#i'm sorry but i just have to write it down
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HONGJOONG ONE-SHOT
🌙Jumping through rings🌙
Warnings::SMUT, mentions of pregnancy (?)
Pairing:: dom!Hongjoong x sub!fem!reader
Genre::BREEDING KINK, oral (fem rec) creampie, praise, spit play, crying, multiple rounds, wedding night, shower sex??, aftercare, reader mentions being on BC
A/N:: first of all, sorry this took 69 million years to write. Second of all I have mentioned on here b4 that I rlly rlly rlly don't like the thought of being pregnant and I'm basically infertile irl but ughh when I ovulate I always just think of Hongjoong impregnating me 😩 Tmi sorry not sorry
🎧::
You and hongjoong talked a lot about your wedding. From decorations to guests to food to photography. All of it was planned out to a T…including your wedding night.
A few days after Hongjoong proposed to you the two of you were getting ready for a night of fun but Hongjoong shyly brought up the ring around your finger. “I was wondering if you would like to have sex on the night of our wedding. I know it's kind of weird but I think it's somehow romantic…” he explains as he sits on the edge of the bed with you.
“Of course baby,” you smile and take his hand in yours. “If it's something you'd like to do on your wedding then I'm down,”
“And I was wondering if we could make it…extra special?” His offer seemed normal at first but when you asked him to go on he explained that he wanted to potentially have unprotected sex and openly explore our deepest desires. The two of you communicated a lot about it and finally got everything set in stone.
After your wedding you had a fun after party that was more relaxed. You were wearing your big wedding dress and Hongjoong was just wearing a black button up and dress pants that undoubtedly looked delectable on his ass. You were slightly worried about getting tired for your romantic night but it ended up being okay. Towards the end of the after party you and Hongjoong got back together again. Most of the day you spent apart being so busy with taking photos and meeting up with relatives and so on. At the end of the party it was mainly the best friends and of course Hongjoongs members.
They were all done up and presentable for their big bros big day. They all showered you in compliments as well and congratulated the two of you about a hundred times.
“Do you two have any plans for the rest of the night?” Mingi asked innocently and the rest tried to signal him not to bring it up. Hongjoong wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him, standing hip to hip.
“We have a few things in mind,” Hongjoong smiles at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Oh I did not need to know that,” Jongho makes a pained expression and the others make fun of him.
“Really though, I'm happy for you guys,” Seonghwa puts a hand on Hongjoongs shoulder. “Enjoy yourselves,” seonghwas smile was oddly sincere but you didn't mind. You thanked him and he handed the two of you a red envelope. The two of you knew exactly what that meant and instantly opened it. As you saw the amount of bills, the “cha ching” sound could be heard in your head.
“Jeez Seonghwa's spoiling us,” Hongjoong blushes from the great offer you guys were given.
“You deserve it,” he nods and gives Hongjoong a big hug and you a more gentle one.
Then the night came to an end. You said your goodbyes to the last few guests and as you and hongjoong began to clean up the wedding planners told the two of you to just go home and they'll handle the mess. Hongjoong picked you up bridal style as he walked you out to your car. He set you down before opening the car door for you.
“Ladies first,” he smirked as he held it open. You giggle softly as you hop in. Hongjoong closes the door before going over to his side. As the two of you drive home you look out the window as the street lights pass by. “You still…up for our plans?” He asks as his eyes fixate on the road. You turn to him quickly as you hear his voice.
“Of course. Are you?” You ask slightly worried.
“Of course baby. I was the one who brought it up afterall,” he smiles and as you come up to a very familiar intersection you notice he pulls to the side, going into the turning lane. You furrow your brows in confusion but let him do his thing. Though as he keeps driving you realize you're going in the opposite direction of your house.
“Um hongjoong, where are we going?” You look up at him and he smirks.
“I have one more surprise for you,”
When he pulls up to a love hotel your jaw drops.
“Hongjoong. Are you serious?” You laugh softly and he laughs at your reaction.
“Dead serious,” he turns the car off and the two of you open the doors simultaneously. “Five star rating and the rooms look real nice,” Hongjoong holds your hand as you walk up to the hotel. When you get inside you're greeted by the woman at the front desk and Hongjoong tells her about his reservation. The lady hands him a keycard with the room number on it and the two of you head up to your room. “I'm so excited to show you the room,” Hongjoong smiles, basically beaming with excitement. “It's gorgeous,”
The elevator stops on the top floor and you and hongjoong begin to search for your room. 771. You eventually find it and Hongjoong swipes the card before opening the door for you to get the first look at the room. Your jaw drops as you walk in. There was a massive bed in the center of the room with tall poles that held up red silky curtains, the blankets of the bed were red and gold with a beautiful trim along the bottom. There were two nightstands beside the bed that were a deep brown color with bright and warm lamps resting on top of them. Underneath the bed was a black and red carpet with swirly designs on it.
“Hongjoong, this is…” you were at a loss for words as you examined the room. The bathroom was black as well to match the theme and the nightstands had lots of items in there.
“Oh and here's the best part,” Hongjoong goes over to the bedside and draws back one of the curtains and rose petals covering the bed. “Real rose petals,” he smiled as he presented them to you and you rushed over to hug him.
“Thank you baby, this is more than I could ask for,” you say as you nuzzle into his neck. He pats your back with a warm smile before kissing your forehead.
“I'm glad you like it babe,” he pulls back from the hug and caresses your face. “Are you still wearing makeup?” He tilts his head slightly.
“Yeah only a little bit,” you blush softly and he grins.
“Good. I was hoping I could see it streaming down your face,” his words made your face heat up and he was only more amused by your reaction. He caresses your bottom lip softly before kissing you. “Why don't we get started hm?” Hongjoong runs his hands down the side of your body, and you hum softly, agreeing with him. He brings his hands around to the back of your dress and pulls down the zipper. As the faint zip echoes in the room you can feel the excitement rush through your body. All of this build up. You've been waiting for this night for months and you knew Hongjoong had even more in store for you.
Hongjoong gently pulls the dress off your shoulders and let's it pool at your ankles. You step out of the dress and set it aside. You stood before him in only your panties which made him smirk softly. He reached out to cup one of your breasts in his hands as he went to kids your neck softly. “Baby,” he says in a tone that makes your skin crawl with nerves.
══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══
“Yes?”
“I wanna breed you tonight.” He states with a hint of desperation and promise that makes your jaw drop. You go speechless for a moment. “Fill up that warm and wet little pussy that belongs to me,” he growls in your ear as his hands go down to your ass, gripping the flesh. “Tonight, I want you to be the dirtiest little slut; don't hold anything back. Be messy, be loud, be mean, be a kinky slut. Tonight, nothing else matters besides our kinks and undying love, alright?” He nuzzles his face against your shoulder before gently grinding his boner against your panties. “So, I revealed my secret kink, now what's yours?” He said with a seductive tone that made your cunt throb.
“I um…I'm not sure,” you look down softly. “Maybe…spit play? I honestly haven't explored my fantasies that deeply,” you admit before Hongjoong steps back, undoing his blouse.
“That's okay darling, that's why we'll explore tonight. Maybe some of our kinks align,” he smiles as he takes off his button up shirt. Your jaw drops as you see his muscles; he was ten times buffer than the last time you saw him shirtless.
“Oh my babe, have you been working out more?” Your eyes are locked on his chest as you feel yourself drooling over him. He blushes softly with a smile before nodding.
“Yeah…I wanted to impress you,” he begins to take off his pants before throwing them aside as well.
The two of you climb into the bed and pretty much as soon as your body makes contact with the bed and rose petals you begin to make out. Your hands tangle into his hair as your tongues dance rhythmically and your bodies are pulled together like magnets. The sound of wet lips and tongues twirling echo in the room along with moans and the sound of your skin rubbing against each other. The two of you breathe heavily as you make out and you feel Hongjoongs boner twitching and throbbing against your panties. “Baby…I don't know if I can do foreplay. I need my cock inside you,” he groans as you gasp for air after your heated kiss.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” You tease and Hongjoong instantly leans back and pulls off his boxers, his cock springing to life. As he takes off his boxers you pull off your panties, the middle of them are now a darker shade due to your arousal. Hongjoong runs a finger up your folds; his finger glides along with ease due to your slick.
"You're so hot baby, you gotta let me a have a taste," he leans down and runs his tongue along your slit; he moans as the tangy slick dances along his tongue. He then slurps your folds into his mouth suckling on the sensitive flesh. He moans as he sucks the juices out of your pussy as he buries his face in your cunt. "Such a pretty pussy," he moans against your folds as you buck your hips into his face. He then pulls back, his face wet with your arousal, and aligns his tip to your entrance.
He slowly pushes forward and your folds envelop his cock. The two of you moan simultaneously as the warmth courses through your bodies, and the long-awaited desire that had built up threatens to spill over. You both took a moment to catch your breath and soak up the pleasure of being joined once again. It had been at the very least a month since the two of you engaged in sex which made the pleasure even more exaggerated than usual.
"You're so hot baby," Hongjoong growls as he leans his body down closer to you. "Can't wait to fill you with my cum," he breathes heavily as he struggles to hold himself back. Your hands creep up to his back, clawing at his shoulder blades as he looms over you. He slowly moves his hips back and then forward again. Your moans sync again as you grip onto his cock.
"Please baby, I can't wait. Just fuck me," you whine as you throw your head back and a devilish grin spreads across his face.
"I know baby, but trust me; just wait a little longer," he whispers as his hips continue their slow and strategic pace. You whine as your body craves more of this addictive pleasure. "Good girl, deep breaths, show daddy how good you are," he says in a low and creamy voice that makes your walls clench around his cock. His hips begin to move faster and you find yourself able to control your reactions; your legs jerk up, toes curled, nails digging into his back, and your jaw hung open as moans spill over. "Hold it in baby, c'mon," Hongjoong encourages as his hips move faster and faster until your mind goes blank.
"I-I can't," your voice shakes as you speak and your body curls forward as you bury your face in his shoulder. "Please, fuck, I'm gonna cum!" You cry out but Hongjoong doesn't stop. His hips snap against yours furiously and you feel yourself coming undone as your moans echo in the room. "Hongjoong!" You cry out as your body shakes and Hongjoong tilts over the edge; spilling his seed inside you.
The two of you pant in harmony as Hongjoong gently thrusts to drag out the pleasure. You felt the warmth of his cum creeping up your body and you felt an unexpected euphoria at the fact he had cum inside you; something was so romantic and erotic about it.
"How do you feel my love?" Hongjoong rubs your cheek as he feels sweat building along his hairline and neck.
"Amazing," you chuckle and Hongjoong smiles before kissing you softly.
"Wanna try a new position?" He asks out of the blue and you nod. Hongjoong explains how to get into the position as he slips out of you. You'd bring your legs up against your body until your ankles reach near your head and hold your legs up with your arms. Hongjoong would then enter you and lean forward, basically squishing your bodies together, but it's supposedly really pleasurable, especially for the woman.
The two of you get into position and Hongjoong slips into you again; a symphony of moans escapes your throat as you feel his cock stretch you out again. You whimper as you claw at the backs of your thighs and hongjoong grins. "You like that?" He growls and all you can do is nod.
"'Feels so-so good," you whimper, slightly incoherently, and Hongjoong smiles; his hips moving faster thanks to your moans. The pleasure was overwhelming at this point, you couldn't even function, because this position made it so that every time Hongjoong thrusted back into you he'd hit your G-spot and A-spot basically at the same time.
Suddenly Hongjoong leans over and tosses the curtain out of the way to reach the desk. He grabs a vibrator and turns it on, startling you. "H-Hongjoong are you-?" And before you can speak you feel the vibrations on your clit buzzing through your body. "O-Oh shit!" You cry out as you bite your lip, your lip gloss potent on your tongue. You feel your eyes begin to water as your mind goes blank again and not even moans can slip through your lips.
Your legs shake aggressively as you tighten around his cock, so hard that he felt like you were cutting off the blood circulation, and it all came undone in a split second. A cry of pleasure tore through your throat as fluids gushed out of you onto Hongjoongs abs; he was stunned at first but quickly got turned on. He pulled out to watch the fountain of fluids spray from your body, thanks to his skills, before cumming onto your stomach.
"Oh yeah baby, good girl," he praises as he rubs your thighs. Your body falls limp as you pant and Hongjoong leans down to kiss your chest. "You did so good," he pulls back to look at the pure bliss written across your face but he finds your makeup smudged around your eyes. Hongjoong bites his lip as his cock springs up again. He blushes in embarrassment at how quickly he got hard again. He rubs your cheek softly, feeling the sweat and tears coat his finger as he admires your beauty.
"Thank you Hongjoong," you sigh as Hongjoong turns off the vibrator and sets it back on the nightstand. He smiles softly and kisses you.
"Thank you, Y/N" Hongjoong smiles as he helps you sit up. "You should drink some water after losing all that fluid," he gets up and retrieves two bottles of water from the mini fridge. He hands you one before chugging his own.
You watch as his Adam's apple bobs as the liquid goes down his throat; his neck shining with sweat. As he parts his lips from the bottle he sighs before turning over to look at you; you were frozen from his ethereal beauty. Your palm was still on the cap of the bottle as you looked at him slacked jawed and wide eyed. "Everything okay?" He chuckles softly as he slicks his hair back.
"Yeah I guess I just forgot how fucking hot you are," you laugh and Hongjoong blushes with a laugh as well.
"Thank you," he chuckles. "I think you're feeling the euphoria of those really intense orgasms. You're probably getting a rush of feel-good hormones which is exactly what I want," he smiles as sneaks a kiss. "Now drink up," he pats your leg to snap you back to reality, and you open up the water before chugging it. "Good girl," he smiles before you screw the cap back on and set it on the nightstand. "What do you wanna do next baby?" He tilts his head softly and you think for a moment.
"Well I have a position in mind..." you put a finger to your chin before smiling at him. You lay on your stomach and lift your ass up just enough for him to slip inside you. "Then you lean down until your chest is against my back and then, fuck me," you smile innocently and Hongjoong laughs.
"You really are a naughty girl aren't you?" He grins as he situates himself on top of you before slipping inside with ease due to all the cum and liquid from earlier. He lets out a soft sigh as he sinks into your warmth. "Is this okay?" Hongjoong asks, making sure you are comfortable and happy. You nod with a little hum and Hongjoong leans down a bit further, his chin resting on your shoulder. He brings his hands up to the backs of yours, your wedding rings rubbing up against each other.
As Hongjoong's hips begin to move the two of you stay relaxed and calm during this round. Soft praise and kisses filled the air along with soft gasps and whimpers. Hongjoongs fingers gripped tighter onto your hand as your rings pushed into each other. "I love you Hongjoong," you breathe out between moans. Hongjoong smiles before kissing the back of your shoulder.
"I love you too Y/N," he moans as he slides his cock in and out of you in such a rhythmic way. "I love...feeling my cock hit so deep inside you baby. I could fuck your pussy every day and night," he moans before burying his face in your shoulder, his thrusts becoming more urgent and harsh; his fingers tighten around yours as well. "I think I'm gonna cum again," he whimpers softly and the sound of his voice laced with lust is enough for your pussy to clench around him.
"Let it out baby," you say warmly as you rest your head against the pillow.
"'M gonna fill you up my cum," he moans softly as his eyes flutter shut and his lips part, his brows furrow slightly as the pleasure swallows him whole. "You're gonna take it all baby, yes, f-fuck-agh!" He moans with short, soft gasps as his warm seed begins to drizzle inside of you. You moan at the sensation, feeling pure bliss and excitement.
Hongjoongs hands tremble slightly as his orgasm subsides and his body relaxes. The two of you rest in silence for a moment, basking in the afterglow. Hongjoong buries his face in your back as he takes deep breaths. He wanted to ask you again how you were feeling but he was suddenly shy after his performance. "Why don't we...head to the shower?" He says partially out of breath. You smile softly as he sits up and pulls out.
"Yeah, good plan," you chuckle before lying on the bed, catching your breath for a moment. You look over at Hongjoong, who is currently doing the same as you, and you can't help but appreciate how he looks right now. His hairline sweaty, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted as his chest heaves with each breath. He then sits up and offers you a hand.
"Let's go shower," he helps you to the bathroom and turns on the water before hopping in with you. He closes the glass door as you begin to hose down your bodies. "So...did you like trying no protection? Or do you feel indifferent?" He chuckles as he grabs some soap to wash his hair.
"I loved it," you smile as you grab your own shampoo.
"Are you concerned about..." Hongjoong seems a little shy or flustered about this topic but you knew what he was entailing.
"I am still on the pill and even if something does happen we'll be prepared," you nod and Hongjoong sighs in relief as he washes out the shampoo.
"I'm glad," he sighs. "I feel like...well I kinda have a thing for...I guess people call it a breeding kink and I can't deny that I have it. Afterwards though I just get a little worried about the consequences of my fantasies," he admits as he rinses the soap out of your hair for you.
"I wouldn't worry about it baby," you shrug as you involuntarily put a hand to your lower stomach. "I do have to admit the feeling is intoxicating...the warmth and fullness sensation is undescribably amazing," you explain to him and a little smile creeps on your face.
"Is that so?" As he finishes rinsing your hair he creeps a hand down to your core again, swiftly fingering your clit causing you to gasp. You rest your head back against his shoulder as your hair clings to his wet body; soft moans escape your lips. "Wanna feel it again? My warmth inside you, my seed filling you up~?"
#Spotify#wedding night#ateez x reader#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez smut#ateez hard hours#ateez hard thoughts#ateez hongjoong#hongjoong x reader#hongjoong smut#idk what else to tag#breeding k1nk
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you're here, that's the thing ˚⟡˖ ࣪ - franco colapinto
summary: your boyfriend tries his best to make your schedules, as a racer and student, work - even when miles apart w/c: 900
a/n: it's finals season for me and i needed to write something self-indulgent as a break from cramming forgive me 🙏
Being a full-time student was one thing, but being a full-time student in a relationship with an extremely clingy boyfriend, who also happened to be travelling the world to race in Formula One, was a whole other challenge.
You and Franco had had some time to adjust to a long-distance relationship since you started dating, having such different lives, and managed to make it work for the most part. But now, with him having to wholly commit to his racing and finals season rolling around for you, it put a strain on your relationship that neither of you was ready for.
It was a strange paradox - the less free time you had outside of classes and studying, the less you were able to spend talking to him, and the more you wanted just to drop everything and fly to where he was. Your morning texts and voice message updates stopped being enough, and before you knew it you struggled to go longer than an hour studying without sending your boyfriend a message to whine and complain.
You were fully aware of how immature and irresponsible this was, but this awareness did little to stop you. And it didn't exactly help that Franco seemed to share the same sentiment, telling you again and again how hard it was for him as well, how racing seemed almost impossible without you there to cheer him on. It hurt, but the two of you just had to do everything you could to get through it - for you to focus on your studies and for him to try his best at racing.
All this came to a head one Sunday though, the afternoon before one of your final exams and - because of the time difference - the night before Franco's next race. Sitting in your dorm alone, surrounded by piles of textbooks, notes and scattered pens you felt a sudden jolt of vulnerability and before you knew it you were reaching for your phone.
"Can you call?" you typed quickly to your boyfriend, your eyes lighting up upon seeing the three dots begin moving almost instantly.
"My gosh, I was just going to ask you the same thing," he replied, and before you knew it your phone was springing to life with a call from him. Clicking accept, you couldn't help but smile widely at the sight of his face.
"Hi," you say, almost shyly.
"Hi baby, how are you?"
"Good," you pause, "stressed."
He nods understandingly, "You're holding up okay, hm? Taking care of yourself?"
"Of course, Franco," you laugh at his almost motherly concern, "and you?"
"Nervous, of course."
"Well, that makes two of us." You pause after speaking, for some reason this call is turning out less enjoyable and more awkward than you hoped.
"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired," you hear your boyfriend say and when you look up you can definitely see it, his eyelids half closing over deep, dark circles under them.
"Do you want to sleep? I have to study anyways."
You watch as he chews his bottom lip, thinking of what to say though once he finally talks his voice is small, almost like a confession. "But I wanted to talk to you."
"We are talking Franco, and we can talk tomorrow once you rest."
This doesn't seem to quell his worries though, his brows still knitted in thought. "I just feel so useless knowing that you're struggling and stressed and I can't even keep you company like I normally do."
You nod sympathetically until an idea pops into your head. "We can keep the call on, carry me over to your bed - you'll sleep and I'll study."
Even through the fatigue pulling him down, Franco nods enthusiastically, doing as you say. You watch him sink into the plush white bedsheets of whatever hotel he's in, and whilst you feel a little jealous at his ability to rest right now, you turn back to your desk and start pulling out your notes.
"You'll be okay," you hear him mumble.
"What do you mean?"
"With your exams," he smiles sleepily, eyes flitting as he watches you pick up your highlighters and pens, "you're the smartest person I know."
"I don't know how much that's saying, you didn't even finish high school baby."
"Hey! I was trying to be nice," he says, feigning offence though there's a soft smile across his face.
"You're right, I'm sorry," you laugh, "you'll be okay as well, with your race tomorrow."
"I hope so."
"I know so."
"I wish you were here," he sighs, looking at you earnestly and all you can do is give him a nod in agreement.
"But for now," you wave your pen to hint at the fact that you need to get back to cramming and he seems to get the hint.
"Right, right, you won't even know I'm here," he assures you.
And despite that, the entire night passes without you once forgetting it. Not that he's distracting or anything, in fact he falls asleep mere minutes after telling you that - leaving you to work peacefully for the rest of the night. Instead, his presence, even as he sleeps, even through a screen and halfway across the world, is enough. You find yourself smiling as you study because maybe having a long-distance boyfriend, even one as clingy as Franco, has been a blessing in disguise all this time.
#franco colapinto#franco colapinto x reader#franco colapinto x you#franco colapinto imagine#franco colapinto fanfic#franco colapinto fluff#franco colapinto oneshot#williams racing#williams f1#formula one fanfic#formula one x reader#formula one fluff#formula one#purinfelix#jet writes ★
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i genuinely need you to write something for rio vidal plzzzzzz i’ll take anything but your writing is perfect so id love for you to write something *cough* dominant jealous rio *cough*
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉'𝒔 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒑
𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕
𝑨/𝑵: Omg thank you, Anon. You're too sweet 𖹭
𝑪𝑾: Fem!Reader, Dom!Rio, Jealous!Rio, Soft domming, knife play, biting, magical G!P, possessiveness
Contrary to all common sense, the quickest way to find yourself on Death’s radar was not through an act of death itself. Not by losing your life or taking another's…
No, it was through her girlfriend.
A stranger's lingering gaze or a friend's pda never escaped Rio’s attention, and a repeat offender, like oh say… that coworker of yours you were talking to at that very moment…
Well, they managed to make an enemy out of the force of nature that could usually pride herself on her indiscriminate apathy.
Rio lurked in the shadows outside your workplace, eyes darkening as that fool made you laugh.
She wasn't even two minutes late to pick you up, and already that snake was curling around you. Unbelievable.
You didn't think anything of it, Rio knew, but she could see in that man's eyes every disgusting thought he was having about you.
It made her sick, it made her burn.
Well, if the shades of purple littering your neck didn't clue him in to the fact that you were taken, she was beyond willing to do it herself.
Under the cover of darkness she shifted her attire with a thought, striding over in a new, clean-cut suit that made his own look like ratty hand-me-downs.
You perked up as soon as you noticed her and it made her heart leap. Your bright smile, your appreciative eyes taking in her new look…
He could never make you glow like that.
“Hey, Baby.”
Rio couldn't help a quick smile reserved only for you as she joined you under the streetlight, arm wrapping around your waist. “Hello, my love. Sorry I'm late, work was murder.”
She turned to face your companion, with a cold and withering stare. A look that could take years off a life.
“Who's your friend?”
You could never truly estimate the depths of Rio's jealousy but you knew that look well enough to know you had to get her out of there.
And you knew it well enough to not be surprised by the intensity she brought to the bedroom that night.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
“I missed you today.”
Rio replied in her softest tone, someone less attuned to her might not have even heard the boundless resentment living within it, “You seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”
Leisurely, she traced her knife from your jaw, down your neck, applying a spine-tingling pressure just short of breaking skin.
“Yeah well, that new guy I work with is pretty fun.” You said breathily, not biting. Her blade caught on the collar of your shirt, lingering above your hammering heart, and Rio laughed.
Never before had such stubborn brattiness looked so good on someone, but you were just something else… teasing her even with a knife to your chest…
She cut through the fabric in one rough slash. “Careful, Lover. Wouldn't want to shorten such a fun man's life span, would you?”
“You wouldn't do that.” you challenged
“Try me. I'd do anything to keep you.”
The sincerity of the statement should have frightened you, but it was intoxicating. To be the object of such devotion from Death herself was a head-spinning high that no drug, spell or new lover could match.
“You'll always have me, Rio.”
There was a pain to the look she gave you in return, a wound behind her eyes, but she found a smile for you before she circled behind you.
“I’d better.” She breathed in your ear, pulling the tatters of what used to be your shirt from your body.
The tip of her knife traveled down your spine, barely grazing your skin on a trail to your skirt, which she skillfully cut open, baring you to her completely.
“My pretty girl…”
Her hand smoothed over your ass-cheek with near reverence before disappearing between your legs.
You gasped, skin aflush, but all too soon you realized she wasn't done playing with you yet.
“Please.” You whimpered as her fingers slid across your folds, just short of where you needed them.
“Say my name.”
“Rio, please, I need you so bad.”
She drew a lazy circle on your clit and your breath hitched, “Well how can I say no to that?”
A tingling warmth followed her hand on your back as she pushed you forward, forcing your chest onto your dresser and you into a bend.
You barely noticed the hardness of the surface against your breasts. You couldn't concentrate over the thought of being so exposed to her, and even that died with your last remaining brain cells as you felt the tip of her cock against your entrance.
She could've gone right in, you were wet enough for her to, but she slowly dragged up and down your slick folds, cock head catching on your clit every time and setting your nerves ablaze.
“Rio.” You whined.
“So impatient.” She laughed. “Don't worry, Baby, I'll take care of you.”
With that she pushed through your centre, slowly and gently sinking inside of you, savoring every blissful moan you let out.
She very nearly lost herself as you jerked against her but she resisted the rough thrust you were so clearly asking for. Your pathetic, little mewls, music to her ears.
She bottomed out inside of you, letting you adjust, letting you enjoy being filled. Then quicker than you could process she pulled out and slammed back in.
You cried out, but Rio wasn't slowing down this time, pounding you again and again with deep, unapologetic thrusts.
“You're mine. You hear that? Say it.”
“I'm yours, Rio.” You choked out, voice bouncing with her pistoning hips.
“Yeah, you’re mine. My good girl.”
She leant forward, her breasts flush against your back, as she sank her teeth into your shoulder, leaving behind a delightful sting.
Rio wasn't usually one for quickies but tonight she'd make an exception. There was a desperation inside of her stronger than mere lust. She had to see you cum.
She twisted her arm around your hip so she could work your clit, rubbing in a frenzy. “Tell me you want me.”
“Want you. Need you.”
“Then cum for me Baby, I know you can do it.”
Rio was nothing short of amazing. The concentrated skill on your clit and the near supernatural speed of her thrusts unraveled you like only she could.
Your mouth fell open and your walls clenched around her in a strangling hold as lust threatened to burn you alive.
“God! Rio!”
You came all over her and right on cue she emptied her cock inside of you, filling you to your very core with what felt like neverending ropes of cum, trapped inside of you by her refusal to pull out.
“I'm never gonna let anyone else do this to you, baby.” She breathed out, mouth returning to your shoulder to lick over the bite mark she left. “Never, for all eternity, I'm yours, and you’re mine.”
#rio vidal x reader#rio vidal smut#agatha all along#agatha all along x reader#marvel x reader#marvel smut#mcu x reader#marvel imagine#rio vidal#aubrey plaza
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hit me up | mark lee x fem!reader
i.e you were only in your ex boyfriend's bed because he's the only one who could fuck you right. NOT because you missed him!
author's note: omg! sorry i disappeared for like a month LMAO. i was down bad and then i just didn't enjoy writing anymore, but here i am! i hope u all enjoy this! might not be my best work, but I'm happy with what I wrote! I hope you alll enjoy it very much! halloween may be over but kinktober is still happening in November! I'm crazy!!!! <3
word count: 4k (not proofread)
content warning: exes to possible lovers, explicit smut, unprotected sex(not a great idea), breeding kink, fingering (f. rec.), drinking, idols mentioned for world building. lmk if i miss anything!
this was a bad idea. how did you let your ex-boyfriend convince you to let him take you home and rearrange your entire organ system after not talking to him for nine months?
it's not like it too much convincing actually, but it's so much easier to blame mark's charisma and way with words than take responsibility for your own actions.
how were you supposed to know that he was going to the exact same club that you and your friends frequent almost every weekened?
well. . . you did know! you saw him post his location on his instagram story that you watched from your burner which lead to you asking your best friend, giselle, and her friends if they wanted to accompany you.
they agreed without a second thought, and you were all there within the hour in a vip section that belonged to a sexy brunette named jaehyun.
you vaguely knew who he was because he was friends with mark, but with how easy it was to convince him to let you and your friends in, you don't think he knew who you were or didn't honestly care.
about one patron shot and two margaritas later, you found the liquid courage to seek mark out.
he was sitting on the L shaped “sofa” that was in the section, a girl with long black hair and a sparkling pink dress in his lap.
her head was turned, hair falling over her face as she leaned in to whisper to mark.
a smile glazed over his features and he whispered something back, until his eye caught you.
like a deer caught in headlights, you couldn’t move. your eyes were glued onto him and he said something else to the girl, prompting her to get up and mark follow suit behind her.
however, instead of walking off together, she took her place back on the couch as mark began walking in your direction.
there was no escaping now, you knew it, so all you could do was stand there awkwardly, holding your arms across your chest until he was face to face with you.
“are my deceiving me?” he asked, voice rough as he glanced over your body, causing you to squirm under his eyes, “because if i’m not mistaken, this is my friend’s section, so what are you doing here?”
you could lie and say he invited you, which wasn't entirely untrue. one to giselle’s friends, soyeon, sweet talked jaehyun into getting into the section, and by extension he told her to bring the rest of his friends.
“one of my friends got on with him pretty well,” you said, clearly your throat, looking everywhere but mark, “plus, this is my spot and you know it. you know how frequent i come here, so if anything, what are you doing here?”
“placing claims on public property?” mark chuckled, leaning against the railing of the section, “i guess you’ve got me there though. guess i was just hoping i would run into you one day and get on my knees to beg for you.”
you let out a noise of disgust, rolling your eyes, but still staying in your exactly spot, “you are so wretched. grow up and move on.”
“trust me,” he smiled devilishly, “i have. you saw me over there cozying up with kazhua. the way you were looking at me, one would assume you haven’t moved on.”
“conversation over.” you said bitterly, uncrossing your arms and walking away, but in typical mark fashion, he was right behind you.
you were annoyed beyond belief right now, annoyed that he had the audacity to make jokes about seeing other people and you being caught up on him. . . annoyed at how good he looked, and annoyed that you wanted to keep talking to him.
“i was just kidding,” his hand reached out to grab your arm, “i’m sorry, y/n.”
“look at you,” you mockingly cooed, “finally apologizing for your actions. i guess time apart does allow for growth.”
mark’s eye twitched ever so slightly, but of course, you caught it, “guess the same isn’t for you, still bitchy as ever. i remember how i used to solve that problem, a good dicking down and you were an angel to be around.”
“well, too bad you can’t fix that,” you shrugged, “lost that privilege nine months ago when you broke up with me, if you forgot.”
he tsk’d, dropping his hand from your body and your brain or your cunt wanted to yell at the loss of contact, “has anybody been taking care of that?”
“not that it’s any of your business,” you bit out, wanting nothing to do but lie, “no.”
a smirk grew on mark’s lips, opening his mouth to make some sort of smart ass comment you were sure, but closed it.
“thinking before we speak now, wow you really have grown.”
mark rolled his eyes at you, “i was going to say, let me fix this issue so you’ll be nice to whatever poor boy comes across your path soon.”
what the fuck. your face flushed dark red, and thank god that the lights were down low otherwise you were sure that mark would’ve laughed, “are you propositioning me?”
“not at all,” he said, leaning down to ghost his lips over yours, “it’s yours if you want it, if not, i will go about my business and you can go about yours.”
“okay,” you swallowed, curling your toes in your tennis shoes out of nervousness, “yeah. fuck me an inch of my life to make me nice again.”
“no thought about it, i knew you missed me.”
you almost retracted your statement, but instead pulled your phone of your pocket and texting giselle a heads up that you were leaving and not to wait up.
mark grabbed your hand, leading you down the stairs of the section and through the crowd of the club to the entrance.
the cool september air hit your face, a chill running down your body as you stood on the sidewalk with mark, hand in hand.
it felt too couple like, you wanted throw up, but instead just pulled your hand away from his quickly.
if mark noticed, he didn’t say anything. opting to look at his phone and order the uber back to his apartment.
was it just going to be dead silent this entire night? god, you weren’t sure what was going to be worse. this or having to hold small and awkward conversation with him.
“you look cold,” mark commented, not looking up from his phone, “come here.”
you looked at him, appalled and decided to not acknowledge his words, instead turning back to the street.
“you don’t always have to be so damn bratty,” he groaned, walking over to you and throwing his now discarded denim jacket at you, “put it on, and don’t make me repeat myself.”
fuck, he was so hot when he was demanding, even if it’s just to tell you something as simple to put a jacket on. the heat between your legs began to radiate, you did miss this part of him,
he watched you with an annoyed look until you complied, sliding the sleeves over your arms and adjusting the jacket comfortable. it smelled just like him, and you wanted to moan.
mark always smelled so good, it’s— was one of your favorite things about him. he was always so clean and put together, putting extra care into his appearance.
when the two of you first started dating all the way until your . . . interesting break up, he always went the extra mile to show out for you,
you sort of missed that about him too.
“uber’s here,” mark said, breaking your out of your train of thought about, well him, and opening the door for the car.
you slid in to the other side, mark following behind and sliding his seatbelt on.
mark said nothing about how far you were, and opted to just take his seatbelt off and move into the middle before readjusting.
“sitting so far when i’m about to fuck the daylights out of, you’re too modest,” he whispered, hand resting against your thigh, slowly creeping in between them, “what’s on your mind pretty?
“nothing,” you lied. you is what you wanted to say, but mark doesn’t need an unnecessary ego boost, and you don’t need any comments about how he plagues your mind.
mark hummed in response, leaning back against the seat even more and spreading his legs slightly.
you looked out of your periphial to glance at his thighs, god how toned they were.
you miss how he would wear jeans and let you grind against him with your bare cunt. fuck, it made you want to cum in your panties just thinking about it.
mark cleared his throat, causing you to snap out of your thoughts and look at him.
a smirk played upon his lips as his hand came to pull you in by your neck, "couldn't be more obvious with your staring. i'd ask you to share your thoughts, but i already know what was going through your dirty little mind."
biting your bottom lip, you tried to feign innocence despite knowing it wouldn't work-- you were already caught.
"don't know what you mean," untangling yourself from his grip, you rested your head against the window and watched the city as you drove by, "let's keep our hands to ourselves for the rest of the ride."
mark didn't say anything, opting to rest his elbow on your lab and head against the seat for the remainder of the uber.
it felt like the longest seven minutes of your life before the car came to a complete stop in front of his apartment building.
after giving the uber driver a thank you and closing the door, mark led you inside his building that you remembered all too well. you waited at the elevator, nerves building up to create an uncomfortable knot in your stomach.
this was all. . . so familiar. it was unsettling, remembering all the things you would return here with marka fter a night out. or how he would wait at the elevator for you when you had one of your girls nights with giselle.
you really missed him, is what you realized. if this fucking elevator could hurry up, that would make things so much easier for you to get up there and fuck him so you can be on your merry way.
the 'ding' of the elevator snapped you out of your trip down memory lane, mark grabbing your hand and pulling you in.
his arm wrapped around your waist as he pressed the button for floor six. fingers gently drumming against your ribcage as the elevator went floor by floor until it reached his.
he let you step out first, before leading you down the hallway back to his door. as if you could ever forget where he stayed. apartment 665, always making a joke about how he should move over one more to make it 666.
he was awfully quiet, you noticed. you weren't sure why though, it was a bit unlike mark to be this silent for this long.
you decided to shrug it off as he unlocked the door and you stepped into the threshold of his apartment.
nothing looked different from the last time you've been here, it's like time stood still while you were absent from his life.
"it's not too late to change your mind," mark finally said, looking at you as he placed his keys on his coffee table, "we can just go to bed and you can leave in the morning."
you tilted your head, looking at him in confusion, "what happened to wanting to fuck me to make me nice for the next boy?"
mark shrugged his jacket off, putting it on his coat rack as he pulled you between his thighs, "i just want to make sure you want this as much as i do."
studying his features, you looked at his plush lips that you would spend hours kissing, oh how you missed his kisses.
instead of saying anything else, you leaned in and gently pressed your lips against his. mark wasted no time in kissing you back, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he relished in this moment.
gently biting the bottom of your lip, his fingers dug slightly into your skin as you slowly began to escalate the kiss.
his tongue slid into your mouth, pressing you closer into him which allows for you to feel his defined chest under his white t-shirt.
mark's hands rubbed up and down your sides as the two of you made up, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your pants and allowing for them to stroke your hipbone.
plush lips beginning to kiss across your cheek and down your check, licking and biting little love bites into your skin. you probably should’ve told mark not to do that, but fuck, you missed how he felt on your skin.
your hands began to wonder, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt before sliding under and pressing your fingers against his toned stomach.
mark began pulling up your own shirt, breaking his lips away from your neck to pull it over your head.
he used this chance to sit on the couch and pull you on top of his lap, pushing his hips up so you could feel his growing erection.
skilled hands toyed with the back of your bra, unhooking it with ease and leaning back while you slid it down your arms.
you feel a little nervous the way he’s staring at your boobs, his eyes lingering over piece of skin almost.
maybe you should say something, tease him, but also you’re not sure what he’s thinking. it makes you feel a bit self conscious to be honest.
his hands come up to grab them, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples to harden them before he slowly pinches them to elicit a small noise from you.
“i missed these,” he mumbled, bringing his lips to one of your now perky nipples, “they’re so perfect. so so soft.”
mark once again didnt give you the opportunity to say anything in return, but rather another pretty moan to escape your lips when he sucked your nipple into his mouth.
one of you hands played with the nape of his hair as you pressed your hips down into his. he was so hard beneath you, you couldn’t help but want to grind on him.
a groan escaped him as he continued sucking on your tit, teeth gently grazing it as you moved your hips in a slow, torturous manner.
mark pulled off your boob, quickly going to the other one as his hands firmly gripped your ass to help you move against him.
periodically, he would squeeze your ass roughly causing you high pitched squeal to leave you.
“mark~” you cooed, pulling the ends of his hair roughly to make him look up at you, “please give me more, please. wanna feel it against my pussy, please?”
the brunette’s eyes rolled back when you pulled on his strands, pushing you back against the cushions of the couch as he unbuttoned his jeans hurriedly and pushing them down his thighs.
he kicked the rough material off, pulling his boxers down enough for his heard cock to slap against his stomach.
mark's fingers grabbed the hem of your pants, pulling them down your thighs with care compared to how he undressed himself. his eyes found yours and offered a kind smile as he peeled the fabric off and throwing them on the floor.
"you're so pretty," he mumbled, caressing your thigh before moving himself comfortably in between your legs, "i've missed this so so much."
there was so unspoken between the two of you, but that wasn’t a topic for now.
mark gently pulled your panties down, a small noise escaping his mouth at your pussy that was glistening with arousal.
your cheeks flushed an embarrassing flush as mark continued to pull them down your legs before tossing them into the pile with your other belongings.
"it's been so long," mark whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips before leaning back up, "please let me fuck you."
with how turned on you were, you doubted that you needed any prep from mark. however, you didn't wanna give in right away to him. he had to beg for it a little longer, doesn't he?
"not yet," you smiled evilly up at him, your hand wrapping around the base of his dick as you rubbed the thick head of his cock against your clit.
mark whimpered at the sensation, eyes squeezing shut as you continued to rub his cock against you.
your eyes focused on his dick though, watching as a string of your wetness connected to his tip. you slapped the tip against your pussy a few more times.
biting your lip to suppress a moan, you pushed his cock down to catch on your entrance, watching to see his next move.
mark's eyes were still shut, but he pushed his hips forward to push his cock further into you.
the stretch made you hiss, back arching off the couch as he continued to sink his dick into you.
"fuck," he cursed, his hands coming down to grip your hips, "you're so fuckin' tight, baby."
mark leaned down, kissing your neck and sucking hickeys into your skin as he found a good rhythm, "forgot how good this pussy was."
your fingers dug into his sides, pussy clenching around his dick as he fucked you like he used to, "fuck mark, I missed this. missed you."
his lips continued to travel down your neck, biting down into the skin as he fucked you. whimpers and high pitched moans escaping the two of you.
"fmm, baby," he whispered, biting the shell of your ear softly, "this pussy is so tight for me."
you moaned at his remark, pushing your hips against his to fuck yourself on his dick. his cock was the only thing that could genuinely make you go stupid, no coherent thoughts forming in your mind as he continued to fuck you.
mark whispered sweet praises into your ears, hands moving to push your legs up slightly to fuck you at a deeper angle. your hole fluttered around his dick, your orgasm approaching at any moment with this new angle.
your mind was moving so fast, nothing but mark overtaking your senses and brain as he moved his hips into you.
you could tell he was close when his movements began to falter, thrusts becoming sloppy and faster as he chased his own high.
"please," he whined, looking down at you with doe eyes, "please let me come in you, please let me breed this pussy. please mommy, p-please?"
fuck, you forgot what mark calling your mommy did to you. you nodded your head, still unable to formulate any words as your orgasm took over you.
your toes curling so hard you thought they would break and back arching so deep, that you almost felt relief from the aches you would feel at night.
you nodded weakly, his hands digging his fingers into your skin once more as he released inside of you.
his moans and whines turning into pants of desperation as he came down from the high.
the overstimulation took over your quickly, your hand pushing at mark's abdomen to force him out of you with a wet noise.
"fuck," you exhaled deeply, "why didn't you fuck me like that when we were together?"
mark rolled his eyes, fingers coming to pinch your nipple harshly, "I see somebody still has that fuckin' attitude."
a devilish smile creeped upon your lips, "second time is always the charm, Markie."
"if this is your way of asking me to take you back, I humbly accept."
you scoffed, pushing him away from you further, "you fuckin' wish."
"no baby," he replied, "you'll wish after i finish fucking this bitchy attitude out of you."
"go for it," you bit back, he really knew how to work your nerves!
"give me like. . 15 minutes and I will!" mark winked.
you were in for some shit tonight!
end!
#mark lee hard hours#mark lee x reader#mark lee smut#mark lee imagines#nct dream hard thoughts#nct dream hard hours#nct dream smut#nct dream imagines#nct 127#nct 127 smut#nct 127 imagines
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──☆ ˙🌡 ̟ colds
엔하이픈 | Enhypen | Nishimura Riki
──Pairing: riki x afab!reader
──Genre: fluff
──Synopsis: Your boyfriend Riki gets sick, leaving you to care for him for the day
──Warnings: teeth rotting fluff, Riki without the nonchalant mysterious act
──A/N: SORRY I HAVENT BEEN ACTIVE. I have a few filler posts and then I’ll get back to writing Hallway Crush since I know some of you have been waiting for it
masterlist
You could immediately tell your boyfriend, Riki, was sick the second he stumbled out of him room in the morning. He was pale in the face and looked like he was about to collapse. Way different from when he was exhausted from practicing. After being with him for so long, you noticed more little details in his behavior. This time, he was definitely sick. He made his way to one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter and sat down as if he had been on his feet for hours.
Last night, you had fallen asleep at his apartment while watching a movie. He invited you over for the day since he had been busy recently. By the end of the night, you two ended up watching multiple movies on the couch. When you had fallen asleep, he didn't bother waking you. It was already late at night and he didn't want you going home in the dark. Though, a few hours after you fell asleep, he started feeling unwell and went to sleep in his bedroom. Riki didn't want you to get sick too.
"Are you feeling okay?" You asked gently, handing him his plated breakfast. He reached out with a trembling hand to take the plate.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He said in a groggy and scratchy voice. You shot him a look with raised eyebrows. "I just need to eat before practice." He lied straight to your face. He wasn't a very convincing liar. You already had your answer no matter what excuse he gave to convince you he was okay and healthy.
"You're sick, Riki. Don't lie to me." You stated, reaching into the medicine cabinet for the thermometer. "I'm taking your temperature."
"No. I told you, I'm not-" he coughed mid sentence. "I- I mean I'm-" and he coughed again. After he had recovered from him coughing fit, he slammed his hand on the counter and insisted "I'm not sick!"
You sighed, ignoring his excuses. "Open your mouth." You demanded, holding out the thermometer in front of his face. He looked up at you and furrowed his eyebrows. "Now, Riki." You said sternly. He reluctantly opened his mouth, letting you take his temperature as he crossed his arms angrily. After a few seconds you took the thermometer from him and held it up to reveal the little screen that read 38.3°. You raised your eyebrows and gave him a told-you-so look.
"I feel fine, Y/n." He stated, turning to eat his breakfast. You stood behind him and brushed his hair with your fingers as he ate. When he was done, he picked up his plate and began to stand up but was interrupted by you taking his plate to put in the sink yourself. "I was going to do that. I'm not incapable just because I have a high temperature." He sulked.
"Well now you can preserve energy. Go lay down." you insisted.
"But I have practice-"
"You're sick. Go lay down." you said seriously. Riki stuck out his bottom lip making his mouth form a small pout, your weakness. He knew you would always give in when he acted this way. You couldn't resist how cute he was. But today was different. He was sick and you were very serious about him staying in good health. You scrunched your eyebrows to prove that you were serious. And to show that his antics weren't working on you today.
"But then I'll have to call the boys and cancel practice. It's so much of a hassle and-" He began to complain before being interrupted again.
"I'll text them. Go lay down. Now." You pointed in the direction of his room. He huffed and turned to leave reluctantly. You followed close behind to make sure he actually laid down. Riki's cough only seemed to worsen as you walked him to his room. You assumed his throat was probably sore too. You made a mental note to make him soup and tea.
As Riki pulled the blanket over himself, you sat down beside him at the edge of the bed. You ran your fingers through his hair and looked at him sympathetically.
"How do you feel? And be honest with me this time." You asked with a slight pout. You felt bad for him whenever he wasn't feeling well. He would have to skip practice and stay at his apartment doing nothing. Riki was always very active. He never liked to stay in one place for too long.
"Um... my throat hurts and obviously I have a terrible cough." He explained. "My whole body feels sore too. I feel pretty weak and shaky."
You looked at him like he was a hurt animal. It was awful how he could become this sick in such a short time. Feeling sorry for him wasn’t going to make him better though.
"I'm sorry, my love. Would you like me to get you cough medicine?" You asked him, rubbing his cheek gently. He nodded before coughing again. You frowned and stood up to get medicine for him. You left a quick kiss on his forehead but before you could leave, Riki grabbed your hand.
"Y/nnnnn" He whined, pulling your arms back toward him.
"Yes, Ki?" You asked and placed your free hand over his.
"Can we cuddle?" He asked, trying to subtly pull your arm so you would sit back on the bed with him.
"No, silly. You're sick." You cooed, trying to free yourself from his hold on your arm. Still, he refused to let you go.
"Pleeeeeeeeeease? I'll hold my breath the entire time so you don't get sick." You laughed as he tried to convince you.
"Riki, you're ridiculous."
Of course, he refused to give up, though. "What if I die today?" and his over dramatic antics started. "What if this is your last chance to cuddle with your super hot boyfriend? You're really going to pass up this chance?"
"Yes because I need to be healthy in order to care for your needy ass."
"Come onnnnnn. When was the last time you cuddled with poor old me?"
"Yesterday." You deadpanned.
"Fuck." You start to walk away to get his medicine. "Wow, you really don't love me, do you?"
"If I don't love you, I guess you don't need medicine or soup or tea, huh?" You stop in your tracks and turn back around, crossing your arms over your chest.
"Nooo!" He whined, draping his arm over his face dramatically.
"You're impossible to deal with.” You reply dismissively, shaking your head. “You act like I’m leaving forever. I’m only going to the kitchen. You’ll be fine.”
“But what if your cuddles are the only remedy to my fatal illness!?” He yelled as you walked out of the room, ignoring him with an amused grin.
After a few minutes, you came back into the room holding a tray with soup, tea, and some medicine. You placed it on the nightstand next to him, which was now littered with tissues. Riki happily ate the food you made for him. When he was done eating, his antics picked up again.
“So, since I’ve been cured with your superior cooking, that means we can cuddle now, right?” He asked with a huge smile plastered across his smug face.
“Absolutely not.” You sighed heavily.
“Awww come onnnn” he whined like a child throwing a temper tantrum. He even crossed his arms, which made you laugh. Upon seeing his pouting face once more, your mind had been changed.
“Alright, fine. You win.” You were quick to tackle your boyfriend in a big hug. He let out a quiet “ouch” as you laid on top of him. His grin was quick to return to his face though.
“Does this mean I get a kiss too?” Riki smirked playfully.
“You’re so hard to say no to.” You rolled your eyes before leaning in to connect your lips. The kiss lingered for a longer time than intended. You were always so careful with him. You took care of him no matter what. Riki had a hard time expressing his gratitude through words, so instead he used actions. A meaningful kiss. His gratitude to you.
© strawberrynull, 2024. Do not copy my work. Please DM for permission before translating or reuploading. Thank You
#enhypen#enha#kpop#enhypen fluff#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen angst#enhablr#enha fluff#enha imagines#enha x reader#niki enhypen#enhypen niki#niki#niki fluff#niki imagines#niki x reader#nishimura riki#strawberrynull
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Baby No!
Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Prompt: Reader finds a mug identical to Natasha's favorite mug and starts plotting...
Warnings: Fake tears, broken glass, swearing, kind of mandala effect, karma? (I don't believe in karma, but it's the easiest way to explain it.
A/N: Hey guys! I feel like I haven't made a serious post in forever and I am having some serious writers block with the requests (I'm so super-duper sorry about that) But I always feel like after writing a few pranks, I get into the gist of things again. However, I might be fooling myself this time since I think I have a 2,000-word essay due next week that I haven't started on and a 1,000-word essay possibly 1,500 words due the following week, so yeah. T-T
Also, this was inspired by that one masc lesbian tiktoker named Alaire. They make a bunch of videos reenacting scenes with their girlfriend who has only ever dated men. They always go like "baby no!" when their gf is crying or about to cry lol.
It was just a normal day for you, driving home from buying groceries and you impulsively decided to stop at your local thrift store to see if they had anything new.
They knew you buy name and saved what they thought would interest you because you frequented their shop so much. You literally got first pick on most of the items they had solely because they love you so much.
So, as you stroll in, you smile and wave at the owner who waves back and nods her head to signal that there is new stuff in the back waiting for you to inspect.
You smile and walk right past all of the racks and shelves that you've sifted through a hundred times before, and you walk into the back and wave at Mary, the sorter.
You walk to your section that they labeled and you immediately frown, you spot a mug that you know.
It's Natasha's favorite mug. The mug has cute handle and was the only one that you could ever find. So, you walk over to it and pick it up wondering if it ended up in the box of things that you donated, possibly on accident. Although you could have sworn Nat was using it just the other day.
You roll your eyes picking it up and remembering that you have cold groceries in the car, you decide that you need to go. While taking it to the register, you decide not to mention anything to Kevin, the cashier, because they would probably give it back to you for free and you hate to leave them without buying a single thing.
You pay for the mug and take it home. Once you get back, you quietly wash the mug and go to put it in its usual spot, but you find that the mug is already there. You have a moment where your brain is stuck trying to put the pieces together, but when it clicks that you just bought a duplicate to the unique mug that Natasha loves so dearly, you start plotting.
You smirk and run upstairs knowing that Nat is in training for another hour or so and you quickly grab the fake blood from your period prank with Nat.
You know that Nat will probably come in on the first floor, and you chill in the basement, where Nat has coincidentally found her mug from you forgetting to put it back after stealing it. You check the time and calculate how long you have.
15 minutes... that's enough time for you to glue a fragment of the dupe coffee mug to your hand mostly carefully so you don't actually cut yourself and pour the blood in a way that it is dripping down your arm from your hand.
Once you are sure it looks amazing from every angle, you smirk and set up the camera. Which probably would have been easier to do with two hands but whatever. You like to do things the hard way sometimes.
Natasha comes in and yells out, "Y/n! I'm home!"
You yelp out pretending to be startled by her voice and you drop the mug on the floor.
Natasha hears the familiar crash of shattering ceramic and runs down to check on you saying, "Y/n? Are you alright?"
You fake a worried face and tone, "Yes! I'm fine baby! Just whatever you do, don't come down here!"
She frowns, "I need to make sure you are okay, I'm coming down okay?"
"Baby No!"
It's too late, she is already rushing down the stairs to check on you, the first thing she sees when she scans the room is you cowering in the middle of the floor with shattered ceramic pieces all around you and one big shard in your hand, "Y/n! Oh my god!"
She runs over, careful not to kick any ceramic pieces around, and carefully takes your hand in hers, "What happened detka?"
She looks into your eyes and you make your lip quiver and your eyes fill with tears as she tries to hush you, "No baby, its okay, please don't cry."
You let a few tears slip and say, "but- but you- I-" Your eyes widen as you look down and say, "Nat please don't be mad!"
She furrows her eyebrows reaching in the closet quickly to grab a first aid kit as she sits you on a table to assess your hand.
You frown and rush out, "I was drinking with your mug and then you scared me, and I dropped it and broke your favorite mug!"
She freezes when she realizes exactly what mug you have stabbing into your hand right now, but only briefly. She quickly composes herself and shakes her head, "I don't care baby, mugs are replaceable, you are not."
You quickly smirk at the camera when she looks away but recover when she comes back. She sets up her stuff and stops to look up into your eyes, "Detka? I know this isn't your first rodeo, but this is probably going to hurt like a bitch. I still need you to sit still though, okay?"
You nod your head as she starts to carefully wipe the blood off to try and assess the wound and how many stitches you'll need.
She frowns, "This looks like it should be deeper, but I think it is only superficial. That is a good thing, it means you might not have to go to Bruce, but I'm going to need to take the ceramic shard out before I make any final decisions."
You nod your head, but as she goes to pull it out slowly you yelp and pull your hand away before she can even touch it, "I'm scared! What if I bleed out?"
She shakes her head and holds yours in her hands, "You're not going to bleed out, I promise. If I was worried about that, I would have already taken you to the Med-bay, okay? I just need you to trust me. Take a deep breath, okay?"
You inhale and exhale slowly, and then bring your hand over to hers and nod your head.
When Natasha pulls the cut shard off of your hand though, she sees that it was glued on, and your hand underneath it is completely fine. When you see confusion cross her features, you start giggling, and not long after you are laughing your ass off.
She makes the connection, and her face drops to a glare. "Are you kidding me? I was so concerned about how the hell you even got a piece of ceramic this big into your hand in the first place, and you were just pranking me the whole time?"
You giggle and nod your head, but you forget to tell her about the duplicate mug scenario, so she frowns and says, "Did you seriously break my mug for a prank?"
After thinking about it, you decide to double prank her and nod your head laughing even more, but you realize you crossed the line when she drops down and slowly starts picking up every piece she can, and she starts trying to place them together.
Obviously, this doesn't work, and it crumbles to pieces again, but she sniffs a bit, and you realize the gravity of the situation. You place a hand on her shoulder, and she shrugs you off, so you try to talk to her, "Baby? I'm sorry, okay? I didn't realize it meant that much."
She shakes her head and mumbles out, "My sestra got that mug for me. It was the second thing she ever bought for herself once she got out of the red room, and she gave it to me. She- she's going to be heartbroken when she finds out it's broken. I'm heartbroken that it is broken." She lets a tear fall and then composes herself.
"Wow, I- I never knew, I'm so sorry. Can't we just find one on ebay or something?"
Nat lets out a frustrated huff and stands up and she starts cleaning the glass off the floor as she rants, "No! I can't find one on ebay, don't you think I've tried? Don't you think I know how clumsy and stupid you are, and was trying to be prepared for a situation like this to happen because you never ever listened to me when I told you not to touch my mug, but you're Y/N so you have to break the rules! I just didn't realize that the reason I would need such a duplicate would be because you are so careless and awful that you'd break this!"
Your jaw drops a bit at her rant, and you try to find words as Nat huffs and starts calming her breathing. You are a little hurt by her words which, on one side, you don't have a right to be hurt because you are the one that wanted to do a prank, but on the other hand, Nat just admitted that she never initially trusted you with her mug which really hurts. "I- I don't know what to say..."
Nat sighs and mumbles, "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I am just frustrated and I-"
You put your hand up to stop her and move to open a drawer and grab the original mug. You hold it in your hands, "I found a mug that looked exactly like yours at the thrift store today. I thought it would be some harmless fun to smash the duplicate one and prank you, but I'm realizing that I may have taken it too far."
You try to not let the fact that you are incredibly hurt show, but you are not the black widow or anything, so you just start on your own rant. "I know it was heartless and cruel of me to play this kind of prank on you. In my defense you never told me the story behind the mug, so I didn't realize how much it meant to you. Now... I am very sorry that I broke the duplicate on purpose, but here is your precious mug that you clearly don't trust my clumsy ass with. And most of all, I'm sorry that you never trusted me enough with it in the first place, so much so, that you thought you had to find it online so that I wouldn't hurt your precious mug."
You softly, but firmly, push the original mug into Natasha's hand and step back. You turn to go upstairs and inevitably lock yourself in the bathroom or something, but Nat says, "Y/n wait! I- I didn't mean it, I was just angry, okay? People say things that they don't mean when they get angry."
You huff and turn around and hold up your pointer finger, "No Natasha, you’re lying to me, want to know how I know that you are lying? Natasha Romanoff does not say hurtful things when she gets angry. Maybe I do, maybe Yelena and Tony and Steve and Alexie and so many others do, but not Natasha. No..."
You pause and start using every name in the book you can come up with, "Natalie Rushman stays calm and collected when she is angry, Fanny Longbottom takes a step back and thinks before she speaks, Natalia Romanova is calculative and smooth with her words. So, no... Do not tell me that MY Natalia Alianovna Romanova has suddenly had a change of heart, and suddenly starts spewing nonsense that she doesn't mean when she is angry, because that is a lie. The Nat I know, has more self-control than anyone on this earth, the Talia I know does not say something that she doesn't mean unless she knows I will catch her joke or understand her sarcasm, the Natty I know doesn't lie for things like this. So don't go and say something just to make me feel better after you spoke your truth, even if it did hurt my feelings..."
You take a deep breath and look deep into her eyes, "And before you say it, I know I have no right to be hurt over how you felt when I broke your mug, but you and I both know it goes so much deeper than just a mug. I get why you were angry and frustrated, I really do, and I understand why you said those hurtful things, you had every right to do it. Those hurtful things were at least truthful, I just wish you didn't feel the need to lie to save my peace. I wish you'd have told me that you didn't trust me with something that meant so much to you. It probably would have saved a lot of hurt."
She opens and closes her mouth to try and come up with something. Anything. She sighs eventually and nods her head, “you’re right. I should have just told you, it’s no excuse but I thought it would be better if I kept it a secret, but now I see that I was wrong. I'm sorry baby."
You hum and say, "Honestly, I'd have done the same thing. So, sorry for getting all pissy about it, you were just trying to look out for me, but unfortunately it was a lose-lose situation for the both of us." Thankfully, your ADHD brain jumps topics swiftly when there is an awkward pause, and you say, "I'm hungry. Are you hungry? Let's make dinner!"
You both go upstairs and start cooking y'alls dinner and live happily ever after. ;)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Hey guys, so this has been in my drafts for a few weeks now, and I am just really trying to get it out to y'all, so it is super rushed at the end. I honestly don't even remember where I was going with it, but I had enough to bullshit it. I hope y'all like it!
Also, I am going to stop writing for a while, I think college is really catching up to me, and honestly, I am only apologizing to the people who I promised I'd write their fics. I really got in over my head and I am so so sorry. If I end up writing those fics, it is definitely going to be a surprise for the both of us. I might write a few things every now and then, or if your request can be shortened then I might do that. BUT that is only if I am inspired to write. Once again, I do apologize for breaking a promise, but I have to prioritize myself and I can't apologize for that.
Also Also, I have not been super active on tumblr recently, so if I don't reply or I am not interacting with your posts as I usually would, I am okay, and I pinky promise I am not going to do anything concerning. Maybe I break my normal promises, but you best believe I hold true to my pinky promises.
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Taglist
@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish @justarandomreaderxoxo @lovelyy-moonlight @symp4nat @ale-estrabao @mrsrushman @kkreader78o @cheekysnake
#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#marvel#black widow#mcu#fanfiction#avengers#natasha x reader#fanfic#prank
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i beg you don't embarrass me, motherfucker - mv1
that's that me espresso || part five
previous part || next part
pairing: max verstappen x ofc!piastri
summary: oscar’s older sister is a singer, who’s taylor swift’s opening act for the eras tour. she goes to a few races on her break. she meets max; who thinks about her every night now. much to oscar’s annoyance.
author's note: it's very dialogue heavy towards the end, but it's a videocall and idk how to write that any differently. i also don't really know where i'm going with this whole fic, but i'm having fun writing it. it's like a little break from other fics i'm working on. more serious ones, maybe? idk. hope you enoy x
face claim: sabrina carpenter
Ivy hurriedly got out of the car. She rushed towards Max, who was still standing in front of the building with his arms crossed over his chest. The expression on his face was hard to read.
"Max," Ivy breathed out in front of him. She tried to smile, but her face trembled as she stood in front of him.
The media had really put her through it with her relationships before. But she never cared before. She wouldn't let the media ruin what she was trying to build with Max. She couldn't let them do that.
"I know how cliché this sounds, but it's really not what it looks like!"
Max frowned as he looked from Ivy to Daniel. Daniel was standing just a few meters away from them, by the side of his car. Ready to jump in the car and speed off should the situation demand it.
"Can you please look at me?" Ivy grabbed Max's hands. She smiled, "I came to surprise you."
"Consider me surprised," he muttered.
Ivy looked at him with an unimpressed look on her face. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine. Be like that. Don't hear me out then. Trust me, I have no problem getting back in Daniel's car and have him drive me straight back to Nice airport."
Ivy saw the way Max visibly deflated at those words. His arms dropped from the cross over his chest to the side of his body. He nodded, silently telling Ivy to continue. She looked around, they were still outside.
"First, we're going back to yours."
She turned on her heel to grab her suitcase from Daniel. She gave him a hug and thanked him for picking her up from the airport. She wheeled the suitcase behind her and dropped it in Max's hands before strutting towards his car.
Daniel laughed at the whole ordeal. It was a funny sight: Ivy, standing with her arms crossed next to the passenger side of Max's car and Max fumbling with his car keys to open the booth. Daniel waved at the pair when they finally drove off.
They drove in silence to Max's flat. They also rode the lift up in silence. Max opened the door for her, watching as she walked in. He trailed behind with her suitcase in hand.
Ivy sat down on the couch and patted the space next to her. She waited for Max to sit down next to her before she turned her body towards him.
"I don't know what you saw online, but I didn't fly all the way from Australia for you to just jump to conclusions about me and Daniel. I thought you knew me better than that. And if not me, at least Daniel."
Max stayed quiet as he looked down at his feet. She was right. He knew she was right. Yet, when he had seen those pictures online of Daniel and Ivy he couldn't help but jump to conclusions.
He released a long breath before looking at the gorgeous girl sitting next to him, "I'm sorry. I got so insecure when I saw you with Daniel. I know he's a lot better looking than I am and-,"
Before he knew it, Ivy had wrapped her arms around him. She placed a soft kiss on his cheek with a smile on her face.
"Don't ever say that again, okay?" Ivy firmly shook her head. "It's you I want. Not Daniel, okay?"
Max nodded, "okay."
Ivy grinned, "now, I've come to meet your fur children. Where are they?"
The Dutchman laughed as he stood up. He motioned for Ivy to follow him so he could introduce her to his cats.
Later that evening, Ivy was sitting on Max's couch. She had just showered and had changed into one of his hoodies. One she'd been wearing she he tactically left it for her at Daniel's farm weeks ago. Max was in the kitchen, preparing dinner for the two of them.
She had her phone in her hand, Oscar's face filling the screen. "It was just a misunderstanding."
Oscar didn't seem convinced on the other end of the line, "you sure? I can ditch the MTC now and be there in three hours to kick his arse."
The older Piastri sibling rolled her eyes, "I'm older than you, remember? I think if anything, I should look after you."
It was now Oscar's turn to roll his eyes, "I'm always going to look after you. Especially after you know."
"I know."
Ivy gasped when she felt something jump up on the couch next to her. She turned her head to find one of Max's cats curling up to the side of her. She smiled as she started stroking the cat. She turned back to Oscar.
"Where are you going?"
Oscar looked rather smart for a quiet night in. Ivy watched him rummage around in his apartment. He appeared back in the screen, "just dinner with Lando," he mumbled as he put his watch on.
The singer grinned, "why you all dressed up for dinner with Lando?"
"Please, Vee," he groaned, "we're friends. And it's a fancy restaurant."
"Hm, the blush on your face says something different. And I've seen the heart eyes you make at him. The whole internet has."
Oscar cleared his throat, "right I think you of all people should know not to believe the internet." He looked at her with his eyebrows raised. "Anyway, I'm leaving now."
Ivy heard footsteps approaching, which must mean Max finished cooking. "Okay, love you. Say hi to Lily and Lando for me." She laughed as Oscar groaned again.
"Okay, bye. Love you."
Max sat down on the couch with Ivy. He handed her a bowl of pasta, keepig one for himself. "What was that about?"
The singer shook her head with a smile on her face, "I'll explain at some point." They ate in silence for a while with the TV playing in the background, the Dutch version of First Dates playing. Ivy turned to Max, "can I show you a song I wrote after dinner?"
The driver's eyes widened, "of course! I'd be honoured."
Ivy grinned, "it's called Espresso."
part six coming soon
taglist: @mastermindbaby @charlesgirl16 @a-beaverhausen @shelbyteller @anilovessadbooks
#divider by cafekitsune#f1 fic#f1tales#max verstappen fanfic#f1 fanfic#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen#max verstappen x ofc#max verstappen x reader
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NFWMB - PART FIVE*
Summary: “Y/N hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what happened, but it seems like she is not the only one overthinking this time…”
Tropes: innocent!reader x boxer!harry
Wc: 3k
Warnings: smutty scenes, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, teeny tiny bit of angst ig
A/N: I AM BACK! I finished my exams today and I hurried home to write the rest of this chapter bc I have been itching to do so for the past weeks. I will try not to put as much time in between the next chapters, sorry about that! Love you all and enjoy!!!
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It had been three days. Three entire days since the kissing-in-the-car debacle that Y/N had participated in, and she still wasn't over it. How was she supposed to act normal at their class tomorrow? It had plagued her mind ever since she walked into her apartment that Saturday night.
All weekend, she had been contemplating different things. Saturday and Sunday, she was sure she wanted to never see his face again because she couldn't stand the embarrassment. But when Monday rolled around and re-thought everything after coming back from work, she realized that she should probably be mature and talk to him.
However, that resulted into her pacing around her room like a maniac with the phone in her hand, his number ready to dial. For the past twenty minutes she had been trying to convince herself to just press that call button and get it over with.
"C'mon..." Y/N growled to herself. She stopped in her tracks, took a deep breath, and finally called him. Her hands were sweating as the dial tone sounded over and over again, and the nerves she felt were sure to explode her stomach, but she kept breathing and waited for Harry to pick up.
The distant sound of a phone ringing took Y/N’s attention away from her own attempted call. Her heart began beating even faster as she walked towards her front door, and sure enough, when looking through her peephole, she saw Harry standing in front of her door.
As she took the lock off, Y/N broke up the call and putting her phone in her pocket. Harry's eyes were wide at the door opening all of a sudden, but he still managed to muster an awkward smile amidst his shock before he greeted her.
"Hi." He said quietly.
"Hi." She greeted back, unsure of what to do or say or feel. "uhm, what are you doing here?"
The question came out so soft, as if she was scared to ask it, not ready for the consequences his answer may bear. Maybe it was true; she had always had the feeling that her body was better at communicating her true feelings than her brain was.
"I need to talk to you." Harry said, his tone serious enough for Y/N's chest to start pressing on her, but a soft edge to it nonetheless. "Can I come in?"
She nodded, opening the door wider and letting Harry inside her apartment. He walked in and silently observed the place. Y/N felt oddly tense as she waited for him to take it all in, but he was quite quick to turn around. In the seconds that he stood there, entirely quiet, Y/N deduced the obvious: he was awaiting some instructions from her.
"Go sit on the couch, do you want something to drink?" She asked, already heading for the kitchen. Harry sat down like she told him to, but shook his head.
"No thank you, just wanna talk. Can you... sit down?" His difficulty to meet her eye and the apprehension behind his words had Y/N immediately head for the couch and sit down next to him.
"What did you want to talk about?" She asked innocently, like she wasn’t the reason this awkwardness existed in the first place.
"About last Saturday." He answered. You began to shake your head, cheeks already reddening from the shame that washed over you.
"Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"Just— hold on," He interrupted her. "I said something, that night, I can't help but think that you didn't take it how I meant it. And it has been eating at me all weekend because I'd hate to be the fool who accidentally rejected you."
Harry's eyes bored into Y/N's until she couldn't take the intensity of it anymore and looked down. He leaned forward, putting his hand on her leg. She studied his fingers as they slowly caressed her skin.
"Harry, it's okay. I misinterpreted it, you don't have to make excuses to make me feel better." She shrugged her shoulders, hoping to prematurely dodge any bullets that might have ended up with her crying otherwise.
"I'm not!" He protested. "I— Y/N, look at me."
When she didn't instantly comply, Harry's fingers traced up to her chin and redirected her face towards him, forcing her to meet his gaze. His thumb slowly stroked her chin as he took in every inch of her face.
"I wanted it." He said slowly, making sure she heard every word he says. Slowly leaning in, he added: "Really bad."
His lips hovered near hers, so close it was nearly sending her into a frenzy, but far away enough for him to assess her reaction on his movements. But Y/N was an open book, a reactive person when it came to these desires. She couldn't feign disinterest as she had never felt this strongly about someone in such a perverted manner before. Harry mouth slowly curled up into a smirk.
"Can I show you how badly I wanted it?" He asked, the heat of his breath reaching her face and making her core pulsate. The only thing Y/N could do was nod, and before she knew it, Harry's lips closed in on hers.
A soft whine escaped her throat as he kissed her, the desperation of her body unshielded under his roughly delicate touch. Nothing seemed to make sense as he slowly slipped his tongue into her mouth and pushed her back on the couch, nothing but him.
Harry leaned forward, not taking his mouth off Y/N as she sat against the armrest. He hovered over her, his body between her spread legs. One of his hands was holding onto her waist, while the other one kept him up by holding onto the armrest.
As their tongues danced around each other, Harry's hand slipped down from her waist towards her inner thighs, and Y/N felt her panties getting wet at the suggestive caresses of her skin. She put her hands on Harry's shoulders and pushed him back a little bit, their lips now apart. Still caught up in the heat of the moment, Harry mindlessly trailed his kisses down her jaw and then onto her neck.
"Harry." Y/N tried to get his attention, but his name sounded more like an erotic plea, and caused a growl to sound from his lips, followed by a rougher treatment on her neck. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as his lips sucked at that sensitive skin of her, and a small whine fell from her as he bruised her neck.
"Ha— hmm... Harry!" She exclaimed. "S— stop."
Within a millisecond, or at least it felt like that, Harry's hands and mouth were removed from her. His face was filled with worry as he took in hers.
"Are you okay? Did I go too far?" He began asking, but she was quick to shake her head.
"No! It's just— I haven't really, done much of this before. I don't have a lot of experience and uhm, I just wanted you to know that before we... proceeded." Y/N explained, voice near trembling as she spoke. Harry's eyes softened, and his face pulled into a soft smile.
"Thank you for telling me." He said, leaning forward and giving her a kiss before pulling back, sitting up straight. "I just have one question, though."
Y/N nodded, big doe eyes staring right at him as that innocent smile transformed into a smug grin.
"Can I show you what I actually wanted to do last Saturday?" He asked, stroking her already spread legs. Before she knew it, the answer fell from Y/N's lips.
"Yes."
He let out a satisfied hum before his hands grabbed at her shorts and pulled them down along with her underwear, leaving her bare cunt to be exposed to him. Y/N blushed, feeling slightly embarrassed at how exposed she was, but the fascination that twinkled in Harry's eyes washed most of her insecurities away. She watched carefully as he leaned down and his fingers began stroking her folds.
Y/N held her breath in anticipation, curiously waiting for Harry to continue, and when he finally put his hands on her clit, she couldn't help but shift in her seat a bit at the tingling sensation.
"O— oh!" She shrieked when she felt Harry's tongue attached itself to her clit, his middle finger now paying more attention to slowly beginning to slide in and out of her. Y/N tried to control her breathing to the best of her abilities as Harry explored her sopping and pulsating core.
Y/N's mind had gone all fuzzy from the sweet feeling of his touch on her sensitive parts. It was impossible to focus on anything else than Harry, and even if it was, she wouldn't dare take her eyes off of him anyway. It was addictive, the way he was ravishing her like she was a culinary meal, and it felt glorying.
Harry temporarily removed his mouth from her heat, and looked up at Y/N before saying: "C'mon, angel. Tell me how it feels."
Her heart skipped a beat at the nickname she'd grown to love ever since the first time he said it, and she tried to control her whines as she responded.
"So— ah! So good..." She managed to reply, her knuckles turning white from balling up her fists in an attempt to not come too early. Harry's tongue swept over her clit in such an intoxicating way, and his now two fingers pumping in and out of her was only getting her closer to her inevitable climax.
Harry moaned at her verbal approval, and picked up the pace of both his mouth and his fingers, leaving her nothing but a whimpering mess under him. This was surely going to be the death of her, wasn’t it?
"Harry— I think I'm going to..." She ran out of breath before she could finish your sentence, and she began convulsing around him, legs trembling as her orgasm began to reach her like a wave building up. And then just like that, it crashed.
With a cry of his name and a few profanities that followed, the sensual waves of her release hit Y/N. The release was slow and long, and one of the most satisfying ones she'd ever had. Harry's touch stayed on her skin, helping her ride out her high.
When he finally backed away, Y/N was still breathing heavily from what she had just experienced. Wide eyed, she observed how he licked his lips before he looked up at her. She could've come again from the sight of that alone.
"D'you want some water?" Harry suddenly asked, getting up from the couch and walking over to your kitchen. She followed him with her eyes, mouth agape as he went through her kitchen cabinets until he stumbled upon two glasses and filled them with water. As he returned to the couch, he raised a brow, indicating that he was still waiting on an answer.
"Uhm, yes, thank you." Y/N stumbled as he handed her the glass. She took a few sips, scanning him while she drank. He was so casual all of a sudden, leaning back against the couch with his legs spread like that... there was something cocky about it and Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted to roll her eyes at it or jump his bones.
Possibly both, at the same time.
Y/N put her glass down and slowly crawled over to Harry, who sniffed a laugh at her wobbly movements on the way too squishy couch. She hoped it would at least come off as cute, now that her attempt at being sexy had been trampled by her own furniture.
As the laughter from both parties died down, Y/N took it upon herself to slowly start kissing Harry's neck. Her heartbeat rose when she felt him shifting in his seat, a pained sigh escaping his throat. Meticulously, she dragged her hand down his chest until it reached his pants, and she began unbuckling his belt.
She was surprised when she felt his hand pull hers away, and stopped her actions to see what was going on. When she saw his clenched jaw, she frowned.
"Are you okay?"
"You don't have to do that angel." He said, tilting his head a bit. She slowly shook her head.
"Oh, alright." She said, and felt a pang in her chest at the idea that she could've done something wrong. Harry took both of her hands, cupping his over them.
"I’d like to save it for next time." He suggested, the slight raise of his brow adding a certain playfulness to his reply. The hint of a smile on his face filled her with a warm feeling, and she quickly found herself nodding at what Harry had said.
“Plus, I have to get my beauty rest… I’ve got a long day tomorrow. I teach this private self-defense class, client’s got me working till late.” He joked, eyes beaming when a giggle fell from her lips. Y/N took her bottom lip between her teeth, stomach fluttering as she took in the painfully beautiful, funny, charismatic man in front—or well, under her.
“Really? Is she any good?” She teased back, brows raising in surprise when Harry nodded.
“Difficult to teach tho.” He responded.
“Why’s that?” Y/N questioned, genuine curiosity dripping from her tone. Harry took his eyes off her and shamelessly lowered his gaze to her body as his hands, that had dug into her waist, slowly began to trail down to her ass.
“‘S just so hard to concentrate…” He said lowly, and she felt her core heating up again at the sole sound of Harry’s voice. Her cheeks flushed alike at what he was implying, and she felt like an animal with the way her body reacted to him.
Y/N remained as quiet as she could, savoring Harry’s touch on her bare skin. She would have closed her eyes, had she not been too mesmerized by her face to do so.
Nerves swirled in her stomach as she watched Harry’s stare trail upwards again, only to stop at her lips. Gradually, he leaned forward, closing the gap between the two’s mouths. Y/N couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her when Harry put his lips on her again, and much like the touch of his hands on her, she relished in the way his tongue circled around hers, and she was surprised at how well their bodies captured the connection that she had been unable to explain in words.
It was safe to say that Y/N was disappointed when at last Harry pulled away, but she couldn’t be mad at him, not with that face of his.
Her eyes widened when he got up all of a sudden, hands still holding up her thighs in the few moments before she wrapped them tightly around him in response to the sudden movement. He sniffed a laugh, which Y/N was only able to hear because her arms were locked around Harry’s neck and her face was only a few centimeters away from his. The urge to smile almost prevailed over her shock.
Harry’s hands let go of Y/N’s thighs, and she lowered her legs in response, putting her feet on the ground again and removing herself from his touch completely.
As they walked towards the front door, Y/N found herself to be a bit gloomy. She didn’t want him to leave, he was so fun to be around. He made her not worry, which was a miracle because Y/N always worried. And she knew she’d go back to worrying and overthinking the second she’d be alone again, so the prospect of Harry going away was not the most fun. She had to remind herself that she’d see him tomorrow, though.
Y/N opened the door, waiting as Harry put on his coat. When he finally had, he turned to her one last time.
“Sleep tight, angel.” He said, and with that, walked right out the door. Y/N croaked out a weak ‘bye’, but she was pretty sure she’d heard the elevator ding by then.
It took her a minute to recover physically before turning off her lights in the living room and floating towards her bathroom, where she smiled like an idiot all the way through brushing her teeth.
It wasn’t until her head hit the pillow that what she dreaded came along again: that tiresome worry. Thoughts and scenarios filled her head as she lied in bed, watching the ceiling as if it would grant her answers, or peace.
It was as if, with Harry, nothing else truly mattered. Not necessarily in the corny, dramatic way, but rather in the sense that it felt like the outside world wasn’t that much of a factor in Y/N’s decisions, nor did she have the feeling that it should be whenever she was around him. But when he was gone, it would all start to matter again and suddenly she found herself doubting whether dating Harry would even be a good idea.
What would her parents think? What would Sophie think? Would she be viewed as less professional by her co-workers for dating her trainer? Would it impact Harry’s reputation—
She stopped herself. Probably not, considering Harry was a man.
It was with a frown that Y/N eventually dozed off into a deep slumber. Not even in her dreams she was safe from the anxiety that plagued her, a nightmare about being fired stirring her awake at around four in the morning. She was more exhausted when she woke up than when she went to bed.
But despite all of it, her body still buzzed in anticipation of tonight’s class…
Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno @inkedskin @fangirl509east @mellamolayla @lizsogolden @prettydelilah @kierramcduffie @harry2121 @babegoals @hermionelove @bitchidontpost @lomlolivia
#harry styles#writing#fanfic#fanfiction#blurb#harry#one direction#one shot#smut#excerpt#harryedwardstyles#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry edward styles
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the dnf club (vol. 5)
nico hulkenberg
tags: smut/pwp, brazil gp '24, secret relationship, mechanic!reader, rough sex, dom/sub dynamic, oral sex (nico receives)
a/n: this is my first time writing nico! i'm a little nervous, but i hope ya'll love it!
carlos edition // franco edition // alex edition // lance edition
you could feel nico's hungry gaze when he stepped into the paddock. this man stood at six feet tall, it could be a little intimidating. you knew the best course of action would've been to make a hasty escape and out of his field of vision.
but something quivered in you when he gave you another glance before his attention was pulled elsewhere. it lingered on you, in a way that made you stomach twist. while the dnf was not your fault, nico had every intention to pin it on you and you alone. that you'd need to correct your misdoing.
"how is my, prinzessin?" he said when he finally got you alone. a strong arm wrapped around your middle, "you promised me something before the race, didn't you? that you'd make me a winner." he leaned in further towards you, his weight pressed you into yourself, "guess that didn't happen."
you looked up at nico as he sat on the edge of the expensive hotel bed. his hand in your hair and down the side of your face. you squirmed. he was fully clothed, the haas logo across his chest. you on the other hand were stripped of your clothes. the kit you wore when you were out of your mechanics clothes.
while the haas logo wasn't across your pretty chest, nico's dark hickies littered the skin instead. when he got your naked, he left enough bruises to remind you exactly who you worked for. you were hired to make him win and he guessed he just had to get you into peak shape.
"i'm sorry you didn't win, sir." and to do that, meant a familiar game of dominant and submissive, "i'll do better next time." you shifted on your knees a little before he took you by the face. you looked up at him. there was something strong and domineering about him. it was almost scary. it made something comb through you as he roughly patted your cheek.
"see, this is what i like to hear. you behaving." the power dynamic was undeniable. he had power over you and you knew that you fell right into it.
he got his cock out of his jeans and you dutifully went in and touched it with your lips. soon your mouth was fully on it with his hand in your hair. most would feel a sense of defeat when faced with a dnf. but not nico. nico was more than happy to get the frustration out on you, his cock ruin you for an evening.
you were a good girl and took his entire length as best as you could. you didn't like silly things like you gag reflex get in the way of pleasuring him. making him feel good. he tugged at your hair and curled over you to admire how you choked down on his cock. that was why you two made such a good team, you were nico's little stress toy. anytime he felt the pressure of racing, he had a soft cunt to bully his cock into. he knew he wasn't just having your throat tonight. you taking his cock in your mouth was just a taster for what he truly wanted. to be balls deep inside of you.
"you're perfect." he said, "you have no idea. i know you gave me a little failure, but, i can look over it. i know you were just so stressed that you had a little mishap. but that's okay. i forgive you." he pinched your cheek and you looked up at him. you moaned a little bit as you continued to pleasure him.
you made a small noise and nico pressed your further head further against his cock. your nose in his pubic hair before you continued your heavy thrusts of his cock. you felt the shudder of want through you. you planted your hands on his thighs so you wouldn't be tempted to touch yourself. you felt the thrill of sexual pleasure through you as you continued to move your head up and down on his cock.
"trained you just as i like." he chuckled as he felt the surge of pleasure in his body. it wasn't every day he got oral from such a pretty girl. you always did him so proud, always apologetic when he didn't win. it was cute. but he still wanted more.
"come here, prinzessin." he pulled you away from his cock and up onto his lap. his cock fit into you easily and he thoroughly just rutted against you. the roughness of his jeans rubbed against your naked body, you felt over sensitive as you started to ride him.
your voice caught in your throat as you moved against him.
he admired you on top of him. his hands on your bare ass. he grabbed at you as he met your pace. wasn't the easiest to have sex fully clothed, but it was too late for that now. right now nico was driven by the need to fuck your sweet little cunt. to make you squirm and moan until he finished. get all that aggression out. his little mechanic was also good at making him feel good. where he couldn't get trophies, he could bully your sweet cunt until you were a cute little moaning mess. it was all his, you were all his.
he kissed at your neck, leaving more hickies in his wake. his grip on you tightened as he moved you up and down on his cock. your core yearned for him. you felt the flush of pleasure through your body as he quickly fucked you. no one else could ever fuck you like him.
it didn't help that his cock was heavy and thick, that it stretched you in ways that made you see stars. you loved his rough actions, you loved when it hurt. and most of all you adored when you felt streaks of hot pleasure through to your core.
you look good like this." he said as he bounced you on his cock. he could tell that you were losing momentum. that the pleasure was becoming too much. he pulled you in by your shoulders for a heated kiss as he continued to fuck you.
"my little mechanic." he said when he pulled away and slapped you on the ass. your back arched and you clung to his shoulders tighter. he watched you reach your climax and your noises getting painfully loud.
you tensed up around him and arched your back. you felt the leap in your chest as orgasm wracked through you. he pulled you in for another searing kiss and you worked your self through your climax. you were a determined little thing.
he continued to thrust up into you, fuck the anger out of you. you made sweet noises as reached his own climax. he came inside of you, made sure every drop was inside of you. keep a little reminder of him in you when you worked on his car. that you'd know for next time.
after both of your climaxes. you ended up face first on the bed with your ass slightly up. your heard the shuffle of clothes and eventually you were pressed further into the bed by nico's large body. his cock sticky and hard once more. he rubbed against your back and there was not getting out from under him.
"oh, prinzessin. we're not done. we have a whole night of you correcting your wrongs." <3
#bunny writes#the dnf club#reader insert#formula 1#formula one imagine#f1 smut#formula one smut#formula one fanfiction#f1 x reader#nico hulkenberg#nico hulkenberg x reader#nico hulkenberg smut#nh27#nh27 x reader#nh27 smut
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she's the one | percy jackson
ღ percy jackson x daughter of hypnos! reader ღ warnings: panic attack! i wanted this to be different but i got one while writing it, so so sorry! i will post the others ideas i had though. ღ wc: 608 pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - pt 5
“Can we please go inside? I’m starting to feel like part of the door.” Percy murmured, leaning against the doorframe of his house. His friend paced anxiously around the empty hallway and he couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh, feeling a mix of concern and impatience for her. “We’ve been out here for ten minutes. The sooner we go inside, the sooner you’ll stop feeling-”
“'I'm dying, please” she exclaimed, a note of panic creeping into her voice. Percy watched her friend come to a sudden stop, clutching her chest tightly like she wanted to stop her heart from racing. “Please, I just need a second-”
“Dreamy?” his voice was almost a whisper. Thinking about her having a panic attack overwhelmed him. No, he couldn’t let her go through that. He found himself looking at her a bit longer than usual –easy work– to make sure he was wrong.
“I just… need a second,” she repeated, her breath faster than usual. Percy could feel the tension in the air.
He stepped closer and took her wrists tightly, trying to get her to stop pressing her chest so hard. “Stop doing that, we don't want a broken rib. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise you”
“I don’t know why I’m so worried,” luckily, her breathing slowed down under his touch and she let out a frustrated laugh “she must be just like you.”
It was evident that sleep was taking over her, no matter how much she tried to fight it –after all, it wouldn’t make a good impression on Sally to find her son’s friend asleep at her door.
It was so hard not to, though. Percy radiated a warmth that melted her defenses. The urge to sleep hit her hard whenever she was near him. And she felt so bad about it; what kind of person was always tired around their friend? Beth's words echoed in her ears, loud and clear: ‘The more comfortable we feel with someone, the sleepier we get.’ She hadn't understood it the first time. Nor had she really tried to.
But right there, everything clicked into place. She felt secure. She felt at peace. She felt safe. With her head resting on Percy’s chest and his hands holding her, she felt at home.
He hugged her properly, and she didn’t have the strength to return the embrace; but a soft smile spread across her face as she nestled against his jacket. She let herself be vulnerable, surrendering to the solace he offered.
“Should I take that as a compliment or not? I‘m kinda worried here.” maybe it was a bit selfish, but he couldn't help it; he needed to know what she truly thought of him. The girl’s body felt heavier in his arms, and he was almost fully supporting her full weight.
A bad thing? she thought, how could that be a bad thing? In a world fulled with chaos, he was her safe haven, the one who brought her calm.
"I wish everyone would be like you." she murmured, and with those words, she fell into a deep sleep, her body relaxing completely against him. Percy was left speechless holding her tightly, not able to process what had just happened.
The front door finally opened, revealing Sally with Estelle asleep in her arms. Her face lit up at the sight in front of her. When her eyes met his son’s, he showed no signs of embarrassment at being caught in such a position. Instead, he grinned widely, mouthing a silent ‘It's her,’ in her direction. ‘She's the one’.
well hello! as i said, this didn't go as planned BUT i think we can see more of her feelings now! we're getting closer to something! let me know if you like it!!!!!!!!! also i PROMISE i will try not to make her so anxious next time, it's just that i have anxiety and i can't help but wirite from my perspective; but i will work on that!
#percy jackson#percy jackson x reader#pjo x reader#percy jackson x you#fanfic#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson x y/n#my writing
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YIPPIE! We Unlocked The Snatcher DLC, LET'S GO!
The best way that I can describe this man in this AU is like.....mostly deadpan, with an occasional snarky quip, he kinda just rolls with the flow at this point. He's very much past his prime, and is now just very calmly sitting in the passenger seat while Hat kid rams her scooter into the nearest cement wall.
He is the only real sane voice of reason in the entire kingdom, Which is why Hat always bothers him with all her problems.
Something I can mention w/o having to be vague is the fact that, - yes, in this universe dad snatcher is a thing. It NEVER comes up in the main story, mostly because I decided I wanted it to be a side thing entirely(backstory for the two kingdoms). Hat kid isn't actually aware of this until post-plot, which is when their relationship really starts to blossom.
In the meantime, he's just her super secret lawyer that nobody really knows about.
#ahit#ahit hat kid#ahit au#ahit snatcher#fanart#shout out to my therapist for telling me to write healthy father relationships#never woulda gotten here without her#this is so stupid lol#sorry to anyone reading the tags#also because I forgot to mention#he is still very much a trickster#and a jokester#but like#his cruelty has been knocked down at least 20 flights of stairs#yknow he's post the revenge arc in his story by this time#the only pranks he's pulling are on his kid#they have a very tic for tac relationship except it's playful#i will shut up now#no wait I just thought of a good comparison#think cat owner and cat- hat is a big girl and doesn't wanna be smothered by the father#but he does it anyway because that's his baby#okay now i'm done
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How do we feel about the "Um just so you know the person you reblogged this from is an [insert undesirables category here]"? When it's some random meme or otherwise uncontroversial post, and not some elaborate political opinion post with a bunch of dogwhistles in it.
Because I just got it from a fandom acquaintance/friend and it felt really fucking unsettling.
Aside from the mutuals that I know from fandom and interact with, most of the other content I interact with on Tumblr is more about what it says than about who said it for me. I don't ever pay attention to who wrote what or which other Tumblr users they had beef with or whatever, I just read the post itself and decide if I like what it says or not. If someone posts something I REALLY dislike, I block them and move on, more in the hopes of seeing less of that sort of thing than with the intention of somehow eliminating that specific person. I never pay attention to who my mutuals are reblogging from and if I note that one of them reblogged something featuring a poster who's famously unhinged, I just assume they don't know and move on because I know my mutuals are reasonable people generally speaking. I like the anonymity of Tumblr and the focus on the content of the posts and not on specific people. It's why I hang out here and not on one of the platforms that are all about influencers and the like.
So today I was going through the blogs of a couple of people I don't follow to find a specific post and in the process I saw a fairly uncontroversial post I liked, reblogged it, and moved on. Then less than an hour later I was met with a wall of text in my DMs accusing that poster of having questionable political opinions and describing the beef they had with another person where they threatened them etc. etc.
TBH I felt incredibly uncomfortable with the level of scrutiny implied in paying attention to who I reblog random shit from, as well as the level of presumption in coming to my DMs and lecture me about it. I know nothing about the blogger they were talking about, have never interacted with him, and will probably never even have the opportunity or the desire to interact with him. He wasn't even the AUTHOR of the post, it was just on his profile. It makes me want to never post anything ever again.
I just... don't see the point of this sort of behaviour in general? "You shouldn't be giving [bad people] a platform" - look, I genuinely don't think that reblogging a pretty landscape from someone who turns out to be a TERF or whatever is platforming those beliefs in any way. I'm sorry, but I just don't see how my behaviour leads to any material harm to anyone. Even if I follow the person, the moment they start talking about TERF-y shit I'm gonna unfollow and/or block. The probability of me throwing all my well-developed political opinions down the drain and getting radicalized through the slippery slope of reblogging "CATS ARE SO CUTE WHEN THEY SWAT AT THINGS" from someone with a dogshit take about Palestine is literally zero. If it's the content of the post that's wrong, just explain why to me, or point out the dogwhistles or whatever. I'm open to being wrong in my opinions. I'm not open to my online friends acting like the fucking Stasi.
Maybe I'm just too old for these newfangled social politics but it just feels like either pointless catty high school drama or an attempt at social control that I can't help but interpret in a hostile manner. Even if it's followed by - as it was in my case - something along the lines of "obviously I'm not accusing YOU of anything!! I'm sorry it came off that way!!" when I pushed back against it. It feels like 1950s conservative housewives making sure you're not even greeting any of the town Undesirables at the grocery store, because you wouldn't want to be Morally Tainted by saying Hello to a divorcee!
It's kind of similar to the whole issue about people still writing HP fic. Am I interested in HP fic? TBH not at all - the author had soured it for me with her behaviour even before it was obvious how much she hated trans people. Do I think the people doing it are somehow harming anyone or putting money in JKR's pocket? I honestly can't see how, and so far none of the people adamantly against it have managed to explain it to me in a satisfying way, so I'm just gonna let it slide off me as another random internet hobby I don't get or care about.
--
My reaction is "Do you understand how Tumblr works? Do you?"
We have enough trouble with people reblogging barely-hidden anti-kink or homophobic shit. Who has time for cootie-based problems?
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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.
#Okay so I found this through ao3 and I flipped. I'm too scared to comment on there so I'm going feral here.#OHMYBDCHFUCKFIGN GODTV YOUREW THE PERSOEN YOUREE THE THE TFRWLLE yOURE THE FELLA I KNEW FROM MY THSC PHASE!!!!! YOURE THE ONE WHO WROTE VS!!#(Valiant Souls I mean) OH MY GODSHGDHEAVENS!!! I ADOREW THIS#side note: I think I have an inadvertent fondness of sticks BUT that aside#OH MY GOD KING ORANGE AND PURPLE AND TSC AND RED AND THE REST OF THE COLOR GANG!!!!!#(You can tell who's the favorites from who gets mentioned first.)#YOU DON'T KNOW HOW QUICKLY I SCRAMBLED TO READ THIS FIC AFTER I SEARCHED UP VS ON AO3 REREAD THE CLOSING CHAPTERS OF IT#(Can't believe I was still lurking there to see the tumblr banner change during an important chapters release I liked VS a lot did you know)#I looked at your profile there and flipped when I saw AvA there but why was I surprised I thought. Sticks. Of course. Of course you did.#I LOVE THIS FIC??? I LOVE HOW YOU CAN MAKE ME HATE MY THEORETICAL PAST SELF AND HOW I KNOW I'D BE TOO STUBBORN TO SEE MY OWN DOWNFALL??#YOU POTRAYED THAT FEELING SO WELL?? THE IDEA OF LOOKING AT A MIRROR OF YOUR PAST SELF? *cough* sorry anYway. The idea that even as you con-#convince your past self on why falling into this rabbit hole™ of rage you know you'll fall into is bad but your past self thinks you're-#you're big bad and stupid and does the Thing™ you know will get him into trouble and only hurting others around him in ways he doesn't reali#(I am looking at one person. Hi Mango- no not you King hi King)#Tell Gold I said hi./j#SPEAKING OF GOLD — CALL ME INSANE BUT IT'S FUNNY HOW PURPLE HAS MUCH IN COMMON WITH GOLD BUT NOT (This was mentioned wasn't it?#‘the more differences I find between them the parallels alike them outweigh’ or something of the like. Mango(King) you funny man.)#JXNSDKAJFHSJDJSJDJSJD#Okay sorry but I looked at the cover again.#I still sincerely believe that is NOT a trophy#That looks either like an IV bag (what's it called?) or a hamster bottle or like someone else said — a water bottle. No offense —#I have severe processing issues./hj#I love that charming mistake.#And final note. I think.#Clearly this fic wasn't designed to be visualized with the design for KO/MT I had in mind because an averagely heavy man pinning down some—#some burly mf who's just taking the brunt sounds utterly comedic. (Mango the former King the latter. Of course.)#I adore this fic I came cause I know you for writing good Sticks and what do I come back to? You writing good sticks. I actually love that.#AvA#AvM#King Orange
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I know you already have but can you write more Matt with a humiliation kink please 😋
matt's body trembled whilst his hips met yours, fingers clenching in the sheets as he fought to hold back his nearing orgasm. it had barely been half a minute and he was barely lasting. matt couldn't multitask and the whines slipped out effortlessly. you held onto his waist as he fucked you, trying to fix his sloppy thrusts. he went from going deep and slow to just rutting his hips against yours.
"fucking pathetic" you spat. you put two and two together and figured he was close to cumming. matt looked at you cluelessly, "can't even fuck me for 2 minutes". his cock twitched at your degrading words, he couldn't help but get even more turned on by the mean tone you had. "i'm sorry i-" matt tried. his hips stuttered as he tried to hold on longer. "you should be, what's the point of you having a cock if you can't even fuck me?" you groan
your words sent him over the edge. you winced as he spilled into you, not expecting the fluids so early, and without permission. the waning thrusts finally came to and end "fngh fuck i-" he grunted. your hands smoothed up his back and met his tousled hair. he melted into it at first. then you pulled harshly, shocking him to the core. he let out a whine of pain in return "you might've just set a world record" he looked down in shame, knowing exactly what you meant. "the most pitiful in bed" you degrade. it was humiliating and suppost to make him feel bad but you knew it didn't. all this got him going. you felt the extra drop of cum inside you when you let that last statement air. so much for punishment.
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Hello :) could you do an imagine/story where Ruben and reader have a boy and he is a big momma’s boy like he’s jealous when Ruben kiss reader please (sorry for my bad English btw) if you don’t feel comfortable writing it that’s okay
I LOVE THIS REQUEEEST! 🤭💓🤭💓
Please keep em coming!
10 DAYS OF REQUESTS
(DAY 1)
Ruben Dias - Mommy's Boy
This one is so funny 😭
Enjoy!
Having a six year old boy seemed more of a challenge than having a four - or three year old boy.
Six was the age of discovery. Discovery of how spicy a Portuguese pepper can be when devoured raw. Discovery of how fast a bicycle can travel downhill when you take off the training wheels. Or your son's most recent discovery — How high the swing in the backyard goes before its ropes snap and lunges him across mommy's neatly pruned rose bushes.
"My arm!" Your son cried out, as you and Ruben rushed down the steps to the backyard.
You had witnessed it all from the kitchen window. The last part at least, when the swings ropes snapped and your son's body was thrown across the yard. Before then, Ruben had your back pressed against the refrigerator, his lips tracing ever so gently down the slope of your neck while his rough hands crept up your thighs and under your dress. Nedless to say that your son's cries stopped it all, to your husband's annoyance, of course.
"Help, mommy. It hurts!" Your son cried, as you fought to get him out from the leaves and thornes. He was all bruised up once you did.
"I'll go get the band-aids." Ruben sighed. He returned to the house while you carried your son to the steps leading up to it. Your son cradled in your arms, his dark hair head nuzzling into the pit of your embrace as the two of you settled down.
"Oh, hubby." You cooed. "Why do you always have to get yourself into such trouble? Can't you see how you keep scaring mommy to death."
Your son sniffled in response. "I'm sorry mommy."
"Oh, no. There's nothing to be sorry about. It was all an accident."
"Yeah, right." A voice scolded behind you. Ruben, appearing in the backdoor with the band-aids in his hand. He dropped them in your lap and joined you and your son on the steps.
"Baby, what's gotten into you?" You said, noting the bitterness in Ruben's comment.
"Nothing, nothing." He muttered. "It's just funny that..." He paused to reconsider his words.
"Ruben?" Your narrowed gaze challenge for him to go on.
He shook his head with laughter and disbelief. "I dunno Y/N, but don't you think that it's very coincidental that every time the two of us....well...."
"Well?" You frowned, rocking the sniffling boy in your arms.
Ruben looked to your son, however, not with the same empathy as you. "If I put it this way. Last week, the two of us were in our room, in bed, doing what adults do during late hours, especially after a well played game like mine—."
"Ruben." Heat suddenly flushed to your cheeks. You knew exactly what events of last week that Ruben was referring to. However, it was highly inappropriate to bring up such subjects amongst children. "Your point is?" You emphasized.
"My point is..." Ruben declared. "I barely got to touching you that night before little Romeo here came running into our room with a burning tongue." Ruben's eyes darted at your son, who snickered at the phrase "Little Romeo."
"Honey." You felt obligated to defend your son. "He simply mistook your mom's peppers for a regular Bell one."
"Mistook my ass! What was he even doing roaming around in the kitchen that late at night? And do you remember that time we took the training wheels off his bicycle and he conveniently decided to send it down the hill. Do you remember that time?"
"Yes, Ruben. But what's that got to do with anything?"
Your husband ran a hand through his hair, looking to calm himself down. "All I'm saying is that you wouldn't leave his side after our son got his knees bruised up from his hell ride. Same thing as today. I mean, look at him."
You both tilted your heads to meet the bright beaming eyes of your son, who seemed delighted to be curled up in your arms despite becoming way too big to do so.
"Look, the thornes didn't even manage to cut him up that deep. I bet he just saw us kissing through the window while on the swing and decided to lunge himself off of it."
"Ruben?" You gasped. "Are you telling me that our son injures himself purposely just to get our attention?"
"Your attention." Ruben corrected.
You looked to your son and back to Ruben. "I can't believe you."
"Don't believe me? Fine, I'll prove it." Ruben's hand reached for the nape of your neck, tilting your head with the motion of drawing you towards him. Towards his lips, to be exact. But before his parted mouth could even brush pass your own, your son erupted in an ear shattering wail.
"Told you." Ruben grinned and let go of your neck.
You were perplexed, looking down at your son whose face had gone red from crying. He held up his finger, offering it to you. "It hurts, mommy. Kiss and make it better."
"I—"
Behind you, Ruben was trembling with laughter. "Huh, it seems like I'm competing with my son for my own wife's attention."
"But that...." You regarded them both in confusion. The whole thing utterly absurd.
"Don't worry." Ruben pressed a swift kiss to your cheek and rose from the steps, looking to return the band-aids. He paused in the door. "Our son will grow out of it. In the meantime, I guess he can have you....at least during the day."
The wink of Ruben's eye sent a tickling shiver down your spine. You quickly shook out of it to address your son. "You. Little. Gremlin." He giggled at your choice of words, and so you resorted to torturing him by tickling his belly. "You are such a mommy's boy, aren't you? A mommy's boy, that's what you are."
"Mommy, stop it. I can't breathe." He laughed.
"Oh, no. Not so fast." You continued poking his little belly. It was the least you could do for raising such a menace.
The tickling seized once the two of you were left breathless. By then, your torturing methods shifted to a serenation of kisses. Kisses you thought would annoy your son. Instead, he squirmed beaneth you, each peck of your lips making him errupt in joyous shouts. Perhaps Ruben was right that your sons admiration for you wouldn't last forever. Until then, you were going to enjoy having a little mommy's boy all to yourself.
#fanfiction#football imagine#footballer x reader#footballer imagine#football angst#ruben dias#man city#manchester city#ruben dias x reader#ruben dias imagine#10 days of requests#day1
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If I had a nickel for every time I posted an incorrect quotes dump, I'd have a lot of nickles!
BigB: What if I lied this whole time and I'm actually 18? Mumbo: BigB, stop trying to get drugs. BigB: Don't suppress my interests.
Lizzie: Oh, my God. Do you know what this is? Jimmy: It’s a book. There’s a lot of those in here, this is a library.
Tango: Don’t stay up all night, Ren. Last time you got this sleep-deprived, you tried to eat your own shirt.
Scar: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly. Gem, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.
Etho: Gem has no idea I’m high. Gem: You’re high? Etho: Oh, I’m sorry. Etho, leaning over to Grian: Gem has no idea I’m high.
Martyn: Why don't we just call it, "M.C. Donald's?" Scar: Because it just sounds like a stupid rapper's name. Cleo: It'd just be like- "Eyo, it's ya boy, M.C. Donald!"
Scar: What did you guys get in your yearbook? Grian: 'Prettiest Smile' Joel: 'Nicest Personality' Ren: 'Most likely to start a bar fight' Cleo: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'
Impulse: I don't follow the rules. I follow dogs on social media.
Pearl: So I’m the only one around here who can clean up, huh? You can't even lift a finger? Tango: Do I get to pick the finger?
Jimmy, talking to Impulse: Well Impulse, whenever I’m about to do something, I think ‘would Gem do that?’ and if they would, I do not do that thing. Impulse: … Gem, from the distance: They’re not wrong though!
Pearl: If I can't cause tiny bits of chaos every day, I think my body will shut down.
BigB: Tango, what if there are monsters? Tango: Don’t worry, we’re top of the food chain. Much later… BigB, lying awake at night: I am the monster.
Pearl: If we don’t get out of this alive… If we’re both about to die… I love you, Gem! *Neither of them die* Gem: … Pearl: … Gem: So do you wanna talk about somethi- Pearl: No thank you.
Bdubs: Aww, what's your dog's name? Tango: Spartacus. Bdubs, yelling to Martyn: TRY SPARTACUS! Martyn, on the computer: DIDN'T WORK! Tango: Bdubs: What's your favorite number?
Scott: Don’t say a word. Impulse: Fergalicious. Scott: Impulse, I said no words. Impulse: Oh, I see how it works. Two weeks ago, we’re playing Scrabble, it’s not a word, now suddenly it is a word because it’s convenient for you.
Skizz, writing in their diary with a glitter gel pen: I'm losing my sense of humanity. Nothing matters. God is dead. There's blood on my hands.
Cleo: Who wants to make fifty bucks? Tango: How? Cleo: I need someone to take the fall. Tango: What did you do? Cleo: I can't tell you. Yes or no, no questions asked. Etho, from the other room: Oh my god. Cleo: ... Etho: OH MY GOD! Tango: Make it a hundred. Cleo: Deal.
Mumbo: So jellyshish- Grian, laughing: JELLYSHISH!? Mumbo: You know what I meant!
Cleo: We can't lose. Because we have this. *points to their chest* Skizz: We have heart? Cleo: Heart? No, me. I'm pointing at myself. I'm going to win this for us.
Etho: Do you even have a plan? Tango: This is the plan! I break you out, chaos, destruction, something something something, we win! Etho: Oh, of course, the old “something something something we win”. That’s a terrible plan!
Pearl: Why is it that I always lose things as soon as I need them? Grian: Actually, it's not that you lose things when you need them. You lose them a while before. It's just that you LOOK for things when you need them. Pearl: Okay yeah thanks Grian, that's great but WHERE'S THE FUCKING FIRST AID KIT?
Scar: And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.
#grian#gtws#bdouble0#ethoslab#inthelittlewood#smajor1995#jimmy solidarity#smallishbeans#ldshadowlady#impulsesv#skizzleman#renthedog#bigbstatz#mumbo jumbo#tangotek#geminitay#pearlescentmoon#zombiecleo#trafficblr#incorrect quotes#enjoy💜💜💜
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