#down a rabbit hole again clearly

[harry-sussex]

.

[bellaaldamas]

Fandom: spouts all kinds of misogyny, racism, ableism and canon twisting around.

Fandom "progressives": make the women who enjoy shipping the ultimate problem (just like romance content in general is the "problem" and a "threat" to pseud-intellectual culture where male power fantasies that media rests upon are celebrated whilst women fantasies are still labeled as "shallow", "chick lit", etc). But attribute the shipping culture exclusively to misogynistic men.

[whatsagirltoblogabout]

I literally based my minecraft skin on one of my favourite Sara Lance outfits from Legends of Tomorrow

[sun-undone]

just finished CRYING over edits of this man!! what the fuck!!!!

Man changed by the end of the season, but deep down he’s still the same dork and I love it. Although comparing these photos side by side is a bit sad because you can really see his physical and mental decline :(

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

fuck I ran out of space in the tags so now I’m writing up here.

anyway. poem about the feeling of loss that comes with not being able to reminisce about a person, place, or relationship because no one left in your life shares those memories, and sharing it with someone new just isn’t the same.

putting ‘ personal ’ up here in hopes i can find this post again since it won’t fit in the tags

[pin-k-ink]

WORTH THE WAIT⋆✦⋆ hinata shoyo

synopsis ➸ back in high school, hinata couldn’t muster the courage to confess to you. but after a few years in brazil, he’s come back ready to get what he wants—and this time, he’s not shy about it

tags ➸ implied mutual pining, male masturbation, dirty talking, nipple play, exhibitionism but nobody sees anything, dry humping, implied virginity loss, unprotected sex, fingering, hair pulling, praise kink, squirting, thigh riding

wc ➸ 7.2k

note ➸ did i do it right @4unnyr0se

Hinata felt his heart stutter the instant his gaze landed on you seated next to Tadashi in the arena stands. An almost overwhelming rush of nostalgia washed over him, dredging up vivid memories of countless stolen glances and flustered interactions with you throughout high school.

Back then, he could barely string a coherent sentence together without feeling flustered if you so much as smiled in his direction. Even hearing your bright laughter echoing through the gym had a way of completely short-circuiting his brain and reducing him to a useless puddle of disaster.

But now? Now Hinata's reaction took an entirely different form as he shamelessly drank in the sight of you. His eyes roamed hungrily over the soft curves accentuated by your outfit, mouth going dry as he committed every detail to searing memory. Just the mere suggestion of those legs currently concealed beneath fabric of your dress made something hot and molten unfurl in the pit of his stomach.

Swallowing hard, Hinata forcibly dragged his gaze upwards before he could descend too far down that particular rabbit hole of temptation. Only to find himself utterly transfixed by the slightly stunned yet undeniably intrigued look shining back at him from your wide eyes.

You didn't look away or shrink beneath his blatant perusal. No, you held his heated stare steadily, lips parting around the faintest of shaky exhales that made Hinata's mouth water hungrily in response.

Of course you would react this way, all confused but undeniably curious about the changes written across his body after so long apart. He couldn't exactly blame you—not when he still had vivid memories seared into his brain of you stretched out in various states of undress during so many of their video calls, completely unaware of just how utterly you drove him to distraction.

Like that one time in Brazil when you'd insisted on catching up immediately after waking up, still soft and rumpled from slumber. He could still picture every tiny yawn and sleep-warm murmur so clearly, chest constricting as your oversized tee dipped lower on one smooth shoulder with each shift, nipples pressed against the thin fabric.

Back then he'd nearly combusted on the spot, reduced to nothing but a stammering mess again as pink patches of heat began trailing hotly up his neck, cheeks burning as his gaze hungrily traced the vee of skin exposed between those fluttering sheets. He'd spent the entire video call fantasizing about sliding past the thin barrier of cotton, allowing his starved hands to roam your sleep-warmed curves in a sizzling glide...

And the entire time, you'd been utterly oblivious to the effect you were having on him with each tiny, intimate gesture. Just blissfully unaware of the lust coiling hot and heavy in Hinata's abdomen as he fought with everything in him not to lose control over the suggestive feast currently parading across his screen.

It was only when you sleepily tugged the collar aside again, breath hitching on a whine of annoyance that exposed even more of that soft, unblemished swell for his hungry gaze, that Hinata finally broke. He'd choked out a strangled excuse about losing signal before fumbling off-screen, your bemused voice echoing through his throbbing skull as he frantically grappled with the painfully hard cock already straining against his sweats.

Even thousands of miles away, you'd had that sort of effortless power over him. An almost cruel ability to drive him to the brink of feverish desperation without even trying, until he burned through his self-control and surrendered to rutting into his own fist with broken moans slipping past his gritted teeth.

And now, here you were again—finally within reach after so long spent being tormented only by memories and his own wandering hands. Hinata's entire body felt like it was burning up from the inside out as he drank you in properly for the first time in ages, utterly powerless before your presence once more.

He needed to get a grip on himself before things spiraled completely out of control here in public. But between the sight of you staring back at him with similarly ravenous interest—as if you could sense the depraved hunger draping over his every thought—Hinata didn't know if he stood a chance in hell.

"Shoyo?" you breathed out at last, sounding just as dazed and stunned as he felt right now. "You...you look so..."

'So different', he could practically hear the unspoken end to your observation hanging in the air. Hinata swallowed thickly, hands flexing compulsively at his sides as if to restrain the part of him aching to reach out and finally get his hands on you at long last.

"Yeah, you could say that," Hinata rumbled out in response, feeling his throat tighten as you continued drinking in his new physique with open appreciation.

Only you didn't seem to realize just how molten your innocent once-over was making his stare in return. The way your gaze trailed over the contours of his arms and chest - mapping every ridge and shift with rapt interest - it was like you were completely oblivious to how your simple perusal alone had heat unfurling in his lower belly already.

"Wow Shoyo, I can't believe how...built you got!" you exclaimed with that same vibrant, sunny enthusiasm he remembered so vividly.

Hinata swallowed hard, forcibly dragging his own lingering stare away from the gentle swell of your breasts straining against your top. He really needed to get a grip before this quickly spiraled out of control. The scorching temptation to crowd into your personal bubble and yank you flush against his body—letting you feel the evidence of his reaction first hand—nearly overwhelmed his strained control.

"Guess all that training down in Brazil really paid off in more ways than one," Tadashi interjected with a pointed look that clearly said 'back off' loud and clear.

Leave it to your brother to play chaperone without even realizing it. Hinata shot him a grateful nod, refocusing on maintaining an outward veneer of friendly casualness even as indecent temptation blazed through his thoughts.

"Yeah for sure, the weather alone was no joke," he managed in response, scratching the back of his neck absently. "Pretty sure half my gains just came from lugging beach equipment around all day in that type of heat."

You giggled at that, leaning forward with your chin resting on one palm as you studied him intently - completely missing the way Hinata's chest expanded on a sharp inhale. This close, he could almost taste the light floral notes of your shampoo intermingling with that intoxicating natural musk he'd fantasized about nuzzling between so many times...

"Well either way, it looks good on you Shoyo," you hummed, causing his stomach to swoop dangerously. "Those poor Brazilian ladies must have been fainting all over the place thanks to these muscles."

You reached out as if to teasingly prod at his bicep, but Hinata aborted the contact at the last second on instinct - afraid of just how incendiary your innocent touch might actually feel after he'd spent countless nights fucking into his fist while imagining those same fingers wrapped around his aching cock already.

"Hah, well you know...gotta practice some restraint now and then," he deflected clumsily, ignoring the look Tadashi shot him at the obvious evasion.

Inside, however, Hinata could already feel himself steadily unraveling just from this relatively tame interaction. The fantasies he'd nurtured and refined over his years in Brazil were swiftly taking on feverish new life thanks to your close proximity and utter obliviousness to them.

How many times during those long, aching nights in his tiny apartment had he imagined wrapping your lush curves around him just like this? Grinding himself against your body with broken groans while chasing after the slick, velvety cunt he'd been cruelly denied for years on end now?

God, you had no idea how desperately he craved the sensation of sinking into your softness until his hips were nestled snugly against your ass, until he could finally bury his face into that sensitive spot on your neck and inhale deeply as your cunt clenched around him so tightly...

"Hinata? You okay there?" Tadashi's knowing look pierced straight through his reverie, instantly dousing Hinata's rapidly spiraling thoughts in a frigid dose of reality.

He blinked rapidly as you waved a hand in front of his face, looking equal parts amused and concerned by his sudden hazy distraction. Right, he really needed to rein this runaway lust in before it became far too obvious to you both—especially while surrounded by crowds like this.

"I'm great, just got a little spaced out there for a second!" Hinata reassured you with what he hoped was a disarming grin. "No need to worry about little old me though. I should probably, um, head back and get changed for the game soon before the coaches come hunting."

Yet even as he tried to take a polite step back, Hinata felt his resolve crumbling beneath your warm, expectant stare again. Before he could retreat entirely, his gaze dipped down to trace the gentle flare of your hips beneath the cinched fabric there. He swallowed hard while envisioning settling his palms against those tantalizing curves, tugging you forward until—

"Right, right of course!" Your bright voice thankfully pierced through his heated trance, finally allowing Hinata some semblance of reprieve. "We'll be cheering loud for you out there, so go get 'em!"

You beamed up at him beautifully, so sweetly unaware of the scorching extent he wanted to make you cheer for him behind closed doors later. Behind the innocent encouragement, however, Hinata detected the faintest flicker of the same fiery tenacity that had first drawn his obsessive attentions years before.

A silent promise that when you inevitably saw through the paper-thin barriers he currently hid behind, you would confront those long-suppressed temptations roaring between your forms with the same headstrong intensity you approached everything else in life.

And God, did the mere implication of having all that vibrant passion channeled solely towards him in the throes of writhing rapture nearly make Hinata's knees buckle completely.

"Y-Yeah," he rasped out with visible effort, fighting to regain some semblance of composure. "I should...I'll see you both after?"

The unspoken yearning dripping from those words hung heavy between your bodies like a tangible Siren's call. You simply nodded reflexively, seemingly unaware of the delirious fantasies blazing behind Hinata's burning stare now. He turned on wobbling legs and forced himself to retreat before losing the battle entirely.

Only once he was safely out of your line of sight did Hinata finally allow one trembling exhale to slip free, entire body quaking with unsated need. He could no longer deny just how badly you unknowingly affected him down to his very core. The years of separation and growth had only stoked those kindling flames into an insatiable furnace crying out for your submission now.

Well, one way or another, Hinata refused to spend another sleepless night tormenting over fevered fantasies that would forever remain a tragic fantasy. Not when the breathtaking reality of peeling you apart with his tongue and reclaiming every sweet inch of untapped paradise waited so deliciously within reach at last.

Now that the game was truly afoot between you both in earnest, he would stop at nothing to stoke your innocent curiosities into an all-consuming firestorm of mutual rapture blazing properly at long, long last.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Hinata's teammates swarmed him in raucous celebration after their hard-fought victory. Bokuto's boisterous voice could be heard bellowing something about a "banger of a post-win rager" while good-natured slaps and jeers echoed off the walls.

Normally, Hinata would have been right in the thick of the chaos - feeding off the infectious energy and hollering along with the best of them. Tonight, however, all that background noise barely even registered past the singular focus currently demanding every iota of his undivided attentions.

Because there you were across the bustling floor, radiant smile shining brighter than the overhead stadium lights as you chatted animatedly with Tadashi. Hinata swallowed hard, unable to tear his molten stare away as you tossed your head back in unbridled laughter at something your twin said - the column of your throat completely on display and begging for the torrid worship of his mouth.

His lashes fluttered momentarily as Hinata allowed himself to fully envision crowding into your space, caging you against his solid frame as you stared up at him in breathless bewilderment. He could practically taste the dizzying cocktail of your floral shampoo and rapidly spiking arousal intermingling as his rough palms ghosted over the feminine flare of your hips possessively.

"Such a good girl for me tonight," Hinata would rumble in a rasping growl that would make you shudder. "Cheering me on so sweetly... you deserve a reward now, don’t you kitten?"

He would dip in close enough for his lips to brush against the feverish pulse in your throat as you swallowed convulsively at his bold suggestion. Hinata could almost feel the delicate shiver wracking your frame as those innocent, expressive eyes darkened with dawning temptation right before he claimed your parted mouth in a searing kiss.

Only the graze of a heavy palm against his shoulder snapped Hinata out of that delirious trance. His head whipped around to find Atsumu crowding into his space with a cocky smirk that immediately put him on edge.

"So hey Sho-kun," the blond purred in a voice like dark silk. "Looks like you already got plans for celebrating that big win judging by how you're eye-fucking Yamaguchi's sister over there."

Hinata tensed, digging deep to remain outwardly unfazed in the face of such blatantly provocative teasing. But a small, traitorous part of him couldn't deny the undercurrent of hot, thrilling validation thrumming through Atsumu's words either.

Someone else had clearly noticed the heated gazes and molten tension sizzling between your forms now. And rather than mock or judge, Atsumu seemed to practically savor Hinata's quiet infatuation in rare approval.

"Not sure what you're on about," he grumbled out gruffly, maintaining a carefully curated mask of nonchalance for appearances. "Pretty sure that's just what people look like when they're happy for their friend's success on the court."

Even as he deflected, Hinata's eyes tracked the graceful sweep of your body as you pivoted on your heel, only to find your bright gaze directed right back towards him now. The universe itself seemed to narrow down to just your smoldering forms alone as every fractured second ground to a halt between each shared inhale.

God, you had no idea just how much you tempted complete madness with those guileless eyes and softly parted lips currently burning into him from across the arena. Hinata felt himself beginning to slowly unspool the longer you held his molten stare hostage effortlessly.

Whether you realized it or not, you were rapidly fueling the fever pitch of his determination to ruin you properly before the night's end stretched on any longer. Years of quietly molded fantasies and memories culminated into this blazing inertia demanding action before it consumed every last rational fiber of his being utterly.

"She's looking this way, right at you man," Atsumu murmured in a honeyed timbre beside him, sounding alarmingly similar to the sinful voice of temptation itself now. "Don't you think it's about time to stop all this creeping around and find out if she really does have the hots for ya?"

Hinata rumbled low in his chest, more sensations than coherent words contained in the resonance vibrating across his tensed shoulders. That flame Atsumu had so accurately identified was rapidly becoming an inferno, stoking his lust higher with every passing second that your twin gazes remained tangled amidst the celebration unfolding without a single care for propriety.

He could practically see the searing outline burned into your guileless depths in that instant - the imprints of what sculpted shoulders and ridges he might unknowingly awaken your first breathless, shameless stirrings over more clearly. And the thought of defiling that remaining innocence forever with unchecked passion was nearly enough to make his restraint snap entirely.

"Shoyo! Get your ass over here already, celebratory shots time!"

Bokuto's booming voice shattered the fevered tension at last as Hinata reluctantly tore his focus away from your magnetic orbit. But not before shooting you one final smoldering look heavy with dark promise.

Beside him, Atsumu chuckled with deeply layered appreciation at the loaded exchange passing between your forms without another word necessary. Hinata responded with a subtle, predatory smirk that clearly conveyed his intent to revel in that unspoken rapport with you unrepentantly moving forward.

"Sounds fun and all, but I've got my eyes on a different kind of celebration at the moment," he murmured with thinly-veiled purpose.

Then, with each rolling step carrying fresh inertia towards your glowing silhouette lingering nearby, Hinata allowed the last crumbling shreds of hesitation to dissolve into anticipatory heat. His cock was already achingly stiff against the unforgiving fabric of his shorts by the time he reached your side - so utterly enthralled by your presence it bordered on rapturous fever.

Outwardly, he maintained a careful veneer of casual nonchalance even as his ember irises scorched over every tempting contour presently filling his peripherals. Up close once more, Hinata could smell the crisp, clean tang of citrus and jasmine radiating off your warm skin - a heady, intoxicating cocktail of purity and hidden feminine heat that made his palms itch with the overwhelming need to touch you.

"Hey sis, you about ready to—?" Tadashi started, only to freeze at the abrupt weight of Hinata's relentless stare pinning him in place.

To his endless credit, your twin didn't immediately bristle or snap into defensive mode despite certainly sensing the banked fires raging beneath Hinata's stoic mask at that moment. No, Tadashi simply studied him for several prolonged heartbeats with uncanny calculation filtering behind his eyes. Then, drawing himself upright, he cleared his throat and fixed Hinata with a long, weighted look.

"Well, I'll just leave you two to catch up then," he murmured with pointed emphasis, bestowing his trust onto Hinata's shoulders with that single declaration of space.

Hinata appreciated the courtesy and read between the lines readily. Tadashi might suspect his real motives were not nearly so benign any longer, but was withholding final judgment one way or another based on how Hinata chose to conduct himself next.

With a subtle nod of acknowledgment, Hinata turned the full force of his focus back to where you remained innocently oblivious to the battle of wills flickering between both men. God, the lack of guile currently shining in your beaming features sent fresh lances of protective fervency singing through his veins amidst the hunger.

"You were amazing out there tonight, Shoyo," you praised without reservation, smile stretching radiant and warm in a way that left him breathless all over again. "That cross-spike in the third set was seriously amazing!"

"Thanks, I worked really hard on perfecting that setup," Hinata rumbled out in a voice gone to velvet gravel that made your pupils blow fractionally wider despite your naive enthusiasm.

He drank in the subtle shiver that wracked your frame, satisfaction curling hot in his gut. Clearly while years of fantasizing had in no way prepared Hinata for reintroducing the untempered rasp of blatant desire into your dynamic, it had the intended effect all the same.

Unable to resist further, he took a prowling step into your orbit - delighting in the way your breath hitched when his solid chest brushed yours. His callused fingers itched to splay over the bare skin of your waist, desperate to feel the rapid fluttering of your pulse against his rough palms properly.

"Although I have to admit..." Hinata continued, trailing off to allow his heated amber stare to rove over you in an indolent sweep. "What really pushed me through those grueling sets tonight was the thought of having you splayed out on my bedsheets later, kitten..."

The blatant crudity of his words had your jaw dropping in a wordless 'o' of shock, though Hinata couldn't help but savor the glazed glimmer of temptation momentarily unfurling behind your innocent irises. He craved to chase that forbidden spark until it transformed into an inferno of shameless yearning matching his own finally.

"Wh—Shoyo!" you stammered out breathlessly, shrinking back instinctively as heat rushed to stain your cheeks in a delicious blush. "Where is all this even coming from all of a sudden?"

He flashed you that crooked, predatory smirk you'd never seen grace his features previously - the one that promised each unholy revelation to come was but a mere crumb trailing toward the true raptures he planned to show you soon enough. Hinata braced one broad forearm against the wall beside your head, effectively caging you into his solid frame as his mouth ghosted dangerously close enough to sow the first seeds of sweet ruin onto your parted lips.

"Don't act so scandalized, princess," the rumbling growl thrummed between your shared breaths in a seductive caress. "You and I both know you've been perched on that razor's edge of temptation every time your pretty eyes roved over my body earlier too...imagining how different things finally feel compared to everything fading memory lets you fantasize over at night alone, hmm?"

You shuddered bodily at the deliciously lurid insinuation, the mere suggestion of such forbidden knowledge rendering you momentarily mute despite his blunt provocations. Hinata savored each stunned flutter of those long lashes adoringly, already anticipating the euphoric gasps and mewls he'd soon elicit from that sweet mouth as he thoroughly unraveled your remaining innocence inch by molten inch.

"Shoyo..." you tried to interject, though the plea emerged strained and hoarse - undercut by the delirious curl of desire already blossoming between your thighs from his mere proximity alone.

"Shhh...it's okay," he hushed in a low purr that vibrated through your entire frame. "I've got you now, kitten...no more dancing around everything this fire between us has been simmering towards since the very beginning."

Hinata punctuated the declaration by nuzzling his sharp nose along the sensitive column of your throat, inhaling your floral musk like the sweetest opiate as he blazed a path towards the hollow of your ear with languid, open-mouthed worship.

"Don't worry, baby...you'll be whimpering out every filthy little fantasy you've been too ashamed to indulge properly soon enough," he rasped in dark promise against your shuddering form. "I'll ruin you in the most obscene and delicious ways imaginable until you come apart completely from my cock—"

"Shoyo!"

Your sharp cry finally snapped him out of that feverish spiral, though Hinata refused to withdraw from the intimate sprawl of your twined bodies entirely yet. Not when your pupils had already blown wide through the exquisite conflict of self-consciousness and kindling arousal set aflame between your forms at long last.

He studied you carefully for several heartbeats, relishing the sight of your chest flushing a rosy hue. You looked utterly debauched despite his relatively tame provocations so far—almost as though faint impressions of your sordid imaginings were already searing themselves across your lovely canvas for him to marvel over properly.

"Sorry, got a little carried away there, I guess," he breathed out in a gravelly rumble that had you quivering anew. "You just have no idea what it does to me seeing you so sweet and unraveled like this for once."

When you didn't immediately respond beyond a shaky inhale, Hinata pressed forward—quite literally, as he angled your conjoined bodies into an even more intimate press that trapped his rapidly swelling cock between your trembling thighs in delicious promise.

"You want to know exactly where all this is coming from, baby girl?" he husked out in a velvety baritone ghosting between your quivering lips once more. "Well, why don't you come back to my place and let me show you in the ways I've been dreaming about you for years now?"

He punctuated the depraved offer with a slow, sinuous roll of his hips that made your eyes flutter and breath hitch with unbridled shock.

"O-Oh! I, um..." You stammered breathlessly, those soulful eyes darting between his heated stare and the insistent ridge grinding up against your clothed heat. "Well your place...that sounds fun, I guess! I'd love to hear more about the game from you, you know—"

Fuck, your endearing obliviousness almost made him groan in helpless rapture right then and there. Perhaps the written invitation had been far too subtle for your innocent sensibilities to pick up on properly. This called for a more forceful approach...one that would leave no uncertainty regarding his deliciously heated intentions after you were behind closed doors together finally.

So in one fluid surge of masculine aggression, Hinata allowed his dominant arm to snake around your waist fully, hoisting you up and flush against his rock-solid frame without warning. He swallowed your adorable gasp of surprise with a molten growl, relishing the way your palms splayed out across his chest reflexively as you instinctively anchored your slight form to his much larger one.

"I'm going to fuck you senseless tonight, kitten," he grated out in low, feral promise against your parted lips, already pivoting to make for the nearest exit. "Going to make you come apart for me over and over until this sweet little body of yours knows it belongs to nobody else but me from now until eternity..."

You whimpered beautifully at that crass vow, writhing unconsciously as his free hand palmed the generous curve of your asscheek in rough possession. Hinata felt his cock throb maddeningly in response, lust blazing white-hot as fantasy after fantasy spiraled closer to searing reality at long, aching last.

"Don't try fighting this anymore," he commanded in a molten rasp dripping temptation with each vowel. "I've only just begun to show you the true depths of my depravity...but if you're a good little girl, I'll give you everything you ever fantasized about and more before the sun rises tomorrow, baby..."

With that husked benediction still shivering through your very marrow, Hinata carried you both towards sweet, ruinous rapture awaiting in the distance without another flickering shred of restraint left to tame the inferno blazing between your tangled spirits at last.

You would be his utterly - shattered, debauched, reborn amidst the ashes of your innocence tonight and any nights beyond left to come afterwards. And Hinata already knew he would revel in every shattering, breathless unraveling until the boundaries separating your forms simply ceased to exist at all in the wake of such profound, profane communion.

As soon as Hinata opened the door to his apartment, you immediately brushed past him—drawn towards the stunning floor-to-ceiling windows spanning the far wall with stars in your eyes. He was instantly hypnotized by the sway of your hips and couldn't tear his heated gaze away. He watched hungrily as you pressed against the glass, enamored by the glittering cityscape before you.

"Pretty cool view, right?" he rumbled, slowly prowling up behind your petite frame. You startled when his chest pressed against your back, instantly surrounding you in his heady masculine presence.

"Y-Yeah, it's incredible," you stammered, heart fluttering against your ribcage. "You can see everything from up here."

"Can you now?" Hinata's voice dropped an octave, that suggestive lilt making you shiver. His calloused palms skated up your bare arms unhurriedly as he leaned down, hot breath fanning over the sensitive shell of your ear. "And just what exactly did you have in mind for enjoying those...premium sights, baby?"

You bit your lip to stifle a whimper as his nose trailed along your neck - undoubtedly scenting the arousal already trickling through your veins despite your best efforts. Hinata chuckled lowly when you failed to respond beyond shaky exhales.

"Don't get all shy on me now," he crooned, warm lips brushing your pulse point. "Pretty sure I've earned the right to be a little curious after spending years dreaming about having you just like this..."

Your breath hitched as Hinata's palms smoothed over your abdomen to splay possessively across your lower belly, fingertips grazing the waistband of your skirt in clear suggestion. He rutted his hips against the swell of your ass - allowing you to feel every thick inch of his cock grinding against you insistently.

"Well?" He prompted in that same velvet-rough timbre, clearly expecting a response this time. "How about giving me a preview of exactly what's gonna make you squirm and whimper when I finally get this cute little skirt off you, hmm?"

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry as the reality of Hinata's scorching attentions crashed over you in waves. His words were every bit as crude and demanding as the heated length now nudging against you with an undercurrent of commanding virility.

"I...I don't know what you—"

Hinata's hands squeezed your hips sharply, cutting off your rebuttal with a growl of displeasure that sent a frisson of need zinging straight to your core on instinct.

"None of that, kitten," he rumbled in rebuke against your hairline, strong arms like steel bands bracketing you into place. "You don't get to play innocent anymore - not when you've been teasing me without even realizing it for years now."

One of those large palms trailed upwards to palm your breast with gratifying possession, fingers toying with your pebbled nipple through the thin fabric in a way that made you gasp.

"That's it...just like that," Hinata groaned, sounding enraptured by your stunned vocalization. "God, you have no idea how bad I wanna hear you let it all out without holding back tonight. Been saving up those gorgeous little noises for me all along, haven't you, baby?"

Emboldened by your trembling silence and wide-eyed awe, Hinata spun you around to face him abruptly - pinning you against the cool glass with one of his thick thighs wedged between yours. The predatory intensity in his hooded stare left you dizzy as he caged you in with his powerful frame.

"Come on, princess...don't be shy," he murmured while rolling his hips in tantalizing emphasis, grinding his length against your abdomen in simmering promise. "Tell me exactly where you want me to start worshipping that sweet body with my hands and mouth first..."

He punctuated the lewd offer with a slow, sensual lap of his tongue along the column of your throat that had you gasping and bucking against him reflexively. You'd never seen this side of him before - this unabashed, dominant side that exuded a magnetic forcefield of pure, carnal energy.

"Sh-Shoyo," you pleaded in a breathy voice you barely recognized. "This is so embarrassing, I...I mean we've never even kissed and you're talking about—"

Your words died in a strangled moan as Hinata's mouth crashed into yours - devouring you in a hot, open-mouthed kiss that seared with unchecked hunger. His lips moved against yours insistently, coaxing your own into a messy tango of lips, tongues, and teeth as his hands skated down to grasp the back of your thighs, hiking you up onto his hips as though you weighed nothing.

"Mmph, fuck," he panted raggedly right before he latched onto your bottom lip with a lewd suck that left you both groaning. "Tastes so fucking good - I could spend the rest of my life kissing you like this and never get enough..."

The admission sent a delirious thrill of arousal coursing through you, leaving your skin tingling and blood humming with molten desire. Without thinking, you looped your arms around his broad shoulders to anchor yourself closer, grinding down on the thick erection jutting up against you shamelessly.

Hinata groaned against your mouth, rutting into the sweet friction your bodies were creating. You could feel how wet you were through the thin fabric of your panties, and judging from the way he was grinding against you like a man possessed, so did he.

"Fucking hell, kitten...you really want me to take you like this, don't you?" he husked, voice raw with lust. "Get rid of these fucking clothes and just fuck you right up against the window for the entire world to see how fucking needy you are for me?"

His filthy words left you panting and mewling, desperately clinging to him as he continued his ruthless assault on your senses. You didn't even care about the potential repercussions of being so exposed right now. All that mattered was the heat, the pleasure, and the way Shoyo was looking at you as though he wanted to eat you alive.

"I'm gonna give it to you just like that, baby...so good, so fucking deep and hard," Hinata growled, nipping at your neck with a hint of teeth. "Gonna show you what it feels like to get fucked within an inch of your life by the only man who'll ever get to see you come apart like this..."

His fingers were digging into your ass cheeks now, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he ground his cock against your dripping core. You were practically writhing against him, desperate for release but too lost in the moment to think about anything other than chasing the delicious friction between your bodies.

"Shoyo, please," you gasped, arching your back and grinding down harder against his thigh. You were so close, you could feel the pressure building, your body trembling with anticipation. "Please, I'm so close..."

Hinata's hand slipped between your legs, pressing against your throbbing clit through the thin fabric of your panties. His fingers rubbed slow, firm circles as his cock continued to grind against your thigh, and within seconds, you were teetering on the edge.

His forehead pressed against yours as he stared into your eyes, his expression a mixture of intense arousal and affection. "Let go, baby. I wanna see you come for me," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep inside you.

Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, washing over you in a white-hot rush of pleasure. Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth open in a silent cry as the sensation consumed you. You felt Hinata's lips press against yours in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as your body trembled and shuddered in his arms.

When you finally came down from your high, Hinata's arms were wrapped around you, holding you close and stroking your back. "That was so fucking hot, baby," he murmured, kissing your temple. "You don’t know how badly I wanted to touch you like that for so long now..."

Your face flushed as the realization of what just happened hit you. You'd never experienced anything like that before - so raw and primal, but also tender and intimate. "It was...I've never..." you stammered, too embarrassed to put your thoughts into words.

If possible, you watched as Hinata's eyes darken even further with lust, his grip on you tightening possessively. "Never?" he repeated, his voice low and rough as he began to nuzzle and kiss your neck. "Fuck, kitten...you mean nobody has ever touched you like that before?"

You shook your head, biting your lip as you avoided his heated gaze. But Hinata was having none of that, his hands gripping your jaw gently but firmly as he forced you to look at him. "Don't hide from me, princess," he murmured, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. "I wanna hear you say it. Say that I'm the first man to make you feel like this..."

You felt your body responding to his words, the desire coursing through your veins again, stronger than before. "Y-Yes," you whispered, unable to resist the urge to grind against him. "Only you, Shoyo."

The words were barely out of your mouth before he was kissing you again, his hands roaming over your body as he guided you back towards the window once more. You could feel his cock straining against his pants, pressing against your belly, and a small part of you was almost afraid of how big he felt.

But there was no turning back now - not when Hinata was growling and rutting against you like a wild animal, his hands already tearing at your clothes. You didn't protest, too caught up in the moment to think about anything other than getting him naked as quickly as possible.

Your skirt and top were tossed carelessly aside, followed by your bra and panties. You stood naked before him, a flush creeping up your neck and spreading across your chest as his hungry eyes roamed over your body. You felt your nipples harden, whether it was from the sheer intensity of his gaze or the cool glass behind you, you couldn't tell.

Hinata was breathing heavily now, his pupils blown wide as he drank in the sight of you. His hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, making you gasp and arch into his touch. "So pretty," he murmured, leaning in to kiss the valley between your breasts. "And all mine..."

Your head fell back against the glass as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue. You were already aching for him, desperate to feel him inside you. Your hands found his hair, threading through the soft strands as he lavished attention on your breasts, his hand sneaking down to slide between your thighs.

You gasped as his fingers parted your slick folds, circling your entrance teasingly. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a smirk playing on his lips as he eased one finger inside, making you moan softly. He set a steady pace, working you open slowly, his mouth still sucking and nibbling at your nipples.

"More," you whimpered, rolling your hips in time with his movements. "Please, Shoyo...I need more..."

He chuckled softly, adding another finger and pumping them faster. You could feel the heat building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter as his thumb rubbed against your clit. You were panting and writhing against him now, completely lost in the sensation.

Hinata pulled back suddenly, leaving you feeling empty and needy. But before you could protest, he was tugging his shirt off, tossing it to the side and then shoving his pants down. You sucked in a breath as his cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip absolutely glistening with precum.

His eyes met yours, dark and full of lust. "Turn around and bend over for me, baby," he growled, his voice sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. "I wanna fuck you from behind - wanna see your pretty little ass bounce as I pound into you."

You did as he asked, bracing yourself against the window as he pressed his cock against your entrance, rubbing the tip up and down your slit. You were already so wet, you could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. Hinata gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back onto his cock, hissing as the chubby tip slipped inside.

"Ah f-fuck," he grunted, hissing as your walls clenched around him, struggling to adjust to his size. "Taking me so well, baby..."

You moaned, trying to relax and let him sink deeper. You could feel every inch of him stretching and filling you, the burning stretch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Hinata bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass, and the sensation was indescribable.

Your elbows buckled and you dropped forward, cheek pressing against the cool glass as Hinata began to fuck you, slow and deep, each stroke driving him deeper. You could hear his labored breathing, feel his hands tightening on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he picked up the pace.

One of his hands slid up your spine before grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging back. "Fuck, look at you," he growled, his voice ragged with pleasure. "So fucking perfect, taking my cock so well...just like I knew you would, kitten."

The praise only heightened the pleasure coursing through you. You could feel your second orgasm building, and Hinata's relentless pounding wasn't helping. You were a moaning, panting mess, the window fogged with your breath, his fingers tangled in your hair and your breasts pressed flush against the glass.

"You think anyone can see us from down there, baby?" Hinata's voice was pure sin as he continued to thrust into you. "How does it feel knowing anyone who looks up can see just how fucking needy and desperate you are for me?"

The thought should have made you nervous, but all you could focus on was the pleasure, the way his cock was stretching and filling you so perfectly. You were practically drooling at the thought of him claiming you like this - right here, where anyone could see.

"Yes, yes, please, don't stop," you moaned, the pressure building higher and higher until you felt like you were going to explode. "Shoyo, I'm so close...please make me cum, please..."

Hinata's hips began to piston even faster, his cock slamming into you so hard you were sure there would be bruises later. He was grunting and growling, his grip on your hair almost painful as he pounded into you, his cock hitting all the right places. You could feel your climax approaching, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, your walls clenching around him as he chased his own release.

"That's it, baby...come for me," he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "Cum all over my cock, I wanna feel it..."

And just like that, you were tumbling over the edge, crying out as the pleasure washed over you. Your body shook and trembled, your walls fluttering and squeezing around him as you all but squirted, coating his cock in a flood of wetness. Hinata fucked you through your orgasm, his pace unrelenting, the slick sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room.

"F-fuck, kitten," he growled, his hips snapping against you, his cock hitting so deep it made you whimper. "I'm gonna cum, gonna fill you up...fuck!"

You could feel him twitching inside you, his movements becoming erratic and then suddenly he was burying himself deep, his cock pulsing as he came, painting your walls with hot spurts of his cum. He collapsed against you, his weight pushing you harder against the window, his breath hot against your neck.

For a few minutes, all you could do was catch your breath, your bodies still joined. But then you felt his large palms smooth over the underside of your knees, lifting them up and hooking them over his forearms, effectively trapping you between his body and the glass.

"Wait, what are you—oh my God," you moaned loudly, feeling his cock harden and swell inside you almost instantly. "Sh-Shoyo, w-wait a sec, I—"

"Can't," he interrupted in a guttural snarl, grinding his hips into yours as he began to slowly fuck his cum deeper inside you. "Need another, kitten. Need to feel you come on my cock one more time before we get cleaned up."

"O-one more??" you choked out, unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth. You were exhausted and still a little dazed, but the way he was thrusting into you was quickly reigniting the fire within your core.

"Mhmm," he hummed, nuzzling and kissing the crook of your neck and shoulder. "Just one more...then I'll stop."

It was a lie and you both knew it.

[maxlarens]

Hi ! As a pescatarian girly and as someone who has recently started to like Lando, I kept thinking about him with pescatarian!reader, because you know opposites attracts and also it made me think of the olive theory from 'How I met your mother', can be fic or smau

(also I'm the anon who requested the Charles fic and I was wondering if you gave names or emojis to your anons 🤔)

ahhh hi😇😇 thank u sm for sending another ask in. verrryy into this! ive never watched himym but i HAVE heard of the olive theory and genuinely think it can be so true. i also think like sharing food/giving certain parts of ur meal to ur partner is so sweet so i loved this a lot🥺🥺

also, tbh i have never had a consistent enough anon to name them/give them an emoji so i would loveee LOVE to do that🙏🏻 pls let me know what i should call u❤️ (and if anyone wants to be a regular/semi-regular anon and give themselves an emoji/name pls do!!!) ANYWAY alright i hope u enjoy— it’s a just a short ficlet 😌💖

LN: quid pro quo

pairing(s): lando norris x reader [read on ao3]

word count: 1.2k

“Eugh,” Lando says, feigning a gag as he looks at the plate of food set in front of you, “That’s disgusting. I don’t understand how you can put that in your mouth.”

Slowly, you raise an eyebrow at him, looking between your plate and Lando’s screwed-up expression; you point at your food, “Salmon? You think salmon is disgusting? Are you joking right now?”

He shakes his head fervently, a grimace still stuck on his face, “It’s gross.”

A laugh, loud and guffawing erupts from your mouth as you realise he’s being entirely serious. He’s fixated on your meal, frowning as if the fish has severely insulted him in some way. Quickly, you clap your hand over your mouth, concerned you’ll offend him if you keep laughing like that. This is one of a handful of dates you’ve been on together— clearly the first you’ve ordered seafood on— and you’re still trying to make a good impression on Lando.

“Wait,” you collect yourself, breathing deeply so you don’t fall into a fit of giggles again, “You’re not allergic are you?”

“No,” he shrugs, “I just hate fish. You’ve never heard that?”

You snort a little indelicately, already going back to eating your salmon, “‘You’ve never heard that?’,” you tease, “Do you think I stalk you on the internet, Norris?”

He grins that small sheepish grin you like so much as a light blush blooms on his cheeks. You’re very fond of him really. He’s cute in a scrappy kind of way; he’s funny and charming, a little bit dumb sometimes; and he’s into you, which is always a bonus. You’re not together— not quite— just seeing each other when you both have time, but it’s been going very nicely if you do say so yourself.

You like him.

He likes you.

Lando rolls his eyes, and purses his lips in an attempt not to let you see the smile that he’s trying to hide, “Don’t you? Stalk me on the internet?”

“Never,” you answer resolutely, thinking blatantly of that night after you’d first met him when you fell down a rabbit hole, spending a good hour watching thirst traps of him on Instagram before coming to your senses, “Not once.”

He hums, unconvinced, “Alright.”

Alright. You make a face, almost stick your tongue out at him but think better of it at the last second. He laughs— giggles— at you. You look away from him, down at your plate, trying to hide the smile that spreads and spreads behind your hair. God, you like him. You’re trying not to let it get away from you. You get the impression that he’s not huge on relationships, and you’re trying hard to be casual about him. It’s difficult— mostly because everything feels so easy when you’re together.

“So,” you start as you push a forkful of salmon and leafy greens around your plate, “Hate to break it to you, but I’m a pescetarian.”

“Um,” Lando asks around a mouthful of half-chewed food, “What’s that mean?”

You stifle a laugh, “Like a vegetarian, but I eat seafood.”

He swallows and makes another face, similar to the earlier one. You can see this is hard for him to process, he clearly dislikes seafood to a degree that you hadn’t quite understood until now. It’s funny. It’s another thing to add to the growing list of reasons you fancy Lando Norris. Though you would think that as a pescetarian you’d want him to like fish, but you suppose by not eating them he’s just saving all the sea animals that you’re not— quid pro quo.

“What about, like,” he waves his fork around, evidently still wondering why you’d eat seafood voluntarily, “just being a vegetarian?”

You shrug, “Vegetables are boring.”

“Right. Better than eating fish though.”

“I like fish.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t get it… It’s— they’re slimy and they smell and they��ve got fucking beady little eyes. It’s not natural.”

“Okay,” you laugh brightly at his despondent expression, “I do need to eat them, unfortunately. Otherwise, I’d probably die of malnutrition, or I dunno, scurvy.”

He groans, hanging his head so that all you can see of his face is that mop of brown curls. You think of your second date when you’d kissed him for the first time in your stairwell and how you’d threaded a hand into it— and they were soft and not heavy with product the way that you hate. The way he’d smelt like expensive cologne and tasted both smokey and sugary at the same time, just like the whiskey and cokes he’d been having at the bar. There’s a soft smile playing at your lips when he finally looks up.

“Does it bother you?” you ask, “That I eat fish.”

He shrugs, shakes his head in a non-committal way that could be either answer and does that little grin again. The one that means he’s going to say something that you’ll find either unbearably cute or embarrassingly funny.

“Yes,” he says, grin not subsiding, “How am I supposed to kiss you when you’ve got fish breath.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and a shocked laugh bubbles from your mouth, you try to ignore the stirring feeling in your gut at the words how am I supposed to kiss you in favour of responding to his lack of tact Try, being the keyword there. It somersaults in your head, how am I supposed to kiss you he said, like he was thinking of doing it again. Which, okay, of course, he’s thinking of doing it again. You understand what this is— but there was an unmistakable fondness there that you just can't shake.

Anyway, you push thoughts of kissing him aside, he’d still accused you of having fish breath, “Wow,” you say dryly, with no malice at all as much as you try to feign it, “You say that to all the girls?”

He blushes, his tan cheeks turning a very pleasant red as he properly realises what he’d said, “Shit. No— oh my god— I’m sorry. I just meant—”

You wave him off, laughing, “I know what you meant. You’re good, Lando.”

“Phew,” he lets out a breath of relief, his nervous laughter punctuating the air between you, without meaning to he says, “God, I thought I’d just fucked it.”

You furrow your brows and frown, confused, “No. You couldn’t.”

You watch him scrub a hand over his face, embarrassed, before it falls away and he gives you a sheepish little grin that says he’s happy to hear that. Toothy, eyes squinted and carving dimples into his cheeks. Your face feels warm and you smile back, biting your bottom lip on the smile so it doesn’t grow and grow to cover your whole face.

Later, after you’ve finished lunch and spent too much time talking over a too-sticky table in your favourite pub, Lando kisses you up against a tree in the park by your apartment. You put your hand in his soft curls and you smell cologne and taste what he’s been drinking as he presses his tongue into yours. The coarse hair of his moustache brushes against your lips and you kiss back with equal gusto. You pull away when it feels like you two are veering into too inappropriate territory for this public park. He chases you, but you laugh softly, pressing a perfunctory closed-mouth kiss to the corner of his mouth. He groans, laughs, and puts his forehead against yours.

You hum, “I guess my fish breath doesn’t bother you so much, huh.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You’re never going to let that go are you.”

You shake your head ever so slightly, “Not as long as I live, Norris.”

[tvntheatre]

Hey author, did you really have to punch me in the heart like that?

And do it again? And again? In fact, tore my soul apart by the seams.

Y'know what, just entirely incinerate me won'tcha?— annnd I'm outta tags. Aw dang it.

And JESUS the artwork for this, Gods./pos

A picture is a moment in time captured forever - A reminder of the key events in your life, preserved for eternity. As you gaze into the past, you might even feel like you can reach through the frame and pull those feelings, those events, those people back into the present.

Thanks to The Second Coming, this feeling becomes reality for Mango, giving him a second change he'd never thought possible. Together with Purple and his past self, he may be able to change fate and have his whole family together. Of course, things are never that easy. Especially when the sins of the past still hang heavy over his head.

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

With a single click, the moment was captured forever.

Mango’s kid, his shimmering Gold, grinned brightly at the lens from her spot on top of the podium, arms stretched up to triumphantly display her silver trophy. She’d been disappointed to have lost the final round of the tournament, of course, but the young stick had always rebounded quickly. She’d wiped her eyes, offered a handshake to the kindly Ruby kid who’d won, and accepted her place on the second highest podium with victorious pride.

The picture Mango took was glorious; not quite as precious as the real sight of his child’s accomplishment, but it would serve as a fond reminder. A window back on this precious day for years to come, even long after his child was grown and far from his side. A wistfulness grew in the tall stick’s chest at the thought. The day he’d be without his child was still a long ways away, but he knew he’d never be prepared for Gold’s inevitable departure from the nest and into the greater world. He couldn’t even begin to imagine a life without her.

“Woohoo!” The excited proclamation broke the older stick from his thoughts, looking down at his child just in time to see Gold kick open the front door of their abode. A broad, excited grin stretched from cheek to cheek across her face, illuminating the room like the little ray of sunshine she was. The trophy in her hands was thrust up into the air above her head as Gold continued to cheer, exclaiming wordlessly in her zealous excitement.

Mango took a moment to chuckle at his child’s antics before switching into dad mode to parent her out of this sudden hyperactive state, setting his camera aside for the moment to focus entirely on the present Gold. “Easy there, honey.” He gently scolded, taking the trophy into his own arms. It wasn’t particularly large, only about as long as Mango’s forearm, but it was more than heavy enough to break something if Gold got overexcited and began swinging it around. “Let’s put this somewhere we can show it off, eh?”

As he spoke, Mango hoisted the trophy onto the nearby bookshelf, where the sunlight from the window caused the metal to sparkle. It stood tall and proud, glittering silver standing out against the more earthy tones of their living room.

“Okay, okay!” The young stick agreed, a bubbly laugh mixed in with her words. She bounced on her heels as she gazed up at the silver trophy. “But I’m not stopping here! Next tournament’s in six months, and this time-” Her first pumped excitedly in the air, “-Gold’s going for the gold! You’re gonna be so proud!”

“I’m already proud!” Mango insisted joyfully, delighting in Gold’s squeal as he scooped his kid into a firm embrace and spun them around, “You worked so hard for this, I’d be proud even if you got last place!”

Gold’s only response to Mango’s praise was to continue to laugh, pretending to struggle in his hold while reveling in the twirling motions. He brought them down slowly, gently, only releasing her when her feet touched the ground. She bolted from his hold as soon as she could, little firecracker that she was. How Gold could still have so much energy after a fifteen-round tournament was beyond Mango’s comprehension. Just watching that final round had made Mango tired.

But still, he kept his chin up as he informed the younger stick, “After all that hard work today, I think it’s only fair that I let you choose dinner tonight. You can have anything you want-”

“Secret ingredient pie!” Gold cheered, throwing her arms up in celebration.

Mango frowned, annoyed for more reasons than that he’d have to throw together the family-famous, overly complicated secret ingredient pie. “-Anything you want that’s an actual dinner food.” He amended. “I’ll make the pie for dessert later, but you need to eat real food too, honey.”

“Aww.” Gold groaned, momentarily put out, before springing right back up. “Tacos, then?”

“Tacos sound good.” Agreed Mango, already compiling a list of ingredients in his head. “I’ll need to grab a few things from the store, but that shouldn’t take too long-”

“Wait!”

Mango had not taken but three steps towards the door when his child’s call caused him to spin around. She barreled towards him, the discarded camera clutched in her hands, and her skid to a stop came a few seconds too late, resulting in Mango having to reach out and steady her before she bowled him over. Gold didn’t miss a beat, immediately hopping back and holding out the camera for her father to take.

“We gotta take one more picture!” The younger stick insisted, “You took like a million pictures of me at the tournament, but we don’t have any of us together!”

Taking the camera, Mango briefly flicked through the photos and found that Gold was right: though he had taken plenty of her preparing for the tournament, at least one from each match, and had those perfect, precious shots of Gold’s triumphant smile at the podiums, there were none of the two together. Of course there weren’t. This was Gold’s special moment, Gold’s time to shine, and the fact that her only complaint of the day (besides no pie for dinner, which was just typical kid nonsense) was that her dad wasn’t sharing in this victory with her was… just so Gold.

How a stick like him ended up with a kid like her he’d never know.

“So we don’t!” Mango agreed lightheartedly, playfully tussling the kid’s hair. “Go get your trophy, we’ll take one real quick before I head out.”

While she did just that, Mango took the time to adjust the settings on the camera so the indoor photos wouldn’t be too dark to see. Mango heard her thundering footsteps approach before he was ready to look up. Gold, the little rascal that she was, pressed the cold metal of her trophy into the side of Mango’s face as she whined at him to hurry it up. Mango chuckled at her, chiding her gently even as he obeyed her request.

His arm outstretched to put some space between them and the camera, Mango alerted his child he was ready with a simple, “Say cheese!”

Trophy held high above her head, Gold cheekily replied, “Mascarpone!”

A click, a flash, and the moment was captured forever.

Gold snatched the camera out of Mango’s hand before he could move it back, trophy quickly discarded on the ground, and the older stick could only shake his head in response to her overeager antics. Her bright smile shined brilliantly as she gazed down at the photo, but in the span of a few seconds it grew duller and duller, until her smile transformed into a confused frown and her eyes reflected apprehension.

As a father, Mango was well aware that he had a weakness for his child’s frown. Logically he knew that he couldn’t just magically make everything in her life all sunshine and rainbows all the time. That just wasn’t realistic. But knowing this didn’t stop the curdling in his stomach at the thought that something in her life just wasn’t perfect, or the urge to fix it, no matter what it took.

“Honey?” He asked gently, “What’s the matter? Did the photo not come out right?” He leaned over her shoulder to take a look himself.

Gold didn’t resist, tilting the camera so her father could see the picture. “There’s something else in the background. I thought it might be a smudge, but… it has eyes…”

Mango didn’t need his child to point out the problem with the picture – he could easily see it for himself. At first glance it did indeed look like a bit of grime had gotten on the camera’s lens, but a closer look indicated that this wasn’t the case. The top of the figure looked like a stick, with a hollowed out head and brilliant emerald eyes, but the bottom half was more distorted, like a number of monstrous limbs sprouting out from their body in distorted blobs of flesh. Locking eyes with the figure caused Mango’s entire body to stiffen.

It was like it was… staring at him through the camera.

Unease stole the breath from Mango’s lungs, leaving him unable to vocalize his confusion. There was nothing like that… thing in their home. He was certain there wasn’t, even before he whipped his head around to stare at the spot in their kitchen where the figure would have been. Of course there was nothing there, just the scratched up kitchen table standing where it always did.

Now Mango’s expression matched his child’s confusion, “What is that-?

A strange noise, like the distorted buzzing of television static, drew the tall stick’s attention back to the photo. Mango’s breath stilled again, for an entirely different reason this time. The figure had moved. Its arm was stretched out towards them, hand open as if inviting the two sticks to take it, to pull them into that picturesque world with it and remain in that moment of time.

A chill ran down Mango’s spine. “Delete the picture. Now.”

The sudden command – or maybe the unnaturally stern tone in which it fell from Mango’s lips – caused Gold to jump, briefly fumbling with the camera as her little fingers search desperately for the delete button. When Mango’s eyes connected again with the picture, he could feel his heart stop as the ghostly image’s eyes seemed to glow brighter, its hand extending to grab rather than invite. Gold’s fingers found the delete button, but one tap did nothing. The second tap did nothing. Third, fourth, fifth… Gold mashed the button repeatedly, but the picture remained, the figure remained, the emerald illumination of its eyes growing brighter and brighter, closer and closer-

“It’s not working!” Gold’s obvious panic jolted Mango’s brain back into place and jump-started his fight-or-flight instinct. He snatched the camera out of her hand, noting how the glow of those eyes seemed to have reached the other side of the camera’s screen, threatening to melt through the frozen image and into reality. The only thing Mango could think to do was hurl the camera as far as he could and put himself between that ghoul and his kid, holding her close so that every inch of her was protected from the green light that had finally broken free of its glass prison. The emerald beam engulfed them both, expanding to completely swallow the father-child duo without even a second for them to move out of its way.

Then, in a flash, the green light vanished. All that remained of the Ochre family was a camera, cracked and abandoned on the floor of their small home.

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

“-And we’ll finish this off with some fresh basil on top. Then, voila! The perfect lasagna!” Mango concluded, sprinkling the green leaves atop the lasagna with a touch of dramatic flair. Purple, predictably, was enraptured by the showmanship, their eyes alight with enchantment as they clung to his every word. It was always like this with them, though – whether it be cooking or fishing or whatever hobby of the week Purple had picked up, the kid would drag him through all of it with those same warm eyes, like the ‘Old Man’, as they oh so affectionately called him, could do no wrong. It melted Mango’s heart, and he’d often wonder if Purple was doing this to him on purpose.

He wasn’t the same stick he’d been on the day he’d lost his child, and he’d never be again, but slowly, surely, Purple was helping Mango grow into somebody new. That was a debt he’d never be able to repay.

Purple hummed over the meal, inspecting it exaggerated scrutiny. “Not bad, not bad…” They agreed, nodding in approval, “But it’s missing a little something…”

“Oh?” Mango cocked a brow at the younger stick. Knowing Purple, this could be a pleasant surprise worthy of a Michelin star restaurant, or the grossest thing he’d ever put in his mouth. Never in his life did Mango think he’d become a gambling man, and yet, here he was.

“Yeah, I think it could use a little…” Purple quickly whipped a white bottle from behind their back. A wild grin spread across their face as they held it precariously over tonight’s dinner, “MAYONNAISE!”

“NO!” Mango yelled back. He reached out to snatch the squeeze bottle, moving just slow enough for Purple to yoink it back with ease.

Vicious cackles fell from Purple’s lips. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” They assured him between chortles. The kid laughed like a jackal, far louder and scratchier than Gold’s delicate giggles, but Mango still found it charming all the same. So much so that it took actual effort to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching upward.

“You’d better be.” Mango warned with faux gruffness in his tone. “You’re enough of a heathen as it is. There’s only so much blasphemy one stick can take in his own home.”

“Hmph.” Purple huffed dismissively at him, the effect somewhat diminished by the wide grin they couldn’t keep off their face. “If you ask me, you don’t blaspheme enough. Still,” A subtle change in Purple’s demeanor signaled the end of the game. Mango let himself relax and lean against the counter, confident that Purple wouldn’t destroy their dinner now that they’ve had their fun, “we haven’t even put this in the oven yet, and it looks incredible! I didn’t realize cooking was so much fun!”

Honestly, neither had Mango, before Gold’s presence had forced him to make the jump from an all-instant food diet to cooking from scratch. “It’s quite relaxing.” Mango agreed. “If you’re interested, I can teach you to make all sorts of new stuff.”

“Oh?” Purple glanced at him from the corner of their eye before looking down and beginning to play with the hem of their shirt, which Mango had quickly come to learn was something the kid did when they were nervous. It happened more or less whenever they tried to ask him for something, which just about broke Mango’s heart. “Then maybe… maybe you could teach me how to make your secret ingredient pie?”

Mango tried not to wince, but couldn’t help the sudden stiffening of his shoulders. Subconsciously, his gaze drifted from Purple to the picture hung beside them; The day of his last tournament, with the luster of Gold’s second place trophy being completely out-shined by her smile as she playfully pushed the trophy into her father’s face.

There were more differences between Purple and Gold than Mango could possibly count, but every day he seemed to find just as many similarities. One of which was their shared love for that confounded secret ingredient pie. It was… fine, as far as pies went. Sweet and soft, with a hint of tartness. Nothing you couldn’t get from any bakery standard fruit pie, and certainly not good enough to warrant the ridiculously complicated recipe that had been passed down through the generations of the Ochre family. And yet, somehow Mango had managed to end up with not one, but two kids who absolutely adored the taste of the stupid treat.

For every special occasion, little Gold would trail at his father’s heels and tug at his pants, begging to lick the spoon or mix the filling. With age Gold’s interest in the pie hadn’t wavered, begging time after time for her dad to teach him the recipe. But it was always such a pain, so Mango put it off. Not right now, he’d say. I’ll do it later. Maybe next time, again and again, and then…

And then Gold was gone. There would be no more ‘next time’.

Some part of Mango recognized that this was a chance to make up for his mistake, to knock away one of the many regrets he carried on his shoulders, and yet…

“Well, it’s… a bit much for your first time baking.” Mango waved away Purple’s request with a too wide smile. His cheeks hurt from forcing his grin so large. “Why don’t we start with something simpler… like cupcakes?”

Purple deflated a little, but much like Gold before them, they bounced back quickly, matching his fake smile with a sincere, if mildly sad one. “I do like cupcakes…” They brought their eyes up to meet Mango’s, and the sheer affection reflected back at him, even after being denied, was almost too much for his heart.

“Then we can make cupcakes tonight.” Mango compromised, talking over the twisted wrenching of his heart. He then gestured over to the pile of dishes from their dinnertime prep work that laid in the sink. “AFTER you finish cleaning the kitchen, of course.”

“Aww, what?!” Purple whined.

“Well, I warned you, didn’t I?” Mango laughed off the complete horror on Purple’s face at the prospect of doing their daily chores. “I told you, ‘it’s your turn to clean the kitchen, so think carefully about what we cook’, and you still chose lasagna for dinner.”

An adorable pout was the only response Purple had for Mango’s proclamation, crossing their arms and glaring menacingly at the pile of prep dishes soaking in the sink. After a moment of the dishes not being intimidated into cleaning themselves, Purple spun around towards Mango and fluttered their lashes, sidling up to Mango and staring up at him with big, watery eyes. “Old man~!”

“No.” Mango responded coolly, slipping and letting his smile show at Purple’s aghast expression.

“But- but- we both made the mess, so we should both clean it up!” They argued back.

Already the older stick was shaking his head. “Nope. We already agreed on a chore schedule, and I’ve done all my chores for today, including cleaning up many of your messes. You can’t change the rules now just because they don’t suit you anymore.”

With that the oven timer dinged, and Mango redirected his attention back to tonight’s dinner. He slipped on a pair of oven mitts and delivered the lasagna to the oven, all the while Purple was muttering agitatedly behind him. “So not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, kiddo.” Mango replied back, slamming the door to the oven shut. “Get used to it.”

The kitchen then went silent, save for Purple’s irritated muttering, which in itself was slowly petering out. Mango liked to think that Purple was maybe going to accept their lot and just do the stupid dishes, but he knew that it was far more likely the kid had only shut up to try and scheme their way out of their chores. There were only so many ways one could escape the ever-present threat of dirty dishes, however, and Mango was confident enough in his counter-strategies to not pay Purple any mind, instead directing his attention to setting the table.

Peace reigned for only a short time in their home, however, before a cacophony of shouts and blur of colours tore through Mango’s kitchen like a tornado, sucking Purple in as the colourful gang that made up Purple’s friend group trampled through his kitchen. The five sticks emerged in waves; first Green and Red, leading the pack with enthusiasm and gusto as they embraced Purple eagerly. Following suit was the Yellow one, the bright kid to whom Mango had entrusted that stupid staff he’d made, easily slipping behind the others to startle Purple with a poke to their back. Blue was next, a little slower but with no less fervor that her friends as she pulled Purple into a headlock to grace them with a playful noogie. Finally, there was Second. They hung back a little from their friends at first, only approaching the group once everyone had calmed down to throw their arm around Purple’s shoulders in greeting.

Now, Mango didn’t necessarily dislike the kids. He honestly thought their positive and forgiving nature was a good influence on Purple. That said… “How the hell did you all get into my house?” He demanded flatly.

Yellow grinned back at him, using Purple as an armrest to prop herself up. “You left the front window unlocked.” She informed him breezily, entirely too calm.

“I did not.” Mango crossed his arms as he retorted, subconsciously bristling as five of the six kids began to snicker at him. The last one, Second, merely twiddled their thumbs in the back of the party, focused entirely on their fingers even as their entire body stood tensed behind the others.

“Not the bottom front window.” Blue chimed in, pointing to the clerestory window just above the front entrance. Sure enough, the thing was open, but Mango was absolutely certain he’d have heard the kids come in through that thing. They were many things, Purple’s friends. Subtle was not one of them.

Sharp squealing cut the conversation short, and before Mango could find its source Purple suddenly yelped and fell to the floor. Mango’s heart jumped into his throat, suffocating him for a prolonged, painful second before playful laughter restored his breath. In the middle of all that commotion, nobody had noticed the friend group’s infamous pig until it had tackled Purple to the ground to shower the young stick in licks and snuggles. Purple responded in kind, petting the pig atop its head with a little chuckle.

“Whoops!” Red ran forward to scoop his precious pet up. “Sorry Purple! Reuben hasn’t seen you in a while, so he got a little too excited, didn’t you boy?” Red’s voice went high-pitched and cooing as he praised his pig. “Yes, you did! Yes you did, you silly little man!” Purple could only laugh at the tone of Red’s voice and continue to scratch the top of the pig’s head.

As precious as the moment was, Mango couldn’t even bring himself to savour it before reality caught up with him. “Oh no,” He interrupted, pushing himself to the center of the crowd. “No, you all know the rules: No Minecraft stuff on the main floor! Keep it in the basement, or take it home!”

Red gasped, holding the pig close. “Reuben’s not a stuff! He’s a member of the family, aren’t you boy?” Red scratched under the pig’s head as Purple scratched its ears, utterly lavishing it in attention.

“I don’t care if its your twin!” Interrupted Mango. “I’m not getting arrested for video game smuggling because of you chuckleheads!” Back during the ‘Plan’, Mango hadn’t really cared about taking such risks, but now he had something to lose if he went to jail. He was willing to make exceptions for Purple – this was Purple’s home too, after all, and he could trust the kid to be careful with their elytra. The rest of the gang? Not so much. “It stays in the basement, or it goes home. Pick one.”

Red made a show of his reluctant acceptance, sighing theatrically as he picked up his pet. “I’m so sorry, Reuben.” Sobbed the sorrowful stick, clutching the pig close as if this were a eulogy and not just sticking it in the basement. “You’re just too much pure goodness for this… sinful world!”

The display had even Purple, monarch of melodrama themselves, rolling their eyes. “We’ll go down and spend some quality time with him later.” They promised, “We can… uh, play catch?” They suddenly looked a little lost, “Do pigs like catch?”

This seemed to be enough to placate Red, for now. As they walked towards the basement, Mango turned to Yellow. “And you-”

“Staff’s already down there.” Yellow promised, briefly flicking through her inventory to demonstrate its emptiness. “Teleported it when we got here, don’t worry.”

That suited Mango perfectly fine. In addition to the whole not being arrested thing, he’d rather not have to handle that staff again. It was a brilliant feat of engineering, a masterful display of game code. It was also the catalyst to a near apocalypse Mango himself had caused for the sake of punishing everyone – anyone – for Gold’s fate. By the time he’d realized what he’d done, Mango had nearly lost a second child, and almost killed Notch knows how many innocents.

So, needless to say, he’d prefer to not have to look at that thing.

By this point Red and Purple had returned, sans pig. Green’s elbow into his side and whisper into his ear caused Red to suddenly perk up, dour expression brightening exponentially as if suddenly reminded of something. Blue and Yellow, on the other side of Purple, exchanged a knowing look as they smirked at each other. And Second, who’d taken advantage of Red’s scene to withdraw to the shadows behind the group, was suddenly pulled back to the forefront with the others.

Alarm bells once again rang in Mango’s head. “Did you kids, uh… want to stay for dinner?” A whole lasagna was probably enough to feed all seven of them. Though he’d hoped to have leftovers for the next few days, Mango supposed he could make the sacrifice. For Purple’s sake. “We’re having lasagna.”

Blue’s eyes immediately lit up in interest. “Ooh~! Lasagna! That’s a recipe I don’t have yet!” As if by magic, a pencil and paper appeared in Blue’s hands. “I’ve been meaning to try recreating a dish from taste alone. I bet I can identify all the ingredients-”

“The food can wait!” Unable to contain the excitement he’d clearly been holding this entire time, Green finally let loose, cutting Blue off at the pass as his patience ran dry. He jumped on his heels before rushing towards Purple, taking the startled stick’s hand to pull them forward. “We came here because we have big news! Huge news! GIGANTIC news! And you’ll never guess what it is!”

Purple squirmed back and forth in the other’s hold. “Uhh…” They leaned away from Green’s entirely too close face, and Mango took that as his cue to intervene before the kid exploded from embarrassment or something.

“Go on, guess!” Insisted the green stick, his hold on Purple not loosening until Mango’s firm grip pulled Purple out of the smog of excitement to get some calming fresh air.

Once he was certain Purple had gotten a gulp or two of tranquil space, Mango set the young stick down and directed his attention back to Green. “Just get to the point.” Mango insisted for all of their sakes.

The denial didn’t do anything to diminish Green’s excitement, or the enthusiasm of the four fighters as they worked together to push Second into the limelight. Being thrust into the center of attention only caused the already nervous stick to grow ever more anxious, their entire body going stiff at the sudden sensation of eyes trained on them from every direction. Now, Mango didn’t know know these kids quite as well as Purple did, but he’d squared off against Second more than once in his quest to destroy Minecraft, and the orange stick never showed fear like this, even when things were at there most dire. So what could be causing them such distress…? Combined with the excitement of the other four sticks, Mango could hear the alarm bells getting louder.

Oblivious to their friend’s blatant discomfort, Green blurted out, “We just found out… that Sec has super powers!”

Mango could feel his eyebrows skyrocket up as he stared at the excited group of children, mouth agape. At his side, he could hear Purple exclaim, “Yo, what?!” Followed by the sound of excited arm flapping.

Second scratched at the skin on their arm, holding themselves with all the rigid attention of a child at the principle’s office. “Yeah, heh. Surprise…”

“Whoa, that’s so cool!” Purple’s proclamation only brought Second more discomfort, and Mango reached over to take hold of the kid and force them to calm down, lest the downcast and blushing Second keel over and die on the spot, but Purple slipped away before he could make contact. In a blink of the eye Purple was in Second’s face, bouncing energetically on their toes as they eagerly questioned, “What kind of powers? What can you do?”

“Oh, you know, just the typical stuff…” Second trailed off, their eyes focusing on a spot on the ceiling instead of Purple’s wide, bright expression. “Flying, telekinesis, healing, electricity… uh, eye lasers…”

Each item added to the list only caused Purple’s smile to grow and grow, until a wide grin was stretched across their face. In any other circumstance such a look would cause Mango’s heart to melt, but at this moment it only caused an electric tingle along his spine to signify incoming danger. Flapping their arms again, Purple demanded, “You HAVE to show them off!”

A cacophony of agreements came from the rest of Second’s friends. They were all varying levels of excited; Green seemed most eager, strongly encouraging Second by lightly shaking their shoulder. Red squealed in open excitement, and Blue immediately started pleading with wide puppy-dog eyes. Only Yellow kept some modicum of self-control, but curiosity and excitement still lit up her eyes. Despite the discovery being fairly recent, it seemed none of these kids had any experience with Second’s powers, and that caused a pit of dread to form in Mango’s stomach. This was a recipe for disaster.

Hurriedly, he tried to speak up, “I don’t think-”

Mango’s attempt to interrupt was completely bowled over by Purple in their excitement. “What should we have you do?” They wondered aloud. “Maybe we can set up some targets for you to shoot down?” The other kids seemed eager, nodding along to that idea. “Or you can race me flying with my elytra! Or-!” Purple suddenly gasped, hands covering their mouth as they smiled wider, “Or you can use your powers to clean up our entire kitchen!”

For a brief moment, annoyance trounced Mango’s anxiety, “Purple, that’s your chore for the day. You can’t just use your friends to do your chores for you.”

Purple only paused to give Mango a smug, satisfied look, before completely disregarding his words. If anything, Mango was certain his disapproval had only prompted Purple to go ahead with the request. “Please, won’t you clean the kitchen? Pretty, pretty please?”

The fluttering lashes and puppy dog eyes worked better on Second than Mango himself, but not quite enough to completely convince them. Conflict clear on their face, Second shrunk in on themselves and dug their nails into their arms. None the wiser to Second’s inner turmoil, each of their friends began pilling into them, begging incessantly.

“Come on, please~!” Red whined, pulling on Second’s arm.

“I’ll make you all the cookies!” Blue promised from their other side, pushing her head into the crook of their neck. “Like, so many cookies!”

“With that much stuff? It’ll be epic to see if flying all around!” Yellow mused. “I bet with enough practice you could pull off a ‘Wizard’s Apprentice’!” Her arms flapped at the thought, “Ooh, man! That would be the coolest!”

“You gotta show Purple what you can do!” Green pleaded, giving Second a sorrowful pout that would put even Purple’s best acting to shame. “Please! Please! Please! PLEASE!”

The kid demonstrated an iron will as they shook off their friend’s clutching hands and pleading eyes to put some distance between them. “Guys, I dunno…” Second kept their eyes away from their friends, focusing instead on a spot on the wall. “I’m still pretty new at this… and I don’t want to mess anything up…”

Despite their clear reluctance, Second’s friends kept egging them on, and Mango stepped forward to put a hand on Second’s shoulder. “I agree.” He stated, giving the kids a glare when they started to protest. “These powers sound like they’re still new, and using them so haphazardly would be blatantly irresponsible, especially for chores. You kids could stand to be a bit more thoughtful about this.”

Mango looked down, prepared to reassure Second that they were indeed doing the right thing, only to find Second staring up at him. Their lips were pressed thin as they pierced him with a burning, non-laser glare for a long, long moment, as if trying to see into his very soul. After a moment, the orange stick turned back to their friends. “On second thought, let’s do it.”

“What?!” Mango shouted in disbelief, his exclamation drowned out by the cheers and hollers of the others. The rainbow whirlwind sucked Second back in and absconded to the center of the kitchen, their voices blending into a single tangle of noise as they discussed the upcoming show. The sudden change in Second caused Mango to freeze in place, staring stupidly after the group. This… well, if Mango was being honest, this was far more like the Second he knew from their previous encounters than the skittish stick that had stepped into their home only a few minutes prior. But the fact that Second had even been that nervous to begin with…

Well, there was nothing else Mango could do but swallow his apprehension, make a silent vow to try reverse psychology on the rebellious brats next time, and trail after them.

By the time Mango had rejoined the group, the others had forcibly propped Second up onto the table Mango had just set like, not even ten minutes ago. Though clearly still wracked with nerves, they took a moment to gain their balance atop the structure, knees a little wobbly.

Despite the resistance he’d faced previously, Mango tried one more time to talk sense into Purple’s friends. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Mango was surprised to see that Green was the first to turn to him, a fierce glare aimed directly at the protesting adult. Everyone else seemed to have varying levels of exasperation and confusion at Mango’s interference. After a moment of silence, Second responded. “Yeah, I know. But it’s fine. I can do this.” Second looked down at their own hands, gaze unfocused. “I can do this.”

Second’s eyes fell shut, and when they opened again, their natural green colour had sharpened into a bright, illuminating emerald shine. Electricity crackled and zapped as it crawled over their form, stretching away from Second’s body to spread across Mango’s kitchen. The faint scent of ozone began to permeate the air. Mango could feel static run across his exposed joints, causing him to shiver. After a moment of just this, Second’s body lifted off the table, hovering in the air a few meters above the floor. Soon enough, other things in the kitchen began to lift up as well – the clean dishes on the dining table, the table itself, the chairs. In the span of maybe thirty seconds, everything in the kitchen lighter than the microwave was hovering weightlessly in the air, as though being touched by Second’s sparking power had turned off the gravity.

In spite of his early complaints, Mango couldn’t help the awe that washed over him as he took in the display of power. There was a pattern to the movement of the objects, to the flowing of electricity, that was nothing short of graceful. To his side, Mango could hear Red oohing and awwing over the display, drowning out Yellow’s mumbling as she thought aloud to herself. There was buzzing on Mango’s other side as well; whispers between Blue and Purple as they observed the show. When he glanced over at the kids, Mango found Green also present at Purple’s side, watching Second with a painfully familiar expression. One Mango saw every time he looked at a picture of himself and his Gold: Pure, unadulterated pride.

Second’s power soon brought order to the chaos they’d made of Mango’s kitchen, conducting the flying dishware in a delicate ballet. Every single item bobbed and weaved around each other to the rhythm of an intricate melody nobody but the Second Coming could hear. The swishing and swirling of water drew everyone’s attention to the sink, where a stream of water began to bend and twist upward to form rings between the layers of dancing cutlery.

“Hydrokinesis!” Yellow gasped. “That’s a new one!”

The scratching sound of pencil meeting paper was only barely audible over Blue’s inquiry, “Is it really hydrokinesis, though?” She scratched her chin, “Or just… telekinesis used on water?”

“Is there a difference?” Red asked.

All three of them were immediately hushed by Green, “Let them do their thing.’ He scolded roughly. Mango hadn’t considered that there was a second in command among the group of friends, but given how everyone immediately shut up at Green’s order, it seemed the most melodious stick took that role when Second was out of commission.

Once everyone had quieted down, Mango returned his attention back to Second’s show. Along with the ring of water, globs of what Mango assumed was soap had joined in the choreography. The tempo and melody of Second’s inaudible song changed, transforming the ballet into something more of a waltz. The dishes flowed from water to soap to water, two steps forward, one step back, before the clean dishes were added to an entirely new ring of floating tableware to dry. On and off flickered the ceiling lamp as Second’s power crawled across it, and combined with the jade sparks of lightning that flowed freely through the room, it completely transformed Mango’s kitchen into a much larger, more ominous space. Mango’s fingers twitched, itching with sudden nerves, and to sooth them he reached around Blue to take one of Purple’s hands. Though he couldn’t see Purple’s face, Mango could feel the kid squeeze his hand back, and for a moment all fear was erased from his mind.

Then a plate broke.

Its shattering echoed loudly through the entire house, trampling over any thought Mango could have formed and forcing all attention on it. Throughout the entire performance, Second’s face had been one of pure concentration, serenely focused on the energy surging about, but the sound had utterly destroyed any illusion of control Second had beforehand. Panic flittered in their illuminated eyes as they stared down at the shards of ceramic littering the kitchen floor, no longer affected by Second’s power.

“Ahh!” They cried out, startled by the mistake. Immediately Second’s body language changed, shrinking in on themselves as they focused their attention on the broken plate. Their power forced the shattered remains into the air once again. “Uhh, d-don’t worry, I can fix it!”

The change of attitude caught them all off guard, and Mango’s dread returned tenfold, churning his stomach. Green was the first to speak up, stepping forward with arms held out in an attempt to placate Second. “Hey, dude, it’s okay-”

Unfortunately for Green, his attempt at reassurances only startled Second further, and a glass cup exploded into millions of tiny shards against a wall. Mango subconsciously pulled Purple closer at the sound, heart beating a mile a minute in his chest. Second themselves squealed frightfully, their attention redirecting again. The once meticulous dance had grown discordant in response to their distress, the dishware weaving and bobbing in random, quickening movements around the kitchen. Second’s uneven breathing could be heard over the sharpening crackle of lightning and thunder that was slowly growing louder and larger as the kid lost control. One of the larger bowls hit the corner of a chair, chipping it and causing more distress to the stick in the center of the chaos.

“Sec! Stop!” Red cried out. It was unclear if Second had even heard him; they were hunched over in the center of the room, practically hyperventilating as all their focus centered on the broken objects. More things began to break in the chaos; A cracked cup here, a bent fork there. The longer their panic continued, the faster the rings of crockery spun until the kitchen had become a veritable tornado. At this point even the appliances had begun to join in the anarchy.

Purple, still firmly clutching Mango’s hand, stepped forward. Not enough to be caught in the tornado, but enough that Mango could see fear in their eyes, and it only made him hold on all the tighter. “Dude!” Purple called over the noise. At this point the chaos had created a cacophony so loud Mango could barely hear the kid over it. “You need to calm down! You’re gonna destroy the entire house at this rate!”

The loud hiss of, “Purple!” From Mango came too late. The idea was already out there, and it only increased the sense of panic from every stick present. A pathetic whine signaled an increase in the speed of the spinning kitchenware. Green surged forward the instant he heard it, with Yellow barely being able to pull him back before he could get clocked in the head by a flying food processor.

“H-hey!” Blue worked her way in front of the group, hands held out placatingly in front of her. “Second, try and focus on me, okay? It’s going to be alright. I’m going to approach now – slowly.” True to her word, Blue made small, cautious steps forward. The wild winds whipped her hair violently, but she showed no signs of distress against their might, “I’m going to make my way to you, and you’re going to calm down, and nobody’s going to get hurt. We’re going to be fine.”

And, for a brief moment, it seemed like she was right. Second’s eyes were glued to her approaching form, and the sight of her smile eased the tension from their body.

“Look out!” Red shouted suddenly, then tackled poor Blue just moments before a spinning plate shot through the air where her head once was. Instead the dish continued to whirl through the kitchen, straight over the ceramic shards of another broken plate and right towards… towards the photo on the wall-!

Mango’s heart leapt into his throat. Without thought he started forward, maybe to throw himself between the flying dishware and one of his last memories of Gold, but by the time he’d released Purple’s hand and made the first step it was already too late. Though it took only a second in real time, to Mango it felt like it was playing out in slow-motion. The plate shattered against the frame, shards of ceramic and glass flying in every direction, and the frame fell to the ground. Wood splintered apart with a deafening crack as it finally hit the linoleum. The picture fell, face down, on the ground.

Around him, Mango could barely hear the sound of audible gasps and whispered exclamations over the ringing in his ears. The tips of his fingers felt cold and numb. For just that moment in time, nothing existed but him and the broken remains of Gold’s memory.

Green sparks crawled over the pictures, shaking Mango from his stupor and forcing him to tune back into reality. From the center of the kitchen he could hear a tangle of jumbled words and accelerated breathing, “No, no, this is okay, I can fix it, it’ll all be fine, I can fix it… I-I can fix it…!” Once the picture was levitated up, a miracle was revealed to Mango; though the frame was broken beyond repair, the picture itself appeared mostly in tact.

“Kid, hold up-” Mango tried to call out, turning to look at Second. Sharp emerald lights met his eyes in return, freezing the tallest stick in place for a bone-chilling instant.

“I can fix it, I can fix it, I can fix it…!” The haphazard promises fell from Second’s lips along with their labored breaths. Then they clutched their head and screamed, “I CAN FIX IT-!”

An explosion of emerald light knocked everyone back. Mango’s body tumbled maybe a meter or so before coming to a grinding halt. Mango winced at the burning sensation on his limbs, but the second he was able to move he immediately crawled over to the kids in order to put himself between them and the violent storm Second had made of his kitchen. The green energy had formed an opaque tornado, completely hiding The Second Coming from view. Through the chaos Mango could see shattered remains of plates, randomly bent cutlery, and even full-on appliances that had been forced airborne by Second’s power poke out of the squall before being sucked back in.

Mango barely had a minute to take in the catastrophe that Second’s show had become before the kids’ chatter redirected his attention. “Okay, let’s not panic!” Yellow instructed, pushing her glasses up as she picked herself off the ground. “We can- uh, we got this! If we just ground the lightning-”

“Ground it with what?!” Red snapped back, gesturing wildly at the mess in front of them. “Sec’s power isn’t like normal lightning, that wouldn’t work!”

“And you have any better ideas?!” Purple demanded. Thankfully for Mango’s poor heart, the kid stayed down close to the ground, even as they joined in the argument.“We can’t just do nothing!”

Blue joined Yellow’s side quickly, fidgeting with her fingers. “It-It’s just because Sec’s panicking! We just need to wait for them to calm down, and-”

“And what, just leave them like this until then?!” Yellow questioned sharply, causing Blue to flinch back. If Yellow noticed, it didn’t show on her face. “I am not going to abandon them! Not after everything, I can’t-!”

Everyone seemed to wince in response to Yellow’s outcry, and the following tense silence was quickly filled with a pitiful, mournful wailing from the kitchen. The sound seemed to echo in Mango’s head, plucking at the strings of his heart painfully. And he barely knew Second; he couldn’t imagine how this must feel to the kids, who had known The Second Coming for their entire life.

A hitched breath drew Mango’s attention behind himself; Green had gotten a little lost in the chaos, overshadowed by the others yelling over themselves in an attempt to find a solution. That cry, however, had him marching ahead of everyone until he was standing directly in front of the entryway, his green form seeming to glow in the luminescence of the emerald lightning that surged along the tornado. Green’s fists were shaking, but if the expression on his face was anything to go by, it was not fear that caused him to tremble, but sheer determination.

After a moment of simply staring ahead, Green finally spoke aloud. “Screw it,” He said, and that was the only warning any of them had before he charged forward. “Hang on, Sec! I’m coming!”

Everyone watched him disappear into the chaos in stunned silence, before Yellow gritted her teeth and shouted, “Don’t worry, we’re on our way!” as she followed suit.

Blue and Red spared a moment to glance at each other, nodding as they each reached the same conclusion. Though they both jumped up at the same time, Red was on his feet first, running directly into the tornado with a battle cry.

Trailing directly after the others, Blue cried out, “It’s going to be okay, Second! We’re on our way!” as she barreled ahead.

Movement at his side jolted Mango’s attention as Purple stood up against the winds of the storm. Though their body was rigid in fear, conviction was strong on their face as they, too, began to run forward. Everything seemed to slow in that instant. Tension squeezed Mango’s lungs in his chest. All air escaped him in one startled gasp. Purple’s body seemed to transform, going from violet to deep yellow. The green light threatening to engulf them turned to black corruption. Red lights flashed at the corners of his vision. A fatal error has occurred, this connection is terminated.

“No!” Mango managed to force out, leaping to grasp Purple’s hand once again. His hold on them was tight like a vice. Though he could hear his own heavy breathing, his lungs burned with a craving for oxygen.

Though startled, Purple quickly began to struggle against Mango’s hold. “What are you doing?!” They asked, voice laden with desperation and fear in equal measure, and it only made Mango hold on all the tighter. “We- I have to get in there! Sec needs us- needs me!”

“I need you!” Mango forced out in a single, painful gasp. “I- I can’t lose another…! I’m not going to let you run to your death!”

Though the slip up made Purple’s expression soften some, they still held firm. “If we do nothing, then Sec’ll, like, I don’t know, explode or something! Then we’ll all die!” Instead of trying to get away, Purple clasped Mango’s hand with their other, meeting the taller stick's gaze with fire alight in their eyes. “I can do this! I promise, nothing will happen to me!”

Mango glanced down at their intertwined hands, Purple’s fingers gently rubbing soothing circles into his skin. Subconsciously his breathing began to follow the rhythm of the motions, and the burning fire in Mango’s chest was extinguished. With a deep breath and one final look into those pleading eyes, Mango relented. “Okay,” He said, but refused to release Purple’s hands. Instead he pulled the both of them up to a standing position. “Then we’ll go together.”

After a serious nod, Purple broke the tension with a playful wink. “Try to keep up, Old Man.” They teased, and something in Mango felt lighter, even in the face of oncoming danger.

With his hold firm on Purple, Mango began walking against the fierce winds of Second’s maelstrom. The gales of the tornado roared louder and louder the closer and closer they got, until its rumbling was all Mango could hear ringing in his ears. The sharp cold of it stung at his face, but Mango kept firm, doing his best to stay in front and shield Purple from the worst of it. One of Purple’s hands slipped from Mango, and a near heart attack was mitigated when he looked back to see Purple pulling Red down from where he’d been sent flying back. Looking around, Mango could make out the three other friends scattered in various directions, struggling to walk against the wind only to be pushed aside by a particularly strong gust or forced to jump away from a large piece of debris haphazardly flying around.

“We can’t get close!” Red yelled over the rushing tempest. “We keep getting knocked back by all the stuff flying around!”

As if to demonstrate, a chair flew straight at them, only visible once it was moments away from hitting them. King quickly moved to pull Purple and Red down to the floor, covering their heads with his arm in order to protect them.

Purple was the first to lift themselves up, gritting their teeth. “Then how are we supposed to get through…?”

Yellow’s shout, barely audible above the roaring winds, drew Mango’s attention up and towards the irritated stick as she charged forward. She got close to the eye, a mere arms length away from the goal, before Green yanked her out of the way of a swarm of flying knives set to impale her in five different ways. His heroic efforts were rewarded by Blue being tossed into him and Yellow, knocking all three back to where Mango, Red, and Purple were hunkered down.

Not even a second after being tossed back, Blue was already back on her feet. She went to charge forth one more time, but was stopped by Green grabbing her shoulder and pulling her back. “This isn’t working!” He scolded, sounding angrier in his attempt to yell over the hurricane. “We have to try something else!”

“Well, what else can we do?!” Blue asked tearfully. In lieu of an answer he couldn’t give, Green instead took hold of her hand.

The gears in Mango’s head began to turn. They couldn’t get anywhere near the center of the storm; the winds were too strong, blowing so hard that it was impossible to make it to the center before being hit by the dangerous debris flying haphazardly around. A stick alone wouldn’t be able to breach the maelstrom without getting blown away, but there was no way a group could move through without getting hit by one of the large appliances or pieces of furniture caught in the tornado. Not without a shield to guard them.

Mango knew what he had to do. With a shaky breath he picked himself up, bracing his knees to stand against the storm. Purple made a concerned noise as Mango’s hand slipped away from theirs, but in spite of that Mango instead focused on his surroundings, on every little sliver of glass or lump of wood flying around that could hurt them. As he focused, Mango called back to the kids, ��I have an idea!” Everyone looked up at him, all of the young sticks suffering various degrees of battery from their attempts to reach Second. “All five of you, huddle together and move in tandem! If you keep a firm hold of each other and work as a unit, you’ll be able to stand against the wind!”

“But what about all the stuff flying around?!” Red asked, even as he and the others moved to take hold of each other. Red was at one end, Blue next to him, then Green in the middle, with Purple at his side and Yellow on the opposite end.

Mango took a deep breath, focusing on the rapidly approaching microwave as it flew closer and closer. Once it was within range, Mango demonstrated exactly what would happen with all the stuff flying around. He braced himself against the floor and was only pushed back a few centimeters as he gripped onto the heavy appliance. Though taking the force and weight of the microwave made his arms ache, Mango spun around and tossed the now useless contraption to the side.

“I’ll take care of that.” He assured the children as he turned to them, forcing down the anxiety and pressure he felt and forcing up an encouraging grin. “You all just focus on getting Second out of there.”

Purple swallowed down their nerves before matching Mango’s smile. “Just be careful, Old Man. I’m not taking care of you if you throw your back out.”

Snorting, Mango turned away from the kids to focus on his job. “If you’re my nurse, I think I’ll take my chances with the lightning.” His voice then dropped, turning serious. “Now get moving!”

All of Mango’s attention then focused on the winds around him. He played the role of guard for the children as they inched along, using each other as support against the harsh gales. The friend group moved together in near perfect harmony. Purple’s inexperience, in comparison, was obvious. They stumbled where the others stepped smoothly, needing to glance at their feet or their friends while everyone else seemed to simply trust that the others would step where they needed to. Even with the handicap of Purple’s inexperience, however, they made surprisingly quick progress through the raging storm. Mango moved as quickly as he could to knock back any debris, any heavy machine, any sharp piece of glass or ceramic that could harm the kids. They were encouraging each other behind him, counting down the steps until they reached their goal.

“Just a little closer!” Purple cried out as Mango wrangled a cabinet door away from the group. Their voice was almost entirely lost in the wind that surrounded Second. “Just… a little…!”

And then the five disappeared into the heart of the storm. Mango breathed a sigh of relief, switching up his focus to dodge the hazardous kitchenware instead of blocking it head on. Nothing in the tornado ventured any closer to the eye than where the children had just entered, so Mango could be certain they’d be fine from then on. A bone-deep ache made itself known as Mango let himself relax a touch, but he didn’t fall back. Instead Mango rooted himself firmly nearby, alert for any kind of disturbance in the maelstrom; any sign that the kids were distressed or injured.

That was all he could do for now, besides put his trust in them.

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

Second could barely hear the sound of the winds whipping about over their own heart pounding in their ears. Every part of them burned; their throat, their lungs, their arms, their eyes. Shaking fingers yanked at their long, flowing hair. The cyclone’s violent winds pressed down on them harder with every haggard breath they took, stealing the air from their lungs as they slowly suffocated in their gale storm of despair.

The storm had started as a seed of panic within them, planted as the sound of shattering ceramics itched at their skin. With very new mistake, every blatant screw up, every near miss on their dearest friends’ lives, the seedling began to sprout, bringing with it a harsh, ashy wind that left a bitter sensation on their skin. The photograph’s destruction had been like bone-meal, escalating the growth of the squall until it swallowed Second whole. The winds raced at the same rate as their heart as it pounded within them, fighting to escape the cage of Second’s body. With each forced beat the ache inside of them grew and spread. They were dying, Second’s thoughts screamed at them from within their fuzzy brain.

They were going to die here.

They were doing to die here.

And it was all… their… fault…

This wasn’t the first time Second had ruined everything. Every new experience they brought to their friends was marred by pain and death in some form. The darkest corner of their mind swirled with memories of their torn-apart, dying bodies slowly fading into distorted code, or disappearing in a puff of gray smoke as their programs were ended without a second thought. Their own hands tingled with the memory of a cold steel blade pierced through Green’s body, or violet bruises ringing on their fists as they looked down at Red’s frightened face. At every step, through carelessness or powerlessness or their own unhinged actions, Second was always forced to watch the most important parts of their life suffer and agonize and absolutely languish in pain.

Why had they thought they could fixthis? Second knew they’d lose control, knew that this power would poison what they’d built, but they’d made the mistake of giving in, and now they were going to die.

They were going… to die…

All alone… after ruining everything…

They… they were… going to…

“Sec!” A sharp voice cut through the cyclone, jolting Second out of their thoughts with a wave of prickles along their body. Before they could even register the origins of the sound, a pair of arms encircled their waist. The touch was soft and sweet, causing the burning of Second’s body to ease just a little bit; just enough that they could make themselves look down to lock eyes with Green. He smiled up at them, not so much as flinching against the blazing heat of Second’s shining emerald gaze. “I’m here! I’ve got you!”

Stunned, Second couldn’t even bring themselves to return the embrace before another pair of arms forcibly wrapped around them. “Don’t worry, Sec!” Red assured through a large, vibrant grin. “It’s just a little thunder, nothing we can’t handle!”

Another jolt to their side signaled Yellow’s entrance, squeezing them so hard that rough burning churning within them was squeezed out, to be replaced a soft, bittersweet pressure. “Told ya, didn’t I?” Yellow asked, never once letting her hold loosen. “I’m not letting anything tear us apart.”

Next to join in the group hug was Blue, her shimmering eyes taking in the fierce, violent green of the lightning and reflecting back only a soft, gentle aura of emerald. “I know you must feel so scared right now,” She consoled, her voice feather-light on their skin, “But you’re not alone – everyone’s here! We’re all here with you!”

Last but not least, Purple forced themselves into the hug by worming their way between the others to snake their arms around Second’s middle. “Pfft, if you’re trying to get rid of me,” They scolded jokingly, “It’s gonna be a lot harder than that, Sec.”

Though the storm raged on, Second found themselves unable to tear their focus away from their friends. The many arms around them were velvety smooth, sweet on their skin with a tang of desperate heat. Their voices caressed Second with gentle softness as they whispered fluffy comforts for the winds to carry to their ears. Warmth flooded over Second’s entire body, forcing out the various aches from all over. Second’s shoulders relaxed as they took in a deep breath. Oxygen hit their lungs for the first time since the picture broke. Second’s eyes fluttered shut as they let themselves relax.

What had they been so worried about? Despite the accidents, the threatening villains, the near-death experiences, they always came through it together on the other side. Mistakes were forgiven, wounds were healed, and no matter what came their way, Second could stand against it, firm in the knowledge that their loved ones were at their side, supporting them all the way.

As long as Second had them, they’d be okay. They could fix anything.

Second opened their eyes. Beyond the twister they found a pair of silhouettes, a tall one and a short one. Second couldn’t make out their faces, but the tension in their limbs betrayed their obvious fear. The emerald eyes of the super-powered stick remained trained on the nervous figures,

It’s okay, Second tried to tell them, to reassure the clearly frightened figures, but all that escaped their mouth was a staticky noise that made their friends hug them all the tighter. Upon realizing that their voice was turned off for the time being, Second instead reached out to the pair, to try and show them that it would be alright, that they weren’t alone, that help was right there and ready for them.

The strangers grew more panicked, and Second stretched their arm further to reach for them. All of Second’s attention was hyper-focused on the two upset figures, to the point where everything beyond them and the arms around Second’s waist disappeared from their mind. All they wanted was to give the two strangers a little taste of the comfort that everyone’s presence granted them. To fix the pain they could sense on the pair and stop the fear that was clearly growing stronger and stronger within them as they fiddled anxiously with something in the smaller one’s hand. Second felt something deep inside them urging them to keep extending their arm, to keep pulling at the two figures. To fix the distress on their face and bring them home.

All they had to do was reach a little further… further… just a bit more…

And then everything disappeared in an explosion of brilliant emerald light.

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

Between the ringing in his ears and the throbbing in his head, Green was certain he’d be in for a world of hurt the moment he opened his eyes. Despite this, the distant murmurs of fear and horror from his friends had Green forcing his eyelids up, inviting a piercing beam of light and agony into his brain. Seconds stretched into years as Green waited for the discomfort to fade enough for him to focus his eyes and look out over what was once the Ochre family’s kitchen. Now the room was in absolute shambles; everything, from the smallest plate to the gigantic refrigerator, was damaged in some way. The linoleum floor, cool on Green’s aching legs, was positively littered with shards of glass and ceramic. A food processor was stuck in the wall, its cord dangling uselessly over a crack in the tile beneath it. Water formed small pools throughout the room, one dangerously close to an electrical outlet on the opposite wall. The only electronic in the room that still functioned a little bit was the ceiling light, which flickered on and off rapidly enough to compound Green’s growing headache.

Green forced down a swallow as he took in the wreckage. The memory of Sec’s pleading, of the fear on their face, played in his mind like a broken record, and then his eyes began to burn anew. Just a few minutes ago they’d all been having fun, and Second had finally begun to relax. He’d thought that maybe, just maybe, they were finally starting to accept themselves… and then everything exploded. The thought of how Second must be feeling was like his heart was sinking to the bottom of his stomach, swirling its contents into bile.

Still, there was much to be done, so despite the nausea and tears threatening to break through Green pulled himself into a sitting position, wincing as the pounding in his head compounded. He fought through the fuzz at the edges of his vision and the painfully loud ringing in his ears to focus on his friends, to try and ascertain their current condition. Mango was the first one he was able to pinpoint, and naturally the taller stick had rushed to Purple’s side. Other than a few bumps and bruises, neither of the two looked too badly injured. Red appeared to be fine too, sitting next to Yellow and speaking unintelligible words to her. Yellow’s one leg was splayed out in front of them, and when Red made contact with her ankle she winced. Green couldn’t see how badly it was swollen, or if there was any sign of a break, but the fact that she was injured at all nearly brought Green to tears again. He forced it down and left Yellow’s care to Red, scanning across the room until he found Blue, also mostly unharmed, hovering anxiously over Second’s body with her hand on their neck.

The sight of his motionless friend caused Green’s breath to catch in his throat. No… were they… did he cause his best friend to…?

Mere moments later Blue’s shoulders relaxed and she visibly exhaled, a small smile forming under her tired eyes. Green echoed her relieved sigh. Second was… alive, at the very least.

In the little time between awakening and checking on his friends, the ringing in Green’s ears had died down. Not completely gone, but low enough that he could now hear the others chattering amongst themselves. Their voices blended together into a cacophony of noises, and Green found himself unable to tell his friends apart. He could catch the occasional word, but without context they made virtually no sense.

Mango unexpectedly stood up at the other end of the room, his shoulders stiff with tension as he immediately stood to put himself between Purple and… something. Because they hadn’t moved Green had initially overlooked them, but following Mango’s gaze Green could see… someone in the corner of the room. An extra person- no, two extra people, lying unconscious on the floor nearby. Green struggled to focus entirely on them and Mango, who made a hush motion in response to Purple opening their mouth to say something, before steadily approaching the two new entities. His face was set with grim determination as he approached the figures, but as he got closer, it gradually shifted. Mango’s eyes widened, beginning to bulge out of his head, and Green forced everything into focusing on the older stick as he inched over to that dark corner, truly taking their new guests.

And then he started laughing.

A loud, humourless cackle that reminded Green more of the mad king who’d almost killed them all than Purple’s sarcastic guardian. Green continued to push through the fuzz in his brain as Purple picked themselves up and raced over to the old man. They paused once they reached him, staring in shock at the source of Mango’s distress.

“It’s finally happened!” Mango declared between laughs, his eyes completely glazing over with a sheen of distress. “I’ve finally gone insane!”

Purple, eyes wide, stepped in front of Mango with their arms stretched out in an attempt to placate him. “No, no!” They assured him, words rushed in their panic. “You’re not crazy, I promise, I see them too! P-please stop laughing-!”

“-I’m fine! I’m not the one who, exploded, you need to go help Blue-!”

Green winced, struggling to stay focused as everyone else’s voices began to pick up volume, fighting each other for his attention.

“Okay, c’mon, wake up-!”

“You can’t walk on that, are you nuts-!”

The voices pounded in Green’s ears to the rhythm of his racing heart.

“H-hey, come on, take some deep breaths-!”

“Seriously, let go-!”

“Please, Sec, please-!”

He groaned as he held his throbbing skull. Every noise was blending together; the voices of his friends, the dripping of water from the sink, the buzz of the malfunctioning light as it flickered on and off, on and off, on and off, poking at his brain through his pupils. The bile in his stomach churned again, fighting to rise up his esophagus.

“I- This isn’t real. There’s no way this is real, this has to be-!”

“C-come on, Old Man, focus-!”

“Yellow, will stop trying to-!”

“Get off of me-!”

“Come on, Blue, think-!”

“Will you all just SHUT UP?!” Green shouted over all of them. Every single stick in the room went totally silent, finally relieving a little bit of the pressure in his skull. After taking a moment to catch his breath, Green used the wall to help himself stand. Though his limbs ached, the worst of the pain was in head, allowing Green to stand without opposition. Looking out over the chaos, Green felt something well in him at the scared, desperate looks his dearest friends were giving him; Guilt and determination and sorrow. It fueled the flame within him, and Green took charge, immediately pushing past the pain to issue commands. “Yellow, let Red help you to the living room.”

“I’m fine-!” The injured stick tried to object.

Green immediately shut that down. “No, you’re not. If you were, you would have walked away from Red by now.” Green sighed. “Look, I don’t want to be mean, but if you try to walk on that ankle you’re going to make it worse. And the last thing we need right now is for things to get worse. It’ll only take a few moments for Red to help you walk to the armchair. Let him do that, and we won’t have to worry anymore, alright?”

Any protests died on Yellow’s lips as she absorbed Green’s argument. Though she may not have been happy about it, the logic won her over, and she huffed in irritation even as she hooked an arm around Red’s shoulders. The two began to stand in order to limp out of the room, and Green shifted his focus.

Mango’s breakdown had been halted by Green’s sudden cry, too stunned to continue, and Green used this opportunity to make his way over to him and Purple. The violet stick quickly moved to the side to let Green through, and for the first time Green was able to get a clear look at the new sticks summoned by Second’s power. His eyes immediately went wide as he absorbed the sight before him.

The first of the two newcomers, the taller one, looked nearly identical to Mango. The very few differences were entirely cosmetic; his hair was a little shorter, his clothes a little neater. There were no bags under his eyes or scars on his body from the fight for Minecraft. Small though the differences may be, they made a huge impact, making this version of Mango look ten years younger than the reformed tyrant Green knew. Curled under his arm, as though shielded from the entire world, was the second, smaller stick. Their body was a deep gold, and despite not knowing anything about this stick, Green was immediately struck with a sense of deja vu. It felt like he’d seen them somewhere before, but the context entirely escaped him.

Green was not, however, stupid. Given how the other Mango was curled protectively around this new stick, and the real Mango had a mental breakdown at the mere sight of them, Green was certain this new stick was someone of great importance to Mango. A few theories were already cooking in Green’s brain, but there were more important things to focus on at the moment.

“Once Red’s done helping Yellow,” Green informed the two, drawing their attention to him. Though Mango was no longer laughing like a madman, his eyes were almost entirely blank. Purple was more present, holding themselves anxiously as they focused entirely on Green. “He’ll help you guys get these two somewhere more comfortable. Should we put them in Mango’s room?”

A moment of silence fell over the two. Purple suddenly couldn’t meet Green’s eye, glancing awkwardly to the side, while Mango seemed to take a moment to process the question. Eventually, the old man answered, “We can put them in Gold’s room. It’s a little dusty, but it should be fine, I guess.”

Green cocked a brow at the taller stick. “Wait, Gold’s room…?” That answered some of Green’s questions and raised so many more, but for the moment Green restricted himself to the most important one. “There are only two bedrooms in this house. Where does Purple sleep?”

“I gave them my old room,” Mango answered without hesitation. Purple seemed to flinch at the confession, something like shame crossing their face. “These days I’m usually not sleeping through the whole night anyways, so I’m good with just the couch.”

Well, at least Purple had a real bedroom. Still, something about this revelation left a sour taste in Green’s mouth. It would have to be dealt with at some point. Not now, though. Now, Red had returned, and Green flagged him over to assist, flinching a little as Red’s fast movements caused his head to spin.

“Uh, Red and I can handle, um, the old man- the other version of you, I mean.” Purple muttered, stumbling over their words. “You can take Gold- i-if you’re okay with that, that is.”

It took Mango a moment to recognize what Purple was saying, eyes glazed over as he stared vacantly at this Gold character. Upon realizing what was being asked of him, Mango’s breath hitched. His fingers twitched as he approached the two with heavy, slow steps. Gingerly he pulled back his other self’s arm to expose Gold, who stirred slightly but did not awaken. Mango’s hand lingered above them, hesitant to touch them. Slowly it lowered, flinching away from them several times in the process. Eventually, his hand met their face, and Mango’s eyes welled with tears when their body held solid against his touch. From there things moved quicker, Mango taking the younger stick into his arms with delicate care. Cradling them like a baby, Mango took long, careful steps out of the kitchen.

Purple watched after him until the two were gone, twiddling their thumbs. It took a gentle tap from Red to bring Purple back to reality, the other jumping a little at the touch. “Um, sorry.” Red scratched his head, a little awkward in the face of current tensions. “But, err, I don’t know where the bedrooms are, so I was thinking you could take the feet and direct us, and I’ll grab the head. You good with that?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Purple agreed. Green watched as the two set about lifting the taller stick up and out of the room. His aching head was absolutely throbbing, pounding in rhythm to the flickering light on the ceiling. But he couldn’t slow down now. Not when he hadn’t even dealt with the worst of the damage he’d caused yet.

Taking only a moment for a calming breath, Green slowly waltzed over to Blue. She held Second’s head in her lap, whispering soothing words and little pleas to awaken as she ran her hands through their long mane of hair. Though he knew Sec was alive, the sight of them shocked Green; their eyes had dark shadows under them, their limbs weak and limp. Second looked worse than Green had seen them since the day they had-

Green shook his head, ignoring another wave of nausea that rolled over him. “How are they?” He asked instead.

“Well, I can’t find any serious injuries,” Blue updated as she continued to stroke the fluffy mess of bedhead, “But they may have internal injuries? It’s hard to tell- I’m equipped to deal with minor wounds and Minecraft ailments. Not… this.”

“Wouldn’t their healing powers take care of that?” Green asked, kneeling down next to Blue to take their dear friend’s hand in his own. It was cold and clammy against Green’s skin, which made him clutch all the tighter, willing some of his warmth into it.

As if to answer, Blue pointed out a number of bruises on their body. “It hasn’t kicked in yet. Maybe they’re too tired to do it? Or maybe it’s a good sign!” Blue forced herself to perk up at the thought. “Every time Second’s used their healing powers it’s because someone got seriously hurt. Maybe they’re not hurt bad enough for it to activate on its own.”

“Maybe,” Green agreed, even though that didn’t really sound right to him. Since Sec had become aware of their powers, they’d shown the greatest connection to their healing. It was one of the strongest abilities. “Still, I don’t think they’d be too comfortable sleeping on the floor. Is it safe to move them?”

“Oh! Uh,” Blue thought for a moment, her eyes scanning over Sec uneasily. Moments passed into minutes before she answered, “I- I think so. As long as we’re careful.”

Green nodded, already standing to take hold of Second’s legs. “Okay, I’ll walk backwards with their legs, you take their head.” Blue nodded, taking a firm hold of Second as she slowly stood up. Between the two of them the limp stick weighed almost nothing, and Green carefully walked backwards into the living room. He could see Yellow resting in Mango’s giant armchair, leg propped up on the coffee table with a pillow. Her eyes followed their movements like a hawk as Green and Blue, working in perfect harmony, brought their unconscious friend to Mango’s couch and slowly, gently, set them down. Second didn’t so much as stir during the transfer, which only made Green all the more worried. What he wouldn’t give to have his best friend suddenly sit up and throw a pillow at him for disturbing their rest…

For now, Green once again took hold of Second’s hand and watched their drained, pale face as they slept. He didn’t know where he’d even begin to apologize for this.

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

While Purple had snuck into this room to learn more about the illusive Gold in the past, this was the first time they’d been allowed to enter Gold’s bedroom, and it made their heart beat a thousand miles per second. The Old Man stood to the side, cradling his kid as he allowed Red and Purple to maneuver the… er, other Old Man into the twin-sized bed. He was barely able to fit, but once they set him on the mattress some sense of familiarity must have kicked in, causing him to curl in on himself to fit a little more comfortably. Once he was set down, Mango waltzed over and slowly, reluctantly, put his child to rest next to the bizarro world Mango. Immediately Gold curled around his father, her arms wrapping around him in search of comfort, and even unconscious the handsome version of Mango immediately returned the embrace.

Something sour slithered in Purple’s gut at the sight, a bitterness that immediately made them disgusted with themselves. As much as they coveted the same kind of love so easily given to Gold when they were feeling off, to feel this kind of jealously towards a dead kid… well, it wasn’t like they hadn’t known they were a bad person, but still. Not cool, Purple.

They were a little lost in thought, so Mango suddenly lugging himself up to the bed’s side to stare at the two intertwined sticks startled them. Though he was looking directly at them, the Old Man seemed to not see the two, instead staring at something far, far away.

“Uh…” Red’s awkward voice reached Purple’s ear, and they turned to look at the stronger stick as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. The old man didn’t seem to hear him. “So, I’m gonna go, uh, check on the others… yeah… we’ll be in the living room if you need us… uh, sorry again about your kitchen.”

Purple watched as Red sidled towards the door, staring at them with wide, unblinking eyes, as if expecting them to come at him. When nothing happened, he turned around and hastily walked back to the living room. That left Purple alone in the house’s forbidden room with an Old Man, an unconscious Old Man, and a ghost.

Swallowing past their nerves, Purple approached Mango and reached across the sudden chasm between them to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” They addressed softly. Mango didn’t so much as twitch at their touch. “Are you feeling okay?”

It took a moment for Mango to respond. “Sweetheart, I’m feeling a lot of things right now,” He droned, not taking his eyes off of the two sticks curled up on the bed, “and none of them are okay.”

Purple winced. Sweetheart only tended to come out when one of them was feeling particularly bad. Usually Purple themselves. Still, they pressed onward, “Yeah, that’s fair,” They agreed. Then, with a little hesitation, they asked, “How… how do you think Second… brought them here?”

Mango sighed, bring his hand up to hold his forehead. “I dunno. Cloning, maybe? They have art powers or something, right?” He stumbled back, and, thinking quickly, Purple pulled the chair from the nearby desk and got it to Mango just in time for the Old Man to collapse into it. Once he was seated, Mango nodded his thanks to Purple and leaned over the two bedridden sticks. “I’m not exactly in a state to think too hard about that.”

Okay, fair. Purple tried to think of something else – anything else – that they could do in order to make Mango feel better. After fumbling over their words for a moment, they eventually asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I think…” Mango’s breath hitched. “I think I just some time alone, kiddo.”

Something deep inside Purple shattered at the request. Still, they nodded obediently. “Okay, I’ll go check on the others, then. We’ll… be in the living room.”

Purple knew if they turned back to look at Mango, whatever they’d see on his face would push them to tears, so instead they kept their eyes trained on the floor as they walked out the door and shut it behind them. Despite their proclamation, Purple lingered for a few moments, just long enough to hear soft sobs come from the other side of the door. Their heart ached, urging them to go back in, to let him know that it would all be okay, but that single, weak request kept Purple’s twitching fingers at their sides. With great effort they forced themselves to trail back from the bedrooms, leaving the Ochre family alone to process the events of that day.

Once back in the living room, Purple was met with another tense scene. Each member of the gang was idling around in total silence. Green was sat by Second’s side on the couch, holding their hand and petting their hair as he watched them warily. Blue also hovered over their orange friend, fretting over them as she searched for any change in their condition. Red stood in place in between the armchair and the couch, tapping his foot impatiently. Yellow was the only one who was entirely still, slouched uncomfortably in the armchair with her foot propped on the coffee table. Her eyes were trained firmly on the wall opposite the couch. The air was thick with tension and nerves.

Steeling their nerves, Purple asked, “How’s everyone doing?”

“Okay,” Green murmured, briefly looking up to meet purple’s gaze.

“I’m good!” Red assured, plastering on a huge smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Blue assured gently, tapping her fingers on Second’s arm as she checked their pulse again.

“Peachy,” Yellow spat sarcastically, glaring at the ground.

Then, after a pregnant pause, all four turned towards Second’s unresponsive form. The tension returned tenfold.

Red finally spoke up, cutting off the pressure as he smiled awkwardly at the group, “You know, if Sec were awake, they’d probably say something like, ‘At least they let me sleep in for once’.” The turn of phrase was made in a terrible impression of Second’s voice, followed by a nervous laugh that quickly petered out, “Hehe, hehe, he…”

More silence.

“They’ll be okay… right?” Blue asked softly.

“Of course they will!” Cut off Green, looking mildly insulted at even the suggestion that they wouldn’t be. “They’re Sec! They’re always okay!”

Yellow’s already haggard face wrinkled, making her look far more tired than just a few moments prior. Her eyes reflected the ghosts of memories past as she once again cast her gaze away to avoid looking at Second. “Yeah,” She agreed absently, though she sounded like her mind was somewhere far, far away. “They’re always okay…”

Immediately Purple got the sense that they were missing a few pieces of the puzzle. Like, maybe half of the pieces. And the box. And it was was one of those obnoxious white puzzles, so it was hard to put together in the first place.

Desperate to escape the pressure of the moment, Purple’s eyes scanned over the group, and soon came to rest on Yellow’s ankle. Though mildly swollen, it didn’t look broken, so Purple hazard a guess that it only needed rest and icing. They piped up, “Um, why don’t I get you some ice, Yellow?” The query broke through whatever spell Yellow was under, dragging her mind back into the present.

Before she could respond Blue let out a sharp gasp, immediately turning to Yellow and waving her hands in a placating way. “Oh my gosh, Yellow, I am so sorry! I didn’t even think about that- I was so focused on Second that I forgot- I can’t believe I-!”

“Hey, hey,” Yellow consoled, sitting up straight for the first time, “It’s alright. We all know the rules: The one who’s hurt worst gets priority treatment. And it’s just a little sprain, it’s not like it’s broken or anything.”

“But still…” Blue kept her eyes trained on Yellow’s propped up foot, swallowing audibly past a lump in her throat.

Purple winced, mind racing as they searched for a way to cut through the tension, but Red beat them to it with a cheery, upbeat proclamation: “Personally, I blame Green.”

“What?” Green snapped back, looking vaguely offended by the accusation.

“You have two working legs,” He explained in a matter-of-fact manner, “You could’ve gotten up up at any time to take care of Yellow, but nooo…”

Purple snickered openly at the look on Green’s face, which only got louder when he turned his glare at them. Yellow, snorting, chimed in, “Yeah, Green, aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one?”

“Oh, we all know there’s no ‘responsible’ one!” Green put strong finger quotes around the word responsible, causing a wave of roaring laughter to engulf the living room. And just like that, the atmosphere grew lighter.

While the others fell into their normal banter, Purple used this opportunity to slip into the remains of Mango’s kitchen. The place certainly looked like a tornado hit it, with every object damaged in some way or another. Purple stepped around cracks in the ground and puddles of water splattered around on their way through, taking note of the damage as they went. Literally all of their cutlery and tableware was in pieces. The food processor was firmly embedded into the wall, its glass cracked and its cord swinging sadly in air. Purple stepped over the dented door of the microwave, and had to glance around for a moment to find the rest of it crunched up and tossed to the side.

Convincing insurance that a super-powered stick created a twister in the middle of their kitchen would be a pain in the rear, Purple mused as they sidled over to one of the cabinet drawers that had been forced out of its place. There they found a cloth rag, which they quickly grabbed before heading towards the tipped over, broken refrigerator. If they wanted a payout good enough to rebuild their kitchen to its former glory, they’d have to come up with a good story. The damage was too extensive to be explained by a burglary turned fight, so they doubted that would pass the smell test. A bear attack, maybe? Were there even bears in this area…? Honestly, the best thing Purple could come up with was an explosion. The microwave was relatively new, and still under warranty, so with a little ingenuity Purple was certain they could alter the scene of the crime to fit that narrative. Perhaps they’d even get a bit of a payout from the company that made the microwave.

Nodding in satisfaction, Purple paused in front of the fridge. They’d have to go over the story with Mango later to smooth over any mistakes, but they were certain they could get a full remodel covered with ease. The satisfaction the thought put on their face disappeared when they opened the freezer door a bit too roughly, resulting in it falling off its hinges and dangling from Purple’s hold. Gingerly they set it to the side and dug out a few pieces of melting ice to wrap in the cloth before finally making their way out of the kitchen to return to the others.

“-and so I said, ‘That’s positively blue-tiful!’” Red recited, and Yellow groaned lightly while Green and Blue cracked up. Somehow Purple got the feeling that they were laughing more at Yellow’s misery than whatever joke Red had set up.

Purple suppressed a smile as they approached, holding up the makeshift ice bag as if to explain their absence. “Thanks,” Yellow grumbled with a pout. She winced as the ice was set on her swollen ankle. “You got anything for the headache Red’s puns are causing?”

“Come on, Red’s just trying to make you feel better.” Purple scolded playfully, “It isn’t very ice of you complain.”

They almost cracked at the complete and total betrayal that befell Yellow’s face. “Purple,” She gasped in horror, “I trusted you.” Green, Blue, and Red all howled with laughter, Red even doubling over and clutching his side.

“That was your first mistake,” Purple informed her ominously, their grave tone in contrast to the wide grin stretched across their face.

A sudden, deep voice broke through the merriment. “I see you’re all doing well,” Mango noted, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. Purple could tell that his eyes had a hint of redness to them, but that was the only sign that there had been anything amiss. If anything, he was… too composed, which made Purple’s gut curl in on itself. How many times had the Old Man cried in secret, hiding his pain from Purple? How often had they stumbled across Mango post-crying session and bombarded him with their pointless complaints, completely oblivious to his suffering?

Their self-deprecating musing were ground to a halt when Mango made his way across the living room to Second’s side, taking a look at them himself. “How bad is it?” He asked.

“N-not that bad… no serious wounds or anything, I think they’re just drained,” Blue filled him in. She again checked Second’s pulse.

Mango hummed aloud, “Still, I’d rather be safe than sorry. We should get them to a hospital or something.”

“A hospital?” Green questioned, suddenly looking uneasy. It quickly spread to Blue and Red.

“Um,” Yellow interrupted, “Look, the details are too… complicated to get into right now, but that would be a really bad idea. Especially if they decided to isolate Sec.”

Red and Green both went pale. Blue looked close to tearing up. The argument Mango was clearly about to get into died on his lips at the sight, but he still didn’t look quite ready to let this go. Knowing how the old man worried and figuring that it wouldn’t be the greatest idea in the world to give a vulnerable super-powered stick to the government, Purple decided to step in. They moved from Yellow’s side to place a comforting hand on Mango’s arm, redirecting his attention back to them.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” They confirmed, “Sec’s got super healing powers, so they’ll be able to patch everyone up once they’re rested up.”

Still Mango looked unconvinced. "I don’t know…”

“Trust me,” Purple pleaded, and they were pleased to see a little crack in the old man’s armour.

After a moment of hemming and hawing, he sighed, “Alright, fine, for now,” Mango agreed. The others slumped in clear relief at his resignation, “But if they’re not up by sundown, we’re taking them to the nearest doctor.”

“They will be,” Green stated with unyielding confidence.

Mango nodded, then glanced over at Yellow. “Your ankle isn’t broken?” He asked.

“Sprained,” She confirmed, “Just need to ice it and keep it elevated. I’ll be fine.”

Satisfied with that, Mango nodded affirmatively. He looked a little more at ease than he had been back in the kitchen. “That just leaves one more. Green,” Said stick flinched at being called out, “Hold still for a moment. You hit your head pretty hard back there. I want to make sure you’re not concussed.”

Purple winced. Come to think of it, they had heard a pretty hard thump after Second had exploded. Had that been Green’s head hitting the wall? There had been so much going on they’d barely taken note of it.

Nearby, Purple heard Blue whisper under her breath, “I didn’t even notice…” They didn’t respond to her, but placed a gentle, consoling hand on her shoulder.

Some simple questions were exchanged between Mango and Green, each one Green answered with ease and clarity. Finally, Mango asked Green how he felt, “I was nauseous and dizzy at first,” The musical stick explained, “But after I sat down and relaxed a little it went away. Now I just have a raging migraine.”

“Hmm,” Mango scratched his chin, “Well, try to take it easy, just to be safe. Head injuries are no joke. I’ll ask you again later, but so far you seem fine.”

Some relief returned to the room at Mango’s unofficial diagnosis. Red and Yellow tossed some concussion related jabs at Green while Blue smiled warmly down at him. Laughter returned to the living room, and it felt like their friends were finally at peace – save one glaring omission to the group.

They hoped Second would wake up soon.

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

Line after line, form after form, their art came to life.

Through careful craft of masterful strokes, an animation came to be. Tiny little paws made contact with an invisible floor as a kitten was gently coaxed into existence. Nose pointed straight, tail upturned in the air. Little bits of fuzz were represented by stroke after stroke of line. The small kitten stood proud, ready to make the step forward, and The Second Coming looked down at her with pride. Then they clicked to the next frame, and began the process again. Frames of the same drawing were gradually altered, until the little kitten made her way across the ground in order to explore the brand new world she was brought into.

The Second Coming nodded at her, turned to save her existence, and came face to face with the Second Coming.

A reflection stared back at them, eyes aglow with soft emerald light. No words were exchanged – they were seldom needed when the Second Coming faced themselves. The quiet contained no tension, no fear. Only a sense of peace. Some moments passed, and then the mirror turned and walked away. The Second Coming tried to follow after them, as they were usually expected to, but a hand held up in a universal ‘stop’ motion kept them in place.

Carefully maneuvering down beneath them, The Second Coming waltzed through the timeline of the kitten’s animation without concern. Their gaze remained focused and forward until, quite suddenly, they stopped at the very first key frame of the animation. It held firm in place as they pulled at it, harder and harder, until a perfect copy was pulled free, along with a brief flash of a fresh, entirely blank timeline. Seeing the timeline empty of their creation caused a moment of panic in the Second Coming, which quickly quieted when they looked back to see the kitten sitting there, unharmed, licking her paws with perfect grace and serenity.

Quick as they’d made their way across the timeline the Second Coming returned, carrying the key frame with the same care as though it was the kitten herself. A hand gesture beckoned the Second Coming over, and the Second Coming joined themselves at the precipice of the timeline and the canvas. They looked at themselves, and their self looked down at the key frame. Gently their hand stroked the top of it, before it took hold and began to stretch it larger, and larger. The Second Coming leaned forward to get a closer look, and was rewarded with a kitten jumping into their arms.

The kitten stared up at them, mild confusion on her face. She also stared at them from across the canvas, hackles raised as she noticed her other self’s presence. In response the version of her in Second’s arms hopped down, carefully skirting around herself as kitten and kitten inspected each other.

For a while the Second Coming and the Second Coming watched as the two kittens came to terms with each other and began playing. Though they were the same kitten, they may as well have been simple litter-mates with how easily they came together. A tap on the shoulder drew the Second Coming’s attention over to their other self, who gazed at them with strong, unblinking eyes. They held up the key frame, then gestured to the kittens. The Second Coming followed their movements.

From the key frame…

To the kittens…

To the key frame…

To the kittens…

And the Second Coming understood.

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

Second shot up from their resting position, crying out, “Holy heck I broke space time-!”

Just as they’d made it into a sitting position they froze. Pure, unadulterated agony spread across their entire body. Burning tears built up in their eyes, and Second desperately blinked them back even as their breath hitched. It was like every single one of their muscles were trying to pull away from their bones, burning as they struggled to break free.

“Ah…” They winced, and tried to ease back into a laying position. This only caused another flare of horrible pain from every muscle that was forced to move. “Ow, ow, ow…”

“Easy, Sec!” Blue consoled, the gentle heart being by their side in an instant. She carefully positioned her hands on their back and chest to help them back down. “Take slow, deep breaths… there you go, you’re almost there…”

Slow and steady, Second pushed past the pulses of torment to lie on their back. The worst of the pain faded, though uncomfortable aches still wracked their entire body. Following Blue’s advice, Second began to take in deep breaths, holding them for a short time before exhaling. Breathing clearly made it easier to relax their muscles, which in turn made the pain… not disappear, but lessen just a tad.

Blue was suddenly shoved to the side, and Red’s face appeared in her place. “Sec! Oh man dude, you had us so worried!” Out of the corner of their eye, Second could see Purple nod in agreement.

“Hey, give them some space!” Green scolded as he pulled Red back.

Yellow snickered, and Second tilted their head as much as the pain would allow to glance at her. She was sat in Mango’s ridiculously large armchair, her leg propped up on the coffee table before her with an ice bag on top. Looking over their friends, Second found that they were all sporting various bruises, cuts, and lumps. Even Mango, the least harmed of the sticks, had clearly irritated eyes and dark purple spots on his forearms.

They did this, Second realized. After everything, they’d hurt the people they cared about most. Again.

“Are you alright?” Mango’s voice, unusually kind, cut through the self-loathing that was starting to dominate Second’s thoughts. He towered over Blue as he gazed down at them. “I know you have healing powers, but it might be best to let a doctor look you over. I can get you to the hospital in less than ten minutes.”

“Hospital…?” Second repeated, swallowing down a fresh lump of nerves. A hospital meant doctors – scientists, men in coats, isolated in tiny space, don’t move, it’s for your own good… “N-no, I’m okay. I’ll heal myself once I’ve got a little more energy.”

“You’re sure?” Asked Mango. When Second made a small sound of affirmation, he relented, albeit a little reluctantly. “Alright, I’ll let it go for now… but I’d like to change the topic, if you don’t mind.” Mango took a spot on the couch, careful not to touch Second in any way. “What did you mean when you said you ‘broke space time’?”

There was a glint in Mango’s eyes that brought an entirely new sense of discomfort to Second, but they ignored it and did their best to explain, “It’s like I said,” Their throat was already beginning to ache from just this amount of talking, but it was easy enough for Second to ignore, “I- my powers used the picture as a sort of key frame, like in animation. You can jump between key frames to get to dynamic moments in the piece, to- to plan the pacing of-” Judging from the look on Mango’s face, Second guessed that they were getting a little off-topic and tried to steer themselves back on track, “Er, anyway, the key frame created a portal back to the moment it was created and- and basically made a ‘split’, to bring them back here.”

“A split?” Yellow asked, stroking her chin curiously. “So, does that mean they’re copies?”

Second shook their head instinctively, then winced at the resulting ache. “Not quite… it’s more like, I split the timeline? Since everyone’s memories of Purple and Mango are in tact and history clearly didn’t change, it’s likely I created an alternate worldline where those two sticks mysteriously vanished one day. You know, because I pulled them into the future.”

“Um…” Red looked completely lost, “Okay, can you explain that again, but in a way that makes sense?”

Thank goodness Yellow took point, because Second’s head was already aching, their thoughts spinning as they tried to come up with another way to put it. Instead they laid back and listened as Yellow explained, “It’s basically just alternate universes.” She stated smoothly. “Like, instead of the timeline exploding or all of our memories altering to account for Mango mysteriously being brought into the future, instead there’s another world entirely identical to this one, except that Mango and that other stick don’t exist there, because they’re here.”

“I’m still confused,” Red said.

“For now, just know that these are past versions of Mango and Gold Ochre.” Purple summarized, “But, man… that’s incredible. We knew you were strong, dude, but…”

Every pair of eyes was on Second, pinning them with a sudden pressure on their chest. More little murmurs broke out between Second’s friends, whispered words that they couldn’t quite make out, and Second forced their eyes shut. Unable to hear their friends’ conversations, Second’s traitorous brain filled in the blanks, shouting at them about how different they were, how dangerous they were. How they no longer belonged with these amazing, wonderful sticks. Second groaned and tried to drown out the chattering both in and out of their head, but it only made the voices louder.

Why did they have to be cursed like this? Why couldn’t they just go back to being normal?

“All that aside,” Green suddenly said, drawing attention back to him and away from Second. Freedom from the burden of being the center of attention muted the voices in their head, at least for now, “I think we’ve waited long enough, so I wanna know. Who the heck is Gold?”

Mango suddenly went rigid. He frowned coldly, glaring at nothing in particular, while Purple immediately moved to hover anxiously at his side. They reached to comfort him, but didn’t make contact before withdrawing and instead offering gentle reassurances. “It’s okay. I can explain if you-”

“She’s my kid,” Mango finally revealed. Everything went quiet as the news echoed in their thoughts. “He… died a few months before I met Purple.” Mango’s eyes suddenly darted up, meeting Second’s head on. “And you brought her back.”

An awkward feeling settled over Second, as though they were taking credit for something they didn’t do. “I hadn’t exactly planned that,” They reminded him, “I just wanted to fix what I broke.”

“Fix what’s broken…” Mango echoed, then huffed out a gentle laugh, “Well, you certainly fixed something. I don’t think I can ever repay this.” Some sort of weight fell off of Mango’s shoulders, and he gratefully smiled down at them. The weight of his appreciation sat heavy on their chest. It didn’t feel like they’d done anything but mess things up, and yet… they’d saved a life? The duality of their feelings clashed within Second, leaving them unable to vocalize their thoughts. Oblivious, Mango continued on, “Now it’s just a matter of… explaining this whole mess to them,” He visibly winced, “That’s gonna be ugly.”

Second, sensing the discord in his tone, immediately volunteered. “I can do it,” They proclaimed, ‘I’m the one who brought them here, so it only makes sense…”

“Appreciate the thought, kid,” Despite his words, the disapproval was clear through Mango’s tone, “but this is kind of a family matter. I wouldn’t feel right about having you do my job. Besides,” He tossed a side eye to Red, Blue, and Green, all of whom, Second noted uneasily, were watching them with very intense expressions, “I think if you try to get up off that couch, your friends are going to duct tape you to it.”

Unable to deny that, Second agreed, “Okay, fair enough,” Then they chuckled, “Heh, at least they’re letting me sleep for once.”

For some reason, Red burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Meanwhile Purple stood up, eagerly rushing to Mango’s side. “I’ll come help!” They offered.

“That’s not a good idea either,” Mango told them, and if he noticed how their entire form seemed to slump, he didn’t comment on it, “If I know myself as well as I think I do, then I know exactly how my past self will react to the news that Gold’s dead, and…” A haunted shadow fell over the old man’s eyes, “I don’t think you need to see that side of me again. In the meantime, hold down the fort here. I’m officially putting you in charge.”

“Wait, why’s Purple in charge?” Yellow complained.

Mango side-eyed the lot of them, as though they were the ones who’d almost blown up an entire video game world, “Because they’re the only ones I’m certain won’t try and get themselves killed the moment I’ve left.” Mango stood up and walked towards the bedroom hallway, paused for just a moment, and then picked something off of his bookshelf. A dusty relic, shimmering bronze in a painfully familiar circlet. A crown.

Probably Purple’s, though Mango didn’t seem to have any reservations about borrowing it. He waltzed out with only a wave backwards, which Purple echoed with drained melancholy.

Once Mango was gone, Red took his place sitting next to Second, plopping down with a raspberry. “So, what, we just wait around for them to wake up?”

Purple shrugged. “I guess-” They were cut off by a loud roar, fierce and angry like a lion, and Purple’s face started glow bright pink.

Yellow couldn’t help but poke fun at the suffering stick, “Aw, is someone a little hungy~?” She cooed.

“Agh, will you shut up?!” Snapped the mess of a stick, “I didn’t exactly get the change to eat after you guys showed up. We did make a lasagna, but…” Purple’s voice trailed off, and without further explanation they disappeared.

Oh yeah. In addition to all the other problems they’d caused, Second had ruined Purple and Mango’s dinner. It wasn’t much of an offense, in comparison to all the other events of that day, but it felt like the sour cherry on top of the melted garbage sundae.

Soon enough Purple returned, oven mitts covering their hands and a casserole dish carefully carried along with them. The look on their face was uncertain and vaguely disturbed as they presented what was supposed to be their dinner to the group. A perfectly normal, if underdone, lasagna, with the added twist that it glowed a sickly green.

“Uhh…” Second couldn’t tear their eyes off of the abomination. “Whoops.”

Red twisted away from the cursed creation, staring at it as though expecting it to attack. Green and Blue each approached to investigate themselves. Green’s nose wrinkled as he got closer. Uneasy silence covered the room as they all wondered just what Second’s power had done to the poor thing.

Then, at last, Blue shrugged and pulled a knife and fork out of nowhere. “Meh, I’ll still eat it.”

Everyone’s horrified expressions shifted from the monstrous creation to the monstrous stick. Green looked vaguely ill. “Dude,” He stared in disbelief, “That thing’s like, three different kinds of radioactive.”

“I’ve put worse things in my mouth.”

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

Soft sunlight poured through the window, gently caressing Mango’s face with unseasonable warmth. His eyes fluttered open, his blurred vision gradually clearing to reveal the familiar sight of his child’s bedroom ceiling. Spending nights here wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, especially when Gold was younger and afraid of what might be hiding in the room’s darkest corners, but what bugged Mango were the holes in his memory. He and Gold had just returned from a tournament, that he recalled. They’d celebrated and begun planning dinner, and then… nothing. Just a deep-rooted sense of unease and a blinding green light assaulting his eyes.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Mango’s attention was immediately drawn to the divot in the mattress right next to him, where Gold was curled up at his side. She was unharmed – which thank goodness, but why would he think she was hurt? - and slumbering as soundly as she always did, her breath escaping in sweet little whistles.

“Gold?” He grabbed her by the shoulder and gave her a rousing shake.

Like the deep log-sawer she was, Gold grumbled and groaned at his prodding. Her face pinched as she resisted the toll of the living world, grumbling and groaning at Mango’s attempts to awaken her. “Five more minuteees…” She whined, pulling her pillow around her ears in an adorable fluff sandwich.

Though he couldn’t shake the nerves wracking his entire body, Mango found himself smiling at the adorable sight. “C’mon, honey, get up,” He nudged her a few more times, and she complied with a ridiculous amount of effort, picking herself up like she had suddenly doubled in weight. She let out a cute little kitten yawn, stretching up so high he was sure she’d reach the ceiling. Turing, who gave this kid permission to get so big? Mango would have to have words with them.

Once she got her bearings, Gold looked around and immediately put on a puzzled frown, “Mm, dad?” He asked, his voice shifting in a subtle way, “When did we go to bed…?”

“Still putting that together, hun,” Mango answered. There was an itching at the back of his neck, a nagging sense of forgetting something important, but whatever it was kept escaping his grasp every time he reached for it.The oncoming migraine was already clawing at his skull.

The sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the air, forcing every thought in Mango’s head to a grinding halt. Instinct had him throwing an arm up to push Gold behind him, only barely registering the kid’s gasp, before he turned to glare firmly at this intruder. Then his glare dropped in shock as he found himself face to face with… himself.

Or, at least, a man who looked nearly identical to him. Instead of neatly tying back his hair he let it hang haphazardly off his shoulders, with bangs and curls jutting in every direction. Dark shadows lined hie sunken eyes, with little hints of redness indicating a level of exhaustion Mango hadn’t felt since Gold was an infant. Even his clothes were a wreck; ever since Gold became old enough to start doing his own laundry Mango had made a point of keeping his own clothing as neat and pressed as he could, if only to set an example. So while the wrinkled, stained clothes didn’t turn him off as much as it would other sticks, it was certainly startling to see.

“Nice to see you’re both awake,” He commented coolly, not yet addressing the blatant elephant in the room. His voice was like a recording of Mango’s own, altered mildly to add some huskiness.

“Wait, dad? But you’re… and you…?” Gold’s head spun back and forth as he looked between his father and his father’s perfect doppelganger. The poor dear seemed so lost. Finally, he pulled his head over Mango’s still extended arm to whisper a little too loudly, “Dad, do you have a secret twin you never told me about?”

Before Mango could respond, Mango- the other Mango, ah heck, that was gonna get confusing – answered in his place. “Not exactly, honey. It’s a bit more complicated than that, but…” He stepped a little closer, and smiled a tiny, broken smile, “It’s so good to see you.”

A sinking weight began to form in Mango’s gut at the sound of his voice. There was sincere, unadulterated joy there, and while Mango would never be unhappy to see his kid, there was something under the happiness that was far more desperate than he was comfortable hearing in his own voice. His eyes, though darkened by the shadows of exhaustion, were shimmering as unshed tears reflected the sunlight.

“I understand why you might be confused. I’ll explain everything in a moment, but I’d like to begin by re-introducing myself.” To that end, his other self sauntered across the floor with surprising confidence for someone who was clearly such a mess, grabbing Gold’s nearby desk chair and spinning it around to sit backwards in it, in exactly the same way he’d always scolded Gold for, and placed some cheap looking prop crown atop his messy mane. “You may call me ‘King’. At least for now, so people can tell us apart.”

Gold blinked dumbly at his father’s doppelganger for a moment, then a bright, wide grin stretched across his face, “Whoa!” He cried out, pure excitement dancing in his eyes, “You look so cool!”

“You look ridiculous,” Mango informed him matter-of-factly.

“I know,” King stated, dramatically tossing his hair back with one hand. He didn’t specify who he was agreeing with, “But to get back to the subject at hand…” For a moment this King guy hesitated, slumping and folding his hands in his lap before eventually proceeding, “There’s no real way to ease you into it, so I’m just going to come out and say it: You’re in the future. About two years in the future.”

Mango could feel his eyes widen. Gold’s fingers dug into his arm as he gasped, “The future…?”

“Indeed,” Confirmed King, and his eyes crinkled in amusement.

This new knowledge had Mango looking over their surroundings with fresh eyes. Something about Gold’s room was different. Not in the sense that it had been rearranged or had needed repaired in some way, but that it felt… uncanny. It had a level of order that was very unlike Gold. There were no books left out, no school supplies haphazardly thrown around, no broken boards from Gold’s attempts to learn some new move. Everything was arranged like some sort of display room; too nicely, too neatly, contradicted only by the scent of dust lingering in the air.

King’s broken smile as he looked upon Gold came back to mind, and the knot in Mango’s gut tightened.

“Whoa, that’s- that’s crazy!” Gold pushed past Mango’s arms to crawl closer to King, totally enraptured by the infinite possibilities the future might bright. “Do you call yourself King because you rule the world? Has there been some kind of crazy apocalypse and you’re leading the survivors? Has the Internet ended!?”

Before Gold could take his hyperactive, overly imaginative questioning any further, Mango took the reigns and pulled Gold back by his collar, “Easy, Hon,” Mango scolded lightly, “Remember, it’s only been about two years. I don’t think the world would’ve ended in that time.” Much less Mango becoming some sort of monarch, but that thought was so ridiculous it didn’t need to be said. What idiot would make Mango a king?

King stood surprisingly rigidly, looking… too uncomfortable at questions he should’ve very well expected from his kid, “A lot can happen in two years.” He informed them both without any further elaboration.

“Still!” Gold pumped his arms up in excitement, his sunny smile shining so bright that even dull, downtrodden King seemed to lighten up, “You’ve gotta have so many crazy stories! Like that big fair coming up this summer,” That made King visibly flinch, raising so many more alarm bells in Mango’s head, “or-!” Gold gasped, “The next tournament! You gotta tell me how I’ll do! Do I win?! Did I screw it up?! How many people did I beat?!”

The look on King’s face was visibly pained, and the weight in Mango’s stomach became a black hole. It sucked in everything – his feelings, his attention, his damned air – as a terrible puzzle began to put itself together in his head. The dust on everything. The longing in King’s eyes. The exhaustion that encumbered every inch of his form.

No. No, I’m just imagining things. There’s no way-

A sigh, and King sunk in on himself, looking every bit like a monarch burdened with the weight of the world. “There are… some things you need to know. Don’t get up, this is going to be a long story…”

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

Of all the things Purple had thought they’d be doing with tonight’s dinner, playing some odd combination of keep away and football was not what they expected.

The ball, also known as the ‘radioactive lasagna abomination’, was held high above Purple’s head as Blue stretched herself to try and steal it from them. It was all in good fun; Blue wasn’t seriously trying to fight Purple, and Green had decided it was safe enough to not risk worsening his potential concussion. Instead he sat off to the side, offering wayward advice and vague warnings to help keep the lasagna out of Blue’s clutches. Red was cheering over in vaguely the direction of the couch, more on the side of chaos than either of his friends. Meanwhile Second and Yellow, while initially entertaining themselves by watching, had quickly grown tired of the antics and were quietly talking amongst themselves about quantum… something? Purple wasn’t smart enough to be able to figure out what they were talking about from just the little snippets they could overhear. Not when they had to focus entirely on Blue.

The thing about Blue was that she was ever so slightly taller than Purple, tall enough that Purple had to lean back to keep the lasagna away from her. This inevitably lead to them losing their balance and falling flat on their face, nose inches away from the glowing casserole. Its smell smacked Purple with a repugnant odor, like the food was three weeks out of date, and they gagged involuntarily. How could Blue even want to put this disgusting thing in her mouth?

When they’d fallen Blue had landed on top of Purple, and it took almost no time for her to begin scrambling forth to get at the lasagna. Purple sharply butted her chin with their head and slipped out from under her to take hold of the dish once again. They were only up on their feet for a moment before Blue charged after them.

Panicked, Purple began frantically scanning all around the room, from table to window to houseplant, looking for somewhere, anywhere, to get rid of this radioactive time bomb before Blue could make the mistake of eating it. Finally they caught sight of the open window on top of the door, the same one Yellow had jokingly implied the group had entered through earlier, and without a moment’s hesitation they got into form and began to spin, building up momentum, all the while aware of Blue’s heavy footsteps stomping closer and closer. Just moments before Blue could grab them they tossed the lasagna like a discus, sending it flying over the door, out the window, and into Mango’s front yard.

Everyone froze. Silence fell over them all before slowly, gingerly, three sticks made their way towards the door. Green first, getting up off his chair to inspect the damage, then Purple, then Blue sheepishly trailing behind. The sun was starting to go down, but there was still plenty of summer sun warming their faces as they stepped outside. It took a moment to find the lasagna – the thing had flown roughly thirty meters once it exited the house, landing food side down in one of the neighbor’s flowering bushes.

...There was smoke coming from the hydrangeas. The entire plant withered in double speed; its leaves going black and stems drooping down. The delicate pink petals shriveled up and fell off. Soon enough those poor flowers were dead, a single wilted shrub amongst the rainbow that decorated the neighbor’s front lawn.

Silence reigned for a heavy second. Then Blue made a sound like a small ‘meep’, her hands flying up to stroke her jaw, as if verifying that it was indeed still in tact.

“...And this is why we don’t like it when you put random things you find on the ground in your mouth.” Green scolded, sounding more tired than genuinely angry. His fingers were massaging his temples in a vain attempt to stave off what was no doubt a resurgence of his earlier migraine.

Blue anxiously tapped her fingers as she murmured in acknowledgment, “Yeah, I’m gonna go try and get that pan back before someone notices… Sorry, Purple…”

With that Blue trudged out into the big stick world all on her own, tiptoe and tumbling across the lawn as though avoiding the gaze of some non-existent sentry. Nobody was present, of course – after moving in Purple began keeping meticulous track of the neighbors comings and goings, mostly for safety reasons but also for their own amusement, and knew none of the neighbors who would care would be home for several hours. Everyone else knew how to mind their own business, so Purple gave Green a casual shrug and made their way back inside.

If there had been any tension inside from the Great Lasagna Toss, it had completely dissipated by the time Purple had returned. Second and Yellow had roped Red into joining whatever conversation they were having, and though Red looked to be developing a migraine on par with Green’s, he seemed to at least be beginning to understand what they were talking about.

“So a ‘fixed timeline’ means that nothing you can do will altar the past and change the future, even if you tried to directly?” Red asked.

Yellow nodded, seemingly satisfied with how Red’s slap-dash time travel education was coming along, “Exactly. The most common reason for this is the single timeline theory. If you time travel, you will always have time traveled, and so the time travel was a canonical event from the beginning. But there are versions of this theory that say the universe will altar itself in order to course correct. Things can only go one way, and there’s no changing fate,” She hummed, stroking her chin, “That’s actually one of my primary concerns with the current situation. Maybe we can stop Gold from dying, but in doing so we may be condemning them to an even worse death later.”

Purple’s heart jolted in their chest. They jumped over to Yellow, startling the bright stick as she scrambled a little in response to their sudden closeness. “Hey, hi. Maybe don’t say that in front of the Old Man? Like, ever?” Without giving her a chance to respond, Purple continued, “I think he’s had enough mental breakdowns for one day.”

“Ngh…” Second groaned from where they were still laying on the couch. There had been some positive progress, in that they could now turn their head and make tiny movements without crying from pain, but they still couldn’t pull themselves up into a sitting position, “The more I think about this, the more I feel like I should be in there with him. I mean, I’m the one who brought them here, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” Yellow agreed, though her eyebrow was quirked up at the sickly stick.

Second continued to ramble to all the sticks presence, barely paying mind to Green when he joined them, having apparently gotten bored of watching Blue stealth across the front lawn, “He doesn’t even know about string theory, or multiple worldlines, or- or the risks of tearing a hole in space-time? Like, what if there’s some sort of backlash from using that much energy at once?” Second’s face grew more and more tense as their rambles continued, “Or what if there’s actually still a microscopic black-hole in the kitchen, and it could tear open and swallow everything at any time?! Or-or-” Seconds eyes seemed to lose focus as they gazed up at nothingness. Their voice got hoarser, their breathing harder, their speaking faster, “W-what if we were wrong about the multiple timelines thing, and the paradox of having past versions of two people here is slowly tearing the universe apart, bit by bit, until there’s nothing left but the cold, endless void-?!”

“Whoa there, buddy, reel it back a little bit,” Red was the first to break free of the stunned stupor Second’s stream of madness caused, but once he did he moved to Second’s side to place his hands on their shoulders. Judging by how Second didn’t so much as twitch at the contact, his touch must have been unusually gentle, “You’re doing the thing again.”

Second’s eyes were bulging out of their face, but in a strange way their confusion seemed to ground them, forcing Second to focus on Red, “W-what thing?”

“You know, the thing,” Red leaned over Second to make sure they could see him as he continued, “That spiraling thing you do, where your train of thought hits, like, this tiny little pebble of random danger and goes flying off the rails into this insane paranoia tornado, until it goes crashing back down into the central station of common sense,” A grin fit for a clown spread wide across Red’s face as he described this phenomenon, “You know, that thing?”

Whatever the intention of Red’s comment, it at least got Second to calm down, even if it was only by making them more annoyed than worried, “I do not do that,” They insisted.

Green’s snickering laugh only increased the level of petty pout that Second was putting on, “You totally do, dude!”

“Majority rules,” Yellow added, smugly pushing her glasses up her nose.

In desperation, Second tilted their head towards Purple, “I don’t do that, right Purple?”

“I may not be a quantum physicist like you and Yellow,” The violet stick crossed their arms and leaned back, “but I am not stupid enough to get in the middle of this.”

Howling laughter erupted from the other three sticks, and Second sighed melodramatically, head slumping back on the couch, “I hate you all,” They declared in a weary sigh.

“Aw,” Red cooed, moving his hands to cautiously squish second’s face, “Is da wittle cwybaby feewing gwumpy?”

Second’s face lit up in a bright green blush, “What did I do to deserve this?”

Purple felt lighter as they laughed along with everyone. They hadn’t realized just how rigidly they’d been holding themselves until all that tension was forced out of them by a little dose of joy. That was the nice things about these guys; no matter how bad the circumstances, no matter what horrors life put them through, they always managed to come out the other side whole and together. What was it that got them through the tough times? Was it one anchor that held them together, like Second’s protective attachment, or Green’s compassion? Was it all of their good traits coming together, making something greater than the sum of their parts? Or maybe they just loved each other that much, that they could manifest happy endings for themselves by believing hard enough?

Envy scratched at Purple’s insides, just the same as it did every time they saw the colourful group together, but its insistent scratching got softer and quieter every time they got together. Though their earlier thoughts about Gold proved Purple was still a terrible person, they felt like being around the others was slowly, surely, making them better. At least, they really hoped so.

The merriment of the moment was interrupted by a loud, angry, “You son of a bitch!”, followed by a thump that seemed to shake the house.

Second was first to react, immediately trying to sit up, but Red vetoed that idea by pushing down on their shoulders roughly enough that Second winced. “Stay down, ya masochist!” He scolded, “We got this! Come on, guys!”

The prompting shook Purple out of their momentary shock to follow Red out of the room, heart racing. Heavy footsteps behind them indicated that Green was following as well, racing along in tandem through the side hallway where the bedrooms were. They filed past Mango’s Purple’s door to reach Gold’s, and Red yanked it open to exactly the sight Purple had been afraid of. The younger Mango had knocked down the older one, pinning him with his weight and attempting to punch his lights out. Old Man Mango was barely blocking his blows with his already bruised forearms, wincing visibly with every hit. Purple’s crown, once proudly displayed in the living room along with one of Gold’s trophies, had been knocked to the ground in the middle of the chaos.

Purple’s breath hitched.

“D-dad, please-!” Gold was crying, visible tears running down his face. Her entire body was shaking, “Please, c-calm down!”

“How could you?!” Younger Mango seemed deaf to everything, even his own child, at that moment, “How could you let this happen?!”

All Old Man Mango did in response was grunt as he was hit again.

Nobody was moving forward to stop this mess; Red and Green were utterly petrified, and Gold was clearly not in any state to do anything. So without further thought Purple leapt into action, barreling into the forbidden space and grabbing onto the younger Mango’s arm. The sudden touch had him turning his tearful, angry glare at Purple. Ice spread through Purple’s veins as their eyes made contact, freezing them in place for the entire half-second it took for Mango’s fist to connect with their face.

Pain exploded across their cheek and traveled through their entire head, and for a moment Purple felt so much younger, so much smaller. A tall stick, the same colour as the sunset the night sky towered above them, looking down at his their child with wild, frightened eyes. You need to get up, Purple! Their voice echoed through Purple’s ears, ringing heavily with each throb of pain, You need to fight, Purple! I can’t protect you forever, Purple-!

“Purple!”

Jolting back into reality, Purple blinked away their blurred vision and found warm orange replacing cold navy. The Old Man Mango had finally stopped letting himself be used as a punching bag and was hovering anxiously over them, hands reaching out but seemingly unable to bridge the gap between them. Beyond the clear horror, Mango wore guilt plain on his face, looking close to tears yet again. Over… Purple? Or scaring Gold, maybe?

Whatever it was, the hysteria of his current mood remained in the old man’s voice when he called out again, “Purple! Are you alright?!”

The throbbing pain lingering in their jaw, but at that moment all Purple wanted was for the Old Man to stop looking at them like they were some kicked puppy. The way his eyes bore into them, with lingering tears and intense focus, was making their heart clench painfully tight and their chest fill with a strange warmth. So Purple playfully smacked away his stalling hands and smiled their biggest, brightest smile, “Pfft, I’m fine. I’ve taken hits twice that hard when I was half this size.”

Mango retreated a little at Purple’s words, no longer bordering on the edge of hysteria but still looking very uncomfortable, “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but that’s actually doing the opposite.”

Not even bothering to hide their rolling eyes, Purple quickly surveyed the room again. Poor Gold was the first thing they noticed; their eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets as they covered their gaping mouth, horrified at what their father had just done. On the opposite side of the room, Green was being held back by Red. He glared daggers at the younger Old Man, who in turn was staring at Purple themselves with shock and… something else, something dark, that made Purple’s insides squirm in familiar fear.

Why? What did they do besides get punched out?

Some sort of accord seemed to have been reached between Red and Green, the two briefly nodding at each other in the corner of Purple’s vision before separating. Red lazily jogged along the outer edges of the room while Green approached the younger Mango and grabbed his arm roughly, “Well, since you two are clearly going to behave like children,” Green scolded as he dragged Young Mango over to Old Mango, only to do the same to him, “Then we’re going to have to treat you like children. Red!”

A sharp squeaking noise flooded the room, signaling that Red had yanked opened the closet door, and without further notice Green pushed both adults inside. Red slammed the closet door closed immediately once the two were inside, and Purple was joining in on their mutiny before their brain could fully comprehend what was happening, grabbing the knocked over chair from Gold’s desk and using it to prop the door shut. With the chair wedged firmly in place, the thumps from within the sealed room had no hope of breaking free.

“Hey!” One of the two old men called out from within, beating on the door with such force Purple could swear they could see it shaking, “Let us out of here, you damned brats!” The pounding of their fists against it matched the pounding of Purple’s heart as they realized Holy Heck they just locked their guardian in the closet-!

Red leaned against the door with a smug aura. From the safety of the outside he taunted, “Nope~! Naughty adults have to be punished in the time out zone~!”

“Listen, you little-!”

“Don’t bother,” A more tired version of the same voice reasoned with the angry one, “They won’t listen to you anyways.”

Maybe it was how calm the Mango he’d always known sounded in the midst of all this chaos, or maybe the shock of the situation was finally starting to wear off, but Purple suddenly found themselves grinning at this ridiculous situation, “C’mon, Old Man,” They teased, hearing a bristling repetition of the nickname from who they were sure was the younger of the two, “You know you can’t really come out of the closet until you truly accept yourself.”

Who the heavy sigh that followed came from didn’t even need clarification, nor did the mumbling of, “Purple, I swear to Turing-”

As Green and Red went over the security on the door to be sure the two fighting adults couldn’t just bust their way out, Purple found themselves turning back to Gold, who had been watching the entire circus play out with utter shock. Purple had guessed from pictures that they and Gold were around the same height, but the way he curled in on himself made them look so much smaller, so much more fragile. It wasn’t easy seeing a parent lose themselves to their own madness, Purple sympathized. Especially when learning about your own death was the catalyst.

So Purple approached and, making sure not to startle her by speaking too loudly, asked, “Hey, how are you doing?”

Gold jumped a little at suddenly being addressed, anxiously twiddling his fingers as he answered, “Uh, fine, I’m fine, I’m… sorry, I should’ve done something to stop them, or help, but-”

“I think we can excuse you for being a little… out of it today,” Consoled Purple. They felt like they should do comfort them – rub the kid’s shoulder, hug her, something – but the full weight of the situation kept them standing awkwardly still. Eventually, Purple managed to break the silence, “I’m Purple, by the way. I usually go by they/them.”

They held out their hand, and after a moment of silent staring Gold took it, “Uh, Gold. I’m- I’m a guy, at least for now. That’ll probably change, but I’ll let you know when it does.” Despite his clear discomfort, Gold forced a familiar smile onto his face. The family resemblance between father and son was so strong it would’ve been impossible not to see the Old Man in Gold.

“Thanks!” Red chimed in, sliding up to them from the side, “I’m Red, and that’s Green. We’re guys too! Mostly!”

Green rolled his eyes as he sauntered up behind Red. “Chill out, dude. C’mon, we should leave Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dork to their suffering and introduce Gold to the others.”

“Others? There are more of you guys?” Gold asked, too stunned to protest as Red and Green practically pushed him out of the room, “D-did my dad start an orphanage or something after I died?”

Purple couldn’t hold back their snorting laughter, “Nah, I’m the only one who lives here. Everyone else is just freeloading until further notice.”

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

SO. Today hadn’t been going exactly like Gold planned.

He thought he’d be winning the tournament today, taking home a trophy just as golden and shiny as his colouring, but managed to flub it up at the last moment. Then, before Gold could even start to lick his wounds, he and his father were thrust years – literal years – into the future, where Gold was dead and his dad looked halfway to it. They’d gotten as far as the incident at the fair before his other father completely lost his marbles and began trying to beat himself to death, only for some poor other kid to suffer the consequences.

Now he was standing awkwardly in his own living room, so familiar yet so different, where a rainbow of strangers were hanging around with a variety of injuries.

“Blue’s not back?” Green asked as they all entered and wait, this wasn’t all of them???

One of them, a yellow stick with glasses, shook their head, “Probably still stealthing her way back. I’m sure she’ll-”

The front door exploded open with enough force that Gold was certain the old bat next door heard (if she was still alive after two years, dear programmers it’d been two years-), and a bright blue stick with a cheeky grin and one of dad’s new two year old casserole dishes held over her head triumphantly. “Behold! I have retrieved the evidence!” She looked around the room, stopped her gaze at Gold, and blinked owlishly for a long moment, “Uh, I feel like I missed something.”

Green openly snorted, “A few things.” He agreed, waltzing past Gold without concern to plop down next to the messed of a stick laying on the couch. Without even looking he took this stick’s hand and continued conversing with the blue stick, poking some eating related jab at them. Looking past them, Gold did a double take as he finally caught sight of the kitchen and holy heck what happened to the kitchen?!

A violet hand on his shoulder made Gold jump momentarily, glancing back to see Purple smiling kindly despite the fresh bruise on their face. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of Purple; they’d been so nice, even after Gold’s dad straight up punched them in the face. A part of Gold felt like they were taking advantage of Purple’s hospitality after what dad had done, but an even bigger part was grateful for something – anything – to cling on to in the middle of this insanity.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout the mess,” Purple gestured vaguely to the ruined room, shrugging, “As it turns out, time travel has some wicked side effects. Including literally exploding.”

The stick on the couch, who Gold had assumed was asleep (or maybe in a coma), mumbled an exhausted, “Sorry…” before rolling a little to better face the others.

“Ah, right, let me introduce everyone!” Purple leapt out from behind Gold to take center stage. It was obvious to Gold how they reveled in the spotlight, every gesture made being grand and graceful, “Firstly, presenting the perilous potion pilferer, the gluttonous god of the grill, the mighty Miss Blue!” The blue stick had seated herself on the arm part of Dad’s armchair, snickering at Purple’s introduction, “Sitting next to her, measuring up at a whopping 1500 grams of brains and 50 grams of muscles-”

“Hey,” The Yellow stick warned, not bothering to wipe the amused smile from their face. Gold brought a hand up to his mouth to help hold in his giggling.

“-Her sassiness, the Unyielding Miss Yellow!” Purple spun around the armchair to stand between it and the couch, “Now, you’ve already been introduced to the Wrathful Red,” Purple presented Red who, despite his title, was grinning like he’d just won the lottery as he posed, “And Green the Guileless!” Green rolled his eyes playfully, “But be prepared, for our last friend is certainly not our least. They are the world’s deadliest mom friend, a hot-headed herald of hibernation…” Purple presented the stick on the couch with jazz hands, “The Second Coming~!”

The others let out a round of whoops and hollers that didn’t seem particularly appreciated by this Second Coming character, who waved everyone off with a grumpy frown. “You can just call me Second,” They informed Gold in a mumble. While they weren’t as visibly injured as everyone around them, they made up for that by looking deathly ill. Their eyes were practically swallowed by dark circles, and their exposed flesh was clammy and pale.

Dropping the act, Purple seemed a little more serious as they informed him, “Second’s the one who brought you here with their super powers. It kinda drained them.”

Gold’s mouth was open before he could even fully take in the information, “Oh, so that’s why they look like a drowned cat.”

Immediately his eyes bulged out of their sockets, and howling laughter flooded the air from the other sticks. Why did he say that?! What in the Outernet made him say that to the stick who SAVED HIS LIFE?!?!

Second looked like they were suppressing a grimace, “Gee, thanks.”

Waving his hands frantically, Gold immediately tried to eat his words, swallow them, anything to take them back and redo his introduction, “I am SO sorry! I-I don’t even know why I said that, that was SO stupid-!”

“Hey, hey,” Second awkwardly consoled, slowly lifting themselves up into a sitting position. Everyone who could stand immediately stood at attention, watching their change of position with hyper-vigilance, “It’s okay, let’s just… start over,” They lifted their arm with shaking effort, managing a grin for Gold, “Hi, I’m Second.”

Feeling a little relief wash over him, Gold reached over and carefully took his hand, giving it a light shake, “I’m Gold. It’s nice to meet you.”

Second’s eyes remained trained on Gold’s face the entire time, watching him as if looking for something, and Gold’s muscles locked up as he struggled not to look away. It felt like those emerald eyes were trying to pierce through his very soul. After a moment, a wide smile spread across Second’s face, “What’s wrong? You look like a cat that’s about to be drowned.”

Everyone laughed even longer and louder than before as Gold’s jaw dropped. Once his brain caught up with the present, Gold found himself joining in on the merriment, “Okay, okay, that’s fair.” He agreed. Green’s arm slung around his shoulder, and Gold found himself feeling surprisingly warm. Despite how crazy his life was right now, even with his dad locked in the closet for actual assault, Gold found himself feeling genuinely relaxed. He felt like… things would be okay.

A pained stomach grumbling out interrupted Gold’s thoughts, and everyone turned to Purple with various levels of amusement. “Geez, you still haven’t shut that thing up?” Green teased, his arm still around Gold’s shoulders.

“With what?!” Purple asked, “In case you haven’t noticed, the kitchen’s still wrecked!”

Gold perked up a little. All this time he had been allowing himself to be drawn along by the chaos, going along with everyone else and allowing himself to be comforted by the generosity. But this was Gold’s house too, and a little nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him that Gold had the power to give back, at least a little, for everything they’d done for him. Like giving him comfort and taking his mind off things and saving his damn life.

“Ooh! I can handle that!” Gold informed the others triumphantly, before pulling away to sprint towards the living room’s bookshelf. Once it had been neatly arranged; there had been a separate shelf for dad’s manuals, dad’s novels, Gold’s novels, and Gold’s comic books, but now books of various genres and owners were mixed up. There were also books about flower meanings and game guides mixed in, as well as novels from medieval fantasies that Gold assumed were Purple’s, on account of this being a genre neither Gold nor his father were into. But pressed against the very same spot as it was two years ago was One Hundred and One Ways To Pick Up Sticks. Dad had told Gold it had been a tasteless gift after a bad breakup, but it did have its uses. Like, for example, being ridiculously large and thick for the type of book it was.

Gold opened the hollowed out book and took a wad of the large amount of cash – not as much as two years ago, he noted, but still plenty – before turning around to wave the fistful of bills for the others to see. Yellow’s eyes lit up as she squealed, and everyone else seemed to freeze in place at the sight of real money.

Purple’s mouth fell open in shock, “Wait, he had a secret stash this whole time?!” They scowled, “That cheap Old Man…”

“Nice!” Blue recovered first, grinning wickedly. She rubbed her hands together and licked her lip. On the opposite side of Yellow, Green and Red exchanged a high-five, grinning wickedly.

Only Second seemed to hold some reluctance, “Uh, is it really okay for us to use that?”

“Geez, you really are the mom friend,” Purple rolled their eyes, plopping down on the couch near Second’s feet.

Still, the worried look on their face was making Gold’s stomach squirm, so he held up a finger and declared, “Well, why don’t we ask him?” Turning towards where his bedroom was in the house, Gold raised his voice and shouted, “Hey, Dad! We’re gonna use some of the emergency fund to order out! If that’s not okay, say something!” Gold held a hand up his ear to amplify his hearing, and waited.

And waited.

And waited…

After a few more seconds of nothingness, Gold shrugged, “Guess it’s okay.”

Second weakly smiled in response, “Heh, alright then.” Their eyes fluttered a little, trying and failing to resist the siren song of slumber.

“Pizza cool with everyone?” Purple asked, already pulling out a cellular device. It was sleek and dark, with a protective jacket covered in adorable stickers. After receiving a round of affirmations, they nodded and began dialing.

“Oh, make sure no meat for me!” Red suddenly piped up.

Blue nodded thoughtfully, “I’ve never gone full vegetarian with a pizza. That actually sounds pretty good!” She licked her lips, no doubt imagining the taste of red sauce and vegetables on her tongue.

“I’m good with whatever,” Green piped up, “But make sure to get something simple for Sec. They tend to like the more traditional pizzas, and they’re already not feeling well, so…” His hand found its way to Second’s head, gently petting through the long orange tangle of hair, and Second subconsciously pushed back into his touch.

Purple nodded along to their requests, taking clear note, “Okay, so we’ll get three pizzas. One classic pepperoni, one veggie…” Gold perked up, and quickly leapt to interrupt Purple and get his own favourite pizza added on.

“Oh! Oh! Could the last one be Hawaiian?”

“-And the last will be Hawaiian, obviously.”

The two sentences, spoken in perfect harmony, echoed through the living room as Purple and Gold’s eyes met. Silence lingered in the air between them; It held no awkwardness or tension, only a strange sense of warmth and understanding. Somewhere deep inside of him, Gold could feel the spark of a new bond ignite.

Purple smiled, sauntered over to Gold’s side, and tossed an arm over his shoulder, “Goldie,” The violet stick smiled as they cheerfully proclaimed, “I think you and I are gonna get along juuust fine.”

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

Thump.

“Arg… come on!”

Thump.

“Why won’t this stupid thing-”

Thump.

“Open?!”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Behind Mango, the so-called King sighed from the spot on the ground where he’d made himself comfortable, “Give it a rest. Those kid’s aren’t going to make it so easy for us to get out of here.”

Spinning around on his heels, Mango glared furiously at this pathetic future version of himself. How could he just sit there, all poised and collected like their his child wasn’t out there, alone, grappling with the knowledge of his incoming death and stuck with a bunch of strangers. If anything he seemed… detached, staring at the wall in front of him without an ounce of concern for what was going on. The expression on his face was completely and utterly devoid of emotion.

His blood began to boil.

“Maybe it’d be a little easier,” Mango sneered out under his breath, “if you did anything other than just sit there, you useless piece of-”

King cut him off, “Oh, shut up. You’re giving me a migraine.” As if to emphasize this point, King began digging his fingers into the temples of his skull, “Take it from someone who’s been there: You don’t want to fly off the handle at any little thing. Trust me, you’ll end up regretting it.”

Spinning on his heels, Mango leveled a glare at King. “This isn’t any little thing!” His fists twitched at his side, begging Mango to let them fly forth, to punish, to hurt. He held off for now, “This is my baby! My Gold! Dying! How could you not be furious?!” Just the thought of Gold’s suffering constricted Mango’s lungs in his chest, making each inhale of air a fight, “How could you just let this go?! He’s the only good thing in this cursors damned world, and he’s gone!” Turmoil churned in Mango’s gut, making him vaguely nauseous. He pushed through the pain, spitting it all back out at King, “He was pulled into some game attraction, glitched out of existence, and you just sat back and watched! YOU LET HIM DIE!”

He could see it now. Gold, pushing back against the pull of that accursed game, desperately reaching out to him, Dad! Dad, help me! I’m scared! Before his body would be overwhelmed by the errors, horror and pain spreading across his face as he was eaten alive-

Struggling to speak against his own heaving lungs, Mango’s volume lowered as he growled, “I don’t care what you say, I am not you. I would never sit back and do nothing while my child was murdered.”

Throughout the tirade, King didn’t once speak up. Didn’t so much as twitch. He kept his gaze level and even on the wall opposite of him. “You’re not telling me anything I haven’t already told myself,” He responded coolly, far too coolly, once Mango was done. His vacant, uncaring eyes wouldn’t meet Mango’s, which boiled his blood hotter, “But I’ve been where you are. I know exactly how you’re feeling, and I know that giving into that anger will just make things so much worse. If you don’t cool off, you’ll end up doing something you regret.”

“Regret more than letting my kid die?” The idea was almost laughable, if it wasn’t so painfully stupid.

Finally King got off his lazy butt, standing and at last meeting Mango’s eyes. They were as cold and empty as King himself. “Earlier, when that kid tried to stop us from fighting, you swung your fists without even looking,” The phantom pressure of that child’s face danced across Mango’s knuckles, causing him to flex his fingers on impulse. He supposed the kid had been innocent in all this, but it was hard to feel bad when he’d caught the look on his future self’s face; how could he have so much concern for this random bystander when his dead baby was right there? Oblivious, King continued, “Did it ever occur to you that it could have easily been Gold who’d tried to stop us instead?”

Now that made Mango’s blood run cold, because he was certain his future self was right. If those kids hadn’t run in to interfere, Gold would’ve tried to stop him as soon as the shock wore off. That was the kind of kid Gold was; sweet and selfless. And then he would’ve punched his own child.

Pushing that thought of his head, Mango immediately redirected, “Are you sure it’s Gold you’re worried about? Because you seemed awfully concerned about that other kid… Purple, was it?” King’s brow furrowed in irritation, and Mango felt a small bit of pleasure in finally getting a reaction out of him, even if it confirmed his worst suspicions, “Who are they, anyways?”

“They’re…” King tripped over his tongue, looking away from Mango as he no doubt realized what Mango had, “It’s complicated…”

“Doesn’t seem too complicated to me,” Mango stepped into the other’s space, backing him into the wall. For a so-called King, he didn’t seem to have any of the qualities of a king: the decisiveness, the bravery, the poise. He was just a cowardly old man, with fear in his heart and sweat on his brow. “It seems like you just picked up some random kid off the street to fill the hole in your life,” King seemed to bristle at that, which only spurred Mango on, “You disgusting, pathetic bastard. What kind of father are you, to just forget your child and replace them with-”

That was as far as Mango got before he was thrust against the opposite wall, a bruised arm threatening to crush his windpipe. The King’s eyes had gone wide and wild, like a feral dog’s, and Mango reveled the fury, “Purple is NOT a replacement for Gold,” He growled, voice low and dangerous, “No one could EVER replace Gold.”

Despite the pressure on his throat, Mango gave the other his biggest, smuggest grin, “What was it you said about giving into anger?”

The single sentence caused King to remember himself, and he quickly retreated, leaving a vacuum of tension between them. He sighed, and attempted to wipe the anger from his eyes, and didn’t quite succeed, “I know how you feel because I’ve been there,” King grumbled, “Do not presume to know how I feel in return. Purple is not Gold. They will never be Gold, and I don’t expect them to be Gold. I was going to tell the full story before you lost your shit, but to make it short, after Gold died, I… hurt people. A lot of people,” As he spoke, King’s eyes lost focus, staring at the wall in front of him without seeing anything, “I was going to kill them. I was going to kill myself. And I failed because of Purple. They saved me. I owe them my life- No. My life isn’t valuable enough. I owe them so much more than that.”

A ghost of a smile formed on King’s face. Mango’s stomach turned. How could this… sick monster smile while his baby was dead?

“I’ve already been angry about Gold’s death,” Continued King. He sounded less angry with every sentence, which began eating away at Mango’s limited patience yet again, “I know what that feels like, what it does to me. But this isn’t a time to be angry. Thanks to this… miracle, I have a chance to change fate. I’m elated,” King’s hand reached up to brush his too long hair out of his face, smiling softly, “I can save my child.”

“My child,” Mango interrupted insistently. Owlish blinking was what he got in response, and he sharpened his glare as he elaborated, “Your child, if you’ll remember, is dead. Gold is my kid, and I’m not going to become you. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

King pressed his lips together thinly and stared at Mango, but did not protest. “Fine. Whatever,” He brushed off, “That’s not what’s important. The only thing that matters right now is Gold,” For once, the King was speaking sense, “I won’t try to make you like me, or pretend that’s even possible. But for Gold’s sake…” An empty hand reached out, an olive branch of peace, “We’ll need to work together.”

There was no need to elaborate further. This King was his and Gold’s only connection in this world. It was still unclear if there was a way for the two to return to the past. They’d need a safe place to say, and while this had once been Mango’s home, it now belonged to King. Two years was not a terribly long time, but it was more than enough to rock their worlds upside down. They’d need to rebuild everything from scratch, and as much as he loathed this carefree version of himself, this King who as good as murdered his own child when he turned his back on Gold, they needed the safety and security he could provide. Furious as Mango was, he at least maintained enough pragmatism to see that.

So Mango stared the Usurper of his home in the eyes, and took the offered hand, “Fine. For now. But the second I’m on my feet, I’m taking MY kid and we’re leaving.”

“As long as Gold’s safe and happy,” The King smiled a weary smile as he shook his hand, “That’s all that matters.”

Once the truce was firmly established, Mango pulled his hand from King’s grip and wiped it on his shirt. King took this opportunity to gently shove his way in front of Mango to inspect the sealed door. He first tried the knob, then knelled down and began banging at the door in random spots. “If you’re trying to break through, you’re going to need more force than that,” Mango advised, folding his arms, “I figured if we both hit it in tandem-”

“We’ll break down the door,” King put a single finger up, shushing Mango like a child, and then he beckoned with his hand to his seething younger self, “but before we resort to destruction of property, hand me one of those hangers, will you? I want to try something.”

Automatically, Mango reached up and took hold of one of the wire hangers. Letting this bastard boss him around was far from Mango’s idea of a good time, but at this point he just wanted out of the stupid closet.

King spun the wire hanger and began to methodically deconstruct it. Even the weakest of sticks were more than strong enough to bend the metal without use of any special equipment, so it was only a matter of seconds before King had untwisted the hanger out of shape. He then carefully bent the top into a hook-shape and slipped it through the crack on the side of the door. Mango leaned against the wall and simply watched. He was more than capable of putting together the plan, but wondered if it would really work, or how long it would take for Mango to take hold of the chair. If the wire metal would even have enough hold to pull the chair down with breaking or bending out of shape.

It did, in the end, but it took long enough that Mango had begun to nod off while leaning against the wall. The crash of the chair meeting the floor had been what startled him back into the world of the waking. Once his eyes were open, Mango’s eyes met King’s, and it was only then that he’d realized that his response had been to jump at the sound. There was an unpleasant crinkle of amusement around the foolish King’s eyes as he stepped out, took back his crown, and mockingly bowed.

Smug bastard.

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

Madame Marrone’s Pizzeria wasn’t the best pizzeria Purple had ever eaten at. Heck, it wasn’t even the best one in delivery range, but it was fast and cheap and good for what it was, so it was Madame Marrone’s chocolate brown visage on their pizza boxes when they’d finally arrived. Everyone was eager to dig in, and despite the initial scramble for the best, hottest slices, everyone worked in tandem to best serve each other. Green poured soft drinks with showmanship and flair, and Blue took care of Yellow and Second, so that they could get their fair share despite not being able to stand.

The Hawaiian pizza, which everyone else had stupidly left untouched, was shared equally between Gold and Purple. The Old Man had stared a hole through Purple’s head the first time they’d ordered pineapple pizza, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. And now that they knew the reason, Purple could barely contain their laughter. Who’d have known that the crotchety Old Man would have such an amazing kid?

Because he did. Have an amazing kid, that is.

Over pizza, it became obvious to Purple why Gold’s loss had hurt the Old Man so deeply. It wasn’t just that Gold was his kid – it was because Gold was a one in a million child, especially kind and especially sweet. They had only known the gang for a few minutes, but they already fit in far faster than Purple had. It was like they’d always been one of them, joining in the jokes and ribbing as if it was second nature. Watching them interact made Purple feel cold and lonely.

They were a bad person.

Gold told them all what the Old Man had shared, and it had quickly become apparent that they’d only gotten partway through the tale before the Old Man who would be known as Mango assaulted the Old Man who would be known as King. The fact that Gold had no idea who any of them had been should have been Purple’s first clue, but in their defense they’d had more important things to focus on at the time. They’d only managed to get to the point of Gold’s demise before the chaos had broken out.

Red had winced, hearing the details of Gold’s passing. “I’m sorry, man,” He sympathized, “Minecraft glitches are rough.” Though the Booth Thirty incident and the ‘Herobrine’ incident were two very different circumstances, it was likely the closest any of them could ever come to understanding what Gold went through.

“It’s not like I actually experienced that,” Gold shrugged off the show of empathy. They’d all rearranged themselves after the pizza had arrived, and Gold had taken over the arm of the Old Man’s armchair, right next to Yellow. “But it’s so weird to think about. I mean, I knew death was a thing, obviously, but I’ve never even lost someone before. I’ve never thought seriously about what happens after death. Have you guys?”

Nobody seemed to be in a rush to answer that question, only exchanging nervous looks amongst themselves. Yellow stared directly at Second, while Blue and Red leaned in closer to them and Green took their hand. The group had all had their near death experiences in the past, but this didn’t feel like that. It felt like earlier, when the idea of taking Second to a hospital was brought up. Like they were keeping something from them.

Ignoring the tightening knot in their chest, Purple spoke up to finally respond to Gold. “I have,” They confessed. It was hard to avoid that topic, when your last remaining family was slowly fading away in front of your eyes, “They say when data’s deleted from a hard drive, it’s never really completely gone. That some trace of it always remains. I don’t know if that’s true, but I want to believe it is.”

Because it meant, in some way, that Purple’s mother had remained with them after her death. That Purple hadn’t been entirely alone. It was a cold comfort in the darkest of nights, when Purple had no company but the chilling moonlight, but a comfort nonetheless.

“I… hope that’s true, too,” Gold agreed.

It occurred to Purple that they could tell the rest of the story right then and there. The details they’d been missing from the Booth Thirty Incident had been covered by Gold’s retelling of the event, and everything else they’d been present for. But the look on the Old Man’s face when he left to finally speak with Gold, that utterance of ‘This is a family matter’, muted their voice. It wouldn’t be right for Purple to tell Gold what they’d done. That was- that was King’s job. From family to family, no room for anyone else.

...Purple was a really bad person.

“Well, personally, I don’t,” Yellow declared, “I can barely handle one Green. The army that would arise from his many, many foolish Minecraft deaths? No thank you.”

Green scoffed at Yellow’s complaints, “You’re just jealous. You couldn’t possibly compete with an army that awesome.”

“H-hey…” Second’s mumbling broke through their ribbing, “Can we maybe change the subject? I’m not really up for talking about this right now…”

A round of worried looks passed around the room. While Purple lacked context for many of the group’s misadventures, they knew Second well enough to know that the fact that they were asking so pleasantly was more of a red flag than anything else they could’ve done. The group instead decided to tell Gold a story from their shared history. It seemed subconsciously unanimous that they not share the memory of their first meeting, what with Purple leaving Blue and Green to drop down a pit and then getting their first home in years burnt down. That could come later, when there was a little less tension to go around.

So instead they told some tales from League of Legends, a place renowned for its lack of sportsmanship but where, ironically, Purple and their friends had some of their most pleasant memories. Purple themselves took the limelight, being the experienced storyteller that they were, and weaved a tale of swords and sorcery to enrapture the bright golden stick. Green hopped up and joined as co-host, abandoning his second slice of pepperoni at his spot, while the others chimed in at timely moments. Red interrupted with humorously over-embellished assertions. Yellow added a dash of sarcasm to every mistake any of them made. Blue would defuse the little tension that popped up with expert ease. Even Second, as exhausted as they were, acted as the straight man for their comedic shenanigans. Between the six of them, it was all too easy to make Gold bust a gut.

This was the state the two Old Men found them in, when they finally escaped their imprisonment. The one who Gold told them would keep the name Mango was first, crossing the room in long, quick strides before anyone could even register that he was there. The second he was able to he took Gold in his arms, peppering his face and curls with sweet, soft little kisses. Gold giggled and laughed and proclaimed his embarrassment, but Mango didn’t relent, only holding on all the tighter.

…Purple was a really, really bad person.

The Old Man who would be King emerged afterwards, staring at the embrace between father and child with a wistful wanting that made Purple’s stomach turn. It was so obvious how much he yearned to be his other self, to be able to hold his real kid tight and never let them go. Then, in the blink of an eye, the mask of a calm, collected king slid onto his face. He adjusted his crown, pushed back his bangs, and began marching straight towards Purple.

“’Bout time you broke out,” Purple said in lieu of a proper greeting.

The backhanded remark was barely acknowledged. Instead Old Man King tenderly took Purple’s face into his grip and inspected the still sore side where the punch had landed. A strange tingling sensation drew Purple’s gaze over the old man’s shoulder to the other old man, glaring daggers at them from over Gold’s fuzzy curls, and they couldn’t help the flinch in response.

Whether or not King could feel it too was unclear, but he shifted positions to block Mango’s view of Purple, and they allowed themselves to relax a little.

“It’s not as bad as I’d feared,” King spoke in clear relief, though his small smile was dampened by clear hints of guilt, “How do you feel?”

Eager to clear that remaining fog of regret from the Old Man, Purple scoffed and tossed their hair back, preening dramatically, “Alas, despite Mango’s best efforts, the curse remains in full effect. I’m still tragically beautiful.”

King snorted, “At least your ego’s still in tact,” He then glanced down at the plate of pineapple and ham pizza sat nearby. It was Purple’s third slice, which they had no shame about. It wasn’t like they’d have to share with anyone but Gold (and maybe Blue, though she seemed content with her veggie pizza), “Ah, you ordered out?”

“Yup!” Purple chirped, breaking away easily from the Old Man’s fragile hold to take their food, “We tried to salvage the lasagna, but…”

“It killed a bush,” Blue blurted out, a haunted look in her eye as she recalled just how close she’d come to swallowing the rancid thing.

Both Mango and King wore comically identical expressions of shock at the news. King, more used to their mayhem than his younger self, broke free of his stupor first. He sighed and buried his face in his palm, “Of course. Of course it did. If the neighbors ever sue me because of you brats, I’m dragging you all down with me.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time!” Red chirped, like he was referring to casual criminal mischief and not that time King nearly killed them all. Purple couldn’t help laughing along with the others as they all cracked up. Nearly dying hadn’t been funny at the time, obviously, but among the many lessons these chaotic gremlins had taught Purple was that it was important to be able to look back at your pain and find the joy in it. It hurt, but it also gave Purple everything they had today, so it was hard to see it as all bad.

Someday, they mused, looking up at King’s grimacing face, they’d manage to convince the Old Man of the same.

For Gold, however, all the vague reference and laughter caused was confusion. “What do you mean?”

It had been so easy to forget, in the wake of all the revelry, that Gold still wasn’t aware of everything that had gone down. Purple could see the Old Man tense and pale as he realized what was coming, and without thinking Purple immediately took his hand, folded behind his back where nobody could see. They squeezed it tight, pouring all their care into their grip, letting the Old Man know, in their own way, that they were here, right here, and that it would all be okay. He wasn’t alone anymore. Their reward was seeing King slowly relax, his shoulders slouching and his breathing smoothing into an even, pleasant rhythm.

After a moment of drinking in each other’s comforting presence, King released Purple’s hand and exhaled, “I’ve brought this up to… your father before,” There was a strange intonation to those words, your father, and the implications made Purple frown, but they didn’t interrupt, “But there was more to the story I was telling you earlier. Things that happened after you died. You… deserve to know.”

Mango looked to the side. It wasn’t clear how much King had revealed to him, but it was enough for him to avoid his child’s confused eyes searching him for answers.

“Oh boy,” Yellow sighed, pushing back into the armchair and making herself comfortable, “Green, pass me another drink. This is gonna be a long one.” Green did so, and everyone made themselves comfortable on the couch. With tender care Second was shifted over to make enough of a spot for Purple to take a seat on the couch, which they did with a grateful smile. King grabbed the desk chair and took over Purple’s spot at the center of attention. Unlike Purple’s showmanship and jolly energy, however, he held himself solemnly, like a man trudging along to the guillotine.

It took them a moment to settle down enough for King’s satisfaction, and once they did he sighed and began, “When you… died,” The light in King’s eyes completely left him, “I lost everything I had. My hopes, my dreams, my faith in this world… it was all gone. How could I hold on to any of that when my baby was dead…?” Unrestrained tears fell from the Old Man’s eyes, and Purple’s fingers itched with the desire to reach out, to take his hand yet again. But the eyes around them, the burning anger in Mango’s face, the repetition in their head of ‘this is a family matter’ kept them frozen in place.

Gold, however, had no such restraints, and even Mango’s hold couldn’t stop the bright stick from slipping out of his grasp and over to King. His arms wrapped around the Old Man’s neck, grounding him with the pleasant weight of warm sunshine. Purple’s fingers dug into he fabric of their pants, wondering why couldn’t they just be happy to see that? Why did it hurt so bad? Why couldn’t they just be a good person?

“I’m so sorry, Dad…” Gold cooed, and King’s breath hitched, “I didn’t mean to hurt you like this.”

“Oh, honey,” Even through the tears, King managed to smile for Gold, “You never hurt me. Losing you was painful, but that was not your fault,” Purple turned to glance at Mango, and found him frowning in open displeasure at the sight before him. Well, at least Purple wasn’t the only bad person. King allowed Gold to hold him for a moment longer before gently, reluctantly, pushing him back, “but… please go sit down. I need to finish telling the story.”

With a great amount of effort, Gold broke away, sitting down next to where Mango was standing. The second he was within arm’s reach, Mango had him back in his embrace, holding him tight so he wouldn’t disappear again. His worried eyes stayed glued to King the entire time.

“Nothing mattered anymore. All I could think about was that moment, that terrible moment where I’d lost everything… I saw it every time I closed my eyes, every time there was a red light or a blaring alarm, every time I saw that cursed game symbol. It was all could think about. Every day and every night for… who knows how long. I was hurting, and I wanted to hurt the monster that took you from me.”

Silence fell over the room. While the friend group had known, in a general sense, that King had undergone some sort of trauma and went mad, this was the first time they’d truly realized why King had done what he did. Gold’s eyes widened, and Mango’s narrowed.

“But I’d already beaten the game’s technicians to a pulp,” That had Gold openly gaping, and Purple winced as a phantom pain echoed across their cheek. If King had gone that hard against the techs who’d been trying to run the game, they’d certainly felt it for days, “And the company had me sign a waiver. It’d been foolish of me not to read it, I know, but I couldn’t undo it. There was no legal recourse for me. I could’ve gone vigilante with it, but I didn’t have the resources or know-how to do such a thing without getting caught. And besides…” King’s eyes darkened, “My attention had focused… somewhere else.”

“On the game itself…” Green realized aloud. Red and Blue exchanged a look over Second’s head.

Gold still looked confused, but now there was a hint to alarm in his eyes, as though he was beginning to suspect what was going on, “I… don’t understand…”

“From my perspective,” King began to explain, “it had been Minecraft that had ripped you from me. The game was an unstable, volatile mess that promised you happiness and fun and instead robbed you of everything. I know now I wasn’t being rational, but at the time, it felt like the monster that had taken you from me was Minecraft itself. And I swore to myself that I was going to destroy it,” A mad gleam fell across King’s eyes, “No matter what it took.”

Mango’s posture had stiffened, looking over at his other self in something like astonishment, “...huh,” He muttered, “You weren’t kidding…”

“But- but-” Gold sputtered, confused and grieved and horrified by what he was hearing, “But it’s a game! An entire world filled with monsters, and npcs, and other players, and- and- innocent people!” Gold’s hand flew to his head, holding it high while Mango immediately reached to comfort him. How much comfort he could offer when he was the mirror image of the one who was upsetting Gold, however, was up for debate, “It wasn’t the game’s fault the fair booth was glitched up! You can’t punish innocents for something that wasn’t their fault!”

King sat silently, unable to meet Gold’s haunted eyes.

The utter anguish on Gold’s face struck Purple to their core. They still remembered the pain of being walked out on, and left behind, and having a back turned to their pleading hand. Being betrayed was rough. Being betrayed by a parent… well, nothing cut quite so deeply. Eager to push that pain out of Gold’s fragile heart, Purple intervened, drawing the spotlight to themselves, “But we beat him~!” They spoiled, hoping that knowing King lost would mitigate at least a bit of the heartache, “And we undid all the damage King and I did! No sticks were harmed in the making of this final showdown!”

“Uh, yes, sticks were harmed in the making of this showdown,” Yellow interrupted incredulously, “MANY sticks were harmed in the making of this showdown, actually.”

“Quiet, peg-leg,” Purple hissed back.

“Back up for a moment,” Mango suddenly interrupted, standing rigidly straight, “You said ‘all the damage King and I did’.” Purple winced. Yeah, they had let that slip, hadn’t they? “What do you mean by that?”

This was where King regained control of the narrative, taking back the spotlight from Purple to spare them the interrogation. “In order to destroy Minecraft, I needed an immense amount of power. Something strong enough to destroy the game down to its very base coding. Something from the game itself… to that end, I created a staff capable of harnessing the full power of any game item that I could acquire. I spent my life savings on illegal game smuggling, trying to get an item capable of what I’d envisioned, but nothing I acquired was strong enough. They could break things, sure, but they weren’t able to break down the game in the way I really needed. Then, during my research, I uncovered the secret of the Icon; an in-game item that enabled complete and total creative freedom over the world. You were invincible, able to place any item at whim, and had total control over the game. The only problem was nobody knew where to find it.

“I didn’t give up, though. Finding this thing, and using it to destroy the game that took my baby from me was all I could think about. I didn’t sleep, I barely ate. I wandered the city aimlessly, asking anyone who’d give me a second of time, ‘Have you seen this icon? Do you have any information? Please, anything, I’d give anything…” King’s voice cracked, which signaled him to take a moment, take a breath, before continuing, “Then, I finally found it. Through a YouTube video, of all things.”

A chorus of groans came from the couch and the armchair. Second buried their face in their hands. Green sighed and muttered, “That’s how you found us? Cursors damn it, Alan…”

“We’re gonna need to have another long talk about this,” Blue moaned, “Ugh, as if the last one hadn’t been bad enough.”

“Alan’s the human you all live with, right?” Purple asked, receiving some half-hearted confirmations in response.

Gold seemed confused by the mere concept, “You all live with a human?” He arched his eyebrow at them. Though his haggard eyes indicated King’s actions were still haunting him, Gold was able to put that aside for the moment to indulge a subject many city sticks knew little about: humanity, “I thought all humans were violent, stick-killing psychopaths.”

That wasn’t so uncommon a belief in a city run by Rocket Corp: everyone knew the tragic tale of its recently deceased leader, how they’d been created for the sole purpose of suffering and dying, how they’d manage to drag themselves from the Recycling Bin and rose to power, creating a safe haven where humans couldn’t touch them. Many older sticks had some human related trauma, from negligence to downright abuse, and though the younger generations were spared the direct trauma of human interaction, the horror stories remained.

“That’s not… always true…” Second protested, but it sounded weak and shaky for reasons beyond Second’s physical state.

The tension returned with a vengeance.

“...actually, that kinda proves King’s even dumber than we thought,” Red suddenly piped up, mockingly oblivious to the bristling of the Old Man. He picked the perfect insult; most things unrelated to Gold (or, occasionally, Purple themselves) rolled off King’s back, but one of the few insults he couldn’t stand was one to his intellect. It was, to put it in King’s own words, one of the few things he hadn’t lost that day, “I mean, you saw Alan’s videos of our adventures and you still thought it was a good idea to threaten and steal from us? Talk about moronic.”

Seething, King spoke through grinding teeth as he responded, “Well, I hadn’t exactly planned on fighting you kids…”

“You shouldn’t be fighting anyone,” Gold scolded, and though his glare bore into King, Purple didn’t miss his side-eye at Mango as well, “Or stealing anything.”

Thoroughly scolded, King winced and looked away, “Right, sorry. But, to continue, I used what I learned to seek out the sticks who had the Icon. That’s what lead me to Purple. Or, rather, them to me. I… wasn’t exactly honest with them.”

Purple snorted. “That’s putting it lightly. The guy framed the entire thing as a game. More extreme than I was used to, sure, but the end goal was to get complete and total control of Minecraft. With the staff and the full power of the Icon, we could rule together with an iron fist!” Purple pumped their first up, as though in example, “...Of course, I didn’t know what the staff was really capable of, or what the Old Man intended to do with it. If I had, I don’t think I’d have gone along with it.”

Or at least Purple would like to think they wouldn’t have. They didn’t want to ponder too hard on it – given Purple’s thirst for power and how nice the Old Man had been when Purple was obedient, Purple wasn’t sure they’d like the answer they’d come to.

“So, the Old Man and I conquered a fortress in the game… even without the Icon, the staff was ridiculously powerful, it was so easy. Then we set about following his plan. I’d go find the others and lure them into a trap, then I’d get the Icon for King and we’d conquer the world,” Purple looked over at their friends, and felt a familiar kick in their gut, “Again, I am so sorry about that. I had my reasons, but…”

“We know,” Green consoled, patting Purple on the shoulder, “We’ve already forgiven you.”

“You know what they say about trusting people,” Blue chimed in, grinning cheekily, “Third time’s the charm!”

“Don’t think that’s about trust…” Second rebuffed jokingly from the comfortable cushion of Blue’s shoulder.

Warmth flooded into Purple’s cheeks. They couldn’t say what miracle allowed their friends to forgive them after all the garbage they’d pulled, but Purple would never take it for granted. Er, this time.

Red had taken over story-time in the meanwhile, “So, we ran into Purple after an already pretty long day,” Purple could hear Blue mumbling under her breath. They couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, but it made Second chuckle, “And they lured us into this parkour course. It was pretty fun at first! But, then I won, and I realized the others weren’t coming, and the guards wouldn’t let me leave…”

“We were trapped,” Green summarized, “Stuck there so King wouldn’t have worry about us while he stole our Icon… hey,” Green’s brow furrowed, “Were you just going to keep us there? While you blew up Minecraft? Did you at least have some way to get Purple out?”

This question made Purple look away from the Old Man’s face for the first time throughout the entire story. It was done and over with. They didn’t need to know. They didn’t want to know. King’s mistakes, however painful, were done and over with. They were happy now. Questions like these shouldn’t be haunting Purple. They shouldn’t.

“There were plans in place for that, to get you all back to your PC before everything went down. I may have been cruel, but I hadn’t planned to sacrifice anyone else to Minecraft,” King answered, and Purple let out a breath they didn’t realize they’d been holding, “Things got… out of hand after you all broke out, though.”

“Seems they were out of hand for a long time before that,” Green quipped dryly.

Gold nodded along, staring blankly ahead of him, “Yeah, no kidding…”

The dismissive scoffing from Gold seemed to stun both King and Mango, but nonetheless King continued on, “When the kids realized what I was planning, they tried to stop me. We fought. I… didn’t hold back. Purple had succeeded in getting me the Icon, and after that I stopped caring about anything but reaching my goal. And… I succeeded.”

“Wait, what?!” Gold jumped up, alarmed, “No, but… no! Everyone here’s fine, that means you- did you actually destroy a whole…?”

Taking in shallow, rapid breaths, Gold backed away from King and held his head in his hands. Mango’s hands rubbing his back and voice speaking soothing comforts did little to ease his panic. Purple glanced back at King and felt their heart ache in what was surely only an echo of the pain the Old Man felt. Though he clearly longed to reach out, to close the gap and squeeze all the pain out of his child, something held him firmly in place. His hand, though outstretched, couldn’t seem to bridge the gap between them.

Well, if King couldn’t bring himself to comfort his child, then Purple would have to take up his job for him. They reached across the chasm between themselves and Gold and gently prodded his shoulder, forcing him to look up at Purple, “Hey,” They put on their biggest, most confident smile for Gold, “Remember what I said earlier? I turned on King, and the good guys won. Minecraft’s still in one piece. King screwed up, but nobody died, I promise.”

Too distressed to respond verbally, Gold just swallowed and nodded. His father drew Gold closer and hugged him tight, and though Gold’s hands gripped at Mango’s arms, he didn’t look any more at ease.

King’s longing eyes clung fast to Gold’s anxious form, but after a moment he continued, “With the Icon’s power, the staff was able to create a beam of destructive force that would erase the entire world of Minecraft line by line. And if anyone dared to try to stop me, all I had to do was point the beam at them and wait for them to be erased or give up,” Gold’s hands flew up to cover his mouth in shock, “But Purple… didn’t give up. Even when the beam was pointed right at them and their body was disintegrating…” The Old Man’s voice shook as he remember. Purple winced, rubbing at their arm to soothe an ache that wasn’t there, “They kept pushing forward, and… and by the time I’d realized what I was doing to them… they were almost…” The Old Man’s eyes, pained and sorrowful, redirected towards Purple. The sheer intensity of emotions forced them to look away. It was so hard to breath when he looked at them like that, so full of regret and guilt and something else, something warm that made Purple feel very, very small, “I… will never be able to apologize enough for that.”

For once, the natural snark Purple tended to depend on caught in their throat. All they could bring themselves to do was nod. Eyes bored into them from every side, but Purple kept their gaze glued to the ground and ignored them all.

“...So you almost killed Purple?” Gold spat. Purple pried their gaze from the flooring to where the other kid was staring, “It wasn’t enough for you to try and wipe out an entire world, you had to hurt the only person who was trying to help you, too?!”

King didn’t have a response. He didn’t even try to defend himself, merely hanging his head in shame.

Mango, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate to reassure his child, “Don’t worry, Honey,” He tried to console, unaware that his soothing words made Gold grit his teeth all the harder, “This isn’t going to be our future. I’ll make sure of it-”

“Right, because you’re not going to do anything like that!” Gold snapped, pulling away from Mango’s attempts at comfort, “It’s not like you just started throwing punches at literally everyone the second you heard something you didn’t like!”

The poor Old Man couldn’t have looked any more hurt if Gold had punched him.

Scrambling to do damage control, Purple hopped up fully out of their comfortable seat on the couch to stand in front of Gold, arms held up placatingly. “Hey! Hey! It’s okay, it’s all gonna be-”

“It’s not okay!” Gold screamed at Purple, his tear-stricken face a near-perfect mirror of Mango’s. Unlike Mango, however, Gold immediately retreated when he saw Purple flinch away, “Sorry, ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean that, I just…. I don’t understand,” His head fell into his hands again, tears flowing free and unashamed down his face as he repeated, “I don’t understand… he hurt you. He almost killed you,” Purple idly rubbed at their arm, unsure of what to say, “How can you forgive that?” Gold looked past Purple, to the many sticks sitting at attention on the couch, “How can any of you forgive that?”

For a long, long moment, nobody spoke. The silence rang heavy in the air, a blaring siren of tension and pain. Then, with a rigid inhale, Second handed their single slice of barely touched pepperoni to Blue, who gave it a long glance before setting it aside, and sat up straight with visibly pained effort. Their voice was soft as they answered, “I can’t speak for the others, but now that I know, I can kind of understand why Mango- King did what he did.

“When you lose someone… or even think you’re going to lose someone… it’s like there’s a vice grip on your heart. You feel so many things, all at once, and they all make you feel small, and vulnerable, and helpless,” Second took a brief break to cough before diving right back into it, “but, one of those things you feel is anger, and anger is different. It… tricks you, because even though it's just as bad as the other stuff, it feels constructive. Like, even though everything’s breaking down around you, there’s something you can do. Some power you can take back. And by the time you realize it was lying to you…” Second’s eyes fell, clouded by dark thoughts, “You’ve already hurt the people you wanted to protect.”

Without exchanging words, Red reached over and took Second’s hand into his own, squeezing it tightly. Green’s arm wrapped around Second to pull them in close, allowing their head to rest against his pulse. Surrounded by the comfort of their friends, their tense body relaxed completely.

Gold frowned at the group, “But that doesn’t make it okay.”

“No,” King agreed, quietly surprising Purple. With how heavily his sins were weighing down on him, Purple hadn’t expected the Old Man to speak up again, “It doesn’t.”

Silence lingered in the air as Gold struggled to find a proper response. And evidently failed, as after a moment he looked to the others and asked, “How did you beat him?”

“It was all Sec, baby!” Green cheered, proudly displaying his orange friend.

Second rolled their eyes at him, “It was a team effort, actually. I realized we could reset the game if we got the Icon back to our PC, so we ran back as fast as we could and just BARELY made it!” After that proclamation, Second sunk further into Green, somehow looking even more tired, “For real, though, I wouldn’t have gotten close without you guys.”

“What would you do without us?” Yellow teased, a smug grin settling on her face. The friends shared a round of chuckles amongst themselves. Gold didn’t partake, only staring blankly at the wall behind the group. He only broke out of this trance when Yellow’s gentle touch on his arm caused him to jump, “Hey, I get it. You only just learned that you were going to die in less than two years,” Yellow spoke those words so casually, but the ripples of pain they caused through the room were all too palpable, “and then we dumped all this on you. It’d be a lot for anyone. You should take a break and get some rest. Looks like it’s getting pretty late, anyways.”

Purple glanced past their friends towards the window and, sure enough, the sun had set along the horizon, leaving the outside world blanketed in a canvas of shadows. Even if Second and Yellow weren’t injured, they’d likely be staying the night anyways. It was simply too dangerous to traverse through the Minecraft world at this time of night.

“Okay…” Gold acknowledged, hugging himself. Mango once again attempted to reach out to him and was once again rebuffed, “I’m… I’m going to go get cleaned up.”

And without another word, Gold disappeared around the corner of the bedroom hallway.

From there, everything began to unwind. There was an initial awkwardness that had been broken by Second yawning, which prompted everyone to clean down and get ready for the night. Green and Red went to the closet where King had stored extra bed supplies, Red grumbling all the while about how they couldn’t even compete for the spot on the couch. Green teased back easily, carrying probably too much for a guy with a suspected concussion. After dinner clean-up had fallen to Blue, who asked Second numerous times if they were done before carefully wrapping up the single pizza slice they’d been nibbling on for later. She carried stuff to the basement while Yellow, still stuck in her armchair, made herself useful by holding a trash bag, albeit begrudgingly. Mango had, of course, immediately jumped up to trail after his child, and disappeared into the hallway after him.

In the midst of all the chaos, King sat rigidly still, glossed over eyes staring dead ahead at nothing in particular. He didn’t so much as twitch as the flurry of activity picked up around him.

Taking a calming breath, Purple approached, resting a hand on his shoulder. The Old Man remained stationary, “Hey,” They broke the silence hesitantly, “You doing okay?”

For a moment, it was like King hadn’t even heard Purple. They were about to repeat themselves when he finally responded, “I did the right thing, didn’t I?” He asked.

“Yup.” Immediately responded Purple.

That, at last, broke the mask King wore, making a small smile appear, “No hesitation, huh?”

“Look,” Purple leaned their full weight on the Old Man, “I may not be an expert on ‘healthy family dynamics’,” They punctuated their words with air quotes, “but I’ve seen a lot of sitcoms in my time, and every time someone hides a big secret, it always comes out in the worst way possible. If you hadn’t told him yourself now, then he’d find out from someone else later, and that would have been far worse.”

Just the thought of that put a visible wince on King’s face, the poor Old Man nodding, “That’s true. I just wish I didn’t have to make him hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” They reassured, carefully watching King’s face to make sure he wasn’t getting too upset, “He’s scared, and hurt, and really overwhelmed. Give him some time. I’m sure he’ll come around.”

Well, Purple couldn’t really say that for sure. They weren’t in Gold’s head, after all. But speaking from their own personal experience, hating a parent was hard. So much harder than it had any right to be. Even now, in the midst of the happiest time of their life, Purple couldn’t stop their mind from wandering to dangerous what ifs, could have beens, and impossible futures where they had three loving, happy, healthy adults in their life.

Fragile hope sparked in the Old Man’s eyes, “You think so?”

“I know so,” Purple, master of ‘fake it ‘til you make it’, proclaimed.

Their reward was a pair of arms wrapping tightly around them, so quickly Purple couldn’t help the instinctual flinch in reaction, but once they recovered they immediately moved to return the embrace. Hugs weren’t uncommon between the two, per say, but there was something bittersweet about this one. After all, King had his own child back. This… may be the last hug Purple would get for a while. So they held fast for far longer than King was normally comfortable with, soaking in the warmth of his arms around them.

Purple would be okay with this. For King’s sake, they’d be a good person, just this once.

“Ahem,” A voice broke shattered the moment, ending the embrace and leaving Purple to retreat into their own cold loneliness. Mango stood there beside them, arms crossed, looking around at everything but Purple, “Sorry to interrupt,” He actually looked anything but sorry, but Purple wasn’t about to call him out and get punched again, “but I looked around, and I couldn’t help but notice that I no longer have a bedroom.”

Right… Purple had also taken over the Old Man’s room. King had presented it to Purple as a spare room, and he rarely slept through the whole night anyways, so it had taken Purple a while to piece together that the room next door had been Gold’s, not the Old Man’s. A part of them felt guilty for not even offering the room back to King, but they selfishly felt kind of glad that he was willing to make such a big sacrifice for Purple. Even so, it was clear in hindsight that Purple should have insisted they make themselves a room in the basement. And now they looked like a selfish prick in front of King’s kid and past self.

“That’s right,” King acknowledged, surprising Purple by taking one of their hands into his own, “Purple needed a space of their own, and I don’t sleep much anymore, anyways. Normally when I need to sleep I’ll catch a nap on the couch, but…” He glanced over to said couch, where Green was fluffing a pillow for Second, “I suppose that’s not an option tonight.”

Purple’s posture straightened immediately. They could sleep in the living room with the others – all five were used to bed sharing, it wouldn’t be too weird. That way Mango could get his old room back. It was only fair, since it was his room to begin with. And maybe they could start mending bridges with the younger Old Man, or at least get him to look them in the eye without glaring. They opened their mouth to make the offer-

“You can sleep on the floor in my room.”

-And Gold beat them to it. He’d appeared from behind the corner of the bedroom hallway, looking just as drained as he had when he’d disappeared.

Both King and Mango appeared startled by the invitation. “Both of us?” King asked incredulously, and his brow only furrowed further when Gold nodded, “Are you sure?”

“If I didn’t offer, you’d both just be up all night worrying about me anyways,” Gold huffed. It was clear from his guarded body language and low voice that nothing was forgiven quite yet – but for him to make this offer, Purple must have been right on the money with their earlier reassurances, “So, yeah. You can both sleep in my room with me if you promise not to fight.”

The two versions of Gold’s dad eagerly agreed, and Purple fell back, swallowing the unmade offer, where it lodged in their throat and weighed unbidden on their lungs. They’re fine, they told themselves, watching Gold walk away to grab what little linen remained in the closet after the friend group had taken what they’d needed. They were fine with this. The Old Man could be really, truly happy.

And if Purple felt anything other than pure joy at the thought? Well, that was just them being selfish again. They’d get over it.

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

Mango had always been a light sleeper.

Even before Gold had come along, sleeping just wasn’t something that came naturally to Mango. He’d stay up late, awaken multiple times throughout the night, and be up and out of bed at what his old roommates called ‘the unholy hours of the morning’. Having a fussy baby around had only solidified this for him. As a small child Gold would often be up and out of bed for a late night glass of water or trip to the restroom, or to climb into Mango’s bed after a bad dream. He was used to his daily alarm being the sound of the hardwood floor creaking and groaning as Gold tried and failed to sneak into his room.

So when Mango’s fretful slumber was interrupted by the all too familiar rasping of old flooring, he was up before his brain could even catch up with his current situation. “Gold…?” He mumbled, pushing up from the surprisingly hard mattress he was sleeping on.

His full memory only came back to him when another hand, the same colour as his own, rested on his shoulder, reminding him that he’d been sleeping on the ground next to his own lookalike. “No, Gold’s still in bed,” King confirmed, tossing his head in the direction of the bed, where Gold slept with his back to the two, “That’s probably Purple. ‘M gonna go check on them… be right back.”

Without waiting for a response, King picked himself up and hobbled silently out of the room. Mango took a long, slow breath in, steadying his mind to recall everything that had happened. Right, he was in the future. King, who claimed to be him, was a failed terrorist, his kid was… dead… and then there was Purple.

Thinking of Purple made Mango scowl and roll back over. It wasn’t the kid’s fault his evil doppelganger had used them as a replacement for his dead baby, but it was hard to separate that reality from the sour taste King’s blatant affection left in his mouth. The tyrant didn’t hesitate to shower Purple with praise, or shield Purple from Mango with dagger-like glares. And because of… what? Gratitude to the kid for stopping him from destroying an entire world? Guilt for almost killing them? Why had Purple even come to King in the first place?

You know, there’s an easy way to find out…

Mango turned under his blankets to look away from the door. No. No, he wasn’t going out there. He couldn’t leave Gold alone after everything, and Purple wasn’t his problem. It was just a passing curiosity. Nothing more.

And where’s their real parents? Their real home? Who ARE they, anyways?

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.

Why were they so content to play therapist to a stick who almost killed them?

It… didn’t matter…

The way they cowered when you hit them… were they…?

Mango forced himself up. It wasn’t like he was going back to sleep, anyways.

Instead, he slipped out of Gold’s room, trailing far enough behind King that he wouldn’t take note of Mango’s presence. They both knew which of the floorboards would creak if they were stepped on, and which ones could be traversed safely, so following after King was a simple affair, even in the dead of night. They both cautiously stepped over the gaggle of sticks sleeping like babies in the living room, carefully maneuvered through the completely destroyed kitchen, and Mango watched King slip out the back door before creeping next to it. The wood of the door, while splintered, was one of the more undamaged parts of the room. While the air carried a mildly humid heat, the door was pleasantly cold against Mango’s face as he pressed his ear against it to listen in to the two on the other side.

“Hey,” King began with a greeting, and Mango could hear someone scrambling on the other side of the door.

“Ack! H-hey, don’t scare me like that,” Purple’s scolding voice responded.

Laughter followed, deep but playful, “Sorry, sorry.”

“What are you even doing out here? Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Huffed the younger stick.

This was followed by an exaggerated groan of complaint as King audibly ruffled Purple’s hair, “I barely sleep on the best of days, and today’s been… a lot.” Purple mumbled something that sounded like agreement, “So I was already awake when I heard you leave your room. So, you want to tell me what’s up?”

A long, silent moment, filled with only the distant sound of crickets in the night, passed before Purple eventually responded, “I- It’s nothing, really. Sorry to drag you out here-”

“Don’t give me that,” Chided King, “C’mon, tell me what’s going on. The King demands it.”

Purple snorted in laughter, though it wasn’t a particularly jolly sound. Rather, it sounded… tired, “It’s not important,” They tried to downplay, “Just… a bad dream. I’ll be fine.”

“Ah,” Another moment of silence passed, followed by a simple question, “Pink or Blue?”

“Why do you think it always comes back to…?” There was another pause, in which Mango could imagine King giving Purple the same look Mango would give Gold when his child would come home with unauthorized candy. Purple sighed, “Pink.”

“That makes sense, given that we’ve seen the dead come back to life today,” King shuffled over on the stoop; closer to Purple, maybe, “Do you… want to talk about it?”

“Not really much to talk about,” Purple proclaimed, before elaborating anyways, “Mama and Pops and I were up at the beach, north of the city. Do you know it? It’s at the lake with the little island in the middle.”

“Never been, but I’ve heard good things,” Confirmed King, “Is it nice?”

“It’s beautiful,” Purple sighed, their voice tinged with melancholy and nostalgia, “We’d go every year, and we were always there until super late at night. Pops would carry me on their shoulders into the deep water, and Mama would take me to see where all the pretty fish gathered… then, when it got late, we’d have ice cream and watch the sun set together. No matter what else was going on, we were always happy there.”

Were. Mango’s mind clung to that word, brow furrowing. He knew now that Purple had parents at some point, but the family they came from seemed to be in just as much ruin as King’s own. That answered some questions, and raised so many more.

“We’ll have to go up there sometime,” King responded, speaking to Purple like one might speak to a skittish kitten.

“Yeah…” Despite the affirmation, Purple didn’t sound particularly enthused at the idea, “but, normally when I dream of the beach, it’s a happy dream. So I was surprised when a storm rolled in and my Pops… disappeared. Then I heard screaming, and I saw my Mama out in the water, where it was really deep. There was something clinging to her. Some kind of… monster. I couldn’t make it out really well, but it had really big, really sharp teeth.

“It dragged Mama down into the water. She kicked and screamed, and started coughing really bad, but she couldn’t get away from it. At first I just sat there and watched like a total idiot,” Mango couldn’t help wincing at the raw bitterness in Purple’s voice, all directed inward, “but as soon as I was able to move I dove down after her. I swam as fast as I could, but it was like there was some sort of upward current. I couldn’t break free of it, no matter how hard I kicked, and she just got dragged down further, and further, and then… then I couldn’t see her anymore,” Purple’s voice shook a little, “I… once I lost sight of her, I froze. All I could think was that I wasn’t strong enough to save her, wasn’t good enough to save her, and it hurt so bad. I didn’t even realize I was drowning too until I woke up gasping.”

King and Mango both took a tense moment to absorb Purple’s story. The guilt Mango had been suppressing redoubled in his chest, creating an uncomfortable bubble of pressure within him. Despite the way their voice shook and warbled as they recounted their dream, Purple wasn’t crying. Was it because they didn’t want to burden anyone with their grief? Were they too used to the pain to cry? Mango couldn’t say for sure, but the idea of a child pushing their pain down so deeply, when they were being used as a narcotic to drug away someone else’s…

“I’m… so sorry,” King cooed softly, his voice a careful orchestra of concern and restraint. “You know… once Second recovers, we can ask them to do what they did for Gold for your mom. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

“...No.” Purple’s answer was sad, but resolute, “No, that wouldn’t be a good idea. What happened to Gold was a tragic accident. Mama’s death was… not. She died of a long, incurable, painful illness, and we don’t know if Sec’s healing powers work on diseases like that. If we brought her to the future, no matter how far back we went, I’d just have to watch her die again. Not only that, she’s so nice, all my friends would love her, and then they’d have to lose her too. It just wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved.”

Mango felt a stupor fall over him as he mulled over Purple’s answer. When he’d learned about Gold’s death, he could only process two things: the fury he felt at the monster who’d allowed his baby to die, and the urge to protect Gold, no matter what it took. The effects on other people, on the world around him… he’d never even considered such things. How could he even think of anything but his child? The amount of thought Purple was able to put into the consequences of their actions was… utterly baffling.

“That’s an incredibly mature decision,” Spoke the King, “and I’m so sorry you had to make it, sweetheart.”

“Eh, those were more like excuses not to ask, really.” Purple sighed, far more world-weary than any kid their age should sound, “Even if the others didn’t kill me for asking after Sec almost died, it wouldn’t be right to make them risk their life again just for me,” They paused, then added, “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, though.”

“I know,” Consoled the adult. Mango could hear him gently patting Purple on the back, presumably, and without thinking Mango clasped his own hands together. “I’ve heard being in a more comfortable space can help with nightmares. You said you wanted a hammock bed, right? That shouldn’t be too hard to install.”

There was a brief pause before Purple answered, “You… don’t mind me modifying your room like that?”

“Your room,” King corrected without hesitation. “It’s your space now, Purple. I’d like some heads up if you want to, you know, knock down walls or anything, but you can change it up however you like. You deserve to feel at home here.”

“Heh,” A little more cheer was evident in Purple’s voice as they absorbed King’s words. They seemed more confident, somehow, “Yeah, thanks. Hey, maybe we can take that trip up to the beach. You know, if you don’t bring any drama.”

Now that Purple’s mood was on the upswing, King’s own voice took on a more jovial tone as well, “Excuse you. I’ll have you know that I had absolutely zero flair for the dramatic before you entered my life.”

Mango couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Um, no. Even he had to call bull on that one.

“You’re welcome~!” Purple teased back, “But, seriously, the beach is kind of my happy place. So we can only go together if you promise to keep it a happy place.”

Context made King respond a bit more seriously, “I promise. Nothing but happy memories at the beach!” Then he hummed in thought, “It might be a while before we get to go, then. ‘Drama’ has kind of taken over our lives right now.”

“When hasn’t it?” Purple joked back, “But, until then, maybe we can go somewhere else? And we can even bring Gold and your evil twin.” Mango scowled as King snorted. How did he, the one who wasn’t a terrorist, end up with the title of evil twin? “Like, we can check out the amusement park! Or I can show Gold my tree house-”

“Gonna have to veto that one, bud,” Interrupted King, “I know it wasn’t the game’s fault, just some malfunctioning tech, but I’m not sure if I’m ever going to be comfortable with Gold going into Minecraft after what happened… I’m only barely able to handle you going in there alone.”

Mango flinched away from the door for a moment. The game that killed his kid… Purple played it? And King let them? What was wrong with this guy?

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Purple agreed casually, as if they weren’t talking about a stick-killing murder simulation, “then I guess we can do something else. Maybe the park?”

“Yeah, the park…” King sighed dreamily. Which park they were referring to was easy to guess; it had been his and Gold’s go-to place for after school playtime since the kid was a kid. His child was a hyperactive angel of destruction, and the park was a perfect place to let out all that excess energy in a healthy manner. Mango smiled at the memory of scrapes on his arms and legs from sword dueling with branches. He could practically feel Gold’s weight in his hands as he helped the child across the monkey bars. If Mango had to pick a happy place of his own, that would probably be it. “That sounds lovely. Gold could show you all his favourite spots, I could use myself as a punching bag to teach you both proper dueling,” Mango rolled his eyes as Purple let out a snorting laugh, “We could get corn dogs.”

“I hate corn dogs.” Purple answered. He’d suspected it after noting their taste in pizza, but this confirmed it for Mango: Purple was an absolute heathen.

King took this betrayal in stride, “Then the princess can get themselves a pretzel.” Purple tried to complain, but King cut them off by ruffling their hair. He chuckled fondly at them, all sweet and loving and… how could he not feel any guilt, showing them this kind of affection, when all he’d done was use Purple to fill the hole in his life? “How are you feeling now?”

“Mm…” Purple took a moment to mull it over before answering, “Tired, actually. I think I’m ready to head back in.”

The two were already standing by the time Mango processed what that meant. He scrambled to separate himself, jumping away like it was on fire and hopping across the sprawled out bodies of Purple’s friends like they were hurdles on a track. The echoing creak of the door opening hit Mango’s ears just as he darted out of sight, throwing himself behind a wall to avoid being seen. Purple and King were murmuring softly between themselves as they slowly and carefully walked through the living room to avoid waking Purple’s friends.

That slowness would be Mango’s saving grace. He turned and began creeping through the hallway towards Gold’s bedroom at the end. In his haste to escape, he forgot himself, and placed a foot down without thought.

Creeeaaaak

...Damn it. Mango winced. It was doubtful that Purple heard that, given how new they were to the house, but there was no way any version of himself would mistake the sound of the door outside his old room creaking. Not with how many times he’d been woken up in the middle of the night by a restless little golden angel knocking at his door.

“...Purple, hold up a second,” King’s voice quietly called out. Purple’s questioning noise turned to one of shock, “You’ve got something on your cheek. Here, let me-”

“Ew, Old Man, no-!”

Oh. King was giving him a chance to get away without being busted by Purple. Mango didn’t take the time to question his motives; he quickly walked, paying more mind to avoid the squeaky boards on the floor, and cautiously, quietly, pulled the bedroom door open. It made a slight squeaking noise, but there wasn’t really any hiding that, so Mango hurried inside and shut the door as quietly as he could manage.

Gold, thankfully, was still in bed, turned away from where King and Mango had set up their blankets for the night. Even in his sleep today’s events were clearly weighing on him, and Mango’s heart ached at the sight.

At least the poor kid was able to get some rest.

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

Gold hadn’t been able to get any rest that night.

How could he? The joy and excitement of preparing for the tournament this morning felt like a far off, distant dream. All he could think about was that shameful confession his father – his Dad – had poured out to him. All the people he’d hurt, the world he’d almost destroyed for Gold, over an incident that was almost completely separate from the game itself.

Both Dad Mango and Dad King had gotten up at some point, but Gold hadn’t even bothered to roll over and check on them. Were they fighting again? It shouldn’t have mattered, but another knife of betrayal stabbed into Gold anyways. He’d asked them to do one thing, one thing! And they couldn’t even manage that.

As he laid there, Gold’s mind flickered through the day’s events like he was mindless clicking through programs on the television. Purple had tried to hide it, or downplay it, or whatever, but Gold knew that his dad had hurt everyone in the living room, including Purple themselves. Whenever he tried to close his eyelids, his imagination conjured movies of the others fighting for their lives, of Dad glaring them down with a maniacal grin on his face, of Purple pushing against the pain of whatever hell Dad had summoned, begging him to stop, glitches and errors threatening to pull them apart pixel by pixel just like they had King Dad’s Gold…

Tears burned at his eyes, and Gold sniffed and hastily wiped them away. He’d always known his Dad had a temper, but… but he’d thought his Dad was a good person…

Eventually one of the Dads came back, a near inaudible creak in the otherwise dead silent night signaling his return. Gold didn’t bother to turn over to check which one, or if it was both of them. The idea of talking to his own Dad made him feel worn down – the bad kind of worn down, where your entire body was sore and you could feel the strings of sanity snapping in your mind. Gold held as still as he could and hoped Dad wouldn’t approach to check on him.

Several moments passed, and Gold felt a sense of guilty relief when he heard the rustling sound of sheets as Dad got back under the covers.

He was followed soon enough by the door opening again, and other Dad entered. The door clicked shut behind him, only audible in the silence of night, and then the air was painfully still. The lack of noise caused Gold’s heart to beat louder in his ears. Anticipation stole his breath.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, you know.”

Gold gulped down his nerves. Shoot.

Thankfully, before he could make the mistake of speaking up, the other version of his Dad, the one who’d entered first, responded from where he laid on the floor, “...Sorry.” The voice was soft, and lacked the hostility he had in previous conversations with himself.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” The Dad not laying down answered, “Tomorrow you’ll be telling Purple, and saying a proper ‘sorry’,” His tone was firm, and Gold realized that the one standing by the door was, most likely, King.

“I will,” Mango replied. He didn’t put up a fight at all, which somehow made Gold more nervous and suspicious than he would’ve been if he’d fought the demand. He paused for a brief second, then asked, “...Purple’s mom is dead?”

Gold’s breath caught in his throat. Purple was… was that why Purple went along with everything Dad had wanted? Because they didn’t have anyone else?

King sighed out a long, tired sigh before responding, “Yeah. She’s been dead longer than Gold. Some glitch in her core coding… I haven’t exactly pressed Purple for details, and they weren’t keen on giving them.”

“And their other parent?” Mango asked gingerly. Gold was reminded of an incident from when he was younger, when he’d broken a window with a baseball, and Dad was asking about the damages owed. The dread was tangible.

For a long moment King didn’t respond, and Gold was almost starting to think he wouldn’t when he finally answered, “That’s not my story to tell,” King’s voice was tinged with quiet rage, making Gold shiver. Is that what the others heard, when his Dad tried to destroy a world? Or was Gold’s father louder in his villainy? “And if I tried, I’d genuinely get too angry to sleep. Just know that if I had my way, that stick would NEVER get anywhere near Purple again.”

“So my hunch was correct,” Mango’s voice was quiet, almost inaudible, “The kid’s an abuse victim.”

Oh, and it just got worse.

“Like I said, Purple’s story isn’t mine to tell.” King spoke through gritted teeth, “If you want the details, you can ask them like the adult you’re supposed to be. But I’m not saying anything else about it. I don’t even think Purple knows how much I know about their previous home.”

Mango scoffed, “No wonder the kid’s so attached. How can you not feel guilty?”

“Guilty?” King echoed.

“For using that kid like you are? For taking in some sad, pitiable orphan just to make them replace your dead child?”

That- that wasn’t true, Gold forced himself to think. There was no way that Gold’s Dad would do that to some poor kid, right? But… there was no way Gold’s Dad would commit attempted murder, or destroy an entire world, either. He searched himself for some sign, any sign, that his Dad wouldn’t do that to Purple, and was met only with a clawing emptiness in his chest.

At this point, Gold didn’t know what to think of his own father.

“I’ve already told you,” Anger crept into King’s voice, though he kept the volume low, “Purple is not a replacement for Gold. They’re not some pet project, or some band-aid solution I’ll abandon now that Gold’s back.”

“...Well, it’s not like it’s my business,” Mango dismissed. Gold could hear rustling as he turned away from King, “Once I have the money, Gold and I are out of here. After that? You and your sad orphan can play happy house all you like.”

Bile churned in Gold’s stomach. How could his dad talk like that about Purple? After what they’d done for Gold? After what he’d learned about them?

Was his Dad always a bad person, and Gold had just been too stupid to see it?

The argument may have continued, but Gold was beyond caring. Bitter resentment and sour guilt pooled in his stomach to create a nauseating mixture. He couldn’t understand; how could his Dad claim to love him while using his death as an excuse to treat the people around him like trash? And poor Purple, caught in the middle. King’s emotional support and Mango’s target of resentment, allowing themselves to take on the Ochre family’s burdens so the rest of them could be happy. It felt to Gold like someone should take on Purple’s burdens, for once.

And if his father wasn’t up to the task? Well, then Gold would have to do it instead.

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

(Inhale) So.

I've been itching to put this story down for a while. My original idea was to make it a comic, but after some thought I decided to make it a fanfic instead. I just didn't expected it to be so LONG. Seriously, this is a multichapter fic and this is chapter ONE. Oh boy.

Feel free to let me know what you think so far, or if you come across any typos or anything. I did my best to edit, but this ended up being a lot longer than I'd expected. There were just so many little moments I'd wanted to include, I couldn't bring myself to cut anything.

I'm not sure how often I'm going to update this fic. It took like a month of work to write and draw everything, and I do have other things I want to do. But I'll do my best, I promise.

[qlossytbh]

𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 after a long day working on a specific murder case, all you want is to do was fall asleep, next to your boyfriend.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 fluff fluff and more fluff, established relationship, fem reader, brief mention of insecurity (spencer’s side), general cm content

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.4k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 started criminals minds and i fear this man is gonna push me down a rabbit hole. inspired on season 4 spence

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Longs days at work were usually your favorite— unless they induced an unhealthy amount of stress on you.

Unfortunately, today had been one of those days. To start off, Hotch called you in earlier, around six in the morning, due to an emergency statement issue he needed you to put together regarding your recent Unsub. You spent all day talking to witnesses, finally being able to establish a profile for the specific serial killer the BAU was hunting down.

You were utterly exhausted. You hadn't been sleeping entirely well, being kept up by nightmares regarding the current case and since it had been an eventful day, not only were you physically tired but mentally as well. Talking about woman getting raped and murdered and left in the middle of the streets wasn’t the most soul-fueling aspect of your job.

Your body begged for a nap— So did your brain.

The Unsub was attacking woman throughout the city of New York, so the BAU team opted on staying situated at some random hotel for the remaining of the week in order to get advances on the case. The end of your shift was intended to be around seven thirty, but Hotch once again asked you to stay behind and help Prentiss and Morgan with a few files. Being the person and colleague you were, you agreed without protest.

As another crack in your neck echoed throughout your head, you began questioning if your job was actually paying you enough.

Those extra two hours felt even longer with the never ending teasing of Morgan, whom to you resembled very close the figure of a brother. Irrevocably, excruciatingly annoying, but someone you cared for deeply.

Except for right now.

It was now ten. It was dark outside as you practically dragged yourself into the hotel lobby with Morgan and Prentiss tagging along much more actively, chatting endlessly about some irrelevant topic your head couldnt entirely latch onto. The heels of your feet were pulsating and you desperately needed to close your eyes. Your back felt terribly cramped due to being hunched over for so long at your desk so it came to no one’s surprise when you grimaced as you put a hand on your lower-back.

"Back problems?” Morgan dared, voice coming dangerously close to a tease. “At your age?"

You glared back at him, sending warning signs through your piercing gaze that he should be very careful with where he stepped.

"No,” Your voice was clenched. “These stupid hotel mattresses are utter crap and I was in some weird position last night."

“What kind of positions?” Emily eyed you from the side. You looked over at her, thinking you may of heard some suggestiveness laced in her tone. You caught a familiar evil glint in her eyes and realization dawned upon you, realizing what she had meant.

Your cheeks buzzed with heat as you jumped to your own defense. “Sleeping positions!”

You cringed internally, feeling mortified and annoyed and— tired. The two of them clearly had enough hours of sleep the night before to be in a cheery enough mood to tease you.

“I’m too tired to deal with the two of you,”

"Looks like someone's past their bedtime" Derek remarked while patting your head. You scowled, swatted his hand away urgently.

"I'm not gonna even fight you on that since all I want to do right now is sleep and not hear you guys make fun of me,” Emily checked her watch and elbowed Derek’s side.

"We should probably go get some rest too," She stated, finally putting you out of your misery. She jerked her chin in the opposite direction of the lobby, which was where her and Morgan’s rooms were.

There had been some sort of room distribution problem upon arrival, leaving half of the team on the left side of the building and the others on the right.

"You need me to walk you to your room?" Morgan asked without any teasing in sight, like he was genuinely concerned.

"I think I can make it to the second floor," You shrugged. "But thanks tough guy. Reid’s probably still up waiting for me."

Emily made a face before they nodded to themselves and with one final goodbye, headed off to their respective rooms in the other direction. You turned and made your way to the elevator, body heavy with sleep. Once inside, you closed your eyes and sighed heavily, leaning against the wall behind you with a thud. Your head was pounding and your legs desperately begged you to stop moving them.

The elevator came to a stop and you pushed yourself off the wall, waiting for it to open. Once it did, the eerie setting of the empty hallways settled in. You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling fear trickling throughout your spine. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. Your job was bound to leave you with an unsettling feeling of being alone, but you weren't going to ever live down letting Morgan walk you to your room.

You hastily made your way to the door of the hotel room you shared with Spencer, slipping the keycard out your back pocket and opening the door.

Once inside, you slid off the heavy coat that hung on your shoulders and slipped it on the rack near the door. You heard the sheets shuffling in the room with a bit of urgency.

"It’s me Spence," You reassured, walking into the hallway and leaning against the wall that led towards the room.

You took in the sight in front of you and smiled happily. Satisfaction tan deep within you, knowing only you had the pleasure of seeing Spencer like this. So casually relaxed

His back was propped up against the headboard, hairs flying across his forehead showing the contrast between his usual somewhat tamed hair. He had his glasses perched upon the bridge of his nose and a book he had decided to read in his hand. Your smile was tired when he looked over at you, setting his book down.

"Hey," He started, smiling amiably. There was a familiar glow in his gaze that usually lit up when he looked at you. You sucked in a breath through your nose.

“Hi,”

“It’s late,” He said, almost as if coming to the realization of how late you had actually come back.

"Me, Prentiss and Morgan were at those files longer than expected— I'm exhausted." He patted the spot next to him.

"Then come sleep," You pushed yourself off the wall.

"I will, let me change and I'll be right with you,"

You turned grabbing your shorts and long sleeved shirt you usually slept in on the way to the bathroom. Some would debate the actual benefits of sleeping in shorts in New York winter were zero to none. Spencer had done so the first night you arrived, giving you all the reasons it wasn't beneficial and how likely you were to catch a cold. But long pants made you fidgety and caged. You hated how it felt to turn around in bed a few times and already feel the fabric getting twisted and stuck around your legs.

Besides, Spencers body temperature radiated enough heat to keep you warm, which was another beneficial reason of wearing shorts to sleep. Why avoid the cold when you had your very own personal human heater?

You looked at yourself in the mirror, failing to avoid the bags that were beginning to appear beneath your eyes. You promptly slipped off your turtleneck, sweater and jeans and put on your sleeping clothes. Once done, you left the bathroom, turning off the lights and closing the door behind you.

You reached up, pulling at the hair tie and freeing your hair from its low bun. Wordlessly, you made it to Spencers side of the bed and he innately threw the duvet cover backwards, allowing you enough space to climb in and rest yourself soundly between his legs, resting your head against his chest.

The silence that surrounded the two of you was enough to put you to sleep in that very moment. The comfortable surface of his solid chest was cozier than any mattress— even though you always unconsciously hoped you weren’t squishing him.

Spencer tossed his book onto the nightstand, slipping his glasses off his face as he quickly turned his attention to you. You placed your palms flat against his chest and rested your chin above them, allowing yourself to look up at him with a tired smile.

"Hi." You said. He reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and smiling down at you with his familiar infamous dopey smile.

"Hi," He answered back, smile growing wider. "You look pretty,"

"Don't even," You groaned, not believing a single word that came from him. "You were so lucky Hotch didn't call you in after hours— or before.”

“I’m getting the sense that you’re angry with me,” There wasn’t an ounce of malice in his voice, facetiously regarding your angry look.

“I’m not angry, i’m jealous.” You explain, pouting your lips at him. “You have no idea how jealous I am of the fact that you've been lying in bed since eight,"

Although joking around, you didn’t fail to notice the traces of empathy lingering beneath his gaze. There wasn’t anything Spencer hated more than knowing you were exhausted. He let his hand linger around your face, tracing patterns on your jaw while you looked up at him with big tired eyes. "Jealous of me? Being able to lay in these mattresses?"

You let out a laugh. "How many of your muscles are cramped after last night?”

“Because of sleep or…?” He trailed, pursing his lips in thought. You groaned, placing your palm across his face to either smother him or prevent him from seeing how flustered you got. You were usually the one making vilgar jokes. It sat differently when Spencer did it, it made you more nervous.

“You’re so stupid,” He laughed underneath your palm and muttered out.

“Actually—“

“Don’t ‘actually’ me,”

Spencer’s teasing, even in your state of utter exhaustion, didn’t leave you cranky or annoyed. It never did, It always did the opposite. You became all mushy and soft when it came to Spencer and every gesture was laced in nothing more than absolute adoration.

He grew quiet as he let his thumb linger across your cheek, realizing the joke had died down. He gazed your face so lovingly, it almost hurt. You closed your eyes and basked in the comfort of his gaze.

You and Spencer had been dating for over a year now. The two of you met when you became part of the BAU not long after he had started. Your proximity in age had been the initial reason for a friendship, but then it started shifting into something beyond that and before you knew it, you started seeing him outside of work, weekends… The majority of your time was spent beside him.

You still recalled with humor how it took a while for him to make a move. It didn't take long for him to become your friend, not at all. But the second the two of you realized things were moving beyond a friendship, he forgot any notion of how to operate like a normal human being. You had found it extremely endearing realizing how much of an effect you had on him— you still did.

Slowly falling in love with each other was probably one of the most cathartic events of one another’s lives because it distinguished such a firm before and after.

Working in the FBI had always felt so loud and caotic, but ever since Spencer, the world became a little more quiet and a little less stressful.

Spencer leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips, savoring any and every second he could with you. You sighed happily into the kiss, realizing how all your muscles began melting into his touch.

You pulled away, pecking his lips two more times just for desperate measures.

"I missed you." He hummed, placing a small peck to your forehead before allowing his hands to travel down the side of your ribcage and onto your back.

You crooned lowly, letting your eyes flutter close as you let him trace small patterns onto your back with his fingertips. Your body erupted in a string of goosebumps, feeling nothing but overwhelming pleasure seep into every muscle and joint in your body. The jolts of electricity seeped through your spine. It made your heart flutter and swell, feeling how light his fingers danced across your skin and how gentle he was with you.

It had taken a lot for Spencer to open up to physical touch, so that being said, all these small gestures from him were all the more special.

You knew there was a side of him that loved being connected to you through any sort of physical contact, wether it be holding his hands, a kiss on the cheek, linking your arms together, saying hi in the morning with a hug or a soft peck. His insecurities in the beginning of the relationship prevented him from letting that side show.

With time and patience, and lots of reassurance on your side, physical contact with you began nearly as necessary as breathing to Spencer.

Spencer always enjoyed giving you back scratches. He loved how your body immediately fell into his when he dragged his fingers along your back. Like he could physically see the knots of stress unfold. He sometimes grabbed your arm to himself and traced patterns across while you were watching movies or when you woke up.

There won’t be a day he forgets to greet you at your desk before heading to his own, despite always trying to avoid being seen by Morgan, who’d typically tease him endlessly.

Nevertheless, he’d still always bend over your slouched position at your desk chair in the morning and say hi. He’ll let his hand linger on your back and trace repetitive circles. Even if it was just thirty seconds, your body responded incredibly well to his soft touches.

Spencer was extremely good at reading you, and he responded to your needs in a way no one else had ever managed. Seeing just how close to collapsing you had been when you got to the room, he desperately wanted to draw circles onto your back until you fell asleep.

And god, were his back scratches just what you needed.

Right now, with his hands trailing around your tired body and aching back, you could practically hear yourself purring. His hand travelled along your shirt, reaching the hem and peeking his hand underneath it in order to feel the smoothness of your skin— that and knowing you loved it even more.

When he felt your body deflate he chuckled softly to himself. You mumbled quietly, sighing contently. “Hmm,”

"Did you know that when someone cratches your back, your brain releases Serotonin?" He started. You looked up at him with a sleep induced smile as his hand continued traveling along your back.

"No, I did not."

"It's a neurotransmitter that promotes positive feelings. Our skin is abundant with sensory receptors which are called mechanoreceptors. When stimulated, specifically by human touch, they send signals to the brain which triggers pleasurable sensations. It's kind of like a light therapeutic touch, some people even call it scratch therapy." His hands traveled mindlessly, along with his words down at you.

"Its primary purpose is to enhance one's mood for the better since it mainly releases endorphins and serotonin, hormones that tend to fight off cortisol. It's also said to relieve muscle tension, since the repetitive motion stimulates the natural release of these mood-boosting hormones. Your muscles respond and alleviate all the discomfort and stiffness on their own."

"Most importantly, it mimics gestures of affection and care. This specific type of touch motivates a sense of connection which can foster trust and bonding. Most people turn to this form of therapy because of how soothing the sensation can be both mentally and physically." He expounded as you watched him with nothing more than complete awe.

Spencer rambling about anything and every topic you could bring up was your favorite thing about him,— other than his smile.

Unlike many people who knew him, you actually listened and soaked up every single word he said. Hell, you learned more with him in the past year than the first five years of your adulthood.

"So thats why you always scratch my back, huh?" You pointed a finger at him and he smiled.

"That and because I love you,"

"I love you— And when you go all wikipedia on me," You kissed the corner of his jaw and positioned yourself sound against his chest. One of his arms held you against his chest while the other continued its repetitive patters. "Don't you dare stop with this scratch therapy stuff, I was just starting to feel sleepy,”

He kissed the crown of your head as you rested . "Wasn’t planning on it.”

[writingoddess1125]

The old men of One Piece finding out they have a child with you. Final Part

Shanks, Buggy, Mihawk X FemReader

Healthy mix of Angst and Fluff.

Support me on Ko-Fi

Author Note at End!-

Buggy

Dee woke up first, feeling the scratching of wood on his face. Sitting up quickly he saw they were in a cell- more accurately the brig of a ship. Sitting up quickly he felt his head throbbing in discomfort, he saw Bee also knocked out and shook him hard.

"Get up-" He hissed, smacking Bee across the cheek which snapped him away.

"What the h-" Dee slammed his hand against his brothers lips quickly. Bee noticing were they were and rubbing the side of his head. Dee carefully removing his hand-

"We have to be quiet..."

"Do you remeber what happened?" Bee questioned, Dee shaking his head. It was all too fuzzy for him to remeber.

"Doesnt matter.. we just gotta get out of here" Bee nodded at this and both kids stood up, Dee deciding to climb to the top of the cell greatful he had been in the crowsnest for a while and learned how to climb the mast.

"Hey this ship is old enough, I think if we push in this plank will pop up and we can try and shimmy our way up"

Bee followed his twins lead and climbed up next to him- Both beginning to push on the plank and pry it from its position. Dee greatful they were both skinny kids slipped his way through the open planking the dim space before pulling Bee up behind him. Once in they looked around.

They stared in awe- realizing this is must have been were they were stashing the treasure- it was small just big enough for the twins to stand with an inch of head space above them.

Bee grabbed some gold coins and shoved them into his pocket with a greedy smile. However Dee eyes went to a series of 3 boxes nearly stuck in a corner, kneeling down as he grabbed one and cracked it open seeing some odd looking fruit.

"Did you find food?" Bee said appearing like the Imp he was and peering down at it- it was boxes of fruit. Both boys groaned at the sight, You forced them to eat fruit most the time since they didn't really have a taste for healthy. Bee picked up the first one he saw and held it with one hand and frowned-

"That's it? Just some old fruit? They don't even have chocolate?" He grumbled figuring better tasting stuff was more valuable.

"Just shut up and eat it- We don't know if we will get food again" Dee argued back, Grabbing one from the box as well. Insync the two took a bite of their respective fruits and shivered in disgust as they tasted it. Bee barely able to swallow the first bite and quickly chucked it at a wall-

"What the hell was that!?" He yelled, Dee chewing his own in disgust before his eyes widened as he covered his brothers mouth. But it was far too late. Heavy footsteps quickly marched above them and both boys hit as the secret hatch above them opened- they saw a large pale man frowning as he looked at his secret treasures, he had a big purple fur coat, a wide brim hat that matched, way too small of eyes that made him look squashed like a pug. As he looked around clearly keeping an eye on his treasure Dee unfortunately was not keeping an eye on Bee who had grabbed a gold Dagger from the collection of goods and stabbed the captians hand. The large man yelled and jumped back-

Just like with all things- It seemed improve was Bee's go to!

Like two little rabbits both boys rushed out of the hiding hole and rushed out the Captian's Quarters while the blinged out Captian yelled and yanked the knife from his hand.

Dee and Bee ran through the halls of the ship, This wasn't like their dad's so it was difficult to navigate. However as if luck was on their side they rushed to the Main Deck- there they saw the ship and crew-

It was like they got flash banged by glitter- All the crew mates were wearing sequence in some way while the ship looked like someone had dunked it in cheap glitter and rhinestones.

"Did we get kidnapped by literally the lamest pirates?-" Bee questioned as the crew looked at the twins in shock.

"The hostages are escaping!!!" A crewmate yelled as all hell broke loose, The boys scrambled and darted in different directions. Dodging and lacing through the grown men at best they could- the boys were quite literally running laps around these idiots and having them knock into each other-

"Enough!!" What was assumed was the first mate held a gun up and fired directly at Dee clearly not caring about keeping a hostage for ransom anymore.

Dee stood in shock as the bullet came right at him- Before silence. Bee stood there in shock as Dee slowly looked down, There sat the bullet perfectly stuck to his chest. Carefully he pulled it off him and dropped it to the ground. Shocked just as much as the Crew members.

"THEY MUST HAVE EATEN A DEVIL FRUIT! THROW THEM OVERBOARD!!"

The Crew yelled before the grown men all charged at the boys- Dee picking up an oar and ready to defend himself. Till the oar didn't come off his hands- he started to wave it around wildly to get it off, Hitting the men in the process of doing so.

"Sorry!!" He yelled as he tried to kick off the oar from his hands but it smacked a guy in his teeth and landed perfectly back in his grasp sticking once again. His feet sticking to the ground as he bent backwards as a guy jumped at him and jumped into the sea around them.

"I-Im sorry!-" Dee cried as he spun around and the oar stuck to him swung and smacked another pirate inbetween the legs.

The oar finally unsticking from his hands and falling to the floor with a unflattering thud.

He looked to hear cackling as he watched Bee have the damn time of his life- He bounced like a spring everywhere, going incredibly fast as he punched different crewmates with the force of the abilities.

It seemed everytime Bee swung a wave of force would come out of him sending men flying at kicks and punches. He laughed loudly at this and looked on at the destruction he was causing.

Once all the crew mates were knocked out the hard steps and laughter from the Lower Deck caught their attention. The massive Captian clapping in praise as he walked up to the Main Deck.

"The Tack Tack fruit and the Bam Bam Fruit- Fitting you two would stumble upon it! One makes you Just sticky enough that nothing on the outside can harm you just stick, while the Bam Bam fruit lets you double your natural abilties every time you hit it twice"

The Captian bellowed as he stared down at the two boys- Pulling off his coat with a laugh revealing the many gold chains on his body and heavy rings on his fingers.

"Behold a true devil fruit! The Bling Bling Fruit!" He yelled as he clapped his hands and his whole body turned into glittering gold before punching the ground hard shattering thay part of the deck, The boys jumped out of the way of the impact.

"Too bad it won't keep you from being crusted to death!!" He yelled as he began to jump and use himself as a human Canonball- The boys barely dodging the attacks, the few times Bee tried to make a hit the mental just hurt his hands and made him jump away.

The Blinged out Captian continue to terrorize the boys, as well as landing blows on them that they barely were able to escape.

The Captian laughed loudly as the two boys were just trying a means to escape at this point, The older man hitting Dee who flung overboard barely able to stick to the side of the ship to keep from hitting the water.

"DANNY!" Bee called out as he rushed to pull his brother up. As he did so he saw the Captian power up and jump ready to crush to two under his weight.

"BLING BLING CRUSSH- OOF!-" He cried out as a Special Muggy Ball suddently smacked into his back exploding and propelled him into the ocean past the two kids. Both boys frozen as they saw The Big Top ship came into View, Buggy at the front as massive hooks came to the side of the blinged out ship and pulled it close.

"DAD!!!" Both boys cried out, Buggy and You rushing from the Big Top to the smaller pirate ship quickly and towards the twins. Buggy using his Chop Chop abilities to grab both twins from so close to the rails and pull them close.

"Oh thank Heavens you're alright!!" You cried out as you kissed their faces, tears rushing down your cheeks as you held them both close.

"How did you find us?" Bee fried out, As you smoothed your hand over his and Dee's face.

"You don't make your ship shiny cause you turn into a sailing Lighthouse thay anyone can track-" Buggy pointed out as he gestured to the glittery ship.

"Are you two hurt? Oh my goodness is that a busted lip!?" You cried as you looked at Dee's face.

"We are okay, we did most of the damage anyway! And the bullets didn't hurt me!"

"Yeah We were beating them all up too! And fought the whole crew with our awesome abilties!!" Bee yelled excitedly.

Buggy froze at this like a record scratch, staring at his sons with the most deadpan stare he could possibly muster as his eye twitched.

"Boys- Please elaborate on what the hell you mean by that?-" He asked as he put one of each hand on his shoulder and kneeled down to their eyelevel.

Bee grinned widely at this as he giggled excitedly, before snacking Dee and his hand sticking to his brothers face. Dee glared at this and yanked him off him aggressively before kicking his brother in the shin- making Bee cry out and hop on one leg, of course after that second jump he shot through the air.

Buggy giving his signature scream in shock before his hands flew out and grabbed Bee quickly before he flew into the ocean.

"YOU TWO ATE DEVIL FRUITS?!" He screamed out as he brought back bee carefully and proceeded to grill them on finding out how and why-

"Yeah the Tack Tack fruit and the Bam Bam fruit!!" Boy boys said in unison.

They ate a devil fruit- both ate a devil fruit... you turned away and felt your body stagger a bit as the words that Buggy was screaming in panic about to the twins was mumbled on you-

Both of them... Cursed to never swim... while you're out on sea... and both of them are pre-teen boys that don't listen...

You didn't remeber your face smashing into the main deck due to you fainting- However you sure as hell felt it when next thing you know Buggy is fanning your face and holding you in his lap in panic. Your boys standing around you as well and a few crewmates with a wet rag for you and a first aid kit.

"Buggy... please tell me your genes did not win and have not one...but both our twins eat a devil fruit"

You whimper out, Buggy wincing at your words a little and nodding that unfortunately it was true-

"Oh dear Gods..." You sigh- almost ready to faint again.

"Mommy I promise we won't cause any trouble" You heard Bee said, his voice softer then normal as he was clearly worried. Dee nodding in agreement as he too looked worried that you were mad at them.

"I know my loves- I... it's just very dangerous"

You say softly, Sitting up with the help of Biggy who rubs your back in comfort. Dee and Bee stand there nervous for a moment, before Dee whispers to his brother who grins and reach into his baggy pants pockets.

"Here Mommy! I have just the thing to show we will be okay- TAHA!" He yelled out as he pulled out two large handfuls of treasure.

Both you and Buggy's jaw drops at the sight. "Where did you get that!?" You yell and Dee smiles at this.

"On that ship we escaped" He said proudly, Buggy started in saying to bring it to the treasure room but the boys refused. Saying it was theirs and they would hide it in the best spot! Running from the both of you laughing as they plotted their treasure spot.

"I suppose a Pirates life is for them" You said with a tired chuckle, staring at the two as they ran away to the lower deck. Buggy helped you stand fully this time, not bothering to chase the kids for their nice lump of treasure.

"They will be amazing pirates for sure- and great men"

Feeling a arm around your waist, glancing up with a raised brow to see Buggy wide grin.

"You know, I haven't gotten that much time with the boys especially in those important younger years. I did miss so much and wish I got to experience those baby years as a Dad"

You slowly raised your brow as your eyes narrowed at the man who continued to grin with mischief in his eyes.

"What if we-"

You sent him a glare that made him smile nervously.

"Hell Fucking No-"

Shanks

It had been about 6 months since Shanks had returned into Vivians life. It had been slow going but getting there. The two had days were it was just them together and you could see that spark in Vivian's eye slowly coming back as her and Shanks hung out more-

Today was one of those days, Both having returned from a day out boating and having a picnic.

"Hey Mommy! We're home!" Vivian yelled put holding the empty picnic basket in her arms as Shanks smiled at you.

"Hey you two, How was today's boating adventure?" You ask, Smirking at the proud smile on Shanks face as Vivian began to mindlessly chatter about how much fun she had with Shanks. The man was clearly doing everything in his power to make it up to Vivian.

"I'm glad you two had fun"

As you speak this a wash off a odd feeling it you- You lean against the countertop, feeling lighthearted and dizzy. Assuming you had first thought you may have over worked yourself or not had enough water.

"(Y/N)?.." You hear Shanks call out to you as you felt odd. Closing your eyes as you staggered and fell being barely caught by a panic Shanks who called your name but the words warping before you feel unconscious.

When the doctor had arrived he had done every test imaginable and came out with grim results. An illness that couldn't be cursed and only be drawn out- he did everything he could in terms of medication however you all knew it was grim. Vivian took the news worse then anyone, insisting that you could improve if she did more. You and Shanks both having to slow her down and keep her from having a breakdown at that.

It had been a month since your diagnosis and you knew you were rapidly falling apart. Your legs being the first thing that went- you lips starting to get a sickly shade of blue and pain coursing through your form at all times. Vivian having decided to try and become a sort of care taker for you despite Shanks being there who helped you daily, she was desperate in wanting you to get better and it broke your heart to see-

"It's okay Mommy, you'll get better. Just takes time"

Laying in bed you watch Vivican fuss with your blankets talking about keeping you warm so you could get better. However you knew you wouldn't... your time was approaching and there wasn't anything to be done.

"Vi.. could you do me a favor and run to the market to get my favorite icecream?" You ask softly, watching her nod and run downstairs to do as you asked. Leaving you and Shanks alone, there was a few moments of silence before you sighed.

"Shanks... when I'm gone please take Vivian with you... she can't be alone" Shanks opened his mouth, most likely yo protest you dying but you held a hand up calmly.

"I know what will be happening to me... and in truth, I don't want to suffer either.. which is the second thing I need to ask of you-"

You saw his eyes water at this, bowing his head at the words. You knew you were asking too much of him- But he was the only one you trusted now and needed his help.

"What do you want done?..." He asked softly, his voice barely over a whisper.

"First... I want to have a nice dinner with all of you- And I want to tuck Vivian in... after she goes to bed.. me and you share one final drink together"

You say calmly, reaching over to grab the bottle of pain pills the doctor had given you. Holding the bottle out to him, his resolve cracking at this as tears rolled down his cheeks. Clutching the bottle hard and nodding.

"Okay... I can do that... And after?" He spoke between tears and trying to control his emotions. Tears running down your own cheeks at this point.

"Cremation.. and my ashes spread in the sea... the most beautiful place you can think of"

Shanks nodded at this tears running down his cheeks as he slipped the bottle into his jacket pocket for later.

When Vivian got back she was met with a surprising display, both her parents in the kitchen cooking. You seated on one of the chairs slowly and carefully cutting up ingredients while her father was stood adding it to different pots and mixing it with a spoon.

"Ah Vi, Thank you for the ice cream love. Wanna help us make dinner?"

Vivian smiled widely at this and nodded. It turned into a wonderful time together, the family making a wonderful curry dinner that was filled with laughter and nice stories- You and Shanks talking about your guys dating in the past, Vivian felt like she was in cloud nine. You were smiling and cheerful while Shanks was attentive and kind.

Once having your fill and eating the ice cream together Vivian watched you and Shanks together. After the family time Shanks carried you upstairs to Vivian's room were you read to her, kissing her forehead and tucking her in to the best of your abilities.

That evening once Vivian was put to bed Shanks laid you back in your own, careful in his task as he tucked you in with his hand and added several pillows to make you comforble.

Once laid out he grabbed two bottles of Rum. With shaking hands he added the crushed up pain pills in one and mixed it calmly before handing it to you.

Tears rolling down both of your guys cheeks as you both sat there together. Shanks leaned over and gently kisses your lips, sniffling as tears rushed down his cheek.

"I want to say I love you (Y/N)... and you have blessed me with not only your presence but our beautiful daughter.."

You smile at his kind words, returning the kiss and caressing his cheek.

"I love you too Shanks, you are a wonderful man who made me a Mother to a beautiful daughter.. I know you'll take wonderful care of her"

Holding your bottle up you both cheers and take the first sip of many, At this you two drink that night and for the final time.

When day rose, you were gone. Vivian had been woken up by the sound of the doctor talking, rushing out to see him and Shanks talking calmly his face red from crying. She rushed to him and peered into your room were a white sheet covered your form. Her eyes widening and her body running cold at the sight- She didn't even hear the words from Shanks as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

She stepped forward and he followed silently behind as she took a seat on the bed and touched the outline of your hand. Tears running down her cheeks as she looked on at your covered form, her hand hesitating in wanting to lift the shroud but stopped herself. Instead looking at Shanks who was silently crying while standing there.

"W-Was she in pain?" She asked, Shanks shook his head no at this. Vi nodded softly at this, before standing up from her seat and stepping towards Shanks and pressed her face against him- slowly her sobs began to fill the room as she wrapped her arms around his leg and cried. Shanks placing a hand on her head as he let her, she needed to cry.

The next few days had been a blur, Vivian had said her final goodbyes to you, crying by your side before the doctor took your body to he cremated. Shanks took control, he had organized the memorial, picked up the ashes to bring with him on his journey to sea and been with Vivian every step of the way. Vivian keeping the rights to the house and bakery when she wished to return, as well as packing up her room to be set onto his ship.

It was so much going on and all too quickly, yet it seemed like he was watching it in slow motion. Watching how Vivian looked out at sea or held the apron you always wore, it was hard for her yet she seemed to understand and accept it as well.

"Vivian.. are you ready?" Shanks called out, Stepping into her empty room as he crew took the last few boxes to his ship. She was standing there looking out the window holding your apron. Snapping from her thoughts she looked at him and nodded, folding the apron and putting it in her suitcase before following Shanks silently.

Once to the ship Vivian hesitated for a while, standing there as she watched the ship bustle to set sail as quickly as possible. She turned to look at the island, holding her suitcase still as the wind picked up through her red hair.

Vivian stood there, tears running down her cheeks as she looked out at what had once been her home with you.. her life that she knew with you was gone.

Feeling a hand on her back she looked up to see Shanks, looking as glum as her as he looked down at her. No words would be a comfort to her, they both knew that... but ironically they would only have each other from now on and the memories of you to keep them floating.

Mihawk

It was like clash of the titans in your home- Ever since you and Mihawk's tumble on the couch.

Mihawk and Alucare seemed to be constantly and silently fighting with each other. While they claimed it was training you were pretty sure Alucare taking a razor to the back of Mihawk's head was not apart of training or the need for Mihawk to quite literally toss his son to the other side of the island as punishment.

However it seemed in some way they were getting along- mainly when the two did real training in the orchard by your home. Since Alucare had a interest in blades Mihaek had taken up to training him- even procuring a curved sword he called a kilij to train him with. Alucare had taken up to this training well and had been getting better everyday. It had genuinely turned into a rather picturesque family envirment for the past few months much to your delight.

Today was just the same, Alucare and Mihawk up at dawn to train- Then silently fighting with each other, you cleaned up from breakfast and right on cue Mihawk walked in having let Alucare leave for school taking a seat at the dining room table.

You two shared a small conversation with each other as Mihawk unwined, you pausing however to take a break.

You rubbed your lower back in mild discomfort, you didn't notice Mihawk's gaze on you. How his eyes lingered on your form as you moved through the house.

"Dinner? Sure we can have dinner together next week, sounds like fun- Oh before I forget let me get you some tea-"

"Let me" You heard him say, and stand up quickly. Gesturing for you to take a seat quickly as he went to make the tea.

"It's okay Mih-"

"You're back hurts. It's more then acceptable to make my own tea and for you to rest.. You shouldn't work yourself so hard" Mihawk says calmly and surprises you by how he just took over the kitchen and sets down a cup of lavender tea, you raised a brow at this since he normally drank black.

"It's just mild back pain-" You pointed out, narrowing your eyes at him. Something was clearly up.

"Let's go to the doctors... if you are uncomfortable it's safer" He insisted as he took a seat and sipped his own tea ignoring your hard stares.

"...You know something don't you?-" You point out adding some honey to the lavender tea. But he stays quiet and continued to sip his tea.

At first you refuses to go to the doctors, hoping to prybit out of Mihawk what he was hiding- However the man just kept pestering you to go. It only took a few hours of his nagging for you to decide to go.

A few hours passing and Alucare returned, Clearly having decided to skip classes again to just return home. Walking in cautiously to see Mihawk in the kitchen and you nowhere to be found.

"Where is mom?" Alucare asked as he saw Mihawk quickly chopping vegetables-

"She will be returning shortly-" was all he said, but Alucare knew that tone. The old man was up to something.

The door slammed open and both men turned in surprise looking like two startled black cats with their fur raised- You were never one to flare your temper but oh boy did you look pissed. Holding a paper in your hand and glaring hard at Mihawk.

"You knew!!" You yelled pointing at him, Alucare stepping to the side out of the line of fire. Mihawk lowered the cooking knife and turned to look at you as you stomped forward.

"What did the doctor say?" He asked calmly, a almost playful tone on his face as you tossed the paper directly to his chest which he caught and began reading through carefully.

"You knew you got me pregnant again! You knew this whole damn time didn't you!!" You yelled, Alucare jaw dropping at the news and clearly now wanting to leave the room.

"I have no idea what you're talking about" He said calmly as he read through the paper, a smirk on his face as he read through it. You snatch the doctors paper from his hands that indicated you were in the early stages of pregnancy.

"You knew!- You ass!" You blush flustered as you hold the papers. Mihawk staring at you blankly and shrugging slightly like he didn't know what you were talking about- You placed your hand on your hips and narrowed your gaze.

"Damn it Mihawk we are both too old for a baby! Besides I can't fit a newborn in this house its-"

"Come move in with me" Mihawk said, this surprised you and Alucare together over how serious Mihawk seemed about this.

"I have missed the birth of one of my children already.. as well as you being forced to raise him on his own- I will not allow it a second time... I want both of you to move in with me" He explained, Gesturing to both of you with his hands. An air of silence followed.

"Mihawk- I couldn't just mooch off of you, I mean what would they think if just a random person moved into your home? I-I wou-" You were cut off again with a raised hand.

"You wouldnt be mooching off of me, you will be my wife and if anyone who dares come to my island has an issue with you as my wife they will learn quickly not to-"

Pause. Wife? Your eyebrows raised at hearing this, your cheeks feeling far too warm and chest fluttering.

Alucare looking slightly surprised by this as well.

"Wife? Since when have you married my mother?-" Alucare demanded as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I planned on asking next week, however things have changed with the arrival of your sibling. So I'm asking now" He said bluntly.

That's when it clicked, thay dinner that Mihawk had asked you to join him at- That ment he was most likely going to propose then to you and ask you anyway to be his wife-

You covered your mouth in shock at this revolution. Mihawk smiled calmly at this, as he stepped closer to you. Alucare scrunched his face up in disgust at being caught in this sort of emotional situation.

"...If you're still interested I'd prefer to ask now. The ring order won't be ready till tommorow however..." Mihawk admitted as he placed his hands on your hips. Tears welling up in your eyes and you nodded.

"Yes, I will marry you-" You whisper out, Hugging the man you were so close to castrating just moments ago. Mihawk returning the gesture calmly as his hand settled on your waist.

"We will be moved out by the end of this week, it will be a bit of a sail to my Island so I will make sure everything is safe for the journey" He stated calmly, Alucare looking ready to barf at this point.

"I get no say in this do I-" Alucare asked as he stared at both of you.

"No."

"No-"

And that was that.

It seemed Mihawk really did manage to do as said, by the weeks end he had purchased a larger ship since he didn't think the Hitsugibune sea craft he usually used would carry you all comforbly and keep you safe. So he purchased a larger sea vessel, hiring also some local men to pack up the house and load everything onto the ship- Since your house was tiny it didn't take long.

Mihawk hadn't let you lift a finger- when you offered to help move things or even to cook lunch to bring on the journey he had refused and took the task himself. Alucare had also been weirdly okay with this all, he hadn't made a lot of friends in school so he wasnt attached to that- He'd explored all of the island and neighboring islands as well so he didn't care about the area-

Just like Mihawk had said, by the end of the week the small family was ready to depart- everything had been packed, enough food for up to 6 people to last a year instead of 3 as well as every supply imaginable.

You held Mihawk's had as he escorted you on the ship- still helicopering you. One hand on your lower back as he lead you on board.

"Mihawk Dear I'm not made of glass" You giggle softly, seeing the rather focused look on his eyes as he made sure you were fine while on board.

"I'm aware, but I wish for your safety only Darling" He says softly, Making you blush deeply and turn away in surprise. Alucare followed behind and rolled his eyed at the flirting between his parents.

Alucare looked at the island he had called home for the last time, feeling the tug of the small ship as it pulled from the docks ready to set sail.

This was the start of a new life.. and while he would never say it- he was excited for whatever was to come.

Author Note:

WOW! This sure has been one hell of a journey! I'm so glad that all of you have enjoyed these stories and have given me the chance to write for so many of you! These series has gifted me my first 800+ followers to my page and I couldn't be happier!

As a way to celebrate and yelp organize these stories I have organized them and put them on AO3! That and with some extra stories to go with them! They are also separated into individual stories as well!

Twice as Difficult Buggy x Reader and Twins

Memories that Wait Shanks x Reader and Vivian

Copy and Paste Mihawk x Reader and Alucare

Thank you all again and I hope to see you all soon!

Tag List-

@lunanight1021 @lolavegas20 @cuteastrash @thatcharmingmushroom @marsilis @thesadvampire @amecchii @zaphira-san @matronofthevoid @mothmans-left-nipple @hoe4fiction @manyimaginativemuses @alyholmes02 @arianyo @chaoticpercy-jacksonkid @lansy-4 @skeetyeetyote @untoldshortsofthefandoms @dank-memes19 @peachycuptea @kenqki @psycheflame @commanderfreethatdust

[lokidjarin-7567]

Kinktober Day 7: Secret Relationship

Spencer Reid x you

Contents: fem!reader x Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds), oral sex fem receiving, flashbacks, ooey gooey feelings

W/C: 3.2k

Ok so I’m behind again, oops, but I’m proud of this one! Again, not the kinkiest but I got carried away with the fluff and I also got into a cipher-related rabbit hole so I hope you enjoy regardless :))

PS: This is also a love letter to pre-boyband hair season 5 Spencer, AKA my favourite hair era, as depicted below

Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

“Do you want to grab some coffee?” A voice whispered beside you, a touch too close to be just colleagues. You smiled uncontrollably, heart rate picking up as his hand brushed across your back.

“Sounds good.”

That’s how you found yourself pressed against the door of the copy room, Spencer’s lips on yours, his hand up your skirt.

“We’ve got time, baby…” He practically whined between kisses, bucking his hips into yours.

“Spence! We have…“ you checked you watch absentmindedly, “5 minutes until briefing.” He grinned.

“I take that as a challenge…”

His head started to dip, moving to kneel down, but you grabbed his hair with a fake gasp of disbelief, pulling him back up to his usual height, looming over you.

“Oh honey, I don’t doubt you could, but I’m not sure these walls are soundproof.” Your fingers moved to his cheek, and he sighed into your lips, his hands returning to your waist and squeezing.

“But you left so early this morning, I didn't have time to start your day right…” You were grinning ear to ear, noses bumping into each other clumsily, and you whimpered into his mouth as his teeth grazed your bottom lip.

“I know, I know, I’ll make it up to you later, I promise…” You kissed him one last time with finality, pushing off the door and smoothing your skirt, but he was slightly less keen to leave, pressing himself against your hip as he helped straighten your hair and lip gloss. “I should probably leave first. You clearly need a minute.” He huffed behind you, but you had already slipped out of the room, heading into the bullpen as if nothing had happened.

You’d had a crush on him for a long time before anything happened. You joined the team a couple of years ago as a linguistics and code-breaking expert - something that was surprisingly helpful in the cases the BAU took on. You’d harboured years of butterflies, coy glances, occasional hand grazes… and you thought you’d done a pretty good job at hiding it. You’d known it was unrequited - he never so much as looked in your direction unless he was asking your opinion on something he was working on. It was starting to get to you. Your feelings had slowly been growing, swelling in your chest as you watched from afar, to the point where you had considered transferring departments. And then it all changed.

It was a case in California; a serial killer who was carving encrypted messages into his victims posthumously, only you had no idea what cipher he had used. You and Spencer had been working tirelessly for days to crack it while the rest of the team were searching for physical evidence, and it was a distraction you were grateful for. Even though you were working alone with him in close quarters, it was one of the few times you could briefly forget about your feelings, too consumed with your work to allow yourself to think about him.

It was night 3 of sleeping at the station. JJ had predicted it was going to happen, moving your go bags from the hotel to the precinct on the first day, and you and Spencer had been taking turns napping on the small couch whenever you physically couldn't keep your eyes open. You were sleep deprived and strung out, but you were close. You could feel it. You knew it wasn’t a shift cipher or some kind of alternate alphabet converted back and forth - you had exhausted every possibility of that days ago. You had been testing more complex ciphers, Garcia running everything imaginable through software to attempt to decipher it, but with no luck.

“What haven’t we tried?” Spencer muttered, pacing the room after a last ditch attempt at some kind of converted polybius square. Garcia was on speaker, confirming that she had tried every option available to her twice over.

“I mean, at this point, it could only be some kind of complex Vigenère cipher that somehow hasn’t been deciphered through Garcia’s software, or…” You didn’t even want to say the other option aloud - just the thought that three days work would’ve been completely wasted sent a shiver through your body.

“Or it’s a one-time pad.” Spencer said what you were too scared to, collapsing on the sofa with a sigh.

“A one-time pad? Is that the…”

“Unbreakable cipher. Yeah.” He confirmed.

“Unless…” A thought struck you, and you stood to the whiteboard you had set up in the room, scribbling down the ciphertext from the first body and converting it to numbers. “We need to think about this from the unsub’s point of view. He wouldn’t use a true OTP because if he truly wanted to hide this code, he wouldn’t carve it on his victims. But, the key might not be random.”

“Yeah, but then it would’ve been picked up on Garcia’s systems…”

“Not if each body had a different key….” You had written and converted the next two bodies’ codes while you were speaking, and you stood back briefly, showing Spencer what you had written. “We’ve been collating the messages and running them as a whole, but…do you see a pattern?” He paused, eyes scanning over the board frantically, and then he calmed visibly, a wave of realisation hitting his features. You smiled as he saw what you did, standing quickly and grabbing another pen to scrawl the keys beneath each.

“The Bible.” He whispered. “A Vigenère is hardest to break if the key is as long as the plaintext. Seven letters. Six letters. Nine letters. Genesis. Exodus. Leviticus.”

“It might work.” He nodded, brow furrowed in thought as he stared at the lettering.

“Let’s try it.” He wrote the corresponding letters as you did the sums, converting them back to the alphabet and - to your shock and relief - it was making sense.

P. L. E. A. S. E. H. …

E. L. P. M. E. I. …

C. A. N. T. S. T. O. P. J. …

“Garcia, can you read the last body please? The one we don’t have photos for yet…”

“No need.” Spencer muttered, writing it down without glancing up. You forgot how immaculate his memory was sometimes.

“Thank you.” It was seven letters. Perfect. You wrote numbers, he converted, you did the sum and muttered the letters aloud…

A. M. E. S. T. O. L.

“James. James ‘tol’? Is that a name, or the start of one?” Garcia asked over the speaker, but Spencer wasn’t listening, muttering to himself as he moved to the files quickly, flipping through them.

“No, I…” You answered for him, “I think Spence is onto something Pen…”

“Get Hotch on the line.” He barked, finding what he was looking for and bringing it to you.

“Hotch here…” A tired voice rung out in the small room just as you realised what Spencer was showing you, a gasp escaping your lips.

“It was David.” He breathed immediately, his words tumbling out at a breakneck speed. “The message on the bodies said something about James followed by T-O-L, and that reminded me of your interview…”

“David kept referring to a colleague throughout the interview, a James, that ordered him around a lot…”

“If he kills again, I bet the phrase would be completed. James told me to, maybe?” You mused, and Spencer nodded.

“Garcia, have you got his file.”

“Yes, I’m opening it now and… oh my god.”

“What is it?”

“He had a brother called James. Hung himself when David was 11.”

“And all of his victims died from strangulation.” The pieces had fallen perfectly into place.

“Address?”

The unsub’s home had been closer to the hotel, so Hotch and the rest of the team went to his listed address, leaving you and Spencer to wait nervously in the precinct. You were pacing frantically, knotting your hands as the sound of your heavy boots echoed throughout the room. Spencer cooed your name calmly, and you turned to him, blushing lightly. He was sitting on the edge of the sofa, leant forwards with his arms on his knees looking up at you with… a look you’d never seen before. Concern mixed with something else, something foreign to you. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with a kind smile.

“Just sit for a minute. Try and relax.” You nodded weakly, perching on the edge and trying to still your racing heart, leg bouncing and hands still twisting in each other with nervous energy.

“Sorry, I… I know we’ve done our bit now but I hate not being there when the team are apprehending him…”

“I know what you mean,” he muttered. You sat in silence for a few minutes, mind racing with what might be happening. What if he was armed? What if he’d decided to shoot his way out? They could all be dead right now, and you would have no idea….

Spencer’s phone rang. He stood, answering it quickly. It was Emily, and you heard him mutter a few affirmatives, smile playing across his features.

“Did they…” You asked as soon as he hung up, and he nodded.

“Yep, it went perfectly. He’s in custody, and they’re on their way back now.” The relief you felt was palpable, a sigh falling from you as he sat back down on the sofa next to you, sinking into it and resting his head back, mirroring your position.

You hadn’t realised your leg was still bouncing until his hand fell to it. Your breath caught in your throat as he squeezed lightly, stilling you effortlessly. He was so warm, slender fingers fanned out across the space just above your knee, and it took a moment for you to compose yourself. You turned your head, and he was already gazing at you, the mysterious expression from earlier back, his dark eyes meeting yours with warmth.

“You were incredible today…” He muttered, hand still resting on his leg, and you couldn’t help but blush. He was the most intelligent person you knew, and likely would ever know, and even without your feelings being involved, a complement from him was about the highest praise a person could get in your line of work.

“Thank you, but I couldn’t have done it without you…”

“Bullshit.” He whispered, and you laughed.

“Ok, maybe I could’ve, but it would’ve taken me twice as long.” He chuckled then, eyes scanning over your face with an intensity you only saw when he was trying to analyse something. It felt as though his eyes were boring into your skin, and you had to look away, heart near beating out of your chest. His hand shifted slightly on your leg, and oh sweet Jesus you just remembered it was still there. It had a strange affect on you - like when you put a harness on a cat and they suddenly couldn’t walk. You were frozen solid, trying to breath and staring at the ceiling.

Then his hand touched your chin. It was light, delicate, just guiding your eyes back to his and it wasn’t until that moment you finally realised what that look had been, the one you couldn’t identify. It was a reflection of what you had been feeling for months. The longing, the restraint, the need that swirled up inside you every time you stole a glance at him, and now, seeing those same emotions in his soft eyes, it was sobering. He wanted you too.

He moved first, gently pulling your lips to his and kissing you, light as a feather. It was tentative and sweet, so unsure and your body took a second to process that the thing you had been imagining for years was actually happening. And then you smiled, hands moving to the base of his neck, fingers twisting into his gorgeous hair and you pulled him back to you, lips clashing in a kiss full of years of pent up desire and desperation. You felt his body relax under your touch as the kiss deepened, his hands wandering to trail your waist and hips, before tangling in your hair and holding tight, pulling you closer. You had twisted until you were practically on his lap, hands falling to his shirt and bunching it up as his tongue finally hit yours, every bone in your body turning to jelly as you tasted him. It was magnetic, everything you had wanted for a long time finally coming to fruition and you couldn’t even break away for a second of air, so lost in him that breathing was no longer important.

And then the Precinct door banged open, and you jumped away as though you had been electrocuted. You laughed, cursing quietly as you tried to smooth your hair, tousled from his hands, while he just smiled, gazing at you.

“Spencer!” You whisper-shouted at him, still grinning uncontrollably, and he finally moved, straightening his shirt and placing his jacket over his lap. You giggled like a school girl, standing and moving to the whiteboard to try and convey a more believable working situation, and to put some distance between you and him, not sure how well you’d be able to hide your smile if he was so close to you.

You still jumped when Rossi opened the door to the room, although, you were more surprised when he didn’t speak. You turned to him, confused, and he pointed at Spencer. When you followed his eye line, you realised he was pretending to sleep, head slouched to one side and mouth slightly parted. He looked beautiful.

It had been six months, and you were stronger than ever. You honestly weren't sure how you were still keeping it a secret. You had had years of practice when you were just pining after him, sure, but it was a hell of a lot harder to not give anything away when every time you looked at him, you got flashbacks to the night before. Even if the team somehow did suss out a vibe, no one said anything, which was something you were grateful for. Spence was a lot better than you at masking his feelings, so anyone who noticed something probably assumed you just had a crush on him. Which was true enough.

You had managed to avoid looking at him the entire briefing, which was honestly a miracle, but your mind was ever so slightly distracted by your rendezvous in the copy room. As JJ spoke, you heard something about male victims, and she might have mentioned Tennessee, but all you could think about was that travel meant your date night plans were cancelled. And you were always cautious in hotels - too close to your other colleagues. It was hit or miss; sometimes, the fear of it was fun, the idea that someone could knock and catch you in the act, but if you had adjoining rooms with any of your teammates… well, them hearing you scream his name might just be a bit awkward. So, naturally, all you could think about now was finishing what you started earlier. You wanted this meeting to be over, to get him somewhere private and to let him completely wreck you before the long plane ride, to get this idea out of your head so you could focus on the case at hand. And then, at last, came the magic words…

“Wheels up in 20.”

The team dispersed quickly, and you caught Spencer’s sleeve just before he left the room.

“My car?” You muttered, earning a grin.

“Change your mind, baby?”

“Shut up.” You smiled. “I’ll meet you down there…”

“What’re you doing?” You practically whimpered, as he opened the passenger door instead of joining you in the backseat. He chuckled.

“Just making space.” You were about to ask what for, when he deftly moved the seat forwards, before getting in the back. Oh. You grinned as he pressed his lips to yours with hunger, backing you into the corner and you let yourself be dwarfed by him. His fingers trailed your collarbone, to your waist, and gripping onto your thigh with urgency. You whined as his lips left yours, earning another soft laugh. He managed to fit his tall frame mostly in the footwell, pushing your skirt up to your hips as you bit your lip, admiring him. He was so beautiful, the way his hair fell over his face, his earnest eyes, almost pleading in the way he looked up at you, his long fingers that so deftly moved your panties to one side.

“Can you…” he muttered gesturing to his hair, and you giggled, hand running through the front locks and holding them away from his face. Your leg draped over his back as his head dipped, tongue going straight to your folds, lips circling your core and kissing your sensitive bud with a hum of contentment. Your body relaxed into him, moan escaping your lips. He’d always been enthusiastic about eating you out, and you’d never complained about it. He was good. Really good. And today was no different.

He was lapping you up, relishing every taste and you were getting closer to your orgasm with every circle around your clit, cunt clenching around nothing.

“Spence…” you managed to gasp out, writhing in the seat, “fingers…” He didn’t hesitate for a second, one of the hands firmly holding your thighs apart trailed down to your centre, two fingers slipping into your soaking core. Your groan was filthy as he found that spot that made your toes curl with such perfect precision it was blinding.

“Oh god Spencer…” you choked out between moans and pants… “baby I’m so close…” Your hands tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned into you, sending a wave of pleasure through you that sent you over the edge into that searing hot pleasure you were so used to receiving from him. He held onto you as you rode it out, his tongue still circling you until you were finished, finally stopping when you started to whine and squirm from overstimulation.

“Fucking hell, Spence.” You muttered, as he gently returned your panties and carefully let your skirt fall back around you. You watched in awe as he quickly licked his fingers clean, but it was mostly pointless, as his lips and chin were covered in your slick. You giggled.

“You might have to rinse your face before you join the team.” He grinned, pressing his lips to yours with force, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, making you hum into him.

“Now you will too.”

After a quick clean-up in the parking lot toilets, you both joined the rest of the team, entrances tactically staggered. For once, you couldn’t help but look at him, stealing glances as much as possible, watching as his hands scanned pages as he read and all you could think about is what those hands were doing to you just minutes earlier.

When you started looking into the case, you would be focussed, fully invested, but… you just wanted to stay in this headspace a moment longer. A happy one. A scary one still, for sure, but a fun kind of scary. A hopeful kind of scary. It was peaceful. And peaceful moments were rare in your line of work. His eyes caught yours, sending you a soft smile, and you knew you were in for the long haul, no matter how many people you had to lie or, or how much time you had to hide it for. It was all worth it for the moments of peace with him.

Taglist 🩵 - @emma-e-a

[alientee]

Alastor x Jessica Rabbit Reader Part 2

You and Alastor are walking down the street and you couldn't help but hold him even closer if possible. Everyone was staring at you, some even stopping in the middle of the street to gawk at you both. You look at Alastor to see if he's noticing the same thing but he couldn't be bothered. "Honey where are we going" Alastor smiles down at you "A lovely little place called Cannibal town. Is similar to our time line."

You look up at him nervously. "Are you sure its alright for me to be there darling... will someone try to..eat me" Alastor stops walking lifting your chin up. "Well darling you are delectable enough to eat, but rest assured anyone who comes near you with that motive will be slaughtered where they stand. Besides there's someone I would like you too meet"

You sigh placing a hand on his chest "I trust you honey" He pats your head "Good now look alive we are almost there." You walk into a nice clean town that looks true to his word somewhat similar to when you and Alastor were alive. You see many of the people working and keeping the town clean, it didn't seem like hell at all. Alastor brings you both into a nice looking shop and opens the door for you. You walk in the store and it seems so nice and cozy on the inside.

"Alastor?! oh alastor what a surprise!" A grey woman with black eyes and sharp teeth comes up towards alastor hugging him tightly "And who is this you brought with you, your such a charmer Alastor this is the second time you've come to my store with a woman in tow. And a angel no less what a surprise this is. " Alastor brings you closer to him "This treasure is my lovely wife, y/n this is Rosie one of my good friends and one hell of a overlord." Rosie looked at you with shock on her face "Your wife?! And here I thought you were an ace in the hole." Rosie laughs while Alastor just looks confused. "I still don't know what that means" You snicker. “Hate to break it to you but he still is.” Rosie grabs you both. "Come in come in we have MUCH to discuss."

Rosie takes you two to a back room with more privacy. She pulls out a small box offering it to you. "Would you like some pinky fingers hun, not that you need them your figure is to die for." You quickly but kindly refuse. "Ohhh no thank you I don't have my husbands taste for flesh hehe." Rosie put them away looking at Alastor smugly. "Oh Alastor don't tell me you thought she looked pretty enough to eat but you just couldn't do it could you? You fell too hard to soon haha"

Alastor looks at Rosie smile still on with his eyes closed. "I can assure you I never thought of such a thing" Rosie scoffs a little "You can't fool me Alastor a doll like her, you must've fantasized about a taste once an a while." You can hear the static in Alastors voice rise. "Rosie, do believe me when I say I have not, please." Rosie seems to pick up on the change of mood. "I see well tell me how you to met, I can't imagine old alastor here pulling a gal like you he's so reserved when he wants to be, no offense hon"

"Oh well we met in a jazz club and he was just dancing his heart out. I guess he had had to much whiskey because he asked me to dance and I said yes. He pulled me all over the dance floor. I was surprised I could keep up with him, next thing you know he's coming to my shows given me flowers with full blushed face and a nervous wide smile. He had me charmed being such a gentleman especially with that accent." Rosie looks even more intrigued "Alastor has an accent? Now this is news to me, where is it." You gave Alastor a look."That's what id like to know, honey?"

Alastor's smile drops a little but not by much "Well in radio you have to talk proper and clearly to give your audience a good show" You roll your eyes but let it go and keep talking to Rosie. You like her she's very kind and inviting you can see why Alastor is fond of her. Rosie gives you a hug saying if you ever saw each other again she had to get all the gossip on Alastor. As you and him are leaving he stops for a moment lifting up your chin with his finger. "So ya missed this cher?"

You blushed moving your head away. "Alastor don't you start" All he did was chuckle at you. "Why not? ya missed my accent so much. I remember how I made you shiver when I talked to ya nice." You looked at alastor a playful glare in your eyes. "Its been to long since we've been apart but I think we both know your not…. How the kids say, about that life." He looks at you funny before linking your arms. “I’ll never understand all the phrases that come up today always a diffrent one each time.”

When you roll your eyes at him his smile gets wider kissing your forehead. "Lets go to our next destination" You feel him put his arm over your shoulder leading you forward. "Which is?" "A theme Park named LuLu World, we didn't have one of those when we were alive." you nodded "Oh yes the first one came out when I was in my 80's. I could never go see it for myself." Alastor pulled you along faster "Well wait no longer here we are!" You look around and its nothing but bright colorful lights, contraptions you'd never seen and loads of food everywhere with people in costumes.

"Oh wow this is a lot to take in" Alastor grabs your hand holding it tighter than you would've wanted. " Stay very close to me who knows who's watching. Wouldn't want my mon amour to get lost or hurt." You smiled slightly a little worried but ready to have fun.

"I don't know Vox I don't think Tv's should be on rides, you could shatter If your not careful haha" Vox rolled his eyes eating his cotton candy. "Oh fuck you Val, maybe you shouldn't get on a roller coaster, might fly away with those fat ass wings." Valentino flinched " Oh you take that back you wide faced B-!" Velvette pushes herself between both of them. "Hey you lot, while you two are ova here bitchin, that radio demons got a bad bitch on his arm, looks like a angel literally."

Both of them look over to where she was talking about and she was right. There was Alastor walking hand and hand with an angel. Vox pushes forward he couldn't believe this shit. "What the fuck is someone like that doing with Alastor! I'm following him, that old timey prick is up to something. I refuse for him to get ahead of me in what ever the fuck he's doing." The other V's roll their eyes following his league. They ended up following behind the two for a few minutes not realizing that Alastor's shadow had noticed them.When the shadow warned Alastor he clenched his smile, he refused for these idiots to ruin what was a lovely date to his wife.

Alastor uses his shadows to stop them in there place making them all fall on there face. Alastor pushes you on your lower back, speeding up your movement. "Come dear there is so much more to see, look over there a clown show." You turn your head intrigued at the many tricks the clowns showed even if they looked deadly.

Vox gets up angry , his screen slightly buffering. "That fucking coward, I'll give that piece of shit something to smile about." Vox starts looking around trying to find anything heavy but only seeing stuffed animals. Growing frustrated he grabs the first thing that looks heavy and throws it at Alastor. Alastor feels a heavy object smack him right in the back of the head making him fall forward, he catches himself picking up whatever Vox threw ready to smack him in the face with it. He turned around to see Vox flipping him off. "Thats what you get bitch"

His antlers grew with his eyes turning into dials, voodoo symbols surrounding him. " Oh Alastor is that for me!" Alastor turns back to normal, he finally looks at what's in his hand. It's a multicolored glass sculpture of flowers. He took the opportunity to shove them into you with a smile larger than usually. "Of course sweetie, anything for my baby" He pulls you closer flipping Vox and the other two off while walking away.

Both Velvette and Valentino look at Vox while he's fuming. Velvette speaks up first "You know you helped him rizz right?" Vox turns around making a scene "I CAN FUCKING SEE THAT. How in the fuck did he land someone so out of his league, that prudish jackass! It's not fair!" Valentino just looks at them walking away raising an eyebrow. "That virgin is so not hitting that right"

As you and Alastor walk through the theme park you couldn't help but feel a little clingy. Spending this much time together is making you nostalgic. It made you feel like you and Alastor where as happy as you used to be. "Come on Alastor, let's go home, I'll make you some jambalaya." He looks at you with a smile as wide as his eyes right now. He lowers his face to your's his radio static making his voice deeper. "That sounds lovely."

@fairyv-ice @sirens-and-moonflowers @cannibalcoyote @jyoongim

[kanmom51]

Dear Kanmon I'm writing to you because you know how to count and because I miss good jikook analyzes. after AYS they seem unnecessary, but they are satisfying. like putting together a puzzle. When I watched Jimin's choreography for Stuck with you for the hundredth time, I wondered if the part of the song he was dancing to was chosen on purpose. And I discovered that the dance starts exactly at 1:18 minutes into the song.

Hey love.

JM's dance to Stuck with you was just wow wow wow.

Your ask got me looking. And at first I went to the MV and lyrics YT clips and it just didn't align, so I was ready to give up.

But then I went to the actual streamed song on Spotify, and low and behold, you are so right.

Like wtf?

I am lost for words.

But you know what, if we're already doing this, then let's go down this rabbit hole...

I'm just going to throw myself down there, because you got me looking @jimjunkgfc.

Let's do this. Hold on to your seats, because this is going to be a bumpy ride folks.

The clip was released by JM on his IG account on 18.11.23.

Hmm.. do you see what I am seeing?

We have a combination of very interesting numbers here.

Just looking at the numbers, no math required.

If you take the 1,1 and 8 out of it you are left with the also very known Jikook combination of 123.

So, in the date alone we have 11-8 and 123.

The whole thing with the 123 theory is that we think we know where it originated (might have meant something to them way before but that's the first time it's mentioned) - Festa 2014 JM's profile Just one day MV at 1:23 min. represents him best. JK was by his side while filling out that profile. Since then we have had song recommendations ending at 1:23 min., posts timed at 12:30 or 1:23 am, posts on January 23rd etc. We know there is very possibly something going on with that sequence of numbers, but what it is exactly or more so, what it means to them exactly, we don't know.

Songs stopped at 1:23 min.

Post dated Jan 23 - 123

2017

2019

Using time stamps:

Posted 31 Jan 2019, time stamped 12:30 am KST.

18 Feb 2019 1:23 am KST

Again, the time stamp on going live - 12:03 am KST.

Bonus...

Like I said, we don't know exactly what it means, but it sure does mean something because it just keeps intentionally re-appearing.

And it somehow made it's way into this one once more.

Interesting.

Rabbit hole I said?

Let's continue then...

How long exactly is JM's dance clip, you ask?

1:23 min.

What in the actual fuck?

So, let's sum it up, why don't we?

We have a clip released on a date that gives us the combination of all the numbers for us to easily see 11:8 and 123.

And then we have JM dancing to a song that starts at the 1:18 min. mark and dancing for 1:23 min.

11-8

123

Yeah, clearly all a coincidence.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Soldier Of Death (3)- Consequences

Natasha Romanoff X Super Soldier Reader 18+

Summary: Soldat Smerti. The Soldier of Death. You were the perfect weapon: loyal, obedient, and merciless, or so Hydra thought. What happens when these traits are put to the test? Your captivity in the Avenger's tower and the presence of a redhead makes you realise you didn't have to be a monster. The question was though; Did Hydra make you the monster or were you always one?

This fic will contains dark themes. Please read these warnings before starting any of these chapters: graphic descriptions of murder, violence, gore and torture, heavy angst, mental issues.

Please consider these warnings before reading

Word Count: 2.8k

General Masterlist | The Soldier Of Death Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Descriptions of torture, brain washing and violence.

---

"You're free to go Romanoff," Helen Cho says with a polite smile, turning back to the screens littered on the desk, the results showing various medical screenings of the spy following her encounter with you.

Natasha's lips drew up into a matching polite smile, nodding her head at the scientist and murmuring a soft 'thanks' before pushing herself off the medical bay, slower than intended due to the dull ache throbbing in her back, and walked carefully towards her room in the Avengers Tower.

Confusion was the most evident emotion coursing through the redhead, her body naturally taking her into her bathroom, body standing in front of the large mirror displayed on the wall. Tentatively, her fingers rose to her neck, tracing along the bruise that was already forming from your brutal grip, a grimace taking over her face at how large the coloured patch was on her skin. Your grip was powerful, there was no denying that and the bruising only further proved it, so why didn't you kill her?

The memory of the encounter replayed over and over again in her mind, the spy unable to understand why you didn't kill her. You had plenty of opportunities, not that she was happy to admit, but you were clearly in control of the fight, so why did you only knock her out? She knew you could have easily carried out the act, especially considering the inhuman act you completed when murdering Klaue. So what stopped you from killing her? From killing Clint and Sam?

The only logical answer that Natasha could come up with was that it wasn't your order, but then if so, why did Hydra not want to take out some of their most threatening opponents?

An annoyed groan left her as her hands threaded through her silky, red hair, fingers pushing back the strands out of her face in a stressed manner, her tired expression in the reflection a perfect demonstration of her mood. Her thoughts were relentless, resulting in a headache as she left to sit on the bed, mind still repeating the interaction step by step.

Out of everything she could remember, one thing stood out to her. Your eyes. They were different, lost, broken when she saw them through the cracked lens of your goggles. A twinge of sympathy was evoked from her at your lifelessness before Natasha pushed that feeling as far down as possible, not wanting to go down that rabbit hole, another emotion rising. Your eyes were like nothing she had seen before, resulting in a great interest as they were so... beautiful.

Another, much louder, groan of irritation left the Russian for even considering the last thought, her body falling back onto the soft mattress, face twisting in brief pain at the incessant throb in her lower back, further reminding her of how easily you knocked her down.

"Who are you?" she grumbles to herself, letting her thoughts become verbal to express her confusing emotions. Natasha was the Black Widow. Renowned and feared assassin, known for her skill and fighting abilities yet you, you easily managed to beat her. A defeated sigh left the spy as she succumbed to her racing thoughts, failing to stop herself from overthinking and analysing everything that had happened, determined to figure you out.

***

As soon as the jet landed, apprehension took over all your senses while you lifted your head, looking straight ahead when the door of the aircraft opened. As predicted, your general stood there, radiating rage and fury as his eyes met yours, a shiver running down your spine at the icy glare sent your way. You knew that he somehow would have known of your mistake during the mission, you just kind of hoped it would have taken a while for him to find out. The fact your goggles were also broken didn't help though, either way, you were always going to be reminded of the consequences of failing Hydra. No matter what.

"Soldat," he grits out, jaw clenching so hard you think he was about to crush his teeth. You're reluctant to move from the seat of the jet, but his warning tone encourages you to move, taking it step by step until you are standing before him, head slightly lowered as you expected him to do something. Anything. "Take the mask off," he orders, your hands raising, trying to hide the trembling while unclasping the metal, revealing your skin underneath. "And the goggles," he continues, your fingers twitching as you pull the useless item off your face, his anger somehow increasing.

His fist swiftly collides with your uncovered face, head swinging to the side at the force of his hit, the metal rings coating his fingers creating a small, dull sting to settle on your cheeks. You turn back to look at him, face stoic as you hide the pain, not wanting to give any of them that satisfaction of breaking you again.

"What was your mission?" He snaps out, his body seething with anger as he watches you stay silent, his fist colliding with the side of your face once more, a small cut being caused by the jewellery littered on his fingers. "Don't make me ask you again Soldat," at his threat your mouth opens, tone hoarse and rough.

"To stall the Avengers, Sare," your tone is emotionless, robotic, when you answer him, the darkness inside you desperately prying it's way to the front of your mind, needing to take control over you.

You're too weak.

Let me save us.

I'll set us free.

When he raises his brow, patience running thin, you continue, "To keep my presence unknown, Sare."

"So why did you get caught in a fight with the Black Widow, Soldat?" His voice contains a hint of disbelief that you failed your mission, but it was easily overpowered by his exasperation.

You can't explain yourself to him, and to be honest, you think it's futile to even bother coming up with an answer. You were going to get punished either way, what was the point in trying anymore?

He scoffs at your silence, shaking his head at you in mockery, in disappointment. "You are weak Soldat," he sneers, the darkness within wanting to lash out.

Weak?

We are not weak.

We are powerful.

Let me show him how powerful we are.

Let me-

"Take her to the chair," he orders to the surrounding guards, your blood running cold at his command. You want to beg him to take mercy on you, to be kind for once, but nothing leaves your lips but a defeated and despondent sigh, gaze lowering to the floor as your general walks away, his fading footsteps resounding in your ears.

A rough shove from a guard signals for you to walk, the man revelling in his power over you as mocking and condescending words spill from his lips, his crooked smile indicating his joy as you walk through endless concrete hallways, a loud, gut wrenching scream reverberating around the building from another poor test subject.

"Sit," is all the guard says as you enter the room, the metal chair in the centre of the isolated space. The machinery around the chair evokes perturbation from you, body begrudgingly moving to sit in the piece of furniture.

Once seated, your eyes flicker between him and the other guard that has joined the room, the sadistic glints in their eyes as they observe the many objects littered on the metal table across the room further resulting in your uneasiness.

One of them, a large blonde haired man, approaches you, the cruel smirk engraved on his face as he lowers his body, chaining you against the seat by your ankles and wrists, pulling back with a satisfied expression as he takes in your stoic face.

"Cheer up Soldat, the fun is about to begin," he taunts, taking a step back and letting the other guard with the large metal bat take a swing at you. A loud crunch reverberates around the room when the metal is forced against your leg, your femur taking the brunt force of the swing.

A muffled groan is pulled out of you as you clench your jaw, trying to hold back in expressing your pain, not wanting to let them enjoy it. Despite your efforts to mask the pain, an excited glint glosses over in his eyes, a sinister laugh escaping him as he swings his arm back, powerfully smashing the bat back against the bone he just hit, your femur cracked into two.

"Not so powerful now, are you Soldat?" the blonde snickers, taking the place of the slightly smaller guard, your chest rising and falling with ragged breaths as the agony in your leg makes its way through your body, heart beating wildly against your ribs. He steps closer, his foul breath invading your senses as he grips your hair, pulling your head back and tightening his hold on your locks, the back of your head burning with pain. "Where's the big bad soldier gone? It's no fun without a fight," at his words, darkness and danger flickers across your eyes, his mockery fuelling your inner rage.

He needs to die.

Kill him or I will.

I won't be merciful.

"There they are," he taunts, your jaw clenching, teeth violently grinding against one another. Your hands clenched into fists, ready to break the metal restraints when a current of electricity is sent coursing through your veins, a taser placed against the juncture of your neck, a pathetic, pained whimper leaving you. "Let the monster out Soldat, you know you want to," he continues to taunt and it's driving you mad.

Listen to him.

Let. Me. Out.

His tyrannical, smug expression is instantly wiped off his face when you spit at him, red flashing in his eyes as he sticks the taser back against you, holding the power on the highest power as you convulse with pain, a broken scream escaping you when he lets the other guard take another swing at you, the metal bouncing off your shin before being brought back down against another part of your leg.

Deep breaths fill the room when the buzzing of the taser stops, your chest rising and falling as your eyes flutter shut, throbbing aches causing your mind to cloud with nothing but suffering.

Just as your eyes open, his fist collides with your face, again, and again, and again, till his hand starts to bleed, his body heaving as he releases his pent up anger on you, watching as the blood starts to ooze out of your nose, the bone crooked and broken.

"Start the machine," he grits out, wincing as he moves his hand, the other guard shocked at his sudden outburst but still complying. The low hum of the machine starting up causes you to roughly jerk your arms, you're body powerless in trying to stay calm at what was about to happen.

The metal on one of your wrists snaps but the metal bat prevents you from moving the limb, shattering the bone in your arm as your head is forced back by the other guard, his hands moving the ends of the machine to rest on your temples as you desperately try to prevent the inevitable.

"Sit still Soldat," you hear your generals voice sound around the room, the speakers creating a small static noise once he finished speaking into the mic. At the mere sound of his voice, you obey, body immediately stilling, mind racing with fear. Panic is evident in your gaze as the men step back away from your body, moving to the controls of the machine and watching attentively as they flick the switch, the machine coming to life.

A primal scream is torn out of you, the direct current invading your mind, vision blurring with pain as more animalistic cries of agony are brutally ripped out of you, the voltage increasing causing you to still, body limp in the chair as your thoughts and memories started to blur and decay.

To ensure the procedure works, another current shocks your brain before the guards carelessly drag you back to your cell, unconcerned about how they further damaged your broken leg, tossing you onto the concrete floor with a thud and slamming the door shut.

Hours later when you wake up, eyes groggy as pain spikes through your body when you attempt to sit up, you're in a daze, confused at what had caused the pain in your arm and leg, bones shifting as they start to heal.

Why do you let them do this?

Says a voice in your head but you don't understand, your memories disintegrated in your mind.

Let who do what?

***

Paper is thrown onto the desk aggressively, Natasha's hands burying themselves in her hair as she's so frustrated. How can there be nothing about you?

 It had been hours since she first looked through what seemed like hundred and hundreds of reports regarding any incident involving Hydra and an enhanced individual, and absolutely fucking nothing could be traced back to you except the incident with Klaue.

It was as if you didn't exist but she knew that wasn't true.

She wanted to ask Bucky questions about his past as the Winter Soldier and whether there was any sort of partner he had during his time there, but she couldn't as he was currently unreachable in Wakanda, determined to free himself from whatever Hydra had done to him. The next best she could think of who to go was Wanda, but she was cautious of upsetting the witch as she knew she had a distaste for the organisation, as well as the memories of her brother. She had to try though, the knowledge, or lack of, you was eating her alive.

Pushing herself from the chair, she slipped out of her room and went straight towards the small common room near the back of the base, knowing that it was one of the witch's favourite places to go as it tended to be quiet. Just as expected, Wanda was curled up in a blanket on one of the sofas, engrossed in a book as her ringed fingers flipped the pages, the spy making her footsteps louder and clearing her throat to gain her attention.

"Hey Natasha," the younger woman greeted shyly, marking her page before closing the book, frowning a little at the serious look on the redhead's face and the concerned thoughts that were loud enough for her to hear.

"Hey Wands," Natasha replies, Wanda smiling to herself at the nickname the assassin had given her, "There's something I wanted to ask you about during your time at Hydra, if that's ok?" The older woman joins her on the grey couch, watching how her green eyes flickered away from her  to her fingers that were anxiously playing with one another.

"Yeah, sure," she whispers unconvincingly, the redhead noticing this but continuing anyway, cautious of her phrasing.

"When you were there, was there any sort of talk about another enhanced, potentially super soldier?" Wanda's brows furrowed in confusion, not expecting that as a question, gaze lifting back to the older woman.

She thought deeply about it, the only name coming to mind being Bucky's before she spoke up, "Sorry Natasha, but there's nothing I can think of." Her voice was a little timid and disappointed that she couldn't help, wanting to do anything, no matter how small, to help get back at Hydra.

"What about any stories of something or someone dangerous?" she asks, knowing that there must have been something that the guards said to scare them. That's what Dreykov did to her. Something flashes in Wanda's eyes at the prompt from Natasha, her eyes flickering back away from her intense gaze as a memory of something she tried to block resurfaces.

"There was one story," Wanda's voice is significantly quieter, as if she were scared of talking about, "I only heard it through the guard's minds, they never actually told us about them."

"Who?" Natasha pushes, Wanda's mind replaying the gruesome tales about you, the vile actions you did without effort.

"There was talk of a soldier, far more evil than the Winter Soldier," her green eyes hesitantly flickered back up to Natasha, who's emerald eyes glimmered with curiosity, "They were obedient, loyal, merciless, and there was nothing that would stop them from completing their mission." A heavy breath escapes the witch as she continues, trying to erase the images she saw through other's minds. "They had this darkness in them and it scared everyone. Even their owner's, but they would never admit that."

"What were they called?" Natasha asks, the witch swallowing nervously, fingers anxiously playing with the rings littered on her fingers.

"Soldat Smerti," her voice barely a whisper, Natasha's brows furrowing as she translates it.

"The Soldier of Death." 

[usedtobecooler]

dad!steve having the feral urge to breed you immediately after you give birth to your first son )):

let it be known that steve harrington had never been quiet about his urge to have lots of kids and a big family. he’d known since he was a young teenager that was what he wanted — a family of his own, little harringtons running around the yard and causing a ruckus whilst he barbecued and his trophy wife laid on her sun lounger, getting a tan in her pretty bikini. that was all he ever wanted in life, all he could ever remember wanting.

and then he met you. he knew from the get go that you were the one. he wanted to see you with a big pregnant belly, parade you around town and show you off like you were the hottest piece of ass in town (you were, to him). let everybody know he was the one who knocked you up, was the cause of your shapely body, child-baring hips, fatter ass.

you got pregnant not even a month after getting married, because of course you did. steve was insatiable, fucked you at any given opportunity on your fertile days — went as far as showing up to your office and pounding you in the toilet cubicle on your lunch break. you might’ve known you’d both be ridiculously fertile, twenty-somethings fucking like rabbits tended to end up in this situation quickly.

the day he noticed the pudge of your belly looks different, rounded and a little harder than usual, he fucked you so hard you saw stars. whispered sweet nothings in your ear about how sexy you looked, how much your belly turned him on.

the bigger you got, the less he could keep his hands off of you. and you can’t say you complained, the pregnancy hormones drove you just as wild, had your pussy aching and sopping wet for him all the time. steve took advantage of it, of course he did, he would’ve been a fool not to. he’d never been so horny in his life, so desperate for a fuck.

you give birth to a boy. he’s the most precious little guy, has the thickest head of curly hair and his dads pretty brown eyes. you’re both besotted, in love, and you’d never seen steve take to a job as well as he took to being a dad. you knew then he that it was clearly what he was destined to do, and you’d do anything to keep him this happy.

you both love being parents. but the no sex is hard, especially with your whirlwind of hormones, and the fact steve hadn’t gone longer than a day without stuffing your pussy for the last year. you yearned for each other, but headed the warnings your midwife had given you — six weeks minimum, no goddamn exceptions.

he pounces on you the second you get through the door from your six week postpartum appointment, all he needs is your subtle nod of the head and he’s backing you up against the wall — hitches your leg over his hip and grinds into you through the thin material of your panties, sundress slipping up to expose you to him.

he kisses you like a man starved, six weeks of not fucking you felt like a lifetime, and all he wants is to shove his cock in you and fill you with his seed. get you all nice and pregnant with another harrington sprog — and he knows how fertile you are at this stage, knows just one slip up will have you knocked up again and it makes his cock ache.

you’re just as eager for it, of course you are. the sad, stressful healing stage was over three weeks ago and the hormones swirling through your body were showing themselves as sexual frustration. you paw at steve’s loose basketball shorts, tug him closer until you’re slipping the material down his toned thighs, dragging his boxers with them to pool at his feet.

he doesn’t waste time after that, pulling the damp material of your panties to the side and exposing your soaked cunt to the air. you gasp against his lips; feel the thick head of his cock slide in between your folds, running over your clit just barely before he moves back down, pushing the tip into your hole with minimum resistance.

you’re lifted onto your tiptoes with the sheer force of steve slipping his cock into your sweet, wet pussy. he buries his face into your neck and let’s out the prettiest gasp once he’s fully sheathed, stilling for just a moment to make sure you’re okay and nothing hurts.

it’s endearing in an otherwise feral, highly charged situation. you whine a little, hand reaching to card through his messy hair, in hopes it’ll get him to just move. you feel so full, his cock stretching you in this achingly delicious way, and your walls spasm around his length, causing him to grip your thigh just a bit harder.

“fuck, baby. never felt you this wet before, shit,” steve talks like he’s struggling to catch his breath, rocks into you and let’s put a stifled groan, like he’s trying to stop himself from coming on the spot. you feel his cock pulse inside of you, more or less confirming your thoughts.

“need you to move, steve,” you gasp, begging quietly for him to just fuck you. he cranes his neck from his place in your own, looking at you with lust blown eyes, puffy red lips spit-slick, “c’mon, babe. show me what i’ve been missing.”

steve grunts at your words, lifts you up from the ground completely with his strong arms, tapping your thigh twice to get you to wrap your legs around him. you do so willingly, whining as the angle makes him slip just that little bit deeper into your pussy, knocking your cervix. you don’t think you’d ever get used to the sheer size of him, how you were able to feel every ridge and vein. he was right, though, — you were wetter than usual.

he plants his hands firmly under the curve of your ass, helping lift you off of his cock, then guiding you to sink back down. you can’t help yourself, back arching off the wall as you mewl, a shuddery moan puffing from your lips.

“you’re so tight, baby, goddamn,” steve grunts, eyes rolling a little as your cunt engulfs him in wet hot heat, the two of you picking up a rhythm with you bouncing and him fucking up into you, “fuck, you feel so good. missed this, missed your little pussy.”

you choke out a sob at his words, hand tightening in his hair as you lean forward to kiss him — it’s half hearted, you’re just panting into his mouth, mostly. his cock is so deep you feel him in your guts, know he’s going to shoot his load so deep there’s no way you’re getting out of here without getting knocked up.

steve pants against your mouth, not taking his eyes off or you as he pounds into you, keeping you lifted up like it’s fucking nothing, “gonna knock you up again, would you like that, baby? want your belly all full for me again, need it.”

you nod your head fervently, crying out as you sink down and the angle changes slightly, has the curve of steve’s cock brushing your spongey spot perfectly, “please, please. fill me up with your babies. want everyone to — shit, right there! — know your f-fat cock did it.”

steve glances down, catches the sight your tits by accident. all hard and leaking, making a mess of your pretty little dress. he can’t have that, have you sore and aching, that wouldn’t make him a very good husband now, would it?

he drags you over to the sofa without pulling out, sits down gently until you’re back to being fully seated on his cock, and almost in a complete juxtaposition, rips down your dress to expose your tits to the warm air. you hiss, nipples pulled tight and leaking liquid gold. you hadn’t even noticed, too wrapped up in the feeling of being split apart.

“babe, you have no idea how much i’ve wanted to do this,” steve sighs, leaning down to latch onto one of your nipples, causing you to let out a startled little yelp that quickly turns into a moan. it’s fucked up — you’re both fucked up, getting off on him suckling at your tit like he’s starving, lapping at your milk like he’d die without it.

you bury your hands back into his hair, tugging him impossibly closer as you slide your hips back and forth, gaining purchase on your clit, enough to have your tummy tightening and core aching, “oh my god,” you cry, tears pricking your eyes at the relief you feel all at once — from your sore tits, your desperate cunt, every little bit of you relaxing at once.

steve looks up at you with innocent eyes, dragging his mouth from your left tit with a small thumb over your nipple, putting his attention on the other one and suckling on it instead. you’re dripping wet with milk, leaking down your belly and soaking your dress through. you can’t find it in you to care when steve’s looking after you like this, gently bucking up into you from below.

“c’mon, steve, finish the job,” you sigh eventually, pawing at the back of his head and tugging the tresses between your splayed out fingers, “cum in me, wanna feel you dripping out of me later, hmm?”

steve takes that as his cue, unlatches from your sore nipple, grabs hold of your hips extra tight and begins fucking you like he means it — hard, fast, enough to have you doing no work as he throws you around like a damn rag doll. your nails claw at his shoulders, the sound of wet skin slapping and your sopping wet cunt engulfing your senses, having you crying out.

“that’s it, baby,” steve grunts, sliding a hand over the front of your pussy and planting his thumb on your clit, circling it quickly, the sensation enough to make you almost scream, “gonna cum all over my big cock, yeah? milk me with your tight, wet pussy?”

you nod your head, crying out as the warmth begins to pool in your belly, the ruddy tip of steve’s cock brushing your g-spot rhythmically, mixing with the feeling of his calloused thumb running over your clit sending you hurtling to the edge quickly, “i’m cumming steve, fuck, fuck—!”

your pussy clenches sporadically as you come, grinding down against steve’s pubic bone as you ride it out, fingernails digging into his shoulders so hard he hisses, slaps your ass in retaliation. you swear you’ve never came so hard in your fucking life, whole body tensing and going lax just as fast.

“that’s it, honey. cum all over me, shit, you’re so fucking wet,” steve’s losing composure, fucking up into you sporadically, going crazy over the sounds and feeling of your wet cunt dripping all down his shaft, wetting him right down to his balls, making a mess of your expensive sofa, “gonna fill you full of my jizz, get you all pregnant, can’t wait to see you with a belly again — fuck, m’gonna cum,”

you’re moaning uncontrollably, body basically limp under steve’s touch as he fucks you with purpose, chasing his own release. you squeeze around him again, milking his cock and that does it — his hips stuttering, grabbing hold of you to force you down onto his shaft deep as he comes, head thumping back onto the sofa cushions, eyes rolling in his head.

you can’t say you’re surprised when your period doesn’t arrive on time. you’re even less surprised to see the plus sign on the blue test five minutes later.

[ruruvxz]

hanni getting lost finding the correct bus ride and yn getting lost in hanni’s eyes 😉

- 🍊

“Lost”

Non-Idol!Hanni Pham x Reader

↳synopsis: While trekking back to your home after a long tiring day of work, you really couldn’t take your eyes off the girl who happened to take the same route as you. It was odd though, since you’ve never seen her before, additionally she looked quite confused. It wasn’t until she kept taking the same transportation as you when you finally realized she was actually lost.

↳cw: lovestruck reader, not proofread, pure fluff

↳wc: 1.6k

a/n: we meet again 🍊, but I’m very excited to get requests because that means i can serve you gorgeous gorgeous people. besides i had lots and lots of fun writing this! Sadly this is very short and sweet but i hope you all enjoy regardless

She was so lost right now, oh-so-lost, to the point where she started getting on and off at random stops and digging herself further into a rabbit hole. Her original destination, which wasn't all that far from her original stance, well before she accidentally got on the wrong bus, was now further away than she'd anticipated. The long dark haired woman getting even more antsy and distraught, caught the unwanted attention of other public transportation goers. And you were no expectation from that, your eyes lingered a little too long at the frustrated girl.

You felt so terrible for her, you've been in her position more than once so you knew the feeling exactly, to add salt to the wound, you also happened to be going on the same exact route as her. Well— Not technically, she just so happened to keep getting lost in the direction you were going. That also means that you saw her struggling for the past few rides without saying anything, and of course, your guilty conscience was getting the best of you.

Making the decision to talk to her, you waited for the perfect opportunity, subtly following her and making sure she wasn't lurking around in the dangerous parts of town. The woman took a break at a nearby bus stop, slouching onto the bar of the sunshade, giving leverage for her back. She pulled out her phone and started typing out various words before huffing angrily.

Finally biting the bullet, you hauled your way over to the dark-haired woman and tapped her gently on the shoulder. Flinching at the sudden touch she whipped her head towards you, slapping your face with strands of hair. Clenching your jaw you bit back any remark you had about her practically smacking you with her hair because you felt terribly pitiful for her. As she snapped her head back with a sharp hiccup she stared right at you, clearly still distressed by the situation she was in.

The way her eyes met yours, how they glistened slightly as they made contact with the sunlight, and how delicate her features were, made your heart sink. Hitching your breath you began to speak softly, not wanting to intimidate the poor woman even further. "Hey, so I saw you a few stops back..." You mumbled, your words barely distinguishable, "Are you, uhm...perhaps lost?" You ask, pretending to be blind by the fact you did know she was lost, as your eyes tried to pry away from hers.

"Oh! Oh my! Yes— I'm so lost right now— I don't know where I am! Thank you for asking— you see I was—" As she stuttered out her whole circumstances of events your eyes drifted to the scenery around her, and back to her eyes. The way it captivated you so easily was a spectacle within itself, how she scrunched her nose as she recounted something about getting the wrong direction. Honestly, you weren't all that interested in how she got in this situation, as shallow as it was, your eyes lingered more on hers than how dreadful her recounting was.

Mindlessly nodding as you moved from her eyes and down to her lips, taking a mental note of how her gloss exemplified the slightly pink tint of her lips. Giving her gentle "Mhms" "Ohh" and "I get it" as she continued on her tyrant on how her friends just casually left her behind. As her story came to a close, you snapped yourself out of the daze she put you in and coughed out a reply.

"What's your name again?"

"Hanni!" She bubbled, tilting her head slightly, letting her delicate black pool onto her shoulder. Taking in on how the sun hit her face as she did so, everything about her was undoubtedly breathtaking. In some sick way, you were quite grateful her friends accidentally gave her the wrong location, giving you the chance to stumble across a hidden jewel like her.

"And what's yours, stranger?" Her toothy smile as she awaited your answer made you even more giddy, like a teenage boy going through his first crush. She reminded you of the warm sunlight hitting your face as you awoke for another day, so refreshing and lively, irreplaceable and unique.

"Call me, Y/N. And I'm sorry about that, if you still need help I'll help you find your way around." You chuckled softly, barely failing to hide the anticipation in your voice. You so desperately wanted her to agree but wanted to be nonchalant about it, to not freak her out. But truly, deep inside, you were practically shaking at the idea of helping this captivating woman to where she needed to go. Besides, you also wanted to keep her safe, and help her not encounter any of the other unsafe areas.

Hanni, who was at this point grateful anyone took the initiative to talk with her, let alone offer to personally help her get to the proper destination, agreed without any hesitation. It was almost concerning how fast she agreed to your offer, but you were happy she did nevertheless. “Ah— You’d do that for me? Thank you so much I know it’s a lot to ask for—“ Hanni spoke again once more, her words were hurried and rushed but she was more than appreciative that you’d help her.

“Oh! Don’t worry about it,—Hanni was it? I’d feel terrible if you managed to get lost even further and I didn’t say anything about it.” You admitted, locking into her softened gaze for a moment as you psychoanalyzed the way her eyes turned into little crescent moons as she laughed. Despite being so clearly strained, she was able to find the best of her situation without fail, it amazed you how anyone could be that chipper, let alone, this stunning.

“Haha, I get that, but let’s be honest it’s not every day someone gets this lost.” Hanni joked, emphasizing the word “this” because most sane people wouldn’t be mindlessly continuing to get on and off and making it worse for themselves. You both just laughed at her predicament, having a casual conversation before eventually deciding it was time to take her where she intended to go.

You accompanied her throughout the short trip giving her simple suggestions and pointers as to how to navigate public transportation. As you traveled with Hanni, you got to know her bit by bit, how she loved to sing and dance, and how you had quite a bit in common. Like how both of you loved to read, she knew quite a lot of classic literature which you also happened to love.

As you looked at the map on your phone, you felt a pang of sadness knowing how close you both were. Knowing this was most definitely the last time you’d ever see Hanni, despite being the first meeting, you felt like you’d known her for ages. You stared at the window, taking in the greenery, letting out an exasperated sigh, the sun was setting at this point, and the lost girl was tired by now.

Hanni’s drowsy eyes started to bat open and close as her head drifted closer towards your shoulder, the side of her temple colliding gently with you. She was dozing off whilst resting herself on her shoulder, hitching your breath you reached your hand out and stroked her head gently. Making sure she didn’t wake up before her stop, understanding she needed some type of rest.

You glanced at your cellphone, watching the tracker of your phone inch ever so closely to the destination. Finally, close enough you reached over for the stop button on the bus and clicked it ever so quietly. It only took a few minutes before the bus took its full stop, your hand wrapped around her, and you gave her a quick shrug to wake the tired girl. Hanni, a little surprised she dozed off on you, apologized before standing up and dragging you with her.

Laughing at her antics you got off with her, she looked mighty flushed but it was oddly adorable. You chuckled with her as she tried to muster up the courage to speak up, she had something on her mind but didn’t have the heart to say anything. “Hey Y/N, I have a question.” She asked biting the bullet.

“Ah, yes? What is it, Hanni?” You replied, ruffling your hair as you admired her sun-kissed face beamed in the golden hour. She was incredible in any setting, you wanted to tell her that but god forbid you to make things awkward when everything was so good right now.

“Do you have a number?”

“Yeah, do you want it?”

“Yes please” She mumbled as she reached her phone out, the page already opened to the phone app, ready for you to input your digits. Your face was flushed but you’re glad she couldn’t tell how flustered you were as you quickly inputted your contact information.

“Oh, and I wanted to tell you. I’m so glad I met you Y/N you don’t know how much it meant to me when you decided to help someone like me out.”

“It’s nothing, I’m glad I met you.” You slip up, not realizing what you said before it was far too late, Hanni’s hands lift to her cheeks as she flushed a bright pink shade. Not expecting your thoughts to verbalize so easily, you mentally cursed yourself and tried to take it back before she cut you off.

“I’m glad too! I’ll text you when I get home alright?”

“I promise.” She added as she smiled, getting lost in her eyes once more.

“Alright, call me if you get lost again.”

The ending is so trash omg