going toblame it on the fact that he’d opened the door looking rumpled and delicious,more skin on display than she’d ever seen. Her carefully rehearsed speech hadfled and she’d had a brief, verydistracting, fantasy about dropping her bag and reaching for him with nofurther preliminaries.

Those kinds ofthoughts about Klaus weren’t exactly new. His face had been popping up in herfantasy repertoire regularly, beginning back when he was just an acquaintancewith nice hands and a voice that she was sure was made for dirty talk. He’dbegun appearing with more frequency as they’d gotten to know each other becauseas much as he infuriated her  sometimesshe always walked away from their little spats feeling energized, ready to go anotherround.

It was only natural,she’d told herself, to wonder how their dynamic – the push pull of it that lefther heated and excited – would translate with them naked.

Caroline draws herselfup to her full height and pushes those thoughts away before they can take root.Right now wasn’t the time, she refuses to be blushing and nervous when shewalked out there. Her motives might have shifted but she still had a point toprove. Caroline concentrates on fluffing up her curls in the mirror beforereaching for her makeup again, taking a deep steadying breath. She had a planand she was committed to executing it. She’d just get through the steps she’dlaid out, nice and easy, one after the other. It was time to get her game faceon.

Pessimism wasn’t herthing and at least, if things went horribly, going to insane lengths to win anargument was totally in character. She could spin it, weather the friendlyribbing that came her way, and go back to being Klaus’ friend slash adversarylike nothing had happened.

If she took a shot andfell flat maybe she could finally get over her silly little crush. And on thebright side, if her shot hit its mark, she wouldn’t have to. Her friends wouldstill mock her, of course. But Klaus was totally petty enough to join her insome serious revenge PDA so Caroline thought she’d still come out a winner.

He paces, curiosityraging, straining to hear anything from down the hallway, itching for the tiniesthint about what Caroline has planned. The use of the word ‘wardrobe’ was particularlyintriguing, suggesting that Caroline was in a state of undress in his bathroom,something he struggles not to dwell on knowing full well his attire won’t hidemuch. Unfortunately, not a peep makes it to his ears, and Klaus is left totorture himself with possibilities, most likely too good to be true, until the bathroomdoor creaks back open and he hears her step out of the bathroom.

At which point he throwshimself on to the couch, crosses his ankle over his opposite knee, all in aneffort to look natural and nonchalant.

It’s a waste as he’scertain the way his lips part, body stiffening, in shock as Caroline walks backinto the living room are most illuminating and he’s grateful his legs willobscure the visible tent in his sweats caused by his swelling cock. He swallowsheavily, taking in the sleek lines of her body, lovingly outlined in verylittle fabric. What covers her clings deliciously and his hands itch to skimover her curves. He’s always liked her legs, had vivid desires involving them wrappedabout his hips, and they seem especially endless and tempting in the stockingsshe wears. Caroline tosses him a smirk, flipping her hair over her shoulder,resting a hand on her hip. “My eyes are up here,” she taunts.

Klaus clears histhroat, “Caroline, wh…” he trails off, uncertain of what he means to ask. ‘Whatare you wearing?’ “What are you doing?’ “Why are you all the way across theroom when you could be in my lap?’

He should probably workup to that last bit.

Her laugh is warm, atouch mischievous. There’s a slight relaxing of her posture, her confidenceradiates in the swaying of her hips as she takes a few steps towards him.There’s nothing but innocence in her expression, too much to be natural. “I’mproving a point. I haven’t taken a dance class since college but I bet I can doit just as well as those girls you were eyeing.”

He takes a second todigest that, to ponder the implications. “You’re going to… dance? Now? Inthat?” He’s helpless not to gesture, cringing because he knows he sounds like an imbecile.

Caroline’s fingertipsstroke across the neckline of her top, head tipped to the side quizzically, “What’swrong with what I’m wearing?”

Klaus clenches histeeth together because what he’d wanted to blurt out – that the only thing wrong with the clingy black scraps offabric she had on what that he wasn’t entirely certain he could remove themexpediently – was probably unwise. “Nothing,” he manages, clipped and terse.

Caroline doesn’t seemto take offense, if anything she looks pleased. “Well, now that we’veestablished what I’m doing here, why don’t you take a seat? I’ll be out of yourhair in under a half hour, don’t you worry.”

She breezes away,towards the kitchen, before Klaus can argue with her assumption that he wantsher gone.

No matter. He’ll makea point of mentioning it later.

Caroline worksquickly, dragging one of Klaus’ kitchen chairs into the center of his livingroom, hooking up her phone to his stereo system. It only takes a moment – she’dmonopolized the music at a party he’d thrown once or twice or every single timeeven though he complained incessantly – and she doesn’t let herself look athim.

A girl only had somuch self-control.

He hadn’t bothered toput a shirt on and he wears only a pair of sweatpants, slung low enough thatit’s entirely possible he’s not wearing anything underneath them. She wants toask him about the tattoos, wants to discover the texture of his skin, to see ifhe’ll shudder when she traces his hipbone with her tongue.

She’d want to throwherself at him even if he hadn’t been watching her every move with lustdarkened eyes, the lines of his body taut, a struggle painted clear across hisface.

He wanted her. Of thatCaroline had no more doubts.

She gets intoposition, facing Klaus with the chair in front of her, setting a hand on thetop rung, letting her hair fall down to curtain her face. The music begins,slow and sultry, and she begins to sway her hips in time, bending deeper with everyeight count. Caroline’s certain she hears a noise, a tiny pained groan, andbites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She swings a leg over thechair, pausing to turn in profile and run her hand along her thigh as shecatches Klaus’ eye. She spins, and drapes herself across it, extending her legsand dipping low over the other side, arching her back to pull herself up, herhand coming up to play with her hair. She twists, facing him, easing her thighsopen as she glances up to gauge Klaus’ reaction and stills once she sees thathe’s moving. His jaw’s clenched tight and Caroline’s eyes widen when he loomsover her. He pauses for a second, his eyes tracing a hot path down the line ofher body. She fights the urge to squirm but then Klaus is dropping to hisknees, cupping her jaw and tugging her closer. She goes willingly, eagerly,slipping off the chair and grasping his shoulders for purchase. Klaus smilesinto the kiss, wrapping his arm around her waist and hauling into him, chest toknee, shoving the chair away carelessly. He pulls back enough to speak thoughthe patterns he’s tracing along her spine are distracting. “Perhaps I’llconcede. Just this once.”

Her laugh is breathy, “Yeah,you’ll concede. You really are into the whole cheesy choreography thing, huh?”

He shakes his head, atouch exasperated, “I barely saw those girls, Caroline. I was looking at youand you almost caught me.”

She doesn’t botherfighting the pleased smile. “Noted. Totally kicking myself for putting all theeffort into learning a routine now. I didn’t even get to the good part.”

Klaus increases thedistance between them, intrigue flickering across his face, “The good part?””

Caroline’s not havingthat. “Later,” she murmurs, burying her hand in his hair. “Assuming you don’tsuck at the sex thing.”

Klaus is unable totake that as anything but a challenge, just as Caroline had intended. He useshis arm to lift her, his hand coming up to cradle her head as he lays her onher back. He props himself up on one elbow, settling into the cradle of herthighs and leaning down to kiss her once more. There’s less urgency now, theheat builds slowly, his tongue teasing and stroking as their breath quickensand her hips push up searching for friction. Klaus’ hand begins to wander, hestrokes her throat and her head tips back with an encouraging sigh. His mouthmoves to her throat as his fingertips trace her collarbone, hooking into theneckline of her leotard. He tugs enough to bare one breast, his fingertipsgentle on the slope before finding her nipple. It begins to firm under histouch, tightening under the roughening circles of his thumb. He glances down,lips parted. “Lovelier than I’d imagined,” he murmurs. His hand leaves her,head dipping. His lips close over her nipple, Caroline arches up with a moanand he attempts to push the fabric further down. It resists and Caroline letsout a noise of protest as he pulls back, brow furrowed, “How does one removethis?”

She’d laugh at howpuzzled he seems, makes a mental note to make a joke about it later, but it’snot the time for humor, not with her skin tingling and a persistent achebetween her thighs. She pushes him back slightly, hooking a leg over his hip sohe doesn’t go far, and tugs a strap down her shoulder in impatient jerks. Theother quickly follows and Klaus seems eager to help, rolling the leotard down hertorso. Caroline hooks her thumbs in her tights, wiggling her hips so they comeoff too. Klaus freezes for a moment. “You weren’t wearing anything under that,”he mutters, almost to himself, sounding strained.

He’s stoppedundressing her and Caroline’s not having that. Letting out an annoyed huff shegets one leg free, biting her lip to keep from moaning when she presses againstKlaus’ cock, straining behind a single layer of fabric. “It’s not very forgiving.I didn’t want lines. Besides, pretty sure I am not the only one going commandohere.” This time she grinds up deliberately and a shudder wracks Klaus’ frame.She runs her nails along his spine, one drifting up to tug at the curls at thebase of his neck, the other pushing under the waistband of his sweats. His headbows, a harsh breath panted against her throat and he rears up, shoving theirremaining clothes aside. This time she’s helpless to resist the urge to reachfor him, sitting up when he moves to hover over her again, pushing at hisshoulder until he gets the hint and rolls onto his back.

Caroline wraps herhand around his cock, slinging a leg over his hips and shaking her hair back.She strokes him, rubbing her thumb along the tip of him, relishing his harshinhale. Just like when they argue Klaus is completely unwilling to let her win,rolling himself up and brushing her hands aside. He angles his head and kissesher, tempting her to part her lips with a lush swipe of his tongue, a hand onher hip urging her to move against him. Her mouth falls open as she sinksdeeper into the kiss, thighs widening as she searches for friction. She gaspswhen she feels his fingers, parting her folds and coming away slick.

She’s been turned on sinceshe started to dance, ready for him to be inside her since he’d first put hismouth on her nipple. Klaus seems intent on teasing her with light indirecttouches to her clit that tighten the knots in her stomach but give her norelief. His other hand is greedy for all the skin it can reach, smoothing overher back and ass, sneaking between them to palm a breast. Caroline bites downon his shoulder and Klaus hisses, taking the hint and easing a finger inside. “More,”she rasps, soothing the mark she’d left.

He obeys pressing his handtightly to her. She begins to ride his fingers in earnest, thighs tremblingwhen the heel of his hand rubs against her clit. He groans, leaning back towatch her face, “Just like that Caroline. Do you know how many times I’vethought of you like this? Trembling and breathless and wet because of me.”

Hopefully nearly asmany times as she has. He curls his fingers, rubbing against a spot inside ofher that has her head falling back and her vision going hazy, “Tell me,” shedemands, in a voice that’s hoarse and edged in need.

Klaus obliges, and she’dtotally been right about his voice. Thickened with his own arousal it’smesmerizing, “The little dresses you favor make it impossible not to thinkabout sneaking my hand underneath your skirt when we’re at a bar or out todinner. I’d stroke your thighs, a silent question, and you’d spread them forme, eager for my touch. In my mind you’ve been wet and hot around my fingerswhile I’ve gotten you off under a table while you flush prettily and try not tosquirm dozens upon dozens of times.”

Caroline swallowshard, rolling her head forward to look at him. His face is tight with strain,lips reddened and swollen. She manages a broken inhale, scrambling to puttogether a coherent sentence, “Well, we are supposed to do drinks on Friday…”

He makes a harshnoise, low in his throat, his hand easing away from her. Caroline’s mouth dropsopen but his next words stills her protest, “I need a condom.”

She shakes her head, “Ihave the implant and I don’t have anything. Are you…”

“Disease free? Yes.”

That’s good enough forher. She trusts him and she wants him and stopping right now when she’s soclose seems like torture. She lifts up higher onto her knees and reaches down,their fingers tangle but they get him positioned and Caroline sinks down with amoan, looking down to watch him slide inside of her. He grips her hips tightlywhen he’s all the way in, his body a solid line of tension against hers. Shefights the hold, needing to move, andhe eases up with a groan, reaching to tease her clit again when she begins tomove. It’s probably not graceful, more frantic than finessed, but Klaus doesn’tseem to mind, little noises of need spilling from him every time she takes himback inside of her. Their skin heats and slickens and soon she’s short ofbreath and the best kind of dizzy.

Caroline cries out as his fingers rub againsther with more purpose and she begins to shake, gripping him as her orgasmbuilds. “You’re so close, sweetheart,” Klaus murmurs. “Let go for me.”

She slumps into himwhen it hits her, muffling her cry in his skin and Klaus’ arms tighten aroundher as he lets go, snapping his hips up into hers as he chases his own release.He bites out a sharp curse, a reverent whisper of her name, before he collapsesback onto the floor, Caroline following him down. They shift for a minute toget comfortable, and Caroline squirms as he slips out of her before settlingagainst his chest.

The music’s longstopped and she lays her head over his chest, listens to his heart slow as hesifts his hands through her hair. When she feels like she can talk without wheezingshe peeks up, only to find Klaus’ eyes closed, his expression content. As if hefeels her watching his eyes slit open and he smiles, “Something on your mind?”

So many things.

She bites her lip andKlaus’ eyes flare with a new rush of heat as he watches, “Okay, first, Ilegitimately did not plan to seduce you.”

Klaus appears dubious,“You planned to dance for me, wearing what you were wearing, but it wasn’t aseduction?”

Okay, fine, when youput it like that it sounded bad.

“I didn’t consciously decide to seduce you,” sheamends.

He presses his lipstogether like he’s trying not to laugh. “Well, remind me to do something nicefor your subconscious someday. It obviously has discerning tastes.”

She pokes him in theside, narrowing her eyes in a glare. He couldn’t seriously be mocking her,could he? They were naked and she could feel their combined release coating theinside of her thighs.

Klaus hauls her upwith his grip on her hair, kissing her until her lips soften and cling to his. “I’dintended to ask you to dinner for ages. We always just seem to sink intobickering before I can manage and then it seems like bad timing.”

“Oh,” Caroline says,slightly mollified. “Maybe you should be less of a dick then.”

Klaus laughs, “I thinkthat’s unlikely. Perhaps you should be less easy to bait, hmm?”

Caroline has to admitthat also seems unlikely. She sits up and notes the way Klaus eyes her breastshungrily. She moves away before he can make the move he’s clearly considering, “Compromise,”she offers. “We bicker while we dodate things. Starting with food. Now.”

Klaus reaches over hishead in a stretch, and she kind of can’t fault him for ogling her boobs, notwhen she takes a very long look at the way his pale skin stretches over thelean muscles of his abdomen, letting her eyes linger on his cock that seems tobe twitching back into readiness. He doesn’t seem to mind the scrutiny, foldinghis hands under his head, “That’s a compromise I can live with. I’ve heardexcellent things about make up sex.”

Caroline doesn’t lookat him as she stands and makes her way to the bathroom. She’s going to needsustenance because she knows she won’t be able to resist picking a fight withthat statement lingering between them.

Could make up sex withKlaus even be better than the sexthey’d just had? Her legs are shaky and she feels fantastic so Caroline’sskeptical.

But not at all opposedto experimenting.

[jordan202]

The Journey - Part One

Hey everyone,

So, I am starting this new project based on something that I am sure every Omelia fan can relate :) I am positive that, just like me, throughout the past three seasons you have wondered many times over what happened in between episodes.

For example, how exactly did Owen and Amelia end up in an on call room in the beginning of episode 11x16? How did they go from having pizza at the end of 12x10 to waking up together in bed in episode 12x12? So much happened in between the lines but we never got to see it.

Whoever follows my My Boys Universe knows that it follows up with Omelia’s married life, right after their wedding on the 12x24 finale. But instead of going forward with Owen and Amelia’s lives, this time we will take a look back and basically go through the developments that happened offscreen between the episodes. And just like in MB, everything that happened on the show, happened. I don’t change what’s canon. I merely add. Everything Amelia and Owen lived before and after these scenes have also happened in these stories. As always, I will remain loyal to the show. 

Before each new part, I will explain the timeline in which it sets and we will move forward little by little.

And now, I invite you to explore with me the missing parts of Owen and Amelia’s interactions, from their first encounter, through their ups and downs, all the way to their wedding day and subsequently, their married life.

This is called The Journey.

---------

Special Thanks to @jia911​ for proofreading and @bluebelle18​ for helping me out with the timeline details.

Timeline for Part 1:

This one has three separate blocks (separated by dots). The first one covers episode 7x03, when Amelia first shows up in Seattle after Derek got shot and brings the case of a guy she met on the plane. Owen and Cristina married in a rush after the shooting and are dealing with her professional crisis/emotional breakdown; The second block covers episode 8x15, when Amelia flies in from Los Angeles bringing Mason’s mom’s case and Owen is dealing with the aftermath of Cristina’s abortion; The third block covers the events of episode 10x21, when Owen had already divorced Cristina and she is dealing with her Harper Avery loss while Amelia is back in town after being unsure she really wants to marry James, so she spends her days watching after Derek’s kids.

Let’s get to it!

The Journey – Part One

Owen Hunt was distractedly making his way through the surgical floor when he heard a loud, muffled sound coming from the corridor ahead. To his surprise, he found Derek stomping against a vending machine, clearly frustrated.

The trauma surgeon hesitated for a while, taking a deep breath before walking up to the scene. It hadn’t been more than a few weeks since that devastating day when Gary Clark had opened fire at the hospital and shot so many of their own. Derek had undoubtedly been more affected than most, considering he was the main target. Owen could only imagine how awful he must have been feeling.

Survival’s guilt was a real thing and the former army surgeon could speak from experience. He didn’t wish to Derek or anyone what he’d once gone through but, unfortunately, the bullet aimed for Derek had made two fatal victims, not to mention the incredible amount of physical and mental damage that still haunted a lot of the employees present on the surgical floor that day.

Slowly, the hospital was getting back on track after the tragedy, but Owen still dealt with the aftermath very closely, considering both his wife and friend had been intimately involved.

“Hey...” Owen tried to gently sweep into the situation, trying to prevent Derek from hurting himself or breaking the machine at his insistent kicks.

“Damn thing swallowed all my quarters...” Derek walked around in circles, trying to calm down but failing. He went back and gave the vending machine another kick, immediately regretting it the moment his toes started to throb inside his shoes.

“You know what, I got it,” Owen pulled a dollar bill from his pocket and fed the machine, giving room for Derek to make his choice. The neurosurgeon clicked on the image of a candy bar, avoiding eye contact. It was clear that he was supressing a lot of anger. Knowing how hard Derek was trying to get Cristina back to her usual self, Owen wondered if she was the reason why he was so frustrated. “What’s gotten into you? Is it Cristina?”

“No,” Derek replied, too worked up to share more. He didn’t want to discuss Cristina and how guilty he felt for what had happened to her. He also didn’t want to discuss Amelia, the way she had unexpectedly appeared at the hospital earlier that day, bringing back that long lasting sensation that he’d somehow failed his own sister. All he wanted to do was to be left alone.

Owen had opened his mouth to argue when Meredith Grey materialized by their side. Judging by the impatient look Derek directed at his wife, Owen wondered if maybe his friend’s bad mood had something to do with her.

“Don’t worry,” Meredith looked at the trauma surgeon, seeing how confused he was and rightfully assuming he was concerned about Cristina. “She is fine. She is helping Derek on a case.”

“No, she is not, because there is no case,” The neurosurgeon snapped back, clenching his jaw.

“There is a case and a very interesting one,” Meredith replied back, not intimidated by her husband’s rude manners.

Owen was still lost.

“What’s going on?” He asked, frowning heavily.

“Derek’s sister is here,” Meredith confessed after seeing her husband’s reservation. “He is upset because of her, not Cristina.”

“I am not upset,” Derek insisted, but it was obvious he was.

Meredith looked at him, obviously doubting his words, and then her gaze fell upon Owen.

“His younger sister who is also a neurosurgeon brought him a pituitary tumor,” Meredith explained.

“Oh, nice,” Owen approved, thinking maybe Cristina would take interest on the case and finally improve her mood.

“Yeah, she diagnosed it by feeling the guy’s touch alone,” Meredith added, hoping Derek would be admit his sister was actually a talented surgeon too and not the impulsive teenager he seemed to consider her to be.

“Impressive,” Owen agreed with a head nod, wondering how exactly that diagnose had happened. He frowned in question, but quickly recovered after seeing the neurosurgeon sigh heavily in frustration.

“I am not touching that guy,” Derek decided, walking away.

“Can’t you at least take a look at the scans?” Meredith followed her husband. Owen now could only hear them by distance.

“You can tell Amelia to go home,” Derek replied very decidedly. “My answer is no.”

 Later that day, Owen figured Derek must have had a very stubborn sister because the surgery did happen. But that piece of information didn’t linger on his mind for more than a fraction of second. He was entirely concerned with his wife and how badly she was doing after the shooting incident. Owen hoped that the interesting case with the brain tumor might inspire her, but all Cristina did once she was back home was brood. She complained about Derek, who had forced her into surgery; about Derek’s sister, who had, according to her, spent the entire day questioning her skills, and then about Owen, who she believe to be as annoying as them.

As Owen fought back with his wife, frustrated that she didn’t realize how badly she was doing, he unconsciously created a mental image of the Shepherd sister. She was probably close to his wife and Meredith in age, and once he heard about Cristina’s complaints, he immediately assumed she was probably an irritable, unattractive mid thirties annoying woman, who pushed residents to feel better about herself. It was very typical of neurosurgeons to have gigantic, pressing egos and Owen knew it.

But then once again his wife shut him out with what had become a familiar silent mood, refusing to open up or say a word about how she was feeling, and every image vanished from Owen’s mind. He stared at Cristina, looking more difficult than ever. The trauma surgeon was assaulted by a wave of guilt as he unwillingly asked himself it all of that really was worth it. He had no right to be thinking that. He had made vows.

Duty and responsibility won over anything as Owen took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself for the long night of unsuccessful attempts to establish a conversation with his wife that was about to unfold.

.

Owen looked outside his office, letting out a heavy sigh of discontentment and frustration. He had never imagined that being chief would be easy, but he also had not imagined it would involve that much paperwork. The trauma surgeon had just picked up his pen to resume signing budget reports when three knocks on his door distracted him.

“Hey,” He saw the figure of Derek walking into his office, even though they didn’t have any meetings scheduled for the day.

“I know you’re busy, so I’ll get straight to the point.” Derek spared him of small talk, noticing how grateful the new chief seemed to be at his decision to be practical. The neurosurgeon knew Owen and his wife were at odds and their marriage was on the rocks, but that wasn’t what he was there to discuss. “My sister is in town and she wants to bring over a gliosarcoma from LA for us to operate on together.” Derek flipped open the envelope with scans and handed them over for the other doctor to check. “I have reviewed her plan and I think it could work.”

Owen frowned heavily after scanning his eyes through the images. Neurosurgery wasn’t his specialty, but that tumor looked very likely inoperable.

“Are you sure?” He looked back at his colleague. Derek was one of the few people whose capacities and technical skills Owen trusted completely.

“Yeah. Amy flew over and spent some time in the skills lab trying out a new approach,” Derek then described to Owen the idea his sister had to access Erica Warner’s tumor through the carotid artery, assess the tumor and reinstall blood flow in less than ninety seconds. It was a bold idea but after trying out for it a few times in the lab, Derek was convinced it could work. And no one liked to resect supposedly inoperable tumors more than he did.

“The plan seems very risky,” Owen replied with honesty, pondering about the situation. He was sure he didn’t need to remind Derek there was a high chance the patient could have a stroke, bleed out and die. “Are you sure you want to do it?”

“I am,” Derek said with conviction. “I just need you to give my sister operating privileges and we’re good to go.” He added. “This woman… Erica.” Derek put his hands inside his coat pockets. “She has a son. This is her only chance,” He bargained, wondering why he was suddenly so invested and the obvious answer was that he wanted to do it for his sister. “We are her only chance.”

Had it been anyone else, Owen would probably have discarded the idea or dwelled more on it before signing off on the procedure. But he knew that the patient, whoever she was, was in very capable hands. As Derek gave out the documentantion for Owen to fill the paperwork, allowing his sister privileges to work at the hospital, Owen couldn’t help but feel optimistic about the idea judging by the unknown surgeon’s impacting resume. Maybe being remarkably brilliant was something that ran in the family.

He knew Derek had a lot of sisters, reason why it didn’t even cross his mind to consider that this inventive Shepherd might have been the same one who had given Cristina a rough time the year before, right after impressively diagnosing a brain tumor using pure semiology.

“You didn’t meet my sister last time she was here,” Derek said with a discreet nod and Owen finally made the connection, instinctively remaking the image of a geeky, self centered neurosurgeon who probably had a big ego. “I’ll bring her over to introduce you the first chance I get.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” The trauma surgeon nodded, hiding his indifference.

If Derek said anything else after that, Owen really didn’t pay any attention. His thoughts went back to the counseling session he’d had with his wife earlier that morning and his stomach churned with rejection at the idea of going back there and facing their demons. The therapist had suggested they took a break and tried again later that evening, but Owen wasn’t even sure if Cristina would show up. Her insistence about not wanting kids and the way she had so decidedly aborted their baby still tormented him, it was all he could think about when he looked at her. His eyes fell on the scans Derek had left on his desk and Owen noticed the giant mass compressing everything around, sucking out the life of an otherwise healthy individual.

Even though it was hard to admit, he couldn’t see a way out of the situation he was in. Having kids wasn’t something he was willing to compromise and his wife clearly felt the exact opposite. The image of the gliosarcoma once again met his gaze and Owen let out a heavy sigh, completely overtaken by hopelessness.

Maybe that’s all his marriage really was. A life sucking experience. Maybe they were very much like that patient’s disease: far beyond reach but still hanging by a thread, holding onto every glimpse of hope to tell themselves they could make it when all signs pointed otherwise.

And yet for some reason that defied logic, just like the Shepherd siblings coming up with a plan and telling themselves they could fix the impossible, he and Cristina were still fooling themselves believing that they could somehow fix their broken marriage.

.

During the years that followed, Owen learned that his initial assumption that the relationship he’d invested so much on was doomed from the start had been right all along.

His marriage had ended and he couldn’t blame it only on the fact that Cristina didn’t want kids. Truth was, her entire perception about life and what mattered the most was completely different from his. Their priorities were so far opposite that only a fool would insist to keep trying. After setting his head straight and thinking rationally, Owen acknowledge all of that.

But that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

And after flying back home from Boston, Owen had realized many things.

Not long before, as he stood outside the shower in which he’d found his ex-wife still fully dressed, he’d tried to comfort her about the patient she’d lost and the remaining two that were still in critical condition. Owen didn’t have kids but he desired them more than anything, so he could sympathize with the excruciating pain the McNeils were going through.

He knew his ex-wife liked to keep her emotional distance and never get personally involved with the cases she took, but that time, it was different. It had to be different. Cristina had spent too many hours with that family, she’d been too invested in their cases to react so indifferently to the news.

And yet, when Owen had wrongfully assumed her desperation had been about the McNeil kids, stating that she’d done everything right, Cristina had simply agreed with conviction that she knew she had. Her confident manners in affirming so left no room for doubt. In that moment, he realized that even though she seemed devastated and extremely upset, it had nothing to do with the turn her cases had taken. That could only mean the cause for her affliction had to be the award that had slipped through her fingers.

Overwhelmed by a feeling of icy rejection at her coldness and selfish manners, Owen had stood there and unaffectedly admitted to Cristina what he’d heard from Richard: She was supposed to have won the Harper Avery Award; she had been the one with most votes. Politics had gotten in the way but by merit, she was meant to be the winner. He’d done it to test her, to see how she would react, secretly hoping that she wouldn’t place so much value in vanities, opting to reach out for what was concrete instead.

But just like that, the words seemed to heal and torment her as Cristina walked out of that shower without saying another word. And in her action, Owen found another answer.

He had come home that night hating himself for how angry he’d become. In his mind, Owen didn’t think he should be surprised, much less disappointed. That’s exactly how Cristina was and he knew better than anyone that it was pointless to keep making excuses to justify her lack of empathy and tactfulness. Every day, it became clearer that Cristina’s main priority in life was herself, closely followed by her career. Everything else stood a dozen steps back on her list. And for the first time, Owen felt relieved that he hadn’t got to have a child with her. After years of spending more time in her presence and watching her actions, it made perfect sense as to why Cristina didn’t want to be a mother. She would never be able to selflessly put anyone else above her and her career, not even their own child, and he would spend the rest of his life resenting her for it. He had at least admired how decisive she had been about that.

Even though Owen didn’t condemn her thoughts and feelings, he also had a hard time understanding her. Owen just didn’t get how a freaking award was more important than the lives of three kids. He couldn’t understand why Cristina could only take validation from a stupid trophy rather than helping out a family. It would never make sense to him why publishing a paper was more important than actually sharing the joy of being able to help a patient. And after years of trying to figure that out, he had finally thrown the towel.

He knew Cristina had every right to feel the way she did, but he wondered how in the world he’d come to fool himself saying that that’s what he wanted. Truth was, Owen would never stand by any of that. He had spent exhausted years trying to make her into something he wanted and that hadn’t been fair of him either. They would never prioritize the same things, there could be no common ground and it wasn’t fair to ask if any of them that they gave up their desires and dreams. Owen could never go through life married to Cristina knowing that while he would always put their family first, he would never be as important or as fulfilling to her as her career.

Soon enough, Cristina would be flying off to Zurich and deep down, he was happy about it. Once and for all, it would be over.

Almost automatically, Owen’s mind raced with “what if”s and he quickly shoved them aside after reaching out for a beer. He had spent the past few years obsessed with the idea of a woman who was perfect for him. His biggest mistake had been to try to convince himself that Cristina was that woman, when she’d done nothing but repeatedly prove to him that she was actually the complete opposite. And he only had himself to blame for that.

Going outside his trailer, Owen rejoiced in the chilly cold wind that made him feel alive, contrasting with the numbness that seemed to have taken over him for the past weeks.

Across the yard, a bright light shone in the living room of Meredith and Derek’s house. Looking over, Owen noticed that none of their cars were parked there and he wondered who could be in the house at that hour. But before he could dwell much on it, he saw Zola running across the living room while a young woman chased after her, clearly entertaing the little girl.

The image of his friends’ daughter smiling warmed his heart and Owen felt his chest constricting once again.  He wanted a family more than anything, more than all the awards in the world. He wanted not only kids, but a wife he could love without any reservation or second thoughts. Someone who would leave for work in the morning knowing that what mattered the most in life wasn’t what you had, but whom you had. A woman who would warm his heart and his bed, who could challenge him to be better, someone he could grow with.

But maybe a failed marriage was all he was ever going to get.

His self-deprecating thoughts were distracted by the scene playing out in front of him. Being busy surgeons, Meredith and Derek often had babysitters over, most of them college students who looked to make some extra money between classes by watching after Zola and Bailey. Every now and then when he came home from work, Owen would distractedly catch a glimpse of some of them, reading their college books after putting the kids to bed or even taking them out to play during the day on weekends.

That particular one must be new, Owen thought.  He was pretty sure he had never seen her around before. Through the window, the surgeon watched with attention as the young woman playfully attacked Bailey’s belly with kisses. Even though he couldn’t hear them, Owen noticed by the pleased expression on the baby’s face that the boy was giggling with sheer happiness. And the woman looked just as pleased to have caused it.

At that moment, Owen envied her. That young babysitter would probably live her own experiences, maybe someday even have kids of her own. She looked like she still had an entire life ahead of her, enough time to make mistakes and learn from them. Judging by her easy manners around the children, he imagined it was very likely she would turn out to be an affectionate mother. And whoever got to join her on that parenting adventure would probably be a very lucky man.

Realizing he was one step away from feeling sorry from himself, Owen quickly shook his head and finished his beer with one long gulp. Truth was, he had no idea. He couldn’t possibly decide on what would make a complete stranger happy based only on what would make him happy. He’d tried that once and failed miserably.

But the more he told himself to go back inside and stop eagerly watching the woman interact with the kids, the less inclined he felt to do it.

His eyes thoroughly scanned the figure of the unknown babysitter, noticing her ivory skin fiercely contrasting with the dark shorts she had on, so small that they exposed her long, shapely legs, leaving very little for imagination. From a distance, Owen couldn’t quite tell the color of her eyes but she had an intoxicating smile and for a second, he felt mesmerized as she happily laughed at something one the kids had said. And as she once again lifted the baby high in her arms to tickle his belly with playful bites, one stretch of skin became visible under her shirt, revealing a slim waist that seemed perfectly designed to accommodate the touch of a man’s hands.

When Owen finally realized the direction his thoughts were taking, he quickly forced himself to stop. What the hell was wrong with him?! Lusting after a twenty something innocent college student, who was just doing her job was very much beneath him, or so he’d thought. Disappointed at himself, Owen threw the beer bottle in the trash with violence and immediately served himself with another.

The trauma surgeon knew that a lot of the guys at the hospital had the disgusting habit of preying after young medicine graduates but he had never quite understood the satisfaction in that. Of course he was a man and his body reacted at visions such as the ones he’d just witnessed, but entirely physical experiences had never been his thing. He preferred grown women, especially those who could actually engage in conversations and challenge him rather than unexperienced, fresh off the diapers young girls.

Once again, Owen gazed through the window and this time he saw the barefoot babysitter gently accommodating Bailey on her arms, very close to her breasts. The boy immediately stopped fussing and seemed to calm down. The idea that maybe Owen felt drawn to that girl not only because of her attractive figure but also due to her maternal and affectionate manners popped in his mind and he quickly rejected it.

What was he thinking? He definitely wasn’t drunk enough.

Reaching out for the third beer of the night, Owen told himself he had to stop watching that complete stranger but couldn’t. As his eyes registered her every graceful move, he slowly emptied the bottle, little by little numbing the pain that ached inside his heart, hoping to avoid all the mourning he had ahead of him. For now, thinking that he might never get what his soul deeply yearned for hurt too much. So it was more convenient to focus on the outside as a distraction.

Making up his mind to drink as many beers as it took to make him forget all about his ex-wife, his broken dreams and their lost promises, Owen studied the lively, smiley young woman who’d put a baby to sleep with absolutely no effort. He kept staring, wondering what kind of life she would have ahead of her. Did she want kids? A career? What kind of fire burned deep inside her, late at night? Had she planned anything at all for herself? But deep down, Owen knew it really didn’t matter. One thing he had learned the hard way was that life had its own way of happening and moving on regardless of any plans or careful thinking.

One bottle followed another and before it was ten in the evening, six of them had piled outside the trailer. The lights in the living room were turned off after the babysitter had probably taken the kids to bed. Only then Owen finally convinced himself to go back inside for the night, determined to forget everything about that day.

And as he lay on the bed, almost immediately falling asleep, Owen wondered if one day he would ever get what his heart desired the most, completely oblivious to the fact that the woman he’d just spent the past hour admiring through a window would one day soon turn out to be the love of his life and mother of his children.

 -------