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erodasfishtacos · 4 years ago

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Not So Easy

prompt: Harry and Y/N have both had a rough week. Ivy is in the prime of her terrible twos. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.

word count: 6.2k

warnings: swearing, smut, a little angst

AN: Fulfilling this request ***. This is part of the CEO!Harry verse. If you enjoy please like, reblog, and come chat with me about it x

*** <--- click for visuals

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It was a gorgeous, cool Saturday evening and Y/N had been cooped up in the house all week due to nasty rainstorms that lasted the whole week. All of Y/N’s friends had canceled plans for one reason or another. Anne came down with flu and couldn’t visit like she was suppose to.

Harry had an extra awful week at work - which was saying something - and hadn’t been able to let it go. The frustration and irritation he usually was good at leaving at the office at the end of the workday hadn’t been happening.

Ivy was in the midst of her terrible twos and quite frankly it was disaster for all of them.

They decided on one of their favorite restaurants about an hour outside of London near the beautiful, green countryside. ***

It was a family-owned Italian establishment with outside seating on the patio. The tables were filled but Harry always managed to squeeze himself into a non-existent reservation with his charm (and wallet).

When they’re escorted onto the deck, Ivy had Harry hitched up on his hip and wriggles her into her wooden high-chair with little difficulty - she had just woken up from a nap and was in a seemingly okay mood.

Y/N notices a few pairs of eyes watching them from the table close to theirs but decided that she was just being paranoid. And if she brought it up to Harry she knows he’d immediately tell them to fuck off and mind their business.

They get Ivy settled with her favorite little sensory book and her plush baby doll ***, as they look at the menu, “I’m so hungry,” Y/N grumbles, unable to decide what she wants to eat, Ivy literally running her around all day with no time for refueling.

“Me too, y’didn’t let me finish my meal earlier,” Harry murmurs cheekily, looking at his wife over his menu with a raised eyebrow, “Guess I’ll just have to wait for dessert.”

“Baba’s asleep, she was out as soon as her head hit the pillow,” Harry tells his wife, trotting in their bedroom. He’s already stripping the shirt off his head and wriggling his running shorts down his narrow hips.

Y/N’s laying on the bed, too distracted by her romance novel to notice Harry’s actions - well until he yanks at her ankles until her bum skids towards the end of the bed, she lets out a surprise yelp at her husband’s strength.

He plucks the book from her hands and tosses it to the floor with a thump. His hands are hurriedly reaching to pull down her shorts and panties with impatience at having his wife bare before him.

“Someone’s a bit horny,” Y/N teases, raising her hips to let him slide them down before they join the book on the floor. He ducks down to bite at the soft skin of her hip bone, suckling a dark mark there in ownership.

“Have y’seen yourself, pet?” Harry replies lowly, unable to help himself as he dips down and swipes a long, languid lip up her center with no warning. It has her moaning and pushing herself into his mouth.

“We don’t have long, H. Need you in me,” His wife whines, pulling him up by his hair until he’s slipping his tongue right into her mouth, wasting no time to hike her hips up around his waist and pushing in with one strong, directive thrust.

Y/N blushes and darts her eyes back down to the menu, “If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you.”

Harry laughs, eyes wrinkling around the corners, “Y’know even when I’m not good, y’let me.”

It was very very true.

“Oops!” Ivy squeals when her doll falls to the ground. It was one of the new words she’s finally understood in context and it’s unbelievably cute to hear her high, little squeaky voice.

“S’alright, here you go bab,” Harry titters, reaching down to toss it back onto the table for his daughter. She looked so fucking adorable tonight in what Y/N had dressed her in a little Gucci jean jacket with matching jeans. ***

Ivy manages to keep herself pretty occupied until she needs a diaper change. The meals had just arrived, steaming hot and smelling like heaven, but Y/N slings their diaper bag over her shoulder and totes the baby off to the bathroom.

Harry watches them, like the protector he is until they make it to the bathroom safely. He can sense eyes on him (the same group Y/N thought was watching) but unlike his wife, Harry makes eye contact with the table who were staring directly at his wife and then him.

“Can I fuckin’ help you?” Harry asks bluntly, not hesitating to stare down every single person at the table. He didn't want anyone staring at them, staring at Y/N, staring at Ivy. He wanted to enjoy his dinner in peace with his family. He assumed they probably worked for him.

They avert their gaze from the intense man, acting nonchalantly and sipping at their glasses filled with wine as if they weren’t just staring at them. It makes Harry scoff loudly enough so that they can hear it.

When Y/N appears back with Ivy and attempts to plop her back into her seat, her limbs go wiggly and her eyebrow knits with refusal, letting out little kicks, “No mummy, no!”

“Baby, we’ve got to eat now. How ‘bout after we’re done?” Y/N hums in her daughter’s ear, attempting to steady the toddler’s legs to slide into the slots of the chair.

Y/N knew it was going to be a struggle since Y/N told Ivy she couldn’t have the big stuffed animal that was in the gift shop on the way to the bathroom.

“Mummy! Don’t wanna!” Ivy protests loudly, her face pinched with her terrible twos anger as she squirms and twists in her mother’s grip.

“S’okay, give her to me,” Harry tells his wife, taking Ivy in his lap. She smiles with deep dimples up at her father before going to reach her little fingers into his pasta. “No, Ivy. S’hot, it’s goin’ to burn you.”

Ivy pulls her brows together, decidedly not liking what her dad had to say, because she’s reaching out once again. “Ivy, daddy said ‘no’. Be a good girl and listen.”

“Mine.” Oh god, her favorite word at the moment.

“Ivy Elizabeth, s’not yours. S’daddy’s. Mummy ordered you chicken, which she very nicely cut up for you. You need to eat that, lovie,” Harry uses a bit of a firmer voice with the little girl, pulling her plate of cubed of food over.

“Here, bub,” Y/N takes a small piece, bringing it up to her daughter’s full lips. Only to be met with a hand batting it away until it’s being flung limply to the wood floor with a screech.

“No, want that,” Ivy huffs, once again reaching for her father’s steaming plate. She’s nearly close to getting her finger into the burning sauce so Harry has to scoot his chair out a bit so she can’t reach it anymore.

The parents give each other a knowing look because of what is surely about to come. The baby was struggling with being told ‘no’ as of late, as well as claiming nearly everything as ‘mine’. Tantrums were in their prime right now and they thought the pre-dinner nap would have helped.

Spoiler Alert: It doesn’t.

When Ivy realizes she’s no longer able to reach the food, she furrows her brow and pulls back her little fist, hitting at her father’s shoulder. It wasn’t often she tried to hit, likely because most times it landed her on the step for two minutes, but it’s like she knew they couldn’t do that here.

“Ivy,” Harry takes her small hands between his, “We do not hit, do you understand Daddy? S’not nice. If you can’t behave, you’re not getting ice cream before we go home.”

At that point, the little girl would normally calm down a bit and readjust because she really loved ice cream but it didn’t do anything to quell her anger tonight. She shakes her head, curly hair bouncing, before the tears start rolling.

“Should we just get this to go?” Y/N asks, knowing that the whole restaurant doesn’t want to hear the sobbing baby throwing a fit over not being able to dig her hands into her father’s dinner plate.

“Probably best,” Harry grunts when Ivy wriggles and twists in her father’s grip with a frustrated whine, “She’s not goin’ to settle.”

“Down, let me down!” Ivy demands against her father’s grip, like she’s the one running the show.

“Here, give her to me,” Y/N mutters, wrangling the toddler into a tight hold while Harry gets the waiter’s attention to get take away boxes and the check. He’s pulling out his wallet to slide out his black amex and put it on the table.

“Ivy, I’m going to put you down so I can get the diaper bag and your toys. Are you going to stay right next to mummy?” Y/N asks her daughter firmly, making sure her daughter’s little green eyes are meeting hers.

Ivy nods but as soon as her feet hit the solid ground, she lets out a giggle and dashes from beside her mother. She doesn’t get very far because she’s running straight into the legs of another patron and tumbling on her bum.

She’s not at all hurt but takes it as an advantage to throw herself onto the floor, screaming and tears - the whole dramatic show because she’s not getting her way and well....she’s a two year old - that’s all the reason she needs, right?

Harry’s in full dad mode now, “I’ll get her to the car. Y’got this, love?”

Y/N nods, sighing at the loss of their nice dinner as her daughter has all eyes directed on their family - the last thing she wanted to happen. But she just focuses on shoveling the still hot foot into the plastic containers to take home.

“S’enough of that, Ivy. This isn’t how we act, hmm?” Harry hums, pulling his daughter off the floor and into his arms - “What’s gotten into you, bug?”

Ivy sniffles, knuckling at her wet eyes, “Home, daddy.”

“We’re taking you home, don’t you worry,” Harry chuckles, smiling softly when she tucks her head into the crook of his neck, thumb finding her lips. His large palm came to rub at her back and bounce her lightly.

When Y/N finally gets everything together, one of the waitresses - an older woman, stops by the table, “How old is your daughter?”

Y/N smiles, “Just turned two a month ago.”

The grey lady has a kind, knowing grin on her face, “What an age, huh? She looks like a little replica of your husband.”

The girl laughs, they can’t go anywhere without hearing that from someone, “Oh, believe me. They have the same attitude too,” She jokes, slinging the bag over her shoulder.

“I wish you two luck. Two is a very hard age, I have five kids of my own. Just appreciate it, even though the tantrums are a pain in the arse,” She says, patting Y/N on the shoulder before heading back to a table who was waiting on her.

---

Both the parents were frustrated, more so than they usually are with Ivy’s tantrums. They thought she’d simmer down once they’d gotten home but it had just revved up again when she realized she really wasn’t getting any ice cream.

“Shouldn’t have even promised her ice cream in the first place,” Y/N mutters with frustration as they stand near the staircase. Ivy sat on the step for two minutes in timeout, kicking her little feet against the marble.

“Right, because I knew she’d decide to have tantrums all night,” Harry shoots back, matching his wife’s tone. The screaming was echoing through the house, high-pitched and it just made you want to cover your ears from it.

Y/N rolls his eyes at him, motioning towards their daughter, “Well, this is your doing because you reminded her that she wasn’t getting it. You deal with it, I’m going to shower.”

“You’re not doing much to help anyways,” Harry hisses, their voices both low so that their daughter doesn’t hear - not like she would over the screaming match she’s having with herself.

They rarely fought to be honest. This wasn’t even a fight - really. It was hard raising a two year old and they were learning as they went along. The couple was good at communication and working through their problems most of the time.

“I’m not doing much to help?” Y/N asks in disbelief, “Then if I’m no help at all, why don’t you put her down for bed? You don’t need me, obviously.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, his hand gripping the railing with a hard grip, “Don’t go twistin’ my words, that’s not what I said. Now you’re just lookin’ for a fight.”

“Yeah, because on top of a fussy two year old - I want to deal with a childish husband. I’m surprised you're not on the stairs, cryin’ about ice cream too with how you’re acting,” Y/N laughs - the sound crawling under Harry’s skin with irritation at her fake carefree attitude when she’s just as annoyed as him.

“You’re being an even bigger brat than our daughter right now,” Harry tells her, trying to keep his voice at a low volume but it comes out louder than intended. He felt himself straighten up and kept direct eye contact with his wife.

Y/N’s lips form into a tight line before gritting out, “Do not raise your voice at me. We agreed that no matter how frustrated we got we wouldn’t do that in front of our daughter.”

“Then don’t act so immature, ever think of tha’?” Harry bites, hating the he hears his work voice being directed at his wife when he never wants that.

“How am I being immature? You promised her something that she didn’t get, then reminded her that she’s not getting it. I’m allowed to be frustrated with you!” Y/N whisper-shouts, Ivy is now distracted by taking her little shoes off and watching them tumble down the stairs.

“I have so many better things I could be doing right now than stand here and fight with you over our daughter having a stupid tantrum. I’ll be in my office,” Harry replies, because when he doesn’t know what to do and refuses to admit he’s wrong - he falls back to his best excuse, work.

And he automatically regrets it when he sees a flash of hurt cross his wife’s face. Harry wants to swallow back those words and wrap his wife up into a hug. Never wanting to make her feel like his work is worth more of his time.

Deep down, they both know she knows that it’s not the truth but in the midst of the fight it doesn’t sting any less. He opens his mouth to apologize, to tell her that he’d rather put their daughter to bed together any night than be in his office.

But he can tell she’s already past the point of being pissed when she replies calmly, “I’ll put our baby to bed. Go work on whatever is more important than us, Mr. Styles.”

Harry wants to reach out and grab at her arm, tug her into his chest, and murmur in her hair how much he loves her more than anything. He said that because he knows it’s hurtful and it’s his only way to win an argument with her.

However, she’s moving up the stairs, scooping the somewhat calmed down baby into her arms and trudging up without another look at her still brooding husband.

Harry hears Ivy shout back down the stairs, “Daddy, come on!”

He hears his wife tell his daughter, “Daddy’s too busy with work, Ivy. S’just mummy.”

But that has Harry absolutely fuming, storming up the stairs after then, “Do not make it seem like I’m ever too busy for my daughter. That’s completely uncalled for, Y/N.”

Y/N doesn’t turn back to face him, instead keeps walking, and says with a monotone voice, “Oh, but you just said you had better things to be doing than dealing with your family. So go take care of your work, hot shot. I’ll take care of our daughter.”

“Why are you making it seem like I put my work before Ivy? I’ve literally never let that happen and you know that. You’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion because Ivy’s been having tantrums and you can’t put on your big girl pants and deal with them.”

That’s when Y/N spins around on her heel, letting Ivy down and encouraging her to go play in her room for a little before bedtime. Her face is turning red - which rarely happens unless they’re really about to get in an argument.

“Big girl pants? Really, I’m at home dealing with her tantrums twenty-four seven. You get to come home from work and only deal with it half on the time. Do not act like you know how stressful it is to stay at home with a toddler in their terrible twos all day.”

“Do not act like it’s harder than running a multi-billion pound business,” Harry scoffs, his voice becoming lower with frustration with an argument that was going nowhere. He had a cocky lift to his voice that made her want to scream.

“Oh, because it’s so difficult half the time? Last week, you got to go on your private jet to Paris for three days for business aka dinner and golfing while I sat at home alone!” Y/N raises her voice, angry tears forming over her lids.

“Sat in our 35 million pound house with a pool, playground, plenty of shops in town, unlimited money doesn’t sound like a hardship, love,” Harry replies, jaw clenching but his fingers itching to brush the tears away.

“You know what? It’s Sunday tomorrow. I’m going out. You watch her for the whole fucking day and see how easy it is. For now, enjoy the guest room,” Y/N spits out, storming down the hall to Ivy’s room to get her ready for bed.

“With pleasure,” He tells her, retreating back into his office and slamming the door. He wasn’t a fucking inadequate father.

He never put work before his family. He knew it wasn’t easy being at home and as soon as he sat his arse in his leather chair - he realized what a douchebag he was being to his stressed out wife.

Harry didn’t want to sleep in the guest room, he wanted to be spooned up next to his wife, whispering apologies for letting the stress of the week get to him. Remind her what an amazing partner and mum she is to him. How lucky he is.

The issue was - Harry had pride issues. He wasn’t one to admit defeat even when he should. He thrived on challenges so he was eager to show his wife that he’d have no problem taking on his terrible twos daughter.

He sneaks into his daughter’s room after she’s fast asleep in her crib, checking on her to make sure she’s okay before hesitantly entering their bedroom where his wife is fast asleep but a pile of clean clothes for him on the floor tells him she was serious about him sleeping in the guest room.

It was torture, not being able to be in the same bed as his wife. The love of his life. He thought about it multiple times - going in and groveling but his stubborn brain wouldn’t allow it. After such a long week, he was looking forward to sleeping in and his head hit the pillow in no time.

“Rise and shine,” His wife's voice wakes him up, it wasn’t with her normally cheery tone but with the same irritation as the night before. She definitely hadn’t magically forgiven him yet - dammit. Her voice is nearly drowned out by a fussy curly-haired baby.

“Wha’s wrong?” Harry grunts, sitting up to see Ivy still in her pajamas with sheet wrinkles across her face. Skin pink and warm from her nice, peaceful sleep.

However, she decided to wake up today with a massive chip on her shoulder.

“Ivy’s upset because she can’t find her ballerina doll,” Y/N replies.

Harry notices she is already fully dressed *** and made up for the day. “Might want to get up and help her find it. I’m heading out like we agreed on.”

“Fine,” Harry replies with a tight lip, rubbing his eyes as he’s still half asleep. “Y’look pretty.”

“Thanks,” Y/N replies nonchalantly, leaning over to kiss Ivy on the forehead, “I’ll see you later bug, I love you.”

Ivy looks at her mother in betrayal as she leaves Harry to manage their little ball of fury. He tries to tug her in for a big, warm hug but she shrieks and screams at her father, “Ballerina!”

“Ssh, okay. We’ll go look for y’ballerina, dove. No need to yell, s’too early,” Harry grumbles, sitting up and automatically being pulled by the hand off the bed to search for this doll that could be anywhere in this thousands upon thousands of square foot home.

After extensive searches, Harry realizes that he’d left it on the roof of the car when he was tucking her into her carseat last night. The cute little plush doll is now mostly likely roadkill on the country stretch.

“Ivy, y’literally got a whole room dedicated to stuffed animals and dolls. Let’s go pick somethin’ from there, yes?” Harry tries, his daughter’s arms crossed and glaring at Harry like he had just killed her hopes and dreams.

“No! No!” The toddler absolutely wails, plopping her little diaper-clad bum on the ground before kicking her feet against the marble. She had herself worked up until her cheeks were cherry red and tears were staining her shirt.

Harry couldn’t lie - he’d only been watching her for about two hours and he was starting to feel anxiety creep up in his throat over what to do. It wasn’t that he couldn’t parent her, but it was a lot of crying and he hated seeing her upset.

“Why don’t we go eat some breakfast? Does that sound good, lovie?” Harry offers hopefully, having to contain a laugh at how much she looks like him when he’s angry. The little crease between her eyes, the green in her eyes sparkling a little darker than usual.

Her eyes peek up at her father, “Yes, Daddy.”

Harry sighs in relief, scrubbing at hand down his face, taking her into the kitchen, strapping her in the highchair before whipping up some cheesy eggs for her.

When he puts down the plate in front of her, he has to say she’s surprised when she slaps it off the tray and onto the floor, spilling everywhere. “No, want mummy’s breakfast.”

Her father looks at her with a comically bewildered expression before turning on his dad voice, “We do not throw things on the ground. Do you understand me, Ivy Elizabeth?”

Her full little lips are drawn into a tight pout as she tosses her baby fork on the ground to join the still warm eggs in a heap.

“Mummy’s breakfast.”

The scolding goes in one ear and out the other, she doesn’t acknowledge her father but continues on her demands.

He caves after trying to no avail to decipher what ‘mummy’s breakfast’ means.

Ivy threw her eggs on the ground. She’s demanding mummy’s breakfast.

She’s hated eggs for the past two weeks now. Vanilla yogurt with diced strawberries and blueberries in her red baby bowl.

He does as she says, arranges a nice little bowl of yogurt with the fruit. He couldn’t find the red bowl so he substituted for a blue one.

It results in the yogurt also being smacked to the ground.

She threw that on the ground too.

Did you put it in a red bowl?

I couldn’t find it, just put it in a blue bowl

She only wants to eat breakfast out of red bowls right now

Harry groans, he didn’t know his daughter was this difficult about breakfast time. He was usually gone by the time she’d woken up for the day. Y/N usually let him sleep in a bit on the weekends until ten or so.

After digging for the specific red bowl, doing up her breakfast again - Ivy happily begins eating until it drips down her sleep clothes, rubbed all over her cheeks, and it even manages up in her tangled locks.

“S’that just so yummy, Vee?” Harry hums after she’s finished. “Looks like it’s bath time.”

He really should have guessed at this point when she shakes her head and squeaks, “No!”

“Yes, s’bathtime,” Harry says sternly, traipsing upstairs with the wriggling toddler who is doing everything in her power to fight against her father’s hold.

“No, no, no. Ballerina,” Ivy brings it up again, making it a near impossible task for Harry to wrangle her out of her clothes and diaper.

While he’s running the bath, she darts from the bathroom and through the hallways, right towards the grand staircase where the baby gate isn’t closed. Harry really really didn’t want to yell at his daughter but she could seriously get hurt.

“Ivy Elizabeth Styles, if you don’t get your little bum over to Daddy right now, you’re going on the step and y’not having playtime at all,” Harry orders loudly, but breathing a sigh of relief when his daughter skids in her tracks to a halt.

The little girl turns on her heels, eyes wide in fright at her dad’s raised voice - which rarely ever happened unless she really wasn’t listening. She begins to cry but not in her now typical anger-induced haze but in a legitimate sad wail.

His heart aches as his daughter toddles obediently back over to him with her little head hung low in regret, “Daddy, hold me?”

Harry can’t deny her so he scoops her up into the crook of his arm, “M’sorry for yellin’, bug. But y’need to be good for Daddy? You could have gotten really hurt and that would have made Daddy sad, okay?”

Her eyes are watery as she looks up at him, her hand curling around his neck before burying her still yogurt-sticky face into his skin, hiccuping with sad whines, “Sad Daddy.”

“Mhm, now are you going to be nice and get a bath f’me? Y’dirty, bubby,” Harry smiles down at her to brighten back up her mood and it works because her dimples pop out of her cheeks and she flashes her small blocky baby teeth.

Ivy surprisingly does well in the bathtub, allowing her father to get her all cleaned up until she accidentally opens her eyes and gets baby soap in them, it’s another round of tears that cannot be controlled.

Harry totes the sobbing toddler into a cute little Moschino onesie and brings her into their bedroom. He’s so fucking exhausted and it was barely noon. His stress level was near a hundred as he couldn’t keep her from being pissed off for more than twenty minutes at a time.

Luckily, it seems like the screaming and crying for the last how many hours had taken a toll on her because as soon as she sprawled on her stomach on Harry’s chest, she’s out like a light. The cutest small snores coming from her as she smacks her lips together while she dreams.

He gives her a few minutes to fall into a deeper sleep before tiptoeing her into her nursery and laying her very carefully into her crib. She doesn’t wake, just whimpers softly and turns on her side, away from her father.

When he’s sure she’ll be okay, he goes back into their bedroom, and well...he just breathes. He didn’t realize how high his anxiety had been up to this point and his whole morning had been nothing but trying to get his daughter calm. He didn’t even have one moment to think about himself.

It really wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Y/N being a stay at home mum - of course, he did. He already knew how bloody amazing and strong she was as a person, he didn’t need this to prove what he already knew. It was his stubbornness to not decline a challenge and they both knew that was the case.

Y/N really didn’t think that Harry doubted her abilities. He nearly spent most of his days telling her how proud he was of her and her abilities as a partner and mum. It doesn’t mean it didn’t sting when he brought up his job compared to hers.

Harry’s in his own world of thoughts that he doesn’t notice a figure leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, “You got everything under control, H?”

His eyes darted up to meet his wife’s, “Not really. She’s a little terror,” He jokes (kind of).

“It’s easy compared to your job, right?” Y/N asks but it’s obviously rhetorical. She drops a few shopping bags on the floor before leaning down to unstrap her high heels, kicking them off along with throwing off the blazer to the floor.

“I never said your job was easy. Y’puttin’ words in my mouth,” Harry argues, sitting up straight and moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No, you’re right. It’s just not as hard as your job,” Y/N huffs, unbuttoning the tight jeans and shucking them off her thighs. She didn’t have any idea what she was doing to him right now, his mouth nearly watering when her thighs jiggle a bit.

“You’re right, it’s not as hard as my job,” Harry replies, studying his wife’s face when she looks up in surprise - that he was really going to take the fight that far.

“Wow, you re-”

“It’s not as hard as my job, it’s harder,” Harry murmurs, reaching out to pull his wife to stand between his legs, her looking down at him with her hands on his shoulders. “

What I’m doin’ is nothin’ compared to your job. Y’raising our little baby, shaping her into a good person, spending every moment of y’day with her, giving up a lot of who you are for her. That’s more difficult than what I do any day.”

“Har-”

“M’sorry, lovie. Y’know I think you’re the most amazing mum and wife. You do everything for the baba and I. I shouldn’t have taken my anger from my week out on you yesterday and then said the things that I did,” Harry apologizes, his face sincere and open as he leans forward to nuzzle at his wife’s stomach.

When her hands come to run through his unruly locks, he knows he’s forgiven, “I appreciate how hard you work too. I really do, H. You’re the best husband and daddy to Ivy we could ask for. I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you as well.”

“Do you ever feel like I put work before you or Ivy?” Harry asks softly against her thin tank top, his hands come to massage at her full hips. There was a hint of insecurity in his tone that made Y/N’s heart sink a bit.

“No, I really don’t. I was just...I was just upset and I knew that would upset you. I’m sorry, baby,” Y/N murmurs softly, leaning down to kiss at the top of his head.

“Y’going to let me show you how sorry I am, how good of a wife and mum you are?” Harry drawls, his hands going to tug up the fabric of her top and humming appreciatively when she lifts her arms to let him do so.

“Yeah, remind why I married your crabby ass,” Y/N teases playfully, reaching behind herself to let her bra fall down to the crooks of her elbows before tossing it to the floor with everything else. As she’s doing that, Harry takes it upon himself to shimmy off her panties.

“Y’sayin’ you just married me ‘cause I fuck you good?” Harry grunts, standing up suddenly and pulling her up into his arms until her legs are wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck.

“Mmm, mostly. Also for your bank account was pretty good-looking too,” She lies blatantly but he still rewards her with a bruising kiss to her lips as he backs her against the wall so he can use one hand to tug down his running shorts.

“I’d still have married you, best decision I’ve ever made,” Harry says, sobering up from their playfulness. He slows down to be careful as he slides up into her warm heat, her head falling back with a thud against the wall.

“Harry,” She moans approvingly, heels of her feet digging into his backside to goad him into moving faster, “Right there.”

“So bloody in love with you. Please tell me y’know that baby, c’mon, tell me,” Harry begs, leaning down to smear kisses against her collarbone.

“I know, H. You’re so good to me, I love you,” Y/N whines and Harry knows that whine like the back of his hand, she needs more. He reaches down to rub tight, rough circles against her swollen bud until she’s tensing and coming.

“You feel so good, every single time. Don’t know how you do it, s’like you were made just for me,” Harry chokes out, stuttering and coming with his lips suckling a deep spot onto her breast as he rides it out.

After they redress and are cuddled on the bed, murmuring sweet little apologizes and affirmations of love, they interrupted by an angry squeak from the baby monitor - signaling their daughter’s woken up.

“Ballerina!”

hope you enjoyed. please inbox me what you think, like, reblog.

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k3rm1e · 4 years ago

Note

heyo!! i was wondering if you would mind writing hc’s for a reader who just had a major accomplishment but their parents don’t really congratulate them or anything, and then philza celebrates with them instead and tells reader how proud he is. i kinda want some dadza comfort rn :’) anyway, thank you sm!! have a great day <3

accomplishments

hello anon! i’m sorry i took a while to answer this. i went a bit off track with this and got A LOT more angsty, so i’m really sorry about that. If you want me to make a much more fluffier or mellowed-out version, i’d be happy to. please, read the trigger warnings before reading this.

i don’t plan on writing more angst-y things like this, especially not this angsty, so don’t worry. once again, please, if you would like me to rewrite this into a less emotional version i’d be happy to

cw: swearing

tw: talk of god and the church, slight manipulation, repetition of words

accomplishments:

holy shit. you were in disbelief. a state of shock. one million twitch followers. one. million. followers. you were silent. shock can have many effects on a person. some scream and laugh out of joy, or a misplaced sense of mania. others cry, because they cannot handle it. some remain confused, because their brains are unable to conceptualize the event. you were silent.

what should you do? would a “thank you” tweet be good enough or would it come off as insincere? should you wait to stream? or would that make people feel you didn’t care because you took so long? through the anxiety you could feel the true realization that you now had one million followers. like a truck, you were hit with the most excited feeling ever. getting up, you jumped around your room. you spun and jumped and cheered and whooped and yelled and smiled and danced and were overflowing with joy, with the acknowledgement that you had done it, you had really fucking done it.

opening the window above your desk, without a single fuck, you screamed. “WHOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! FUCK YEAH!!!!!!” let’s just hope your neighbors don’t wake up.

you stayed up all night, celebrating. tweeting out a thank you, you received congratulations from your fans and friends while you talked with the people in your discord vcs.

in the morning, your mother and father had woken up. with a newfound determination, you ran downstairs. streaming was your passion and you wanted to tell the world what you had done. but, because of limitations, your mother was your metaphorical world.

“mom! mom! mom! mother, mother, mumther!!” you shouted, dashing down the stairs, tripping over your feet. stupid wood flooring and slidy socks.

from your place at the bottom of the stairs, you heard her sigh, “yes, sweetie?”

you bounded over to her, setting your arms on the kitchen counter. from the hallway you could see your dad, who was sitting on the couch drinking his sunday morning coffee. “mom! guess what?” without giving her time to respond, you shouted, “i hit one million follows on twitch! one freaking million!”.

your mother didn’t seem as enthusiastic as you. “is that why you were causing such a ruckus last night? and, watch your mouth, even though ‘freaking’ isn’t a ‘true’ curse, i don’t want you swearing. especially not on the lord’s day. i couldn’t fathom going to church everyday, only to allow you to have a mouth like that.” she continued to stare at her work papers.

“oh, uh, okay mother. dad? did you hear me? i hit one million on twitch.” you awkwardly turned your head over to your father.

“she’s right, you know that, don’t you sweetie?” your father stood up, and made his way into the kitchen. “language like that, it’s shameful. surely, we don’t need you to have a private session with father paulson, do we?” your dad stood next to your mother, rubbing her back as he stared at you.

“no, no, of course not. um, i’m gonna go upstairs now.” you turned around, wishing you could simply disappear.

“without breakfast? are you truly that upset with us? we can’t have you ending up like those people, committing sinful acts and going to hell. god would never forgive you. we’re already taking a risk allowing you to stream, putting yourself out there.”

both your mother and father stared at you. your blood felt like ice in your veins. the white walls of your house seemed so much brighter, yet duller at the same time. everything felt a white-pure-pink-orange. your breathing got uneasy. choppy. in, out, out, in, in, in, out, in, in, out, out for different increments of time. 5, 3, 2, 7, 10, 9, 6, 4, 1, 6, 8, seconds, over and over and over.

“we just wanna protect you, dear. we love you, don’t you get that?” your mother stared at you.

you felt like a scene in those movies. the ones that directly cater to teens who thought their lives were shit when in reality they just hadn’t grown up enough to make sense of something yet. were you one of those teens? or is this actually wrong. you don’t think it is, but you don’t talk to others about this. family matters stay in the family was a common phrase repeated in your household. the church was family, they could know. your mother and father, they could know. others, they must not know, never know.

“of course, mother, father.” you wanted to force yourself to speak, but syllables were incapable of getting past your lips. your mouth was full of peanut butter from the sandwiches served in your elementary school cafeteria. but, the partly frozen chocolate milk always washed it down. “of course. i love you guys too. love you.” you smiled, a disgusting smile that felt violating to exist on your face, violating, violating, violating.

you dashed up the stairs, to your room, up, up, up. running in, you wanted to slam the door, scream out the window, puch your pillow, smash your pc, cry, whatever you could do to get out your emotions. but instead, you lightly shut your door and slowly walked over to your desk chair to see who was online. you would go live later. it was only 5 AM, after all. they could wait. at least, you hoped they could.

opening discord, just to see what everyone was doing, you saw philza minecraft was online. you went over and messaged him, ‘phil. philza. philza minecraft. vc please?’ in response, you received a short, ‘sure m8, gimme a minute’ you waited, until you heard the noise confirming he had joined.

“good morning phil.” your energy from before had receded back into the confines of your chest. the prior excitement was gone and replaced with a feeling of fatigue.

“morning mate, how are you? congrats on the one mill!” phil sounded excited, happy for you. you smiled, chuckling a bit.

“i’m alright man, just tired. how are you? and, thanks for the congrats.” you smiled, feeling the fatigue set in.

“i’m good. but you, you don’t sound very good. couldn’t sleep, could ya’? that was how i was when i hit one mill. way too excited to sleep.”

“yeah. yeah, i’m just tired.” you were getting a bit too tired to talk. the day had barely started, and yet the full-body emotional exhaustion had set.

“‘just tired’? the hell happened kid?” phil’s voice sounded concerned. fuck. the last thing you wanted to do was worry him. he had his own life and you had already caused enough trouble today.

“it’s nothing big phil, seriously. just my parents.” there, a slight bit of information. family matters still within the family, just a few words.

“they being shitbirds? or are you lying, and something big did happen?” he was being inquisitive, which was dangerous. questions were dangerous.

“no, why would i lie?” his inquisitiveness would continue, you knew. so you spilled the metaphorical beans. “they just, just weren’t as supportive as i’d wished they were when i told them. i was really psyched, y’know? and them, just sort of, not giving a shit? i don’t know man, it just feels bad.”

“i get you. it’s shit, when people don’t care about your accomplishments. my parents never really saw streaming as a true profession in the beginning, which led to shit like you describing. i promise it gets better though, even if it feels like shit now. and, for what it’s worth, i’m proud of you.”

“it’s fine phil, you don’t need to try to make me feel better. i’m okay, seriously.” you didn’t need or want his pity. accepting it would feel patronizing.

“no, you need to understand that i’m not fucking around. one million is a big fuckin’ thing, especially for you who hasn’t been streaming all that long to achieve. it’s fucking amazing, mate. be proud of yourself, for christ’s sake.” his fake anger chimed through your headphones. even though you were being berated, you still felt better.

“thank you, phil. i needed that.”

“your welcome, mate. and look, anytime your parents are being shit, don’t try to hold it all in. call me, or wil, or someone, okay? don’t hold that shit in.”

you fake sighed, just to piss him off. “okayyyyyy….”

“good. now, go take a nap or some shit. i love you, kid.”

“love you too, dadza.” this time, your words didn’t feel forced. the smile on your face wasn’t violating, but an invitation to better times. it would be alright. okay.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt x reader angst #philza x reader

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 3)

(part 1) (part 2)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 3k

chapter warnings: mention of past sexual harassment, very mature karaoke (lol), mention of pornography

Day 63 and you still hadn’t talked about it. He’d actually gotten to know you a lot better over the past two months, even almost confessing his feelings for you with that stupid half-asleep storybook thing he’d done way back when, but you still hadn’t talked about the night you saw him looking in the rearview mirror.

Tonight actually reminded him of that night; this time was a premiere, for a movie you hadn’t actually been in but apparently you were supposed to go anyways? He didn’t get it but he figured he didn’t need to. As long as you came back alone this time, he’d be happy.

Of course, when he saw you step out to the car to leave for the venue, he was confident that would be impossible— not that you ever looked bad on a red carpet or anything, but wow… this was different.

“It’s not too slutty, is it?” you asked him nervously, spinning around to show him the back. Don’t look at her ass don’t look at her ass don’t look at her ass—

“Just slutty enough,” he responded with a gloved thumbs up.

“Perfect,” you smiled, and he opened the door for you to get in the back. He took a moment to catch his breath before circling around to the driver’s side.

You actually chatted with him on the way, which was a new thing you two had started doing when he drove you. He looked forward to your talks a lot— especially the ones where you ranted about whatever was on your mind. You would usually apologize for rambling but he liked it; and, you were cute when you got really worked up about something, even if he thought it was kind of trivial.

As he pulled up to the red carpet, with cameras flashing and the indistinguishable yelling of reporters and fans, you shot him a look as if you didn’t want to go.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah,” you shook your head incredulously, “I just… I wish you would’ve come and seen it.”

He recalled a few weeks back when you offered him a ticket to the premiere showing, but he’d insisted on just sticking to what he knew and letting your assistant have the spare ticket. “I’ll catch it on Netflix,” he dismissed.

“No, I mean, I wish you were coming with me,” you explained.

Was it hot in here, all of a sudden? Because his cheeks felt warm. “Uh, you don’t want me in there. I always fall asleep in theaters anyways. Just go have fun and I’ll catch you after.”

“Okay,” you nodded with an adorable little smile.

So he waited, wondering if he should’ve taken you up on it all those weeks ago, but decided he probably made the right call. He would just embarrass you in a place like that, more than likely, and you had enough to deal with already. He felt more useful waiting in the wings than being in the spotlight, to use a fittingly-timed theater metaphor.

It was a few hours of him killing time in the car, but he got to relax a little more since the event already had pretty good security on its own. You’d recommended a book called Flowers for Algernon to him, even lending him your copy for the time being, and so he leaned his seat back and picked up where he’d left off from this morning. Of course, if he had known that you’d be gone long enough for him to finish, and that the ending was going to make him cry, he probably wouldn’t have read it. WIth his luck, it was inevitable that he’d be all but sobbing when you texted him to pull the car around.

Wiping his tears and hoping his eyes wouldn’t be too red, he tossed the book into the glovebox and started the engine. You waved cheerily when you saw him from the entrance, and he attempted to navigate through all the other cars pulling up so he could reach you. Thankfully, you didn’t have a new friend with you this time— or an old friend. Jealousy crisis averted, for now.

“How was it?” he asked with a smile as you opened the door and slipped in, unable to hide how happy he was to see you.

“The premiere itself was a lot of fun, I got to see some people I hadn’t seen in ages; the movie, though? Sort of pretentious,” you admitted as you shut the door and he got the car moving again. “And way too long! I could watch movies all day, but that doesn’t mean I want to watch a movie all day!”

“Fair enough,” he laughed.

“What did you do?” you asked innocently.

“I finished your book,” he frowned, trying not to think about it so he wouldn’t get emotional again.

“Ah, I can tell you’re still a little hurt about it,” you smiled mischievously. “Should’ve warned you about the ending.”

“No, no,” he disagreed, “it’s not a bad ending just because it’s a sad one… it was a good book.”

You’d already been smiling, but your smile undeniably changed as he watched it in the rearview mirror. Something softer, something more sensitive. He liked this one better. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Just in time to interrupt the moment, you saw something on the passing street outside that caught your attention.

“Ooh, karaoke!” you piped up, pressing your face against the inside of the window excitedly. “Pull over!”

He chuckled at how easily distracted you were, but did as you’d asked. He barely found time to slow down to a stop before you were opening the door and running out, flashing your ID to get inside.

He groaned as he realized how completely unsafe it was for you to be in a bar… especially now, when you were at your most recognizable and literally still wearing what you’d had on at the premiere. Thankfully, he managed to pull the car around and park in the closest spot he could find, jogging to join you inside the bar and hoping you hadn’t already made too much of a scene. His hopes were dashed the moment he pushed through the door, however.

“Is she perverted like me? Would she go down on you in a theater?” you sang along with the grungy backing track of Alanis Morrisette’s You Oughta Know; your lips were curled into a faux snarl as you stood on stage with your heels in one hand and the microphone in the other.

Bucky’s head fell into his hands, looking around to see hundreds of bar patrons, nearly all of them with their phones out filming you.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Bucky mumbled to himself, hoping you would somehow hear it and take his advice. Instead, you pantomimed sucking a dick with a cute little wink and everyone cheered. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“And I’m here, to remind you,” you continued, jumping around wildly; you looked like you were having the time of your life, honestly. If he wasn’t so worried about you, he would’ve let himself smile seeing you so happy.

During the bridge, you stole someone’s water off their table and poured a bit on your head, slicking your hair back and shivering from the cold. There was something about the water dripping down your face, starting to soak your clothes and make your skin glisten...

Bucky glanced around to make sure no one was looking at him before subtly adjusting his jeans.

He watched you sing the entire song, making most of the notes and definitely capturing the anger of the original song— if clearly having a lot more fun with it than most would. The entire bar cheered when you finished, and you took a moment to take some pictures with people and meet a few fans, which he thought was sweet even if his bodyguard instincts forced him to interrupt after a moment.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he guided you away gently.

“Goodnight!” you waved goodbye to someone who was already buried in her phone and posting the photo you’d taken with her.

“Have a good time?” he asked sarcastically as the two of you began to walk out together.

“Would’ve been better if you hadn’t been glaring at me the whole time,” you smirked.

“I wasn’t glaring, I was just… watching. You have a good voice, you know.”

You seemed surprised by the compliment. “Oh. Thanks.”

“And your stage presence is certainly… energetic,” he grinned. “I bet your little charade is already trending.”

“I checked, and it is,” you giggled, showing him your phone for a moment where Twitter was open and you were the #7 topic in the United States and climbing. “And the part where I poured that water on myself is pretty gif-able, don’t you think?”

He raised a brow as he held the back door of the bar open as you slipped back on your heels and walked past him. “Is that why you did it? For the reaction?”

“I did it cause it was fun,” you corrected. “You wouldn’t know anything about that. And the water thing was just practical, I was getting hot in this dress.”

That didn’t seem to be a problem anymore with the way you shivered in the night air as he walked you through the parking lot. “Want my jacket?” he offered.

“No,” you frowned, but you eyed the leather with a hungry stare. He chuckled and took it off, draping it over your shoulders anyways. “How far is the car?”

“Uh, a block? Not much parking this time of night,” he explained.

“Ugh, these heels,” you groaned, “they hurt so bad. I don’t know if I can make it.” You began to slip them off but he stopped you.

“You can’t go barefoot out here, god knows what’s on the ground,” he shuddered; what if there was broken glass or something?

“Well, I can’t wear these,” you frowned, “and I probably shouldn’t be walking on asphalt in red bottoms anyway…”

He probably should’ve warned you before he scooped you up into his arms, but it was sort of instinct and he kinda forgot to say anything first. You squealed a little but then went lax in his grip.

“You’re gonna carry me the whole way?” you asked incredulously.

“It’s only a block,” he shrugged, adjusting you in his arms a bit before starting the walk.

It got quiet after that, the cool night air rustling the trees and blowing through his hair— frankly, he was a little chilly without his jacket, but it looked better on you anyhow. The drive home was quiet, too, or at least quieter than usual, but it didn’t feel awkward, necessarily. It didn’t feel like a lull in the conversation; it felt more like the conversation had just changed from verbal to non-verbal. You both looked around at the city lights surrounding you on the drive, silent because there was nothing that needed to be said. It wasn’t nervous, or tense, or anxiety-inducing like most of his interactions with you (or with anyone) could be.

It felt like time spent with an old friend. He hadn’t known you long enough for that to be accurate, but he was happy to think of you as a new friend. He just hoped you thought the same.

Arriving at the house, he dropped you off at the front and watched you make a mad dash for the stairs and presumably your bedroom, smiling to himself as he parked the car and came in to follow you. He saw his jacket tossed onto the couch and your expensive shoes discarded right by the door. Going upstairs and peeking into your room, he saw your limp form flopped onto the bed, your back exposed from the low cut of the dress.

“You’d better not get comfortable, you’ll kill me if I let you fall asleep with all that makeup on,” he frowned, leaning against the doorway.

"I couldn't fall asleep yet, anyways. I'm wired."

“Any plans to burn off all that energy?” he pressed.

You groaned a little as you sat up, starting to unclasp all the jewelry on your wrists, around your neck, and on your ears. “It’ll take me a while to get out of all of this— but not as long as it took me to get into it,” you laughed. “Then I’m thinking TV and beers.”

“Beers?” he questioned, emphasizing the plural. “You plannin’ to get toasted right before you go to sleep?”

“No, it’s plural because there’s one beer for me and one beer for you,” you explained with the slightest air of condescension, but he couldn’t really think of it as rude since it was an invitation.

“I don’t want to intrude on your chill evening,” he refuted.

“No, really, you’re not intruding!” you insisted, standing up and setting the jewelry on a nightstand before approaching him and turning to face away from him. “Will you unzip me please?”

He stammered a little. “I don’t… see a zipper,” he admitted with a weak voice.

“It’s on the side here, see?” you lifted your arm a bit, and pointed to it.

Reaching out to touch your zipper was reminiscent of that old boardgame Operation: he needed to touch the zipper and only the zipper, cause if he bumped into anything else nearby, he got the feeling he’d get zapped.

His breath caught a bit as he watched more and more of your skin become exposed, the zipper ending up so low that he could just barely see the top of something lacy around your hips— and he had to stop there because anything more could induce cardiac arrest.

“Thanks!” you piped up happily, slipping away to your closet to do the rest in private. “Will you get the beers while I take my makeup off?” you requested through the shut door.

“Sure,’ he replied, turning to leave but realizing he should ask first: “Shiner or Pabst?”

“Don’t patronize me,” you grumbled, and he laughed because it was a stupid question. Trodding downstairs, he grabbed the Shiners from the fridge, stopping to check his phone only to see that it had started to automatically send him headlines pertaining to you.

‘Touch of Blood’ star gives impromptu karaoke performance at Queens dive bar!

He laughed at the picture of you onstage, even though he thought it was kind of reductive to describe you by a movie you’d been in so long ago when you had so much great new stuff coming out. Jumping back up the stairs, beers in hand, he found you makeup-free (aside from some leftover mascara and eyeliner that hadn’t really made it all the way off) and in a robe, laying on the bed as you pointed the remote at your TV. He thought you looked almost more beautiful like this than you did on the red carpet; of course, objectively, everybody looks better when they’ve been painted to the point of perfection, but he liked the domesticity of this. When you were casual and relaxed like this, he could almost, almost pretend you were his girlfriend or something. And not, you know, a global superstar and his employer.

“Beer me,” you requested as he sat down next to you, handing you a bottle and trying to ignore the thorough view of your legs he was getting in that robe.

“Anything good on?” he prompted as he watched you scroll through the channels on the guide.

“Uh, not particularly,” you frowned.

“They’re showing a game,” he pointed out as you passed the sports channels.

“I’d rather watch this pay-per-view porn,” you rolled your eyes.

He cleared his throat but said nothing because he was confident there was no good response to that.

“Hey, I’m in this!” you beamed, changing the channel quickly. He nearly had a heart attack until he realized you weren’t scrolling through the porn channels anymore.

He recognized the film instantly as the one of yours that he’d seen the most, for one very embarrassing and slightly sinister reason; looking down to the corner, he saw the HBO logo and realized it wasn’t going to be edited. His palms got a little clammy but he tried not to worry about it too much.

“Oh, this girl was super nice,” you remembered as you pointed to a character on-screen. “She had a bigger role but most of it got edited out.”

“That must be a bummer,” he imagined.

“Eh, it happens,” you shrugged. “Beats getting fired, or recast in the sequel.”

“Have you ever been fired during filming?” he pressed, morbidly curious.

“Once,” you nodded. “We were only a few days into it so they had no trouble finding somebody new and redoing my scenes. Just think: I could’ve been a Bond girl if I’d slept with that producer.”

“You— what?!” he squawked. “You got fired because you wouldn’t have sex with a film exec?”

“I got fired because of ‘creative differences,’” you explained with exaggerated air quotes, “and, unrelatedly, those creative differences surfaced the morning after I refused to get down and dirty with the EP.”

“Jesus,” he shook his head, “that’s… I hope you told someone.”

“Yeah, anonymously. Somebody will care someday, but not yet. He’s still too profitable, and not enough people have come forward.”

He glanced over at you, admiring your profile as you kept your eyes on the TV and took a sip of your beer. When you turned your head and looked back at him, he realized he’d been staring a bit too long.

“What?” you asked, quirking your brow a bit.

“What?” he repeated.

“You’re staring at me,” you frowned.

“Sorry, I was just… sorry,” he shook his head and looked back ahead. What he found there wasn’t much less embarrassing, though: he knew all too well that this was the scene right before THE scene. The scene he’d watched over and over until his arousal overpowered his shame. The scene that he’d used to try to satisfy his crush on you, but it only made it worse. The scene that had burrowed into his mind and deepened his obsession even as he fought it with everything he had…

You know, that scene. And he was about to watch it with you.

Bucky was completely, entirely, and supremely fucked.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes au

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saulweissberg · 8 months ago

Text

saul was attempting to be cordial, and perhaps he believed he deserved a fucking medal for that. each time he argued with terry over the past twenty-nine years, saul thought he was an exemplar of self-control. how quick he was to think of a rebuttal, how quick he was to craft an insult that would cut them just as theirs cut him, how quick he reminded himself to keep some sort of restraint. to hold back before he said something he regretted for the rest of his life. with every mean word he had ever thrown at terry, there were a million more harsher things that swirled in his mind that never escaped it and a million more words that terry volleyed right back at him. it was futile. somehow, in the years after micah reached adulthood, he had forgotten how futile it all was. he would always be terry’s—and micah’s—villain. the antagonist of their story. a fitting title some days, on others it felt melodramatic and unearned. he hated the idea that terry was somehow innocent, that they never made him cry—in private, nonetheless, but still it affected him enough to produce tears—or that they never said anything they regretted in the heat of the moment. futile, futile, futile.

the restaurant had turned into a theater of war. saul could feel the eyes of other patrons on him as he sat slumped like a ragdoll in the chair opposite, but he didn’t meet their gazes. though saul and terry had perfected the art of stage whisper fights, clearly he had been out of practice. he could go for hours in a courtroom or boardroom or opposing counsel’s office, but this conversation had left him depleted of all his energy. it was the comedown, he knew. that awful period where the coke wore completely off and the sun was starting to rise and he had an hour to nap before heading into the wlrk office. his adrenaline had spiked in a way that a simple courtroom spar hadn’t done to him in decades, back when he was fresh and still had a sense of hunger. then the adrenaline left him there, silent at their fusillade.

but he loves you. he loves cassie, too. i couldn’t understand it. not until—

not until what? he had wanted to ask, but had no room before terry was off again. anyway, again, it was futile. he never said the right thing. he never made anything better. he had tried to get them to understand him, to finally tell them the truth, but they bristled at his honesty. they rejected his honesty. saul could charm any party guest or potential client, but when it came to the people he loved, he only pushed them further away when all he wanted was to hold them close.

saul stared at them. long and hard, crystal blue eyes trailing downward from their hairline to their nails. why not turn an analytical gaze upon them? how often did he feel their eyes cataloging every wrinkle, every gray hair, divining his mood by every microexpression? he saw the anger in their face more than he heard the anger in their voice, but both were glaringly apparent. in the brief lull between the server collecting and coming back with terry’s card, he finally responded in a tired tone. “my fucking god, terry. you beg me to understand things from your perspective and then shut me down when i try to explain mine. i was honest with you and you threw it back in my face. i can’t stand that.”

he had resigned himself to this truth: he would never understand terry, and they thought they understood him. this was clearly going to end in more tragedy, so saul was going to do what he did best and leave them to their disparagement.

but then they said that.

hang onto your self-pity, if that’s what you want, it’s the one thing that’s yours.

“my self-pity?” saul spat, anger renewed as he sat up from his relaxed position, spine going straight. his lauded self-restraint was snapping. “what the fuck is that you want from me, exactly? i’m an asshole if i fail to show up for micah and i’m an asshole when i regret not being there. do you not want me to feel guilty for the choices i’ve made? do you not want me to try and fix things while i still can? seriously, ketziya, would you truly rather prefer that i just completely disappear from micah’s life, as if he’s not my fucking child?” yes, saul knew he had made a litany of mistakes since micah’s birth, but hadn’t terry, too? did they ever make a choice that they later regretted, or inadvertently hurt their son by furthering their own future? “you’re right. i do pity myself, i pity the idiot that i was to think that i could be honest with you.”

saul stood up abruptly from his chair, “so if you would please refrain from following me around town or showing up at my practice, that would be greatly appreciated. and i doubt you’ll ever need to, but please only contact me in regards to our son. anything else can go through my secretary.” he spared a glance at the patrons to the left, who were obviously pretending that they weren’t eavesdropping, then returned his gaze to terry. “enjoy the rest of your night.”

First times were always so uncomplicated. In the absence of any precedent, the emotion provoked after bearing first witness was that inevitable sense of wonder. Their first visit to Opus 40, for one, was originally intended to be a detour as the Lowensteins went hiking in the Catskills. Only their father’s one-sided conversations of his early stints at the Borsch Belt had been quickly forgotten by Terry, aged nine, in favor of running their hands through the several thousand pieces of jagged bluestone, of the ramps, walkways, and stairs that had been carved only through the means of the sculptor’s hands. ‘Being an architect is always the act of building something—and transforming something into something else, don’t you think?’ he’d said, then.

So what would their shochet father make, then, of these failures? When Terry’s precision was no longer motivated by the business of building anything but in destroying what was left? Their Papa, who was always so deliberate with his own medium of choice, wouldn’t appreciate this act of chipping through skin, muscle, and bone, slowly enacted over the past few decades.

Terry had said their part. Nothing else to do but to bear witness now. They watched as Saul pressed his palms against his eyes—a gesture made, a hundred, a thousand times over—and bore witness to those veins and tendons more pronounced against his skin, gnarled by time, yet still so inexplicably elegant.

You just couldn’t let me have him. The laugh that cut across the air between them was cold and sharp, like a knife. Always like a knife.

“Is that what you think I’m doing? That I won’t let you have him?” What use was there to repeat this exercise, over and over, if it was only going to produce the same tragedy? “Micah’s not someone you own, Saul. You earn that love. You take your time and you let it grow. I did my part—just us—for twenty-nine years, and you’re annoyed that I’m the person he runs to?”

And, Saul? What light he had, the first time they’d seen him. But it was impossible to unlearn an architect’s critical sensibilities, especially when his figure had begun embedding itself into the everyday. Only then did one see the flaws. The cracks in the slabs and columns. The holes against the plaster. The exposed wiring. The mold, the rot, the rust.

“You make it sound like it was so easy. Micah didn’t make it easy. I couldn’t bring anyone home. And when I did, God, he hated everyone. He hated Sev,” they took a deep breath, fingers stilling for a moment. “You had your wives and girlfriends and your boyfriends and your dinners and for the longest time I only had him. And without—” Without whom? Without Sev, without their father? Without Saul? What was the point of invoking this litany of ghosts? The gravity of the pain could be obscured if it was unrecognizable. “Without anyone, of course I want to be where Micah is.”

Amid the weight of the confession, the clatter of the silverware swelled, the lights became harsher, the chatter overwhelming. “But he loves you. He loves Cassie, too. I couldn’t understand it. Not until—” But they couldn’t quite bring themselves to continue, finding themselves again uncertain where to start. What was there to say, then? That they’d detested Cassie in her effortlessness of assuming the role of a mother, recognizing the absence of their instinct only when struck by its presence? How that detestment soon grew into affection for a woman they should not be caring for, a woman not theirs to love? And that in Cassie’s absence, there was again a hole to fill in Micah’s life that Terry could not fill with such practiced ease? All reasonable explanations, however Saul might detest it, but not quite fitting the gravity of their loneliness.

At once, the waitress returned with the bill, and Terry opened their messenger bag, fumbling for their wallet, hands twitching as they handed over their credit card and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’.

When Terry was fifteen, their father had taken them to a northern suburb in Philadelphia, past the railroad tracks and intersections until they finally arrived at a curious synagogue in Old York Road, which resembled nothing of the blocks of a suburban commercial center. Instead, the building had twelve sides, and formed like a pyramid before tapering towards the top. An ancient ziggurat, perhaps, or the mountains of Sinai. A modernist take on an old faith, the tour guide explained, and the only synagogue that Frank Lloyd Wright had ever built. ‘You’ll be a fine architect, Ketzi,’ their father would say, then, ‘you’ve always seen the world a little bit differently. Being different—it will help you.’

But the trouble with their father’s unconditional love towards their difference—the way through which they saw the world—was not many would notice it, let alone appreciate it, the same way as he had. All that difference had done was to create a wall, no longer making the attempt to make themselves understandable, but to simply render the world in the way it should’ve been felt. To wear a mask and to disappear into it was easy. To discard it, to be rendered vulnerable against his judgment and the weight of his stare, was the harder feat.

Their knuckles whitened at the effort of holding back, before clutching again at their arms. “Micah hasn’t needed me for a long time,” they blinked rapidly, casting their gaze above him, towards the excess warmth of the light, willing away the tears welling up in their eyes, “I know why he still needs you. You have to figure that out for yourself.”

They felt, rather than saw, his surrender as he leaned back against the seat, no longer willing to fight.

‘It's just... sometimes I don't think he’ll really care, is all. And we'll end up looking like idiots, as usual,’ Terry recalled Micah saying, at the twilight hour in the forest, and how they’d come dangerously close to Saul’s defense, ‘this kinda stuff just doesn't work when the other person doesn't give a shit.’

Micah was right, then. They sat there, feeling no small amount of shame at the ridiculousness of the scene. Like talking to a wall where the plaster had fallen off, or whispering into the hollow of a tree, and expecting it to answer, to give something—anything—back.

Arms still crossed, they uncurled the fingers of their left hand, seeking out the familiar texture of their sleeve, rubbing against the fine lines of cotton to ward off the hurt. “I am asking you to see things from my perspective and you’ve shut down again. I can’t stand it.” Another wave of anger, then, as they waited for the waitress to come back with their card. They bit the inside of their cheek, restraining the shock at his apathy.

They cast their gaze back unto him—at this marvel of a man, in this little life, in this little town, conceding the fight and folding back into the wooden chair. “Get up and leave then. Hang onto your self-pity, if that’s what you want,” they bit their lip, attempting to stifle the cruel punchline, to no avail. Better hate than indifference. Better to drown against the blinding light than be shut out again and to be left alone in the dark. “It’s the one thing that’s yours.”

#* narrative / thread.#* narrative / terry.#* terry / 002.#i put off writing this bc it makes me anxious lol #the ball is in ur court if we wanna close this up here or try to salvage it and end it a little more hopeful note?? up to you laine!!!#drugs mention tw

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ninjago-happens-here · 4 years ago

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@ninjago-angst-week sorry I'm late!

Day 6: Anger

Kai hates the universe for everything. Surprisingly, his teammates don’t agree.

Or 5 times where Kai lets anger control him, and 1 time he doesn't.

Word count: 13,944

- Nya - It’s been 6 days. Kai has spent all his time at Wu’s Monastery doing nothing but training and passing out from exhaustion. The only reason why he kept going was his love of his sister- and his spite against the universe. First Spinjitsu Master, why had Lord-fucking-Germadon take his sister as a hostage? He was just a poor blacksmith, trying his best to make ends meet and to get a proper education for his bright, 14-year-old sister. But the universe has decided to throw another curveball at him by forcing him to become a ninja and complete this stupid course-

“ARGH!” Kai shouted in frustration as he was thrown off by the training course, again. “Failed,” Wu said and took a sip of his tea. Punching the obstacle course, with another shout, Kai seethed, seeing the colour red dancing all over his eyes. What did the old man know about saving people anyways? Why can’t he just fight Wu and be done with it? Graduate his class, be finally given the location to where his sister is, and end this chapter of his life- because he was all for it.

Looking for his tormentor, Kai noticed that Wu has slipped away, with all the stealth that only a ninja master has.

Taking deep breaths, Kai balled his fists even tighter, nails pressing indents into his palms. Tomorrow. There still was tomorrow. And by god was he going to pass because he won’t let his sister spend another day in captivity.

All he needed to do was complete the training course before Wu finishes his tea.

He had done it. Of course, it took a well-timed sword throw to technically pass, but he was done sitting around and waiting for some unknown force to rescue Nya. Master Wu told him to get a goodnight’s rest as they were going to leave in the morning. Yeah right. As if he wasn’t going to spend this night tossing and turning around again.

He didn’t spend the night staring into the ceiling of the monastery. Rather, he was rudely ambushed by 3 men dressed in black, who actually weren’t as much of a challenge that Kai thought they would pose. Huh, maybe the training Sensei Wu put him through was pretty useful after all.

All praises for the cryptic old man were thrown away once Wu revealed the 3 men to be his students. Seriously? Didn’t Wu just tell him to get a good night’s rest? Kai barely kept the snarl inside him when Wu did his spinjitzu thingy and he suddenly was in an entirely different get-up.

Hey! Kai thought angrily. What’s the big deal? The garment was loose-fitting and a solid shade of red, and whilst red may be Kai’s colour, the garb was still drab-looking and overall, not something Kai would have picked out for himself..

Wu then gave a quick introduction of the 3 men who attacked him, who were probably called Jey, Zain, and Coal. Hey, don’t look at him like that! It’s not like he had the time to go to school and learn Maths and the Ninjago Alphabet. Anyways, they were all, apparently Elemental Masters? Of lightning, ice and earth nonetheless. Now, Kai can understand Earth. And Kai of course can give a testament to fire. But what do lightning and ice have to do with the elements? Shouldn’t it be Air, Water, Earth, and Fire or something along those lines? What was the FSM thinking, naming these the elements of creation?

Just as Kai was about to head back into the monastery and actually catch a few Zs, Wu called to them telling them that they have to protect the 4 weapons of spinjitzu in order to beat Garmadon to them, for the Skulkin must have taken the map that Wu had hidden in the Four Weapons.

“And rescue my sister,” Kai stated, daring anyone to challenge this non-negotiable mission.

“We’re rescuing a girl? Is she hot?” The ninja in blue (seriously, why blue on a ninja? It really does not help his stealth) just straight up asked Kai if his sister was hot. Kai’s first instinct, of course, was to punch Jay hard in the teeth, followed by an elbow straight to his gut. But if he was going to be teammates with this guy, he had to control his urges and only glare at him through the convenient slit in his mask. The blue ninja chuckled nervously as Kai’s eyes bore holes into him.

“Does she like blue?”

“Back. Off.”

“When we find the weapons, we will find your sister. We rise at dawn to look for the Scythe of Quakes in the Caves of Despair,” Wu concluded the impromptu meeting at night, which diffused the tension between Kai and Jay. The fiery anger he felt pooling in the balls of his hands started to dissipate. In fact, most of his energy was gone too. Kai felt like he was sagging under the weight on his shoulders and immediately headed for his room, where he collapsed immediately upon reaching the soft, inviting mattress. It was the best sleep he had in possibly years.

Of course, Sensei Wu upheld his promise of rousing them at dawn to go collect the first Golden Weapon. What he didn’t warn the ninja beforehand was that he was going to use them to be his literal slaves, and Kai spent the morning running whilst pulling a carriage like a horse. This has to be illegal, Kai grumbled to himself. He was starting to be seriously short on breath. Luckily, his teammates seem to at least have some strength and endurance training, so whilst he was stationed at the easy middle, Cole was at the front spearheading the charge whilst still holding conversations like it was no big deal.

“So…huff, how did Sensei find you guys?” Kai panted, wanting to learn more about his teammates.

“Let’s just say if it wasn’t for Sensei Wu, we wouldn’t be seen together.“ Cole started

“I was testing my limits,” Cole gave a brief description of how when he was rock climbing, he found Sensei Wu already at the top of the mountain, drinking tea and offering him a cup.

“I was testing my inventions,” Jay also panted out, and tried to ramble about how he was testing a flying machine and crashed through a billboard (what?) before seeing Sensei Wu, was also drinking tea and offering him a cup. He couldn’t really talk too much, because at this point he was getting tired too.

“And I, was testing myself,” Zane said, whilst recalling how he was practicing to hold his breath underwater for even longer periods of time when he found Sensei Wu sitting next to him at the bottom of the pond, still somehow drinking tea before offering some to him, which immediately led Zane to choke.

“You’re right, if it wasn’t for Sensei, none of us would-” Kai said before Wu shouted at them to stop. They were here.

Immediately, everything felt more real to Kai. The drowsiness that he felt clouding his mind was cleared as pure adrenaline shot through his veins. He couldn’t fail now. Not when Nya’s life was on his hands. All he has to do was to collect 4 Ancient Weapons that have powers and he would be able to face off with Lord Garmadon. Jumping into action, he weaved through the Skulkin that were strolling and working in the area, body moving in autopilot and mind focusing on only one thing: Get the weapon.

On his way to the opening of the cave, Kai spotted Samurai reading the map to the 4 Golden Weapons on a watchtower. Kai immediately took a detour and climbed up onto the roof, where he could see Samukai reading the map.

“What’s the matter with you,” Jay whispered, hitting Kai on the head. Kai shushed him, before returning to watch Samukai laugh menacingly whilst holding the map upside down. Kai wondered how incompetent he was one week ago to have let this guy kidnap his sister. “The Golden Weapon is near,” Zane observed, before taking out a shuriken with a rope attached before looking at Cole for confirmation and then throwing it done, landing squarely in the middle of the map before pulling it back, holding the prize squarely in his hands.

There was no time to waste. Kai immediately backflipped off the building before climbing to the outcrop where 2 guards were stationed. Picking up a convenient lamp head, Kai carefully snuck by the 2 guards before ducking into the cave system. Kai began to start pushing the rock blocking the path to the weapon. But no matter how much he exerted himself, it didn’t move one inch. He felt like he was trying to make a sword again, doing everything he could but still failing. Grunting and groaning, Kai gave it his all.

Not soon enough, Kai heard the footsteps of his teammates.

“Hey, before you race off again, you gotta remember that we’re a team.” Cole’s patronizing voice made Kai stop his futile attempts at trying to push the boulder on his own. Kai looked at the 3 Ninja before sighing. “Yeah, whatever.”

The white, black and blue Ninja gathered around him and they all started to push, actually managing to shift the rock. Giving the rock his all, Kai did enough on his part to be suddenly be blasted by a golden light, shining from the cavern behind the rock. As his eyes got used to the sudden brightness, Kai spotted the Golden Scythe, sitting on top of a weird creature’s head.

“Woah, that is SO COOL!” Jay exclaimed, and his voice reverberated throughout the entire cave. Kai cringed from his volume. Here’s to hoping that the entire skeleton army outside won’t discover them. Cole shushed Jay again, before pulling out the Golden Scythe and jumping back down onto the cave floor. Wrapping it in a sheet of canvas, Cole once again reminded Jay to not be so loud.

“Oh, don’t be paranoid!” Jay brushed off the sentiment. Kai couldn’t believe that this guy was his teammate. “We’re totally on the other side of the caves!”

“Zip it, okay?” Cole admonished the blue Ninja whilst handing the wrapped Scythe of Quakes to Kai. It’s okay with him. As long as he can make sure that this weapon is safe which in turn ensures that Nya is safe, he’s alright with taking the Scythe. “Now that we’ve got the Scythe, let’s sneak out whilst the boneheads are still busy.”

“Alright team, everyone sticks together. Way out is right around the corn-“ Cole suddenly came face to face with Samukai. All Kai could think at that moment was Fuck the blue guy. Because seriously. Now he was going to have to fight these guys. And alright, honestly- Kai was more than happy to throw hands with the skeletons that captured his sister. In fact, he’s been waiting all week to do so. But come on, this guy was supposed to be a ninja? Pulling out his sword, Kai stayed in the middle of his teammates for a bit as they tried their hardest to protect the Scythe, but quickly they were drawn by enemies elsewhere and the red ninja was left in a precarious situation.

“Kai! Throw it here!” Thank god for Zane. Honestly, he took back what he said about how this guy takes things a bit too seriously, now that he was in the heat of battle and could feel every beat of his heart. Kai heaved the heavy weapon to Zane. Immediately, the heat was taken off him and Zane had to pass the Scythe to Cole as he was dog-piled by 3 Skulkin in seconds. Cole made it past a long line of skeletons before catching the Golden Weapon, but Kai could see 5 to 6. no, 9, 10- argh, who cares! Either way, there were too many enemies.

“Let me handle it!” Jay shouted, taking out a couple of enemies quickly, before exclaiming, “Hey! Guys!”

“It’s just like the training course! Over the planks, dodge the swords- here comes the dummy!”

Kai heard multiple enemies being defeated before a bright blue light shined through the caverns as this guy did spinjitzu. What. The. Heck. Kai’s level of respect for him instantly rose.

“Jay! What’s the key?” Kai waved at his teammate desperately. He had to do spinjitzu too- if he ever was going to see Nya again.

“Hehe, I’m just going through the motions! This is what Sensei must have meant when he said we already know it!” Jay laughed from inside his tornado as Kai watch him take down 4 enemies in one second. Kai contemplated this for a moment, before relying on his muscle memory to dodge a couple of Skulkin.

“Over the planks, dodge the swords- here comes the dummy!” Spinning in a beautiful vortex of red, orange, and yellow, Kai saw the world around him slow down as he moved with enhanced power and agility, taking down enemies with incredible ease.

“RETREAT!” Samurai shouted, and Kai could hear the screams of the skeleton army mixing with the beautiful chime of his team’s spinjitzu. Slowing down, Kai stopped his spinjitzu and surprisingly, didn’t feel dizzy. Man, this spinjitzu thing is really cool.

“Hah! Guess they didn’t want a second serving of these babies,” Cole flexed his biceps as Kai and Jay both shook their heads in dismay. “Good thing they didn’t check out the merchandise on the back!”

From the corner of his eye, Kai watched as Cole turned around to emphasise his point. Alright, 2 can play at the end game. Raising the Golden Weapon of Spinjitsu, Kai cheered and high fives Jay. That dude has many faults, but he would be able to have Kai’s back in a moment of need, and Kai vows to watch his back too.

“Uh… guys?” Cole stammered. Kai and Jay rolled their eyes. What was Cole trying to get at now?

“Didn’t Sensei say there was a guardian protecting the weapons?” Zane recalled. Kai tilted his head to the side, before turning to his right AND WHAT IN THE WORLD IS THAT.

“Is that- a..a, that’s- not what I think it is, isit?” Cole blubbered, his voice an octave higher.

“Y-you mean a dragon?” Jay stammered.

“Uh, that sure looks like a dragon!” Kai panicked, his voice on the edge of a scream.

“I sense that we won’t be able to spin our way out of this one,” Zane stated with the calmest out of any of them.

Out of the blue, the dragon breathed out a breath of earth, and Kai was suddenly flung to the side. Screams filled the cavern as his teammates landed from their dodge. getting up on his feet, Kai immediately started to run towards the exit, clutching the Golden Weapon tightly. Unfortunately, they were cornered, and Kai did the only thing he thought he could.

Removing the canvas, Kai moved to use the weapon but was stopped by Jay, stating something about how Sensei told them not to.

“Well you better keep your mouth shut,” Kai growled as he ran towards the otherworldly creature. Nothing was going to stand in his way from reaching his sister. Cole shouted something at him, but he raised the weapon high above his head and brought it down to the earth in front of the dragon, causing a split in the ground like a fault line and the cave started to shake. The dragon was temporarily rendered stunned as a large piece of rock fell on his head. It reacted too late, for Kai and his team were getting out of here.

“We gotta escape!” Kai said frantically. Looking up, he and his team saw the caverns opening up to the skies. “We’ll use spinjitzu!” Cole proclaimed, and Kai spun into his tornado, finding that the boost in speed and strength was exactly what he needed to make through the opening in the ceiling of the cave.

Landing on the ground in front of his sensei (on both feet, take that Zane and Jay!) Kai immediately devolved into cheering and celebrating with his teammates, because who wouldn’t after such an adrenaline high? They were 1 weapon closer to finding Nya, and Kai had learned the amazing art of Spinjitsu, and he had just escaped from a dragon.

“ENOUGH!” Sensei Wu shouted. Kai immediately felt his mood sinking. “I told you not to use the scythe!!” Of course, Jay, then Cole, immediately threw Kai under the bus.

“Using it was my only option!” Kai said, starting to get frustrated with his teacher and teammates. Couldn’t they see it that was a matter of life or death? He just saved all of their sorry asses!

“And what makes you think that you’re more important than your team? Huh? Huh!?” Wu got closer to Kai’s face, and he was not happy. Not happy with this at all.

“They took my sister, remember?” Kai stated angrily. Who did the old man think he was? Nya was everything to him, and losing her- Kai did not want to think about losing her.

“There are still 3 weapons left. Maybe next time, you can do it right,” Wu admonished him, and Kai could only watch as his teammates follow in their master’s footsteps. Whatever. It’s not like he needed a team. Hoisting the scythe onto his shoulders, Kai swore that nothing, not even the First Spinjitsu himself, would stop him from saving Nya.

Over the course of the next few days, Kai learned of a technique called the ‘Tornado of Creation’ as they journeyed all over north Ninjago and found 2 of the remaining 3 weapons. Just before they headed to the Fire Temple, Wu made them all rest, for some reason he was unwiring to share. Kai privately thought that it was for them to recuperate their energy because his sister was going to be the one they rescue next, and once he got his hands on the Sword of Fire, nothing would be able to stand in his way, his team included. If he was being honest with himself, Kai was grateful that they had time to celebrate his past achievements. They had been through so much climbing, exploring, and journeying these fast few days and they have beaten Garmadon’s Army too many times to not do something about it. His mood was so great that he even invited Sensei Wu to dance with them as Cole played the bongo drums that they had stolen from the skeleton army at one point.

Kai didn’t know when he fell asleep, but what he did know was that he was roused awake by a voice whispering his name. At first, he was groggy with exhaustion, but the second time Nya called out to him, Kai was wide awake. Looking at the source of the sound, Kai saw his sister standing directly at the edge of his camp. Immediately, Kai felt a great wave of relief wash over him. His sister looked, at least in the dark, fine and free from any visible injuries. He was just about to get up and reunite with his sister when she suddenly stated that she had to go, and started to run away from him.

Kai immediately shot to his feet, alarmed. There was definitely something wrong. He followed her as best as he could through the dense forest, calling out to her, but not receiving a reply. He was led to a temple sitting right next to a volcano. Ghostly whispers of his name reached him as he saw his sister’s vague figure entering the temple.

“Nya?” In a heartbeat, he arrived at the front of the temple. Fully pushing open the doors, Kai was blown away by the cavern and the inviting, welcoming warmth of the lava that slowly cranked up the further he went. In fact, it was slowly stifling, and Kai wanted to grab Nya and get out as fast as he could. Looking all over the place for her, Kai saw the image of his sister appear right in front of the Sword of Fire.

“Nya!” Kai said with a smile, running towards the platform. He was praising FSM for this miracle when suddenly, he skidded to a halt as Nya transformed into a large shadow that laughed menacingly. It was Garmadon. And he- was dangling Nya, wrapped in iron chains, on top of a pool of lava.

“KAI!!” Nya shouted desperately. The red ninja called back to his sister, as Garmadon taunted him, stating that only by removing the sword, could he save his sister. And as much as Kai hated the fact- Garmadon was right. There was nothing he could do but take the sword and save his sister. Nya begged Kai not to listen, but the chain had suddenly lowered her even more, and the screams of his baby sister were too much for Kai to bear. Taking a deep breath, Kai did a series of acrobatics pulling out the Sword of Fire and doing spinjitzu on the walls in order to get to Nya, and then to get her to safety on the other side. Landing o the warm rock, Kai pulled his sister up and told her to stay close.

Then Garmadon appeared directly in front of him, and Kai changed his mind. Not long after, he was getting beat up by a shadow- a shadow of all things! Then, Garmadon played extremely dirty and duplicated himself, and in no time at all, Kai lost the sword and Garmadon picked it up. Tired, out of breath, and running on a combined 18 hours of sleep this past week and a half, Kai collapsed and couldn’t move any further.

Just in time, Sensei Wu arrived and started to use his shadow to properly fight Garmadon. As Kai could only sit and watch, he saw Sensei Wu’s incredible usage of shadows, and his respect for him rose even more. But soon, the feeling of calmness turned into panic as he remembered his 3 teammates who were probably out like a light.

Nya gave Kai a hand to stand up, and they both moved to be closer to Wu. Soon, they were assaulted by Garmadon showing them that the Skulkin has taken Kai’s brothers and 3 of the 4 Golden Weapons.

“My brother must not unite the 4 weapons. We must keep them apart!” Sensei Wu commanded, to which Garmadon responded by rousing the dragon guardian. With a swipe of its flaming hot tail, the Fire Dragon blocked the entrance of the Fire Temple. There was no way out.

“He’s taken away all our options!” Kai said, starting to panic even more as the Fire Dragon breathed on them.

“All but one.” And soon, Kai lost his Sensei to the Underworld. Feeling terribly guilty for not being a better student and teammate, Kai collapsed on his knees. However, he was soon confronted with greater, immediate danger.

Luckily, he seemed to be able to talk down the dragon that was guarding the sword. They reached an understanding that they were trying to protect the weapons from Garmadon, and just in time too. He heard his teammates outside the temple and Flare did too, opening the temple dramatically. Too soon, he had to split from Nya again. But he would return in no time at all, with all members on his team.

Through a great load of traveling by dragon, managing to use the Tornado of Creation, and watching Samurai get vaporised whilst Garmadon passed into a portal to another realm, they eventually returned to Ignacia, and Kai could finally feel safe again. Of course, he immediately slept for 3 days straight after making sure that Nya was doing alright and that she could take care of herself for the next few days.

This was not the first time he was fuelled by only his fire, and unfortunately for his body- it would not be the last.

- Lloyd - The next time that Kai could say with 100% certainty that he hated the universe was when Garmadon decided that it was a good idea to turn them into all children. They then had to be saved by Lloyd, his baby brother, but in return- he had grown. Too fast. Way too fast.

And Kai had to look at his failure, his inability to protect Lloyd because it falls on his shoulder to at least stay beside the green bean whilst he deals with the fact that he was older now. And whatever fallout was happening with his body. Because whilst Lloyd can try to insist that he’s fine for the 100th time, Kai is not letting him get out of bed whilst he has a 40 degree fever.

So whilst Kai stews angrily at the edge of Lloyd’s bed, he reflects on all the things he’s going to punch the First Spinjitsu Master for. Honestly, he did not know where the thought came from, but today was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Kai will be honest- he hadn’t always been this friendly with Lloyd. In fact, if he saw someone else doing what he did to the kid when they first met, he would sock them in the eye, no questions asked. (In fact, he wanted to do that to himself now.) But then he got close to the brat. He saw himself in the kid, just- lost without an anchor as Kai had in Nya. And the ‘demon spawn’ became ‘kid’, and ‘kid’ became Kai’s baby brother. Kai’s baby brother who he lost at the arcade just because he was too focused on his ego, going after the damned Samurai who turned out to be his baby sister. Seems like Kai can’t do much protecting at all.

After Kai had rescued Lloyd from the volcano (Fuck you Pythor), it was revealed that Lloyd was the Green Ninja, and would, in turn, have to fight Garmadon And whilst at first Kai felt elated that the search for the Green Ninja was long over, he then felt horrible to see Garmadon and Lloyd falling out as both knew that they had to fight each other. Kai could see Lloyd’s lip tremble as his father released the hug, and almost start to cry when Garmadon disappeared after having saved the Ninja and the fang blades.

He knew that Lloyd had it especially hard, seeking his father’s approval and attention, yet not getting it as Garmadon tried his hardest to delay the oncoming final battle, but furthered it instead. He saw Lloyd look incredibly small in their tiny apartment, and wished that he had just earned more money, or that he had somehow managed to defeat the Great devourer instead of Garmadon.

Yet all he could do was comfort Lloyd when he opens up about Darkley’s (boy, wasn’t that’s something they’d have to unpack in the future) before they returned to the accursed school, or treat Lloyd’s sore muscles before the kid has to inevitably wake up at 5 AM tomorrow to do an insane amount of training.

He hates how all the pressure in the world is hoisted by the shoulders of his baby brother, and he would do anything, anything to give Lloyd a good childhood.

Now, he can’t even do that. Unless the element of time exists, all he could do was count the numbers of a good childhood Lloyd had on one hand. And goddamnit. All Kai really wanted to do was to give Lloyd the childhood didn’t have, not the incomplete one he had given Nya that ended with a kidnapping. Was that too much to ask for?

A drop of a hot tear escaped Kai’s eyes and rolled down his cheek. Quickly snapping his head towards Lloyd, he saw that he’s fallen asleep. Okay, thank FSM for that. Kai did not want Lloyd to see his big brother cry. Now, Kai didn’t want to be a bad brother. But he wasn’t Lloyd’s only family left. He’ll just ask Zane to watch over him as he runs the training course at Dareth’s dojo.

Or maybe not, Kai thought as he sat on the roof, hidden by water tanks and billboards as he had a meltdown. He didn’t even know why he was crying! All he knows is that suddenly, he can’t stop the water flowing from his eyes, even as his own body heat evaporates them as soon as they are shed. His head was still stuffy even though the night air breezed past him. All he wanted to do was to shout, screen- anything to release the tension he’s been building up in his body. Now that he’s reached his breaking point, he was ready to release like a coiled spring.

But he couldn’t. They were living in the midst of Ninjago city, not on the Destiny’s Bounty. And they would get kicked out of their cramped apartment if Kai just shouted at the night skies. So Kai hissed, growled, and wrapped his hands around himself, and squeezed as much as he could. He wanted to fight anybody, be it serpentine, skulkin, Garmadon, or even the First Spinjitsu Master himself.

The air around him got even more suffocating as his fist couldn’t find anything to connect to.

And suddenly, the roof hatch opened suddenly, scaring the living hell out of Kai Smith. Jumping into action and getting into a ready stance, Kai immediately felt the tension dissipate as it revealed that it was just Cole.

“Wow Kai, you must be really wounded up to be spooked like that,” Cole commented whilst giving Kai a smirk. Kai glared back at his team leader before futilely trying to wipe his face clean. Ah well. He tried. Cole snorted. “I always knew that you were a big softy.”

“Got any reason why you came up here?” Kai grunted. His ego had taken enough bruising these past few weeks.

“Of course buddy. I needed to spar with someone at full strength, and since Zane is looking after Lloyd and Jay won’t be able to effectively take my hits, I had to find you.”

“Psh, whatever. You’re in luck that I need to let off some heat too,” Kai shrugged off.

“Cool. Race you to Dareth’s Dojo?” “You’re on.”

In a few minutes, Kai would come to regret his decision. Hey, it wasn’t his idea to race with the idiot who got himself dehydrated via crying. Still, falling in only just a step behind Cole (It’s been 80 years, Coke joked), he grabbed the energy drink Cole held out to him and take an unprofessionally huge gulp. Man, was he going to feel that later. Still, a promise was a promise, even if it was a verbal agreement. He watched Cole do his warm-up stretches before settling into his own normal routine.

Too soon, they rolled out the sparring mats, and Kai had a fleeting feeling of vertigo. Why had he agreed to this again? Oh yeah. Lloyd’s life is shit, and I can’t do anything. Balling his fists tightly, he started to bounce from on the balls of his feet.

Too soon, he ended up on the mat. And then again. And again. When he was defeated for the 4th time, Cole called for a break and sat down next to Kai, who was lying on the mat and just staring straight into the sky.

“Why did destiny make him grow up so fast?” Kai’s voice was trembling too hard for even Cole’s liking. “It’s not your fault-“

“IT IS MY FAULT! My fault, that I couldn’t protect him! Not from the serpentine, not from Garmadon, not from destiny!What’s my worth as a protector if I can’t even defend the one destiny said I must?!” Kai wailed out, enraged with everything. After his anger outburst, Kai breathed out deeply as his whole body sagged, the tension broken. They sat in silence as Kai contemplated what he was going to do next.

“You know Kai? Maybe you should talk with the Green Bean about this. But just so you know, no one is blaming you for what Garmadon had to do, and in turn what Lloyd had to do in order to save all of us,” Cole responded and stood up. “Thank you anyways for agreeing to spar with me.”

He offered a hand, to which Kai grabbed and was pulled upright.

“You go ahead. I’ll go wipe down the mats here,” Cole stated. It was a regular schedule that they had made up in order to reduce the amount of traffic using their tiny bathroom, and Kai gratefully accepted the chance to go first. If he was going to talk to Lloyd, he had to at least get his spikes up to regular Kai standard.

After doing the bare minimum amount of cool-down stretches, Kai took a swig of the energy drink as he jogged back home. After showering and gelling up his hair, Kai was ready to sit down with Lloyd and just- talk. He finished his bottle and prepared some sandwiches as the sun rose on Ninjago City, showering the apartment in fragmented light.

Just on time, Lloyd returned from his morning run, this time accompanied by Zane. Kai patiently waited for him to be done with his shower before Lloyd sat down right beside him and took out a peanut butter and jam sandwich from the small pile on the plate. Zane gave Kai an acknowledging nod as he went to grab his work bag before going back out the door.

“Hey, bud. How’re you doing?” Kai started tentatively. Lloyd, having just taken a huge bite of the pb&j, looked mildly alarmed at the confrontation, but still answered after finishing the bite.

“…honestly Kai? My bones don’t feel on fire anymore and Zane has said that my fever had gone down through the night. Still, I don’t regret what I had done,” Lloyd responded earnestly before taking another bite of the bread. If Kai didn’tknow better he would have thought that the kid had faced starvation before, because he was still eating as if the food could be taken away at any moment. Keyword: thought.

Kai really wanted to continue the talk after Lloyd had his fill, but knew that Lloyd’s busy schedule didn’t allow for such talks. So, he pushed down all the instincts that screamed that he was a bad brother and gritted his teeth.

“I know that that wasn’t your choice-“

“It was my choice!” Lloyd cut in even though he was still chewing. Gulping down another mouthful of food, Lloyd continued. “… because if I couldn’t even consider that my choice, how much of my life can I say that belongs to me?”

Kai was stunned into silence. In his mind, he didn’t think that Lloyd had thought of throwing the tea like that. He wondered how much Lloyd had been holding in inside of him, how much he had to endure being told by people that he hadn’t had a choice. Thinking back to the time where he couldn’t save Nya without listening to others on what he had to do, Kai felt even worse. Cole was right- he wasn’t at fault for this specific action that Lloyd did, but he was at fault for not being understanding enough, or even approachable enough.

Taking advantage of Kai’s speechlessness, Lloyd finished up his sandwich before reaching into the pile and taking out another, this time picking out a Nutella and cheese combination.

“It’s not just that. Now, I can finally go on missions with you guys. Now, you guys don’t have to hold back on me, and I can train for longer amounts of time. The Final Battle will be on us whether we’re ready or not, and I too would feel much safer if I am prepared to… to face my father,” Lloyd said before continuing to stuff his face with breakfast.

Kai’s brain began to work again, and he formulated a good enough response. “…Alright buddy, but just so you know, you’re still not going on missions with us.” Lloyd’s face immediately formed a pout and Kai grinned, rubbing his blonde hair. “Also, since when did you start speaking like that? ‘The Final Battle will be on us whether we’re ready or not.' Wow, such language. Much eloquence.”

“That’s because you guys gave me 2 hours to spend studying Uncle Wu’s books every day,” Lloyd huffed in annoyance, having finished another mouthful of bread. “But seriously Kai, please don’t be angry for me. It really isn’t your fault.”

Kai mused over those words as he watched Jay trained Lloyd with his acrobatic abilities. Of course, the kid was still getting used to his taller and larger limbs, but Kai could see him improve at an incredibly fast rate. Lloyd was right, in a sense. He didn’t really have the legal right to worry over Lloyd’s physical and mental wellness, but still- he was Kai. Master of Fire, protector of the Green Ninja, and he should be allowed to feel the fuel of his anger at any time he so pleases. If it happens to be an injustice to his trainee and well- who can blame him?

He accidentally fell asleep during Lloyd and Jay’s training, having to catch up to last night’s lost sleep, and boy was that a bad idea. He forgot one of the most important rules within the Ninja’s family: Do not fall asleep when with Lloyd and Jay, because those two can pull some terrible pranks.

Kai didn’t notice anything wrong until he passed Dareth’s trophies and saw that his beautiful hair was not spiked. Kai swore that when he sees those two again, he would chase after them until they begged for mercy because Kai cannot be seen in public with hair like this! Feeling his eye twitch, Kai wondered if Lloyd was going to be the cause of him popping a blood vessel.

Years later, Kai would realise that indeed, Lloyd would give him his first grey hair at 19. That damned brat.

- Zane - When Zane… left the team, all Kai could feel was a sense of numbness. He floated through a fuzzy reality as nothing seemed real to him anymore. His family was in shambles, broken pieces that were scattered without their missing piece completing them. The fact that Zane was gone didn’t really register to him until they had asked Lloyd to do a speech honouring the titanium ninja. Lloyd, face as pale as the gi Zane used to wear, couldn’t say any words, so he volunteered to step up for his brother. Lloyd looked at him with thanks, before disappearing off to whatever world he was in just moments before. Kai joined him, staring aimlessly at their ceiling, before having to get up and pen down words that he was going to say, to honour Zane.

He realised that he couldn’t, really couldn’t. The words just wouldn’t come out of his ink pen, even though he was pretty much literate now. He could only manage to jot down a few words that summarised what Zane was to him. A brother. A teammate. A fellow Ninja. Built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. But words can't do Zane justice. How could he capture Zane's cool-like grace, his calm calculation when it matters most? Zane's amazing cooking, his incredible kindness, and all-around sweet nature? How could he describe his first time meeting him, first time working with him, when he discovered his true potential and saved all of their sorry asses? How could he do all that?

Hot, angry tears dribbled down from Kai’s eyes as he hunched over their kitchen table. No, this wasn’t going to do. Kai decides that he'll just have to wing it.

As soon as he had finished his speech and paid proper respect to Zane, Kai left his family and just wandered around aimlessly, going from bar to bar to drink and inevitably get into fights.

Having been thrown out of almost all bars in Ninjago city for ‘disrupting common services’, whatever that was supposed to mean, Kai soon found himself standing in front of Yang’s Tavern. From what he heard, this place was run by quite a few Serpentine and they had a ‘Slither Pit’. Whatever that meant. What Kai needed to do was to feel his fist connect to something flesh-like, and he will be okay.

Months passed, as Kai found himself falling deeper and deeper into Ninjago’s criminal organisations. Under the name ‘The Red Shogun’, he would remain the undefeated champion, all whilst working for different kinds of bosses as ‘security’. Kai knew that he shouldn’t be doing this, that he shouldn’t be helping criminals get away with their criminal activity, shouldn’t have let human merchandise go under his nose. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. Nothing really mattered after Zane’s death. Nothing had mattered at all. Kai was stuck down in the pits of hell, drinking himself to half-death before the barkeep regulated his intake just so that he could bring in the cash that Kai made through betting, before receiving poor attempts to reach out by Lloyd.

Somehow, the kid had gotten the number of his burner phone. He even sent mail to the bar, to which Kai and his bar buddies had laughed at. Kai didn’t feel too bad for ignoring the kid. Zane’s death was partially his fault anyways. (Nromal Kai would have been horrified to hear him think this.) Kai was angry. Angry that Lloyd didn’t try hard enough. Didn’t try hard enough to defeat the Overlord, when he had a clear shot. Angry that Lloyd had apparently failed to defeat the Overlord 100%. Angry that he had been captured whilst literally wielding the power of God, only for the Overlord to use its incredible power to construct a new body. Angry that Lloyd didn’t try hard enough to keep the team together, to reach out to him, or even to speak at Zane’s funeral.

But above all, Kai was angry at himself. Angry that he had made fun of Zane for his passions and clothes. Angry that he did not try hard enough to train Lloyd, and ultimately failed to be with him in the ‘Final’ battle. Angry that he couldn’t have done his job as a ninja properly, getting captured and tied to a rocket ship which only made them have to try rescuing him instead of stopping Project Arcturus. Angry that he couldn’t do anything when Zane took on the Overlord by himself again.

And Kai was angry at Ninjago. At the world. At the universe. At the First Spinjitsu Master, who had no right to decide that his family had to face the world like that. Angry, and wondering why he was being put through this kind of torture: not being able to live, and yet not willing to die. Kai was a man of action and he had to stay in motion- so his knuckles split. So he goes ‘home’, to the hotel room in Yang’s Tavern, covered in bruises and sometimes even blood- just not his. So he has to take part in crimes, never rising above the level of a security guard, all whilst feeling terrible. He did not know how to get out of this state and feared that if he did, he would collapse into a lump of uselessness.

He fought all day and night, and in the moments where he wasn’t fighting, he was drinking. His sleeping schedule has shifted to between 6 AM and 2 PM. All whilst he kept grieving over a death that was not deserved.

After a year, Lloyd somehow inexplicably showed up on his doorstep, telling Kai to not drink too much ‘juice’ (he rolled his eyes at that and smiled fondly at Lloyd’s innocence) and asked him to show up at Chen’s noodle house where he was holding a meeting with his other teammates.

Unexpectedly, this led to a discovery that instantly brightened Kai’s mood before dampening it slightly. Zane was alive! But they had to fight through… an elemental tournament to get him? At this point in time, Kai was alright with doing anything, anything to get Zane back.

Just 2 weeks later, Kai would hesitantly retract his statement. Sure, they had gotten Zane back, but in exchange, Lloyd had to lose Garmadon to the Cursed Realm. Kai wonders if they’ll ever be able to make it through a fight with everyone intact, but today wasn’t about him. He felt a familiar spark of rage burning brightly through his chest as he watched Lloyd trying and failing to smile. From the corner of his eye, he saw Zane approaching him.

“Kai, can we talk for a moment?” Oh, dear. What is this about now? Was it about how Kai had almost killed their baby brother over a stupid staff? Or the fact that Kai had very stupidly fallen for the Criminal Mastermind’s daughter? Did Zane find out about his criminal activity?

Well, it wasn’t everything that Kai had thought would happen, although the topic had come stupidly close to the last point. Zane confronted him, making him open up about his ‘feelings’ or whatever, before telling Kai that the alcohol content in his body was too high and that his livers were on the edge of failing. Well. Good to know that Zane is still regular old Zane who’d scan you without permission.

“Kai, all I’m saying is that you are free to tell me anything. To just let it all out -“

“I can’t let it all out!” Kai shouted in annoyance. What did Zane know about grieving- Oh wait. Doctor Julien. Well, what did Zane know about Kai’s specific method of dealing with his issues? He was fine.

“Why not, Kai?” Zane asked with a bittersweet smile. Kai looked around, desperately searching for an answer that he doesn’t have.

“Well- I can’t tell you that! Just know that it’s okay for me to feel angry!” Kai stated very, very eloquently. Zane just gave him a look that said ‘bullshit’. “It’s also okay for you to be sad, and to cry.”

“You’re-you’re wrong!”

“And you’re a hypocrite, Kai. You can’t make Lloyd do the right choices if you aren’t gonna do them yourself.”

“Well- Lloyd’s just a child! A teenager at best, really. Me? I’m a fully legal adult! I can make my own decisions!” Kai seethed. Zane looked sad for a moment, before straightening up and doubling down.

“Whilst according to Mill’s Harm Principle, you’re free to do anything that could harm yourself without damaging others, might I remind you that you’re still a role model for Lloyd, Nya, and even Jay? Please, Kai. If you can’t do it for yourself, at least do it for them.” Zane pleaded. And damn it. Whilst Kai wouldn’t lift a finger to save himself, just the thought of Lloyd doing what he’s done sent a shiver down his spine. Zane was right, as always. He had to be the big brother, and being the older brother means that he has to display healthy habits more. FSM knows that Lloyd would need it. So he sucked up his pride, arrogance, and ego, then threw it all away, metaphorically off the Bounty

He knew that they would always come creeping back to him later, but for now, Lloyd needed a functional older brother, and Kai was going to be exactly what he needs.

“Thank you, Zane,” Kai stated. Grinning, Zane waved Kai on to go save Lloyd, who now looked like he was drowning from some invisible force.

“Lloyd? Lloyd buddy, you there?”

- Cole - Of course, Kai couldn’t stop his blood pressure from reaching a boiling point. How could he? This month had been the worst month for his health since- well, since forever! Who would’ve thought that Wu’s dead first student would escape the Cursed Realm just to possess Lloyd in order to exact an act of stupid, grand revenge because he didn’t get the title of the Green Ninja?

Kai had to fight his baby brother, lose the staff of the First Spinjitsu Master, fail to defeat ghosts, bargain with a stupidcrook for some weapons that were actually effective to ghosts all whilst looking for the scroll of Airjitzu, who guess what? Turns out Ronin had it all along. And he had just handed it to Morro, which caused all of them to go to this cursedtemple, which was designed to be a terribly haunted house, because it just amplified Kai’s fear of water a 100 times more, and all that culminated in a stupid idea where they tied themselves together to not lose track of the other, which caused Cole to lose valuable time when the scroll of Airjitzu was dropped right as they were at the door to the temple.

Spinning around to check on his teammates, he saw a pale green sheen. Just as he was about to raise his weapon, he heard Cole’s voice calling out to them that they had the scroll. And oh. Oh no. No, Kai couldn’t deal with this anymore. He watched Cole realise with horror that now, he was technically dead, and wail.

Kai’s blood vessels were very, very close to popping. Being an alcoholic had not helped with his anger issues, and having faced too many setbacks, all whilst not having any powers or any victories, Kai was prepared to curse the entire 16 realms.

As Nya parked the bounty right next to the floating temple of Airjitzu, Kai could see her face widen in shock and horror at Cole. Fists clenched the tightest they had been in a while (and that was saying something, given that he had failed to protect Lloyd again) Kai could only take over the lead as he herded his teammates onboard the ship.

Cole’s a ghost now. So what? He can deal with that later. For now, they had to beat Morro to the Cloud Kingdom and the Realm crystal if he was going to have any chance of having Lloyd back.

Well, that was a lie, Kai thought to himself after the heat of the moment. Their ship was now charted towards the Wailing Alps, trying to make it as the Blind Man’s Eye passed over the top so that they may use Airjitzu to get the Sword of Sanctuary. And that meant they had time. Whilst Zane and Jay were working on some mechs to help them traverse the mountains, Nya was training with Sensei Wu to unlock her true potential faster, and Misako was packing them supplies. That meant that Kai and Cole were left in the bow of the ship. The air just felt denser than usual, even though by all logic, it should have been lighter due to their high altitude.

Kai watched Cole trying to tap a button on the control board, but couldn’t manage to get his hands to temporarily appear solid. He saw the frustration on Cole’s face grow as he gave up and slammed his hand on the board, accidentally touching on several buttons. Immediately the ship started to list onto the left side. So bracing himself Kai rushed to the position and immediately undid the damage Cole had done.

Cole then let out a scream of frustration. “All I wanted to do was to view the stupid GPS! Why. Can’t. I. Do. Anything. Right?” Cole angrily shouted, punctuating each word with a kick aimed towards the control panel, but never managing to connect. He immediately sunk onto the floor and held his face in his hands.

Kai sucked in air through his teeth. He wasn’t everyone’s go-to when comforting them from anger, but it seems that he had to step up this time.

“Hey, Cole?” Kai started gently. “Yeah?” Came a muffled response.

“I know that I’m not the best person to do this, but I just want you to know that I hate the universe as much as you do, and it’s alright if you wanna just shout and spar with me-“

“Hah! As if I can do anything good with this. Stupid. Body!” Cole replied, voice tense with frustration. Kai frowned.

“I’m serious Cole. And you will get better at using this body. Remember how Morro’s ghost friends had beaten us? Imagine them, not realising that we actually have a pretty powerful member right in their midst. Think of the recon missions you can do as a ghost! Imagine how satisfying it would be to just punch Morro in the nose without feeling bad for hurting Lloyd!” Kai picked a direction and resigned himself to it, smile getting more manic as he realised that hey! Cole’s new body is actually kinda cool. Cole snorted.

“Imagine all the pranks I’ll be able to pull on Jay. And imagine me possessing Mr. Cuddlywump-“ Both of them dissolved into laughter after this thought, each imagining Jay’s terrified expression as Cole’s voice comes out of the teddy bear that he thinks nobody knows he hugs every night.

“Hey- you know that being a ghost would be incredible for your stealth right?” Kai ribbed Cole gently, finding delight that it actually connected. Cole scoffed. “Oh, don’t remind me Mr-I-blew-up-2-trucks-filled-with-jet-fuel-and-thought-that-I-wouldn’t-be-noticed.”

“Hey! It was just one time.” Kai defended himself. “Seriously though, imagine all the cool shit you can do now.”

“Too bad that I won’t be able to eat anymore,” Cole said mournfully. Kai raised his eyebrow. “Nah, this just means that you can eat as much as you want and wouldn’t be scolded by Sensei Wu. Also, don’t we have Hungry Ghost Month right before Day of the Departed?”

“Holy shit, Kai. You’re right! You know, maybe being a ghost isn’t so bad after all,” Cole said with a hearty grin. With a grin of his own, Kai thought to himself that really, being a ghost is no big deal. We have a nindroid as a brother after all! Besides, at least Cole is still with us in, heh, spirit.

Too late did Kai consider the cons of being a ghost. As Cole watched helplessly from the banks of the river that Lloyd was drowning in, Kai had to bite his own tongue to stop himself from screaming as he plunged into the water to save Lloyd from drowning. Too late, after the defeat of the Preeminent, did he see Lloyd flinching from Cole’s touch, which led to a very heartbroken Cole and an extremely apologetic Lloyd. He saw Lloyd trying his best to just endure and adapt to the change, and his heart was filled with anger again.

It wasn’t as bad as his breaking point at Yang’s temple, but he now has a grudge against Morro that runs through the core of his being, like how ‘Nya is my Sister’ and ‘Lloyd is my baby brother’ are the code of his being. Still, victory tasted bittersweet as he gets to finally pat the golden head of hair his brother has.

Kai would be okay to go through anything, as long as he had his family with him.

- - Jay - Family. That’s what Kai’s life has circled back into, hasn’t it? He had fought skeleton armies for his sisters, fought snakes with his brothers, trained the youngest to fight the literal embodiment of evil, went through an entire tournament for one of his brothers, fought with Wu’s student to save Lloyd, and now destiny decides for him to face another whiplash.

His parents. His good-for-nothing parents. They had left Kai when he was 6 and Nya when she was just 3. It had been absolute hell, making sure that they had enough to eat, enough to drink, and enough to wear during the winter. Kai had to start working at the blacksmith shop when he was just 8, trying to find some independence from the goodwill of his neighbours. And whilst he was working odd jobs, being a stable boy, an errand boy, doing some house chores for the minimum wage- he also had to make sure that his baby sister could attend school properly.

He had properly started to work at the forge when he was 12, having sold most of his father’s previous work. Soon, he found ease in making spear tips, armour, and samurai-style helmets. He had been working on doing a good sword when his sister was kidnapped, and his entire life changed as he tried his hardest to bring her back. Since then, he hadn’t gone back to his old home in Ignacia.

But he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Looking at the smithing symbol on the inside of the Vermillion Warrior’s helmet, Kai had to take a quick journey back to his old home, back into his past. Picking up a decade-old helmet, Kai’s worst fears were confirmed.

“I knew it,” Kai said humourlessly as the puzzle pieces began to construct a monstrosity that he never wanted to know. In a fit of anger, he punched his father’s symbol, to which a secret hatch just suddenly opened. Curious, Kai took a look at the basement of the shop, only to see a double-edged blade as well as some old armour. What was he making? Kai wondered, before shaking his head. It doesn’t matter now.

With single-minded determination, Kai took the blade, old, and a new helmet, then immediately headed to someone who he knows would understand.

10 minutes later, Kai was sitting at a booth in Chen’s Noodle House, venting out all his frustrations to Skylor, who, bless her, had offered him free noodles as he spilled out his feelings. Of course, Kai didn’t feel much better after doing so, but at least he felt like he wasn’t suffocating anymore. Just as Kai was summarising his rant, incomes Nya, proclaiming something about how Skylor was the mysterious and new Samurai X. Kai’s stomach suddenly started to churn and he gulped. He had to break the news that their parents were still alive to Nya. And whilst that was mean, what Kai learned throughout his years as being a Ninja that being honest with your teammates was the difference between life and death. Funny, he remembered a weird dream that was focused on this exact point. But Kai didn’t have time to reminisce now. All he could do was think of ways of breaking the news to Nya.

Too soon, Kai Smith, no not Smith, Kai had to think of a better surname after this was all over. Anyways, their team has decided upon infiltrating Krux and Acronix’s secret base, which also meant that they will find his traitorous father. Instantly, he felt a searing hot pain radiate from within his ribcage. teeth clenched, fists tightened, he and Nya arrived at the swamp.

He had a single-minded focus on finding his parents and nothing could stop him.

“Kai, I don’t see anything. Give me the map,” Nya whispered. “Hmmm, what even makes you think that Acronix and Krux will be around here?”

“I honestly don’t even care if they are,” Kai said noncommittally and looked around his surroundings. In the distance, he saw a building, right where the blacksmith shop was situated on the map. Heart pounding, he raced up the planks leading up the shop.

Kai was in too deep to stop now, to have second thoughts. Seeing his father’s blacksmith symbol on the door, builds up his resolve to kick the door open.

“I knew it!” anger, like how lava flows down a volcano, seeped into his bones as his father stared at him like he was some kind of stranger. In all fairness, he was. Because what kind of ‘father’ was Ray Smith for abandoning Nya, for abandoning him, all those years ago?

“Who are you? What do you want?” Those words cut deeply into Kai’s heart, etching all kinds of feelings that Kai couldn’t process. Because all he could see. Was red.

“I WANT JUSTICE!” With a war cry, Kai drew out the double-edged blade that his father had watched. But this time, he wasn’t fighting to disarm, to defeat, or to stun. He was fighting to kill.

Running towards the blacksmith, Kai jumped to plunge the blade into his father’s chest, only for him to dodge, Raising another strike, he missed and hit the edge of the forge. Spinning around, his next shot was parried by his father.

Blocked by his father again, Kai gave his old man a chance to explain himself. But what was said was, “You’re red like a Vermillion Warrior. But you’re no snake.”

“No, I’m not, BUT YOU ARE! TRAITOR!!” Kai broke out of his father’s block, spinning the weapon before clashing it with his father’s hammer again. His next few strikes were dodged and a kick sent Kai sprawling over the anvil. Getting up again, Kai swung the weapon wildly, getting dodged before being thrown back by a well-timed shot from his father.

“You messed with the wrong blacksmith, my friend,” Ray said, standing over Kai’s body. hearing those words sent a hot shot of seething fire down to his free palm. Building up a fire in his hand, Kai stood up and spun the double-edged blade.

“Fire power…” Ray thought out loud. Shocked, he could only get out of the way as Kai threw a fireball at him.

“No… you’re certainly not a guard. You’re… my son!” Hearing those words made Kai pause. He didn’t know why, he just couldn’t move. Too many emotions were battling in him, and he could only focus on his father’s next few words.

“Kai! You’ve inherited my elemental power!” his father had actually said that. In joy. Suddenly, his fire was rekindled.

“That’s the only thing I’ll ever inherit from you!” Kai started to move, to continue the fight when suddenly his baby sister screamed for him to stop from the front door.

“He’s a traitor!” Kai explained through gritted teeth.

“He’s still our father,” Nya begged Kai to reconsider.

“Whatever it is you think, I can explain-“

“Yeah… BET YOU CAN!” Kai threw back his left hand, ready to unleash another fireball at his father when a jet of water put his element out.

“Kai, let him speak!” Nya pleaded. “There’s no harm in hearing him out!”

Kai then moved to throw the double-edged blade at his father, who had dodged out of the way. sensing that Nya would just put out his fire again, Kai pounced on his father and dragged him hip by the collar of his clothes, and began to wrestle with him.

“It ends here! NOW!” Overpowering his father, he managed the wrench his left hand free, and pulled it back into a punch.

“Kai, you don’t know what you’re doing!” “I DO NYA! I ABSOLUTELY-“ “I’m not your sister, son.”

Kai suddenly stopped. His mother… was alive?!

“Huh? M-mom? I-I don’t believe it!” Kai released whatever he was holding as he turned around, trembling.

“That makes the 2 of us,” Maya stated sweetly, and suddenly all the memories that Kai had been oppressing came back- he could see the woman who cared for him, hear the lullabies she used to sing Nya to sleep, smell the floral shampoo and scent of mountain springs that hung around her. He remembers the taste of the food that she had made, and the warm, slender hands that held his own. As Kai watched his mother fuss over his baby sister, his resolve to fight, to seek revenger, crumbled away into pieces.

Removing his hood, he threw his arms around his mother, still smelling the scent of mountain springs, feeling the her skin, folded and cut in several areas, but still warm and firm.

But suddenly, he remembered the snake helmets and of Sensei Wu, and immediately pushed her back.

“Why, she’s as guilty as he is! They’ve been helping Acronix and Krux for years!” Kai seethed. “They’re the enemy!”

“Is that what you think?” Maya reproached. “We are not your enemy.”

“Then how do you explain this?” Kai took up the vermillion warrior’s helmet and showed his father’s symbol to his biological family. “Dad’s blacksmith stamp on every piece of Vermillion armour!”

“They forced us to work for them! Part of their revenge…” Maya rebutted.

“For what?”

“For creating the time blades,” Ray shook his head and creased his forehead. “It goes back a long tie, then Acronis and Krux were still Elemental Masters.”

Ray recounted how Wu had asked them to forge blades made of a chronosteel, a sort of metal that suctions your elemental powers away permanently if you used them to their true potential on the metal.

“We had worked for days and nights. At the end of it all, we were so exhausted, that we could not participate in the fight. But Wu had told us the results of the fights, about how he and Garmadon had sent the Time Twins and the Time Blades into a Time Vortex, essentially having them lost to time.”

“Yet, immediately after the portal has closed, Krux had gotten away. And he had gotten a glimpse of the Blimp too. He now knew that his brother was being sent to the future without him.”

“Now, he had decades to scheme and plan. He adopted the persona of the kindly Dr. Sanders Saunders. He had begun making the first batches of Vermillion out of the Great Devourer’s eggs. And his army would need weapons. Armour. Vehicles.

“So he went looking for us, and we had built a cordial relation with the old man.”

“One day, he suddenly revealed his true colours and held you two at sword point, stating that if we did not cooperate, he would not hesitate to kill you,” Maya said, eyes glistening with tears. “What could we have done?”

Kai didn’t know how to react. He stood there shell-shocked. His parents.. they weren’t traitors after all? The fire of anger fizzled out. “Okay, but what about the stamp?”

“I stamped every piece of my work, hoping that one day, someone would figure it out,” Kai’s father admitted. “So that together, we can stop Krux and Acronix’s plan.”

“What is their plan?” Nya asked. Ray shook his head and creased his eyebrows in fear. “To control all of time.”

That revelation shocked Kai into speaking again. He looked at his father, bruised, dirtied, and tired from their fight before. The feeling of guilt bubbled in his stomach, and Kai had to immediately right the wrongs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Kai began, wincing internally at his bad apology. But Nya- blessed Nya, had saved him by asking about Krux and Acronix’s plan to control all of time.

“They made me design the Iron Doom, a machine capable of transporting the Vermillion warriors through time,” Ray explained, rolling out a blueprint of the iron doom.

“So you built a Time Machine?” Kai asked incredulously. Ray huffed. “No, just the shell. I’m afraid the Time Machines are bit out of my skill set.”

“But Cyrus Borg was forced to design a power source capable of powering the machine by using temporal energy from the Time Blades,” Maya said whilst rolling out another piece of blueprint next to Ray’s this time of some sort of machine.

“Oh no! That must mean that the pause we felt earlier… that must mean that there are 3 blades in the present!” Nya exclaimed. Kai thought out loud that if Krux and Acronix got the blade, there will be only one left. “And if they get that, their time traveling mega armour will be fully operational!”

Kai stared dumbfoundedly at the smile shared between his parents. “Sorry, full operational is… good news?” Man, if his parents could just pick a side already!

“They’ll never get it,” Ray said with a smile. “Master Wu found it shortly after Acronix disappeared. Turns out it had the power to reverse time. Wu knew it was too dangerous to keep, so we hid it, buried deep in a location where only a combined elemental power of Fire and Water can reach.”

“And since you inherited our powers-“ Kai’s mother gasped sharply. “You must leave. Now!”

Ray looked downright alarmed. “You’re right. If Krux and Acronix knew you were here, they could-“

At this moment, the door burst open and time stood still.

“Could force you to retrieve the Time Blade for us? Excellent suggestion,” Krux said with a menacing smile.

“No way! We’ll never retrieve the Reversal Blade for you!” “You tell him, brother!”

“You will! Or your parents will face the same fate that they tried to protect you from.” Krux countered, his smile stretching impossibly wider.

“We’re done serving you, Krux. Bring your worst!” Ray shouted, charging towards the Time Twins. Kai watched in horror as Krux used the Pause blade to stop his father’s momentum immediately, before giving him a hard kick in the gut.

“DAD!” Kai shouted, watching his father still frozen in place, bouncing on the hard floor.

“Look what I found,” drawled the voice of Commander Machia, wheeling in-

“Master!” “Wu!’

“You know, it occurs to me that the Reversal Blade is the only way to undo Wu’s Time Punch.” Acronix grinned.

“I…I’m afraid that’s true,” Kai’s father said, having gotten out of the pause effect.

“If you want to save your master, you’ll have to retrieve the 4th blade.” Krux walked even closer to Kai, before snatching away the double-edged blade. “And I’ll take that.”

Lightning flashed over the skies, creeping in tendrils and thunder boomed, rocking the ship. Kai and his family were stuck on a ship, not able to help his other family back at the swamp to fight off a whole swamp’s worth of snakes! And to top it all off, he had to retrieve the 4th Time Blade for the Twins, directly enabling Krux and Acronix’s plan!

Kai felt anger in the many hot drops of rain the fell onto his skin. But he couldn’t afford to lose himself here, he and Nya would have to work together, get past all the challenges and get the time blade, save Wu and get out of here!

Yet, once he and Nya had returned to the ship, the blade was immediately knocked out of his hands and his father took another Time Punch. Just as he was about the throw hands with the Time Twins, he was hit with a jet of brilliant red light, trapping him a Pause as he could only see the ship moving away from underneath him. They barely had the time to pull up their fusion dragon before heading back to the swamp.

Upon their arrival, they saw the Time Twins enter a temporal vortex. They had to follow them. There was no other choice.

A long, tiring battle in the past 40 years ago had taken its toll on Kai and Nya. They had managed to reverse the Time Punch on Master Wu (though Kai wonders if maybe Nya used a bit too much) and they had managed to drive Acronix and Krux back into the Temporal Vortex, this time actually sneaking aboard the ship and trying to remove the Time Blades from the engine of the Iron Doom.

Unfortunately for Kai, he just couldn’t lift the Reversal Blade, but Sensei Wu had. Throwing the Time Blade to him, Kai almost didn’t register Wu telling them to use the blade of Ray before throwing both of them out of the time stream and back into the present.

After had used the time blade on his father, Kai and Nya were tasked with Master Lloyd’s command to return the Reversal Blade to its place in the Boiling Sea. Of course, Kai had complied, adrenaline still fuelling his body. And yet when all was said and done, Kai collapsed upon reaching the Temple of Airjitzu.

The days after Kai and Nya returned to the present without Sensei Wu were some of the worst. Kai felt like he was over bursting with emotions. Guilt, grief, and anger clouded his mind over the loss of Wu. Joy, confusion, and deep-seated anger clouded his heart over his parents. Kai didn’t know how to deal with everything. He couldn’t really talk with his previous confidence, he couldn’t move without double guessing himself, and his decision-making skills were in pieces, grounded into a fine dust.

Does he reconnect with his family or not? What could he do the aid the search of Sensei Wu? Are Nya and Lloyd doing alright? Cole seems to be the hardest hit out of all of them, maybe he should go check on him?

Lying on his bed in the Temple of Airjitzu, Kai couldn’t muster his strength to well, do anything! He just needed some time to just… process, everything that had happened in the past month. His parents, of course, had given him some space, and just said that when he’s ready to contact them. Kai thinks that they also didn’t know how to deal with his situation and just took a cop-out. Or maybe they just wanted to breathe fresh, non-swamp-sewer air and tour Ninjago after being in captivity in 10 years. Honestly, who knows?

Lloyd had walked in and provided a brief source of relief for Kai, but too soon had he walked away, going back to his training. Kai saw his baby brother’s eyes sporadically turn green, infused with his element, in just 3 days. Kai would have joined him too, doing whatever hellish program he had set up for himself, if he wasn’t just ambushed by his feelings whenever he tries to get up, wondering if that was even the right choice. He certainly felt that it was his fault that he lost Sensei Wu, and now his kid brother had trained so hard that his eyes became green just to find Sensei again.

Nya was dealing with her own reconciliation with his parents and sometimes offered Kai a shoulder to cry on. Mostly, she was by herself, as Jay had told Kai to ease his worry. Still, his worry for Nya is topped only by his worry about the future.

Cole had also been hit hard by the loss of Sensei Wu and was shutting himself in. Zane was still trying to spend time looking for Pixal throughout the Bounty and any of our other bases of operations, trying to tracer her down.

That left Jay, who really, was as much of a help as a hindrance to Kai. Hanging out with Jay meant that Kai soon developed a terrible sense of humour, an arsenal of horrible puns, and way too many prank ideas. Jay had made sure that everyone was fed, watered, and in some cases- slept. Of course, being the responsible one for once meant that Jay had to bully his most stubborn teammates into taking a break, or having some food.

“MOOOORRRRNNIIIIIINNG!” Kai was once again woken up by Jay’s terrible screeching. Turning to face the wall, Kai pushed a pillow on top of him just so he could remain in the land of sleeping for longer. No such luck.

“KAAAIIIIII! GET UP!” Jay, screamed as the door to his room flung open. Aw man here we go again, Kai grumbled to himself.

“So what would you like to have this morning? Eggs and bacey? Toast with jam? How about-“

“How about you shut up and leave me alone!” Kai shouted, irritated by the perky tone that Jay has adopted. Watching Jay’s smile become less bright and more forced, Kai couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Sitting up and rubbing the base of his neck, Kai apologised for his outburst. “Sorry, Jay- it’s just that I need some time, alone.”

Jay nodded solemnly, before sitting down at the edge of his bed. Kai watched as Jay took a deep breath before saying his piece.

“I know Kai, but… Nya… she needs you. You have got to fix your relationship with your parents, or at least start on the first step. I’m going to be honest: I’m not good with people like you are. I don’t know how to get Lloyd to rest, because he’s going to break his body this way. Don’t get me started on Cole, who won’t open up to me at all. And I can’t out logic Zane. He keeps saying that since he’s a robot, he doesn’t need rest as we humans do.”

Kai stayed silent for a while, mulling over Jay’s words. Truth is, if he could, he would have done so already. What did Jay know about these kinds of relationships, anyways? In fact, when compared to everyone else on the team, Jay has the best relationship with his parents. So what was the point of this? Kai felt his hands curl up into a fist, bunching his bedsheets. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he breathed out to calm himself down before he could impulsively do something he’d regret.

“No can do, Jaybird. I don’t even know where to start,” Kai said regretfully. Kai honestly expected for Jay to slink out of his room, to go pester Nya to try or to get Lloyd to see sense, or to even get his best buddy to open up about his troubles. Kai did not think that Jay seemed to double down, taking several huge gulps of air, and one the edge of hyperventilation. He saw Jay’s hands tighten into fists before he spoke in a trembling voice.

“Kai… did is something that I really, really don’t want to share. It’s something that I keep wanting to erase out of my memories. But I can’t, because no matter how much I try to see it as just a prank- it’s the truth. I’m… adopted,” Jay finished in a hushed whisper. Immediately, Kai sat up straighter. He hadn’t heard this before. “Please, please, keep this a secret, Kai.”

“…so, when did you find out?” Kai whispered back.

“It was at the height of our popularity craze right after stix. A letter had come in, about how my father had died. Immediately, I went off to my Ma and Pa’s scrapyard, but it turns out that I had been adopted, and that my biological father was… Cliff Gordon,” Jay’s teeth had begun shuddering as tears came leaking out of his eyes.

“Oh,” That’s all Kai could really say. I mean, how were you going to reply to that?

“Of course, I felt all sorts of different emotions at first. Relief that my Pa didn’t die, confusion at why I was abandoned on my parent’s doorstep, realisation why neither of my parents had elemental powers, and eventually gratitude because my biological father had written me into his will.”

“But Kai, you don’t just easily forget the feeling when you thought that your parents died. I’m sure that if Cole was himself right now, he would have knocked some sense into you.” Jay stated with a small smile. “Our lives as Ninja are really, really dangerous. Yesterday, we lost Sensei Wu. Tomorrow… well, let’s just say that as a Ninja, you have to cherish time with your loved ones. Don’t put off tomorrow what can be done today.”

And Kai seriously was lost for words. Jay was… 100% right. There were no faults, no counterarguments. Danger was a Ninja’s job description, and too soon he could leave this realm without patching things up with his parents- his parents had almost done so too when his father had been struck by the Forward blade. If he couldn’t do it for himself, and his parents- well, he could do it for Nya’s sake.

Suddenly energised, Kai stood up.

“Thank you, Jay.”

And off he went to call his parents, checking in on them, holding a conversation that had a semblance of normality. They had talked about safe topics, about interesting areas Ray and Maya had visited, about Kai and Nya’s adventures, and about Kai’s team, Sensei Wu- anything, really.

Tears of joy fell down his cheeks before he decided to barge into Nya’s room, throwing open her curtains and rousing her from her slumber.

Because now, they had a chance. They could reconcile.

And then they can find Sensei Wu.

- Kai - It was their first machine in 6 months, and Kai had managed to lose his powers. Again. This time, however, the warmth and fiery spirit that Kai could always cling to were gone as well. He had always felt utterly powerless without his fire. But without his anger? Kai was more than useless. He couldn’t even defend the civilians from the fire snakes, because he was out of shape as well and had to rely on Jay to save him. Jay!

Severely discouraged by this fact, he told his team to just ‘go ahead without him'. He would not be of any help to them anyways. He would only add more onto their already full plate as they would have to focus on defending him too.

Slumping next to an overturned car, Kai hid his face in his hands. What if he never gets his powers back? Would they hate him? Forget him? Maybe he could become The Red Shogun again, maybe pilot a mech as Pixal does.

Kai’s jumbled thoughts were interrupted by a kid (seriously, how many disasters have Ninjago faced to let people carry on their normal lives whilst it’s raining fireballs?) handing him a journal, stating that Kai was his favourite Ninja and could he please, please sign his notebook?

“Sorry kid,” Kai huffed out. “I’m not really a ninja without my powers.”

“Well then, why don’t you go help your teammates?” The kid, Max asked.

“Because, I’m useless, that’s why!”

“Well- if you don’t help the ninja, I will!” And with that, Max stormed away and started to head for the scene of danger. Kai called out to him futile to come back and resigned himself to his fate. Picking up the notebook, Kai saw a cartoonish sticker of him in his ninja mask at the front, before coming to an epiphany.

His teammates didn’t like him for just his fire. Nor did the Ninjago citizens. He carried everyone’s hopes and dreams on his back and he can’t just turn around now and leave him to face the enemy alone!

What was he thinking?

Immediately, Kai rushed down the street to the Ninjago Museum of ancient artifacts.

Kai didn’t always have to run red hot. He didn’t need to perpetually be angry. Sometimes, it’s okay to mellow out. But now is not the time. Now, he has to save his family from one crazy snake lady who was fuelled only by revenge.

Kai couldn’t just be fuelled by his anger. Facing off with Aspheera taught him that. Being angry all the time was exhausting when he inevitably turned off the switch. Anger clouded his thoughts, made errs in his judgment, caused him to be impatient- all whilst ignoring the important parts of his life- his family. And from now on, Kai would only tap into anger when it was absolutely necessary. What matters the most to him isn’t feeling invulnerable, like nothing could hurt him, especially if he was protecting his teammates. Rather, it was the job that Kai had to do. Emotions in battle are a tricky thing, but all the times he observed Lloyd setting aside his feelings for the greater good had made Kai realise that emotions can be easily goaded. Manipulate, by enemies such as Chen and Harumi.

In a life or death situation, Kai couldn’t just rely on his feelings. He had to embrace his moral code, the values that he holds dear, and act upon them, even though it may seem impossible at times. And he shouldn’t get frustrated with his team.

Kai may be angry, but the only time he’ll properly deal with his emotions will be when the battle is all over, and then he will learn how to compartmentalise, how to sort through his emotions. Maybe he’ll take up blacksmithing part-time again.

All Kai knew that was in this instance, he refused to let his life be ruled over uncontrollable feelings, mostly of rage. He was the master of his own emotions.

And nothing will stop him from helping out his team.

56 notes · View notes

astralaffairs · 4 years ago

Note

think of it as like an au or something, but I'm just curious to see how president thom would react to seeing someone forcing themselves on mc at like a state dinner if they're not together, i feel like he'd try to stand up for her but also it'd be kinda sus of the president standing up for some press figure who's been talking shit abt him

i love this concept omg. i got an ask similar to this a while back, so i’ve been sitting on a lot of ideas for it. tbh thomas would hardly be able to restrain himself from fucking throttling whoever’s harassing mc, but he isn’t gonna refrain from stepping in. anyway, his standing up for her then makes the media hail him as a feminist icon for like the next 3 weeks

this broke my heart to write tho lowkey </3

-----

"You're… you're Y/N L/N, aren't you? With the Washington Post?"

Y/N had been sour all night. Her feet were cramping in her heels, the tag on her dress was starting to itch, and worst of all, her editor had forced her to take the invite Alex had extended her to the state dinner. She’d had no plans of interacting with the Jefferson administration — in fact, her plan had been to stay as far from them as possible so that she could focus on work, but she mentioned the state dinner offhandedly to a coworker, another had overheard, and the next thing she knew, her boss had found out.

Moreover, she was fairly certain that Thom– no, President Jefferson had only invited Alex to antagonize him, so it was no wonder he didn’t want to go. However, when he gave her the invite, she protested that, since it wasn’t addressed to her, she couldn’t go, and she certainly couldn’t go without him, but both Alex and her editor had insisted it’d be fine. There would be enough people present that she’d slip under the radar, so what was the harm?

And slip under the radar she did. As Vice President and Second Lady, James and Dolley were unattainable company for the evening; they were busy with the heads of PACs, with senators, with members of the State Department. The latter group included Lafayette — he’d been promoted not long after President Jefferson took office, which ruled him, too, out of her options for who she could hang out with. He was off wooing foreign diplomats.

So, there she was, standing alone at the side of the room with her expensive champagne (there was an open bar, thank god) and the small-but-growing pile of business cards she’d collected throughout the night.

At least, she was alone until the anonymous man in question approached her. She turned to him with her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m Y/N,” she said, surprised that she’d been recognized. “I’m not with the Post, anymore, though.”

“Of course. My mistake,” he apologized, and when he extended to her a hand to shake, she stuffed her newly-acquired business cards back into her purse “I’m Richard Lestrade. I work in the Department of Defense.”

“Nice to meet you.” She had little interest in chatting with him, but she politely shook his hand. “What can I do for you?”

He laughed softly, but it made Y/N raise an eyebrow. “I don’t have some kind of agenda. I just recognized you from your time as a news analyst and thought I’d come introduce myself.”

“Of course.”

She only responded so as to placate him, and she thought that how curt her reply was would deter him from trying to strike up a conversation. She met his eyes with an expectant eyebrow raised as she took another sip from her champagne.

“So how’d you get an invite here tonight?” he asked after a moment. “I mean, I was invited because I work for him, working on naval strategy and all, so it’s just a perk of the job, but I’m surprised to see you. With how much you’ve done to keep President Jefferson from being elected, I wouldn’t think you’d end up on the guest list for state dinners.”

She shrugged. “Alexander Hamilton invited me, actually.”

“Secretary Hamilton was invited? Really?” At that, the disbelief in Richard’s expression was almost patronizing. “Wow, I didn’t hear that he and President Jefferson had buried the hatchet. I always thought they were rivals, or even enemies.”

“Oh, make no mistake, they hate each other,” she said coolly.

“So why would Secretary Hamilton be invited?”

“So Jefferson could rub it in his face that he won the election.” She shrugged, turning back to face the room before them, but Richard seemed surprised.

“No, no, he wouldn’t be that petty,” he scoffed, but his tone was condescending, as though her theory had absolutely no foundation. “He’s the president. I think he has higher priorities than antagonizing someone who’s old news.”

Y/N resisted rolling her eyes at his calling Alex ‘old news,’ as though Richard was somehow a higher calibre of invitee to the state dinner. “You underestimate how catty politicians are. Jefferson included.”

“President Jefferson,” he corrected her, and she gave him a sidelong glance, eyeing him warily.

“Sure.”

“But anyway, I suppose I’m glad President Jefferson invited Hamilton, if it means you’re here, too.” Richard raised his glass to her as though in tribute, and she was sure the smile she offered him came off as more of a grimace. She had little appreciation for his heavy-handed advance.

“That’s nice of you to say,” she replied mildly before draining the remainder of her glass. She turned to him with a nonchalant, nearly-blank expression. “And as great as it’s been to meet you, I think I have to run. I’m heading out soon and need to say a few goodbyes.” Truthfully, she had no intention of leaving. Her editor would have her head if he found out she cut bait so early in the night, and if she fled before Jefferson addressed the entire room, she wouldn’t be able to provide her boss with the synopsis of the presidential address. She only wanted to leave that conversation.

“You’re leaving so early? Why’s that?”

She shrugged. “I suppose the Jefferson Administration isn’t really my scene. I’ll see you around, Mr. Lestrade.”

“Please, it’s Richard,” he corrected her. “But you should stay longer. If you leave now, you’ll miss President Jefferson’s address.”

What was it with this guy and using Jefferson’s full title? “Please, consider for a moment that missing it may be entirely the point,” she said dryly, and Richard gave a light laugh.

“Oh, please. I’m sure that even a democrat like you can appreciate a good speech.” ‘Even a democrat like her’? What was that supposed to mean? “As a journalist, this should be right up your alley.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to find the transcript online in a few hours. I’ll survive.”

“It’ll have a much greater impact in person,” he countered, and she sighed. “So, please, stay. Can I get you a drink? What are you drinking?”

“Thanks, but I’m okay,” she said. As though she was about to let a man she’d met only minutes before handle her drink. That would be a recipe for disaster. “I really should get going.”

“No, wait,” he protested, and when she began walking away from him anyway, he caught her by the arm, pulled her back. She turned back to him with an expectant expression, trying to quell the anger building in her chest. “You can’t leave yet; dinner hasn’t even been served.”

“I can fend for myself on that front,” she assured him, and although her teeth were clenched, she plastered on a smile. “So if you’d kindly let go of my arm, I’m going to be on my way.”

“I was hoping to get to know you, actually.” He released her, but her immediately marching off toward the center of the room caught him off guard. “No, wait!” She stifled a groan when she heard him hurrying after her, and as he came to a stop in front of her, blocking her path, she narrowed her eyes. “Come on, Y/N. Come sit down with me and some of my friends; it’ll be a nice time, okay? I’m a nice guy.” He wore a hopeful smile, apparently convinced of his words as she folded her arms.

“I’m sure you are, but I need to get back to my table to retrieve my coat,” she said apologetically. Her anger didn’t show on her face, thankfully. “So I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“Oh, sure you can; you’re just being stubborn,” he insisted. He took a step forward toward Y/N, and she took a step back. “Now, I know we’re from opposite parties, and all, but I’ve been a fan of your reporting for a long time, and I’d really appreciate it if you just came and sat down with us for a few minutes. You and I have a lot in common. I have a feeling we’d hit it off.”

The coy smile he wore made her want to grimace, and when he added a wink, she did grimace, visibly. “This is nice and all, but I’m not really interested.”

“Sure, because you don’t know me yet,” Richard countered, and he took another step toward her, grabbing her by the elbow as he came to stand next to her. Y/N could feel her heart pounding as he forcibly turned her, pointed out his table. “Let’s go. We’re sitting right over there.”

“No, really, I’d rather not,” she repeated, and as she tried to pull her arm away from his grip, he pulled her toward him with an arm around her waist — it was then she realized she couldn’t do nearly anything about it without making a scene. And given her history, a scene was the last thing she wanted. “Please let go of me.”

“You don’t have to stay long; I’m not asking much.” It was then that he began leading her toward the table, and as she stumbled alongside him, panic was rising in her chest. She was looking around for some way out, some familiar face — Dolley, Lafayette, someone — but nobody appeared. “Just have a seat. Let me get you a drink.”

And there he was, repeating his offer. No matter who it was, the insistence on drinking with her would make her wary, but this man already had worry building in her throat, so the feeling only compounded with his words. “I don’t want to come with you. Get your hands off of me.” He didn’t stop, though, and she finally had to dig in her heels, trying to pull back from him. She knew he was stronger than her, but her resistance to him dragging her along certainly grabbed his attention. Richard frowned.

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a–”

“‘M fairly sure I heard her tellin’ you to let go of her.” The voice was stern, and it made both her and Richard freeze, and for entirely different reasons. Y/N would’ve been able to recognize it anywhere, the southern drawl, the lazy enunciation, and her pulse was then spiking for an entirely different reason. Richard turned immediately toward the sound, releasing her, but Y/N stayed put.

“Mr. President,” Richard said breathlessly, his eyes wide. “It’s an honor to meet you; I–”

“What’s your name?”

“Richard Lestrade, sir.” He sounded excited to have courted Jefferson’s attention, apparently oblivious to the undertone of anger in his voice. Y/N recognized it clearly, though, too clearly, and it made her sick to her stomach. She resented the familiarity.

“D’you work here, Mr. Lestrade?”

“I work for the Department of Defense, sir. I’m a naval strategist. Graduated top of my class from the US Naval Academy; I actually helped plan the–”

“I don’t remember askin’ for your resume.” Then, the annoyance Jefferson exuded was clear, unmistakable in his snarky interjection. Y/N had to purse her lips to keep herself from laughing, especially as she glanced over at Richard and found him pale as a ghost.

“Of course not, sir. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think I’m the one you should be apologizin’ to, now,” Jefferson said frankly, and Y/N didn’t see him watching her until she reluctantly turned, glancing between him and Lestrade. “Ms. Y/N L/N, correct?” he asked, and she nearly winced.

“Yes, that’s me.” Her strained smile was fooling nobody, but when he saw it, Jefferson’s composure didn’t waver.

“Did I hear you tellin’ Mr. Lestrade not to touch you?”

When he addressed her, she forced herself to shake her nerves, he jumbled emotions, off for the time being, and she pushed her shoulders back, presenting a front of confidence.

“You did, as a matter of fact.” She looked up tentatively to meet his eyes — and she immediately wished she hadn’t. While his expression exuded nonchalance, his casual authority over the situation, she knew him well enough to recognize the concern in his eyes: his forehead was creased almost imperceptibly, one eyebrow was quirked up, and one corner of his mouth twitched down. Her jaw tensed as she swallowed her heartache.

She was grateful that he then turned back to Richard. “Care to explain yourself, Mr. Lestrade?”

The interaction had stirred a bit of a crowd around them by then; the others in their immediate vicinity had ended their conversations at once upon hearing the confrontation, but the hush seemed to be spreading further across the room, and Richard was glancing left and right as he gaped at Jefferson. “Oh, no, it was just a misunderstanding. Look–”

“I’m not sure it was,” Jefferson cut him off, and his tone was biting. “Forgive me if this is too presumptuous, but I don’t think there’s anything unclear about a woman tellin’ you to take your hands off of her.”

“We were just chatting.”

“That wasn’t what it looked like,” Jefferson said, folding his arms. “From where I was standin’, it seemed like you grabbed a woman against her will, and you refused to let go. ‘S that accurate, Ms. L/N?”

She wished desperately that he’d stop addressing her. Her throat went dry as he all but admitted he’d been watching her, and she could only nod, unable to find her voice. Thankfully, he took that as enough of an answer.

“I never meant to hurt Y/N, sir. Honestly, I’m so sorry if I did–” Richard turned to Y/N. “I’m so sorry if I hurt you, but my intention wasn’t–”

“You blatantly ignored me telling you to stop,” she said. His speaking to Y/N once again made her blood boil, and she couldn’t help but snap at him, despite how lightly she felt herself to be treading in present company. “Don’t pretend like this was some unfortunate accident.”

Lestrade went from gaping at Jefferson to gaping at her, then. “I… I’m sorry, again, but come on, you know I was just trying to be friendly,” he defended, and she rolled her eyes, getting tired of his excuse. The edge of aggression in his tone made her take a wary step away from him, though. “I invited you to–”

“You said you work for the Department of Defense, correct?” Jefferson cut him off, diverting his attention from Y/N, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, silently thanking him for bailing her out.

“Yes, sir.” Lestrade offered a weak smile, but his fear was obvious in how he was holding himself. Jefferson regarded him with an air of disgust, looking him up and down.

“Well, you don’t anymore.” Y/N’s eyes widened at the declaration, but President Jefferson paid her no mind. “ I’ll be in touch with your supervisor to have you dismissed.”

“What?” Lestrade asked, “but, sir, that’s my job. I need to–”

“Not anymore, it isn’t.” President Jefferson’s words were firm. “Now, please, I’d like to ask you to leave now so it isn’t necessary for me to have you shown out with a security detail.”

Lestrade froze, and for a moment, Y/N expected him to protest, but when he saw all the people around them watching him, anticipating his next move, he turned on his heel, flushing bright red, and started toward the exit. Y/N and Jefferson were both scowling as they watched him leave.

However, it wasn’t long before Jefferson turned to Y/N, although she hadn’t turned back to face him.

“Are you alright, Ms. L/N?” he asked mildly, and she was sure her surprise pertaining to the whole situation was written across her face when she met his gaze. She nodded hesitantly. “I’d appreciate hearin’ you say it.”

“I’m just fine,” she assured him, voice shaky, and his tense shoulders relaxed, although he didn’t look fully convinced. “But thanks for your concern, really, Thom– sorry, Secretary– I mean, President Jefferson.”

She saw the corners of his lips twitch up when she almost called him Thomas.

"Of course. Let me know if there's anything I can do." His words were wary, careful not to cross any lines or to impose upon her, but she smiled.

"I think that firing Mr. Lestrade on sight was quite enough," she said, and when a grin split Thomas’s– President Jefferson's worried expression, her stomach turned; her smile was strained. Everything about him felt too familiar, painfully familiar.

"Fair enough,” he acquiesced. At how ill-at-ease she appeared, though, his smile wavered. “Hope I didn't go overboard."

She shrugged. "He deserved it."

Thomas Jefferson laughed, and the sound was as warm as she remembered it being. She hadn’t heard it in person in nearly three years, and for her to have come across him so suddenly, it was jarring. She was quite sure she was going to be sick.

“I s’pose you’re right.” By then, those around them had begun to disperse, so after glancing left and right, he took a step closer to her, furrowed his brow, and every muscle in her body tensed. Yet, she didn’t move away. His voice was soft, gentle when he asked. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, swallowing hard. “Don’t you have some politicians to get back to?”

He pursed his lips, and she was sure the tense grief in her expression wasn’t hidden as well as she’d have liked it to be. “I guess so,” he finally said, but he didn’t move, looking her over, and his voice was quiet when he said, “‘S good to see you, though. You look good.”

“Yeah, you too,” was all she could manage in response. He gave her a sad smile, nodded, and the silence between them stretched on Just as she thought he was about to turn, head back to where he’d been previously, he stopped himself.

“Will I see you around?”

The hope in his voice made her throat tighten, and she took a deep, shaky breath. She shook her head, and her voice nearly broke when she answered, “I don’t think you will.”

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moral-turpitudes · 4 years ago

Text

Just Business:

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Some Fluff, Slight smut?, Swearing, Drinking, Neglect, Fighting, Blood/Gore, etc.

Word Count: 3,195

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Requested by: Anon

Request: “Could you make one with Tommy where he married the reader for business purposes and she wants to make things work but he’s cold towards her so she spends most of her time with Charlie, and when the whole family have to go back to Small Heath they become close but he gets jealous. Angst/Fluff and Smut if you think it fits.”

Summary: A marriage done for business seemed fitting at first, but as tensions rise among the family, Tommy eventually finds it in him to love again, but it falls on deaf ears as Y/N struggles to cope with his antics.

The clock struck midnight as you lied awake, the door ajar where Tommy had left to go to his study. He’d often leave you in the middle of the night when his thoughts became too much and when his emotions would threaten to take over. He had only cried around you once before, and it was when his wife Grace, had passed. Other days his mood would swing like a fragile ball on a pendulum, and you being one of his assistants at the company, you got to see almost every face of Thomas Shelby first hand, except one of genuine love. His love seemed to only be reserved for ghosts.

The next morning you would awake and hear Charlie crying, and scuffling down the hall looking for his father. He was a toddler, hell-bent on trying to run through the house any chance he got, so mornings were often spent chasing him around the vast expanse of rooms. Unfortunately, Tommy was already gone for the day, leaving you and the nanny to care for him until it was time for you to come in during the afternoon.

At some points while at home, you swore you could feel the portrait above the stairwell giving you daggers as you carried Charlie up to his room, Grace’s glistening, painted eyes boring a hole into your soul. Tommy hadn’t been the only one affected by her sudden death though, as the whole family was facing his wrath lately.

Your marriage had been a quick business arrangement ordered by Polly. She grew tired of Tommy’s antics, thinking him finding someone else would help him move on despite Grace’s death being only 6 months prior. And so here you were: a diamond ring and signed paper here, a nice dress and a family portrait of fake smiles there, and nothing but tense conversations and awkward attempts at affection getting you by until now.

Tommy was never one for love, at least not with you. You knew that deep down the only time that he seemed to love you was when he fucked you on the nights that the business became too much for him. When he’d come home needing some sort of release that wasn’t opium or whiskey, something to keep the memories of Grace and the shovels at bay, if only for a little while.

As the clock down the hall drew nearer to noon, you finally got Charlie down for a nap and got ready for work, a tear threatening to flow down your cheek as you put on your makeup, thinking about how much you had loved him secretly, even before Grace died. You’d always steal glances at him and would stay after to help him with paperwork, and it didn’t take long for Polly to know. She hated Grace, seeing as she betrayed them years before, almost destroying the family. But she’d always see the way you interacted with him and the rest of the boys and Ada, and how you immediately helped with Charlie when things got too much for Tommy. She loved you and the rest of the family did too, seeing as you were one of his most loyal assistants, and so it only made sense at the time that maybe you would be the perfect fit for Tommy. You never wanted his wife dead, and you could’ve gone your whole life just admiring from afar like all the other women would do on the streets, but you didn’t think you’d end up how you were now. Taking the place of his dead wife, being a step-mom to Charlie, and trapped in a loveless marriage to the man you felt so strongly towards.

As you blotted your tears away, you quickly finished up your makeup. Attempting to look somewhat alive despite your loneliness inside. If it wasn’t for this union being for “the sake of the business” as Tommy harshly put it when you’d overheard him talking to Polly, you’d be out finding someone who actually loved you, but in your twisted turn of events this was what had to be done.

The nanny came by the room, giving you a sympathetic glance as you tightened the belt around your waist that was accentuating your dress, you mentally kicking yourself for wearing such a revealing dress without thinking about the cold weather outside.

“I’ll have Charlie for the rest of the day as usual Mrs. Shelby, and I’ll let the maid know to straighten up and the cooks to start prepping for dinner later.” She said softly.

“Alright, thank you...truly. I...I mean we don’t know what we’d do without you all. I know Tommy doesn’t say much...but thank you for all your work.” You say, giving her a small hug. She was your only friend in the house it seemed. She’d help you when you’d drink yourself into a crying fit when Tommy was off on business, and she’d listen to you when you needed reassurance on if it was the right choice by marrying him.

“If he didn’t love you, you’d be sleeping elsewhere my dear. He’ll wise up, just give him time.” She would say, helping you back to the bedroom on those cold, dreary nights.

As you left the insanely large house you drove out onto the gravel roads, nearing Small Heath gradually. Your heart raced as you parked the car along the black dirt roads, the smell of burning wood filling your nose as the sounds of pounded metal filled your ears from the warehouses in the distance.

Other women and children would move out of your way as you swiftly walked down the narrow sidewalks and through the doors of the shop. The sound of papers flipping and typewriters clicking as you made your way silently over to your desk that was next to Tommy’s office.

“Good afternoon Y/N how was the drive?” Polly asked sitting near you. You sighed and looked at the stack of papers on the desk as you answered.

“It was fine. Quiet as usual up until arriving here of course.” You said with a small smile. You hoped she wouldn’t see the silent pain behind your eyes but you knew she did because she lingered there for a bit longer.

“Trouble at home?” She asked, her eyes flicking to Thomas as he sat in his office smoking a cigarette and looking at his own stack of papers.

“Always.” You said shortly, getting out your own cigarette and lighting it.

“Am I doing something wrong Pol? I’ve tried my best to be there for him. To be there for Charlie. To try to love him even though he couldn’t give a damn about me...” You said looking out at the lobby of the shop, wanting to be anywhere but here.

“You’re doing the best you can my dear. I’ll have a talk with him.” She said, an annoyance in her voice as she said the last part.

“Thank you.” You said as she walked off, knocking hard on Tommy’s door. You could see in through one of the windows, but you willed yourself not to look at him as your anger bubbled up inside you.

The stack of papers in front of you seemed like a mountain at the time, business proposals, unsigned license agreements, betting numbers, bank statements, anything and everything under the sun needing to be signed by the end of the day, and so while you heard Tommy shouting at Polly, you poured yourself into your work.

After awhile you saw Polly leave in a hurry and so you got up, following her out the door with your coat draped over you.

“Where are you going Polly?” You asked, the chilled air almost taking your breath away.

“To the Garrison. I need a drink. Do you care to join?” She asked.

“I thought you’d never ask.” You said sighing in relief as you both hurried into the bar. The familiar scent of smoke and whiskey filling your nose as a few people sat inside drinking their woes away.

“What will it be?” The bartender said.

“I’ll have a gin and tonic, what about you Y/N?” Polly said.

“Whiskey.” You said eyeing the bottle you’d grown to love only because of your bastard of a husband.

“He’s already rubbed off on you. Whiskey was never your drink till now.” Polly said sipping her gin.

“Well, now it is. Needed something strong enough to deal with his bullshit.” You said, knocking back a shot.

“What did he say when you talked to him?” You asked, bracing yourself for the worst.

“He told me that he’s wanting to move you and Charlie back here to Small Heath due to the recent gang problems.” She said.

“Is he mad? He can’t up and move right now! Why would he do that? He doesn’t care about us! I practically see his son more than he does.” You said, grabbing the bottle from behind the counter.

“Hey that’ll cost ya!” The bartender said. You and Polly shot him a look and he glanced at the huge rock on your finger.

“Oh...I apologize Mrs. Gray...and...Mrs. Shelby. It’s on the house.” He said before turning to serve the other patrons.

“Why would he fucking move us down here...if he doesn’t love me why would he want to protect me? I was just a fucking business deal after all...right?” You said, a tear slipping down your face as you knocked another shot back.

Polly glanced at her drink as she let you continue.

“He told me he wants to keep you safe because he loves you, I know my nephew well enough to see that he does love you, he’s just god-awful at showing it recently.” Polly said.

“Well when he wants to actually care about me more than his dead fucking wife then let me know.” You said before taking the shot glass and whiskey bottle and walking to one of the booths in the back of the bar.

Polly sighed and finished her drink, watching as a blonde haired man came over to your table and sat next to you, draping an arm around your shoulder.

The shots slowly made their way into your system as you poured yourself another one, barely acknowledging his presence at first.

“Why are you alone and wearing a dress like that with a ring around ya finger aye? Old husband getting ya down?” He asked, whiskey tainting his breath as he spoke in your ear.

“How about we go somewhere more quiet. I can love you like he couldn’t.” He said. You knocked back a couple more shots and smirked as you awkwardly ignored his advances and made flirty conversation to pass the time. Polly stiffly turned back to her drink, striking up a conversation with the bartender as you soon let your hand wander down the mans chest as he got closer.

You felt wrong for making moves on him as he wasn’t your husband, but at this point you had no love to really lose, or so you thought.

Just as you and the blonde haired man started making out, you heard the doors to the Garrison fly open, revealing your emotionless shell of a husband. His stoic face looking towards the bar to see Polly nursing another gin and tonic and chatting up the bartender.

“Thought you were working, Polly.” He said annoyed.

“I am. I’m trying to work on your love life because you won’t. I love you but you don’t know a good thing until it’s gone.” She said, her words stinging him a bit as he thought of Grace.

In the distance he heard a familiar giggle and his head shot up, his eyes glaring at the woman he desperately came to love, wearing a revealing evening dress, kissing and giggling with some blonde haired worker from god knows where.

“Is that what you call working on my love life Polly?” He said pointing to you in the distance, your face burning as the now half-drunk bottle of whiskey coursed through you, helping you not to have a care in the world as you giggled at the mans joke as he reached for your waist.

“If that’s what gets you to see reason, then yes.” Polly said sipping her drink as she watched you two making out.

“As much as I want to I can’t. I’m sorry...I’m married...” You said breathlessly, stopping his hands from traveling further.

“He doesn’t have to know.” He said.

You looked up through your slightly blurred vision to see the familiar peaked cap of your husband getting closer to your table.

“He already does.” You said, a nervous edge to your voice as you watched everything unfold before you.

Tommy yanked the man off you by the back of shirt and spun him around to where he was facing him.

“What are you doing here messing around with my fucking wife aye!?” He said pushing him roughly into the wall before landing a fist to his jaw.

The man smirked, spitting out blood right onto Tommy’s shirt before speaking.

“I was just about to do what you couldn’t.” He said.

You cringed and took another shot as you heard the sound of the mans jaw break as Tommy’s fist landed on his face once again, rendering him unconscious.

As you watched in silence, he grabbed his cap and cut a gash in his face that was deep enough to need stitches.

“Tommy stop!” You yelled, struggling to get up and stumbling towards him, nearly knocking him over. His breathing was ragged as you clutched onto him, his arms gripping your waist and steadying you.

“I-I can explain...” You said wiping a stray tear from your eye as you felt your mascara streaking down your face.

“Explain fucking what Y/N!? That you wanted to fuck him? Am I not enough for you? You had to go find some random man just because I’m busy?!” He said shouting loudly.

You shakily stepped forward looking him in his eyes which were burning like blue flames from jealousy.

“If I did why would you care? Just say it Thomas...you don’t fucking love me! You love Grace, and no woman will ever amount to her even though she’s six feet under. You’ve never loved me...and you just expect me to act like everything’s fucking fine, but it’s not!.....Hell! I even see your fucking son more than you do, now how is that love Thomas? If you don’t love me just say it. Because I’ve loved you as best I could...and I’ve loved you long before that. If you did love me, and I mean actually loved me...then this wouldn’t have been a “business deal” it would’ve been a proper fucking marriage!” You yelled, throwing your shot glass on the ground, watching as the glass shattered into a million sparkling pieces on the wooden floor.

He stood there silently as you stumbled off towards the restroom, shooing Polly away as you closed the door behind you and locked it. You practically collapsed on the floor sobbing as the cold tile soothed your burning skin, the room spinning the longer you laid there.

“What are you going to do Tommy?” Polly asked as she eyed him from her seat at the bar.

“I’m going to try to get my wife back. It’s not a fucking business deal anymore Pol. Never was. You think I didn’t notice the whispers from you and the lads when she’d leave the room? About how she liked me and how we’d be good together? You think I didn’t notice her eyes watching me as I worked despite being married to Grace? Of course I loved Grace but she’s not been the easiest fucking thing to get over. I know I’ve been a terrible husband, I can see it in Y/N’s eyes every day...I can see her withering away from me as well as Charlie and it kills me inside...I’m just not the best at loving people and you know that...ever since Grace died it’s like a part of me has too, but I’m going to get that back. I have to.” He said, his eyes glistening a bit as he headed for the restrooms.

He knocked lightly and waited before calling your name, panic coursing through him as you didn’t answer.

Without a second thought he shoved his shoulder into the door, busting the lock and stumbling in to find you on the floor barely conscious.

You mumbled something unintelligible as he crouched down and picked you up, bringing you out to his car as Polly followed quickly behind.

“My god where are you taking her?” She yelled over the start of the engine.

“Home. Tell the lads I’m taking the day off.” He said before speeding off towards the house.

Once there, he carried you to the lavish bathroom that connected to your all’s bedroom and sat you down in a chair. He quickly got a cold rag and wiped it on your forehead and around the rest of your face trying to keep you conscious. You perked up slightly at the cold sensation but were quickly overcome by the all too familiar feeling of nausea, your body cursing you as you stumbled towards the toilet almost blindly. Tommy held your hair back as best he could, waiting for what felt like ages for you to stop getting sick. With a weak hand you flushed and stumbled up, shakily brushing your teeth and staring at your tragic reflection in the mirror as Tommy kept an eye on you from the door frame. He held a pair of your sleepwear and one of his t-shirts in his beat up hands.

You looked at him as you grudgingly took the clothes from him, changing into them carefully as your balance was still shit.

After wrestling them on, you went straight for the bed, barely acknowledging Tommy’s presence as he watched you carefully.

“I’m going to bed Thomas. You can leave for all I care.” You said wrapping yourself in the plush covers and closing your eyes.

“I’m not leaving Y/N.” He said as you heard his footsteps softly move towards the bed. The mattress shifting a bit as he climbed in next to you, letting you snuggle up against him.

“You should be at work.” You mumbled.

He stroked your arm lightly as he laid there, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not while my wife’s a mess.” He said.

“Why should you care?” You asked, sleep threatening to take over.

“Because I love you, Y/N. I’ve just been terrible at showing it. To both you and Charlie. I love you and I’m not going to lose you. I can’t lose you.” He said quickly, knowing you’d fall asleep at any moment.

“Tell me you love me when I wake up then, because I won’t remember this.” You said, listening to his heartbeat as you let the darkness overtake you.

“I will, I promise.” He said, gently kissing the top of your head as he laid there with you, hoping sleep would take him too.

Tag List:

(If you’d like to be added/removed from the Thomas Shelby tag list, just shoot me an ask/message)

Main Tag List

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @dreamwastakenx, @lovemissyhoneybee

#katiesrequests #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders oneshots #peaky blinders imagines #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x reader #Thomas Shelby x female!reader #katiesWIPlist #I’m sleep deprived but I hope this was good lol

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 4 years ago

Text

Shelbys at Somme Chapter 20

Thomas X Reader

Word Count: 1036

Summary: We get some much needed background on Y/N.

by @adventuresintooblivion

He didn’t return to the Garrison. Days blurred into weeks as she went about her life. At first she thought it might be temporary but as the days went by loneliness clawed its way beneath her skin. There were moments when she’d turn to talk to him, to share a quick joke or some insight, but all she was welcomed with was open air. In the darkness of night she’d reach for him, her mind foggy with sleep, only to find the edge of the bed.

It was in one of these moments, that the dull ache had turned to anger. It wasn’t rational. But as the days ticked on she found that her fingers played across piano keys, not in lament, but to the upbeat tempo of rage. She still worked at the Garrison on Saturdays, and the restaurant on other nights.

Her patrons seemed to react to the difference, a fight breaking out almost every night she played. Despite the universal understanding that music governed the soul, very few turned a questioning glance her way. They simply consumed and absorbed every ounce of self righteousness she poured into her fingertips.

It wasn’t until Pol had approached her sometime later that Y/N even realized how much time had actually passed. The older woman’s back was ramrod straight as she glared down at Y/N, her lips pursed into a thin line.

“What have you done girl?” She snapped, sitting on the piano bench beside Y/N.

The Garrison was mostly empty except for a few drunks that hadn’t yet managed to pick themselves off the floor. Even Grace and Harry had gotten scarce when Pol had shown up.

With a heavy sigh Y/N paused her playing, “I told him about Grace.”

Pol’s eyes went wide, “By the grace of God, how has he not shot anyone yet?”

Y/N shrugged unable to meet her eyes, “I dunno. But I found definite proof so I didn’t have a choice anymore.” She scoffed. “He acts like her existence is my fault.”

“Well in a way it is.” Pol glowered at her.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re NOT excused. Had you told Tommy what she was the day you told me, her time here would have ended, one way or another. And he wouldn’t have gotten so close to this impossible dream of his.”

Y/N rubbed her eyes, “I just wanted him to be happy, Pol.”

“And I want to have a house made of chocolate, but here we are.”

“It’s not like I can fix it. He won’t talk to me.”

Pol huffed, “And have you tried to find him?”

“No.”

“Well there’s your answer then.” Pol waved her hand in the air emphasizing her point. “I swear, the amount of pride each of you have is enough to fill the Cut.”

“Thanks?”

“And here I thought you could do the impossible.” Pol shook her head. “He’s told me about what you’ve done. Who you are. It’s a lot for someone your age to pull off.”

Y/N chuckled breathlessly, “Well, we never thought we’d see something quite like the Great War. When there’s something that’s so all encompassing, it gave a lot of opportunities for shenanigans to say the least.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Ms. Rothschild.”

Y/N froze, “I left that name behind a long time ago.”

“On the eve of your ‘deployment’ if what Tommy told me is correct.”

Y/N glanced at Pol, attempting to gauge her reaction. “My name is Y/L/N. Wear it out, please.”

It was Pol’s turn to chuckle, “Really? You left so much behind, why?”

“I helped build them up to what they are now. I can just do it again somewhere else.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Pol’s nail tapped the polished would of the piano rhythmically.

Y/N sat for a long moment deliberating her next words carefully, “Tommy told you everything?”

Pol nodded slowly.

“Did he tell you that the Old Man kneecapped himself so he couldn’t get drafted? That he left our boys out there to rot on their own so he could sit in his plush armchairs and drink brandy next to a fire?” Y/N’s voice became hard. “You misunderstand me Pol. After all that, I still went back. That whole ‘He’s my dad.’ thing, you know? My trust was misplaced. He didn’t expect me to come back in the middle of a war with a bullet lodged in my spine.”

Pol listened patiently, her hand closed around Y/N’s. With her frozen fingers encased in Pol’s she took a deep breath and spoke the words she never had before.

“He sent me to an asylum. ‘To be cared for.’ my ass. It was so that he didn’t have to look at me and know it should have been him.”

Silence hung between them, heavy with all the other things she didn’t say. An asylum was the place of nightmares. More than the threat of impropriety, was the threat of being sent to one of these places to be tortured in the name of health. Tortured, mistreated, and forgotten by the world that didn’t want anything to do with the abnormal.

After a long moment Pol spoke, “That’s why it took you three years to get here, isn’t it?”

Y/N nodded slowly. The admission of what had happened slowly began to unfurl a tension that had settled in her chest. While she hadn’t realized it was there, now that it was gone she felt lighter. But also hollow, as if it might have been one of the things driving her forward. Look at me, I’m still walking despite it all.

And now what?

They were interrupted by Grace reappearing in her coat, headed for the door. She tried to hurry by before either woman could stop her. However, Pol was sharp as ever.

“Where are you going, Grace?”

She paused, “I’m to deliver a letter to Ada. An invitation to a wedding.” She was gone a moment later.

Y/N turned to Pol, “Wedding?”

A vicious smile split Pol’s lips, “Oh, Darling. I almost forgot to tell you. You’re invited by the way.”

“Alright, who’s getting married?”

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine

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thedivinedemom · 4 years ago

Text

An AU of DC with a mass crossover of PS4 properties.

Provisional name: Players Searching for Detectable Changes (Get the pun?)

The setup:

This is the future of DC, a world where the old guard has slowly withdrawn and the newer generations have risen to the occasion. The original Titans in particular, most of which have formed the new Justice League while many other, very similar teams had started to form across the world. One of which was a resurgence of the Teen Titans, led by an older and purified Raven. She wanted to make the Teen Titans something akin as it was for her, a place to belong and learn to use one's powers.

The first 'class' of such individuals include:

Stargirl (of the now-disbanded JSA and still getting used to the Starrod)

Blue Beetle III (Freshly attached to his alien symbiote and freaking out a bit)

Robin V (to work on his anger issues, mostly at the new Batman's request)

Kaldur (a half Atlantean half metahuman who is struggling with his identity and the surface world, Aquaman feels a kinship for the boy seeing their similarities)

Static Shock (a promising new hero but little experience working outside his city or in groups)

Mary Marvel (she's... she's going through alot. Fresh from a coma, her brother is distant as he acts as the new Wizard, and she may be, sorta kinda, being corrupted by Black Adam's gifted power)

The team was rough and there was plenty of head butting (Mostly between Stargirl and Robin/Damian as one is almost the unanimous leader while the other thinks he should be) but they were getting there. They were more of a clean up crew for the Justice League, they did more than the "kiddie missions" that the Outsiders didn't do, and they meant more than the PR grab that was the International team. Though they didn't seem to amount to more than that. They still did their best, pushing past the silent ridicule, as they went about their missions.

This may be why tempers were so high that day.

One day, outside a little city by the name of Weller's Point, the prisoner transport for the villain Plasmus had an "accident". Released and awakened the creature went on a rampage, heading ever closer to the populated area. Luckily, the mentor of the New Teen Titans could teleport. The new team did fairly well in the fight, though they did struggle a bit as Plasmus was not a being where simple brute force would work. It made the fight tricky and more than a bit... messy.

Messy enough that juvenile and emotionally compromised Mary Marvel lashed out against the downed villain but was stopped by her teammates... things escalated from there. Restraint turned blows and the whole team struggled to stop their powerhouse without hurting her. The ones who do the best are Raven, Stargirl, Blue Beetle, and oddly Static.

While both of the former could use their abilities to restrain her to a very effective degree Static was actively draining her of strength, or at least of the electic aura she was radiating and blasting with. Frustrated, done with the situation, and a bit petty Mary launched her largest attack yet by saying her magical word.

SHAZAM.

Virgil did what he did best, he handled that lightning as it came crashing down towards Mary and the Titans restraining her. Well, he tried. The bolt was just too powerful, too unlike anything he had ever encountered. He could not handle it and it was dissipating, if anything it clung to him or tried to jump towards the girl. He had to get rid of it and he had to get rid of it quickly, safely too if he could help it.

He shoved it into the ground, into the power lines. He did it as carefully as he could, trying to prevent overload or flashover as guided the charge into the power grid.

What happened next was a combination of a few things. 1. The Mystic and transformative properties of the Lightning, 2. It is effectively being filtered through a bang baby, 3. The kryptonite power plant owned by, provided by, and operated by Lexcorp.

This interaction, this new charge, cycling through the power grid interacted strangely with a number of devices but none more so than PlayStation 4s and the devices connected to them. This new electricity changed things, literally. It brought fantasy into reality.

Whatever game was loaded into became a part of our reality in a small way. Sometimes TVs, Controllers, and even the system changed to reflect items from the game but the bigger change came with the Players. If a person was playing their console during the surge then they would become a metahuman with abilities based on the playable character they were playing.

The city, the county even, was now flooded by an abundance of metahumans and items of varying power of devastation. Static felt horrible.

He couldn't help but compare what has happened here to what happened in Dakota City but on a wider scale. And this time it was his fault. His sense of responsibility wouldn't, couldn't, let that stand. He had to fix his mistake and his team was dragged along for the ride.

The story to follow is a mix of Final Crisis and Kingdom Come with a bit of the Young Justice cartoon in events and themes, a few twists and likely a bit lighter in tone but to the DC geeks this should give a rough idea… Maybe a bit of Marvel's Civil War but hopefully not the rushed knee-jerk mess that that ended up being.

But it's here that I start having issues with my planning. One part in worry as outside the set up we start to follow the perspective of OCs (something rarely smiled upon) and another part in wondering which OC to focus on.

Now, one thing I love in fiction is progressive powers and the conflict escalating from the different paths people take in said progression. In that vein, I have a pair of protags in mind as well.

The main two/co-protagonists:

The Lawkeeper- a cop before the change and now a member of a task force made up largely of those affected by the surge. A gamer, a man of color, and a believer of the spirit of the law. He doesn't always get along with his fellow officers but he believes in what the blue does. He believes that an organized response is what is best.

His abilities are based on those of Jesse Fades of Control. Meaning he has tremendous psychic potential but he needs 3 things to reach his full potential.

1.Items to bond to so he can generate these psychic abilities. Jesse's used altered items of her universe to get thematic abilities from them (ex: a safe to generate a shield, a carousel horse for a dash ability, ect). Here he can use items generated by the surge.

2. A patron/partner entity to help guide, give insights, and empower. It also let's the user enforce reality, basically becoming an anti reality warper.

3. A bonded morph weapon or a weapon to come to his hand when called.

The knight- a recent college graduate who instantly decided to go the route of the caped hero. She, after figuring out how to get her powers to work, instantly went the route of a caped crusader. Going out to the streets, saving lives, stopping instances of surge item abuse, and (in the humble opinion of the local Police Department) getting in the way of operations. In her opinion they were taking too long to get things done.

Her abilities are based on those of Prince Noctis of Final Fantasy XV. This means she has tremendous physical and magical potential but like the above she has a number of check marks needed to gain access to the character's full power.

1. A gem/crystal to draw power from.

2. 13 magical weapons to boost strength. The generated game weapons will do and I have most picked out in a way that likely would help the plot progress.

3. The blessing of 5-6 gods.

4. A power ring of some king to channel all this power.

I keep debating the two above as I do like the idea of both of them climbing in power and clashing over conflicting ideals of what to do with their power. At the same time, I think that just smooshing aspects of both into one (which is actually where they started, a single character) and play off the different ideologies of how best to help people from within her friend group and precinct along with internal conflict. Maybe have the one be a fellow officer they butt heads with because of the... precarious nature

Another OC I was thinking on, keeping with the theme of what to do when you have power, is a thief who played Persona 5. Like both of the above they would be crippled in their ability to use their abilities without a way to fake the connection to. In this case, without the Mementos App, they would need an item that could affect or enter the hearts of others. Luckily, more unlucky really, there are plenty of items floating around that can do just that. Namely Keyblades.

Most other Players are an odd mix but most are variations of the Shooter build. Peak physical humans who heal quickly and often have bullet time. But there are enough other variations to cause trouble. Demigods of unreal strength, men and women who can easily tap into a patron for powers from the outside, 2 variations of spider powers, cat eyed men and women who can cast magic with simple gestures, and so much more. But the real issue was the first two, the demigods without a parent to protect them and those easily connected to a divine source.

The disembodied New Gods of Apocalypse were very happy with those groups. For how bad this can be please look at what happened to Mary Marvel in canon Final Crisis.

Thoughts and opinions would be appreciated.

#dc community #fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fandom #playstation #mass crossover #orginal character #dc fanfiction #dc fanfiction idea #outline

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jacks-wylan · 4 years ago

Text

It started to rain a day later.

Geralt's already bad mood started to increase even more, as he stomped down that trice damned mountain. His fingers trembled, and he knew very well that it was not because of the now terribly colder wind blowing, but he couldn't help but notice that the temperature was lower than the day before – lower than that same morning.

He gritted his teeth, eyes roaming up to the gray sky. Winter was coming, and that felt like the only blessing that was falling upon him lately, because winters meant home and late nights with his brothers and the closest thing he could ever have as a break, to have some time off everything .

He felt a pang of worry when, as the day passed, the weather worsened. Not for Yennefer, no, because she could take care of herself, and just portal out of there – but that idiot that went down the mountain path alone, without waiting for him at the clearing as he should have done no matter how much he was offended... the thought of him in a dangerous territory, with an upcoming storm no less, is worrisome. He tried to not think of Jaskier, because the he was still angered – and the guilt was already creeping up his spine, gnawing at his insides – and deep down he was hoping that he, indeed, joined the dwarves in the end, and he was not at all alone – as he was, as it should have been from the start.

Caingorn and the stables where Roach was waiting for him is half a way down, when he had to find shelter for the night. He found an empty cave, built a fire, and meditated. He couldn't fall asleep. Not that he tried, but he knew that slumber would not come easily on him this time. He would not fall asleep peacefully, safe , as he did with Yennefer ever again.

The rain became a downpour by the time he reached the inn.

He was surprised the same when, once entered inside the inn, knowing that he could not go anywhere with that kind of weather – he could not permit that something bad would happen to Roach – he found every single still alive member of the dragon hunt there.

Even Borch. Even Jaskier. Even Yennefer .

She did not deign him of a glance, and Geralt did expect as much. Jaskier, instead, looked at him with a relieved expression, but... but still, he didn't come to him, didn't run towards him and started to ramble as always. He noticed Jaskier's belonging at his feet, belongings that – apart from his lute – should have been inside Roach's saddlebags, with Geralt's things.

He told himself thank fuck .

He did not feel so thankful, though.

The common room was crowded, but Geralt found a table in a corner regardless. He settled there, ordered food and ale, and ignored the conversations around him. Someone was saying that if the storm did not placate, it would be impossible to walk the roads. He heard Yennefer snort and say that if things would not get better, she would just leave them all there and portal away. Jaskier muttered a mean: “Of course you will, but why are you still here?”

It was Borch that reached out to him. He sat next to him, and after he gulped a mouthful of ale, Geralt just asked: “Your child?”

“Safer than us here.” was his response, “The skies are enraged.”

“Shouldn't you be with them?”

“Not now, no.” Borch shook his head, “But I will be, if the rain ever stops.”

Geralt wasn't in the mood to understand Borch's cryptic words, so he just kept eating and drinking. Then he went out, saw Roach, gave her enough clean water and fresh hay, made sure that there still was pellet for her to sleep on. She seemed content, but she also seemed like she was waiting for something – for someone – that wasn't there with them, sniffing at Geralt's hands but not finding the treats he never gave her.

Geralt patted her muzzle and turned back in. The rain still didn't show any sign of stopping, falling almost cruelly on the ground. Roads became torrents, trees bent under the force of wind.

The skies are enraged.

None of the patrons could go back to their lives, when the night came. So the innkeepers decided that until the storm ended, the rooms were available for all of them – Geralt did not talk to Jaskier, as they walked up the stairs to their shared room, because he was expecting the bard to break the silence, but at first he didn't.

The awkwardness fell upon them until they had to look into each other's eyes by the only bed in the room, when Jaskier finally, finally talked. “Left or right?”

Geralt sighed, leaning his swords against the wall. “Jaskier,” he said his name, but abruptly stopped, because he didn't really know what to say.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. This is a very shitty situation, isn't it? We are all caged here for who knows when, and funnily right after–” Jaskier's voice faltered, until it stopped. “Can you endure me for a little more? I won't get in the way. You can talk with the witch, sort out all your problems, and live happily ever after. If there might be a silver lining here, it has to be this.”

Silence fell on them again. Geralt raised the blankets and got under them: he was pretty sure that not even that night sleep would come to him, but he could at least try. The road to Kaer Morhen was long and tortuous, he needed to be well rested before taking that way.

There was an acrid, bitter scent lingering in the air. Geralt ignored it.

“You really have nothing to say to me?”

Lying on the bed, Geralt looked at him with a sigh, “Just sleep, Jaskier.”

The room got illuminated by a thunder, fallen not too far from the inn. Jaskier jolted, head shot back towards the window with a panicking jump. Geralt could not see his eyes, but he imagined them being wide open, like a deer caught by a lightning. It might not even be too far from reality.

“If only I could.” Jaskier murmured, lying too on the bed but giving him his back. That position made Geralt feel lonely, but it was a sentiment so absurd that he just shrugged it off and closed his eyes.

Outside, the storm did not end, but it got calmer when he got up the next morning.

It was still a downpour, and it still made the roads impassable, but Geralt could see, with some difficulty, a timid ray of sun peaking through the thick, gray clouds covering the sky. He did indeed sleep, for a bit, he felt as refreshed as he could ever be.

Glancing at Jaskier, Geralt saw him still sleeping, his face relaxed, messy hair covering his closed lids. There was a slightly frown between his eyebrows, but so soft that it was difficult even for him to notice under the brown locks of his fringe.

Geralt swiped them off with the lightest touch he could gather so not to wake him up, then turned around and left the room.

The common room was almost empty, if not for Borch, the two Zerrikanians, and the innkeepers. “Most of the patrons went back to their home the second the storm calmed. After all, their houses aren't so far away.” one of the innkeepers was muttering, “Didn't even pay for the rooms, those whoresons.”

Not even an hour later, the storm increased again, with more force, with more violence it hit against the walls and doors. The sky darkened, it was an ominous scene.

“This looks like a catastrophe.” the other innkeeper said, “If it keeps like this, the land will become a giant swamp, and nothing will grow up again. If it keeps like this, our rations will end, and we will all die.”

“Always the same, you shithead. Stop being so gloomy, it's just the second day!”

“Myths spoke of a similar catastrophe cast by an angered God. It lasted forty days and forty nights, to drown the evil on Earth.” Borch said, calmly. “Just myths, they were. Evil is still on Earth, after all.”

The skies are enraged.

Moments later, Yennefer walked down the stairs, followed by Jaskier. They were talking in hushed tones, so low that Geralt couldn't understand most of the spoken sentences, but for the look of it Jaskier did not seem happy with their argument. Yennefer, though, she looked smug, a cutting grin baring white teeth.

Geralt felt something , something ugly and slimy kneading his mouth at their camaraderie. He felt left apart, abandoned, ignored. It was a feeling he should be used to – it was a feeling he always felt with Yennefer, it was a feeling he always made Jaskier feel – but somehow he felt the injustice of it burning on his cheeks, like embarrassment, if more humiliating.

He hated it, this weakness.

“I'm sorry, Yen.” he then said, because what else he has to do? Beg forgiveness, drop into his knees in front of her and say that what he did was wrong, but he just did it to save her. Not to see her die right after saving Jaskier's life, not to see her die after she mended his mistake which would have killed Jaskier, drowning him in his own blood that Geralt helped spill. “I had no right to do what I did, but I don't... I can't regret it.”

“Well, well.” Yennefer snorted. She sat gracefully on a chair, and looked up at him with an elegant black eyebrow arched. “You are apologizing. For someone else it might be enough, but not for me, Witcher.”

Geralt gritted his teeth. “Would anything be even enough?”

“I am kind of disillusioned, to be honest, now that I know the truth. Things I could not comprehend before are now clear, and bitter. I do not know what love is supposed to be, of course,” she pursued her red lips, then looked around until her violet eyes stopped on Jaskier – Jaskier that was standing still in front of a window, watching the hell outside. His back was tense, his hands were trembling so slightly. He was close enough to be hearing everything Yennefer and he were talking about. Strangely, Geralt felt guilty. “But I know that ours wasn't love yet. Not a love that matters.”

“Could be, one day.”

“Sure.” Yennefer sneered, “But am I willing to wait? With the risk that once we break the Djinn's spell, all will be lost? I am not an hopeless puppy like your bard,” at that, Jaskier flinched, “I will not wiggle my tail at every scrap of attention you'd deign to give, to be then discarded when you will get enough of it.”

“Like you've done all this time with me?” Geralt growled.

“Like you've done all this time with the bard.” Yennefer replied, unapologetic.

They stared at each other for long moments, Geralt trying so hard not to turn and look at Jaskier again. He didn't want to acknowledge that those words were true and how much effects they had on him. “Why do you care? You can't even stand Jaskier, damn it!”

A thunder fell just outside the window Jaskier was leaning on. He shouted, scrambling away from the shaking – cracking – glass, and it was not long before another thunder fell, and the window shuttered.

Geralt fumbled up from his table, but Jaskier didn't get hurt, just soaked in the rain gusted in as he fell on the floor in fear of it. He whimpered, and brought a hand against his chest. In the chaos surrounding them, Geralt could clearly hear his heart beating like a war drum, louder than any noise, more deafening than the storm outside.

Yennefer went and, with a flick of her fingers, the window returned whole again.

“Fucking hell.” Jaskier creaked, “What the fuck is happening?”

Geralt looked out, and the gray of the storm became black, filled with blue and white, blinding stripes that made the land shake. Trembling like Jaskier's fingers tightened around a chunk of his own red doublet.

The skies are enraged.

And they were bringing down on Earth all of their anger.

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read the rest on ao3!

#geraskier #yennskier #yennralt #geraskefer #geraskefer fic #the witcher fic #mine:fyccina #i still don't know why i wrote this #but i guess i have just to follow the flow am i right #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fanfic #yenneralt #yenralt #yenskier

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thewritingginger · 4 years ago

Note

Naughty list 7 for Beelzebub and naughty list 13 for Belphegor with f!reader please and thank you!

Thank you Lovely for your request and your patience for me to get this done. I do have the Beel one on my WIP list as well :3

This one was a bit interesting for me cuz it’s not smut but also not fluff it just... idk what to call it 😂 But not in a bad way I did have fun writing it. just something new for me and I'm a bit unsure but that could be bc it’s 7 am and I’m a bit sick lol

Prompt: Naughty #13: “I need you to pretend to be my s/o.” “Why? You hate me!” Fandom: Obey Me! Pairing: Belphegor x F! Reader Word Count: 2,438 words Warning(s): may cause slight annoyance :)

Enjoy~

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You spot Belphegor pass the end of the hall, saying goodbye to your friends you rush over. Stopping by him, slightly out of breath as he stands straight from the water fountain.

“Hey Belphie.” You say sweetly with a small smile. Belphegor looks you up and down with a raised brow. “Uh, hi.” He responds slowly, readjusting his backpack strap as he turns to leave.

“So how’s your day been?” You ask, walking at his pace.

“What do you want Y/n?” He asks curt. Stopping he leans against the wall, arms crossed. Looking at you through his brows, unamused.

“What do you mean? I’m just trying to make conversation with you.” You say innocently.

Rolling his eyes he kicks off the wall and continues down the hall. Not getting ten steps in front of you, you stop him again. “Wait-” You huff. He turns your way. He waits, shaking his head, tuning his hands up signaling you to spit it out already. You sigh,

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” You say, wincing at the idiocy of your request. If you can even call it that. You’re practically begging him to, ‘Gosh really Y/n, “need” him to?’ You mentally slap yourself, not noticing the grin on his face. Snapping back when you hear him snort a bit. Trying to remain calm cause lord knows you need him to agree. For a moment there is just silence. Seeing him process your question a bit more. Then he speaks,

“Why? You hate me.” His statement punctuated with an amused half cut smirk. Taking in a deep breath through your nose, contemplating your rebuttal. Because the truth is, you don’t hate the guy. Sure, he’s probably the most annoying being to ever exist in all the three worlds, but that doesn’t mean you hate him. Clearing your throat you respond,

“No I don’t hate you. We just don’t know each other enough.” You smile.

“Uh huh. So me pretending to be your boyfriend will do just that, huh?” He says. His face cracks with amusement once again as he watches your face twist in annoyance.

“Look, why don’t you just ask one of my brothers? They like you.” He says as he backs away symbolizing he’s done with this conversation.

You sigh annoyed. ‘Yeah like I haven’t thought of that before, Dickhead.’ You had thought about it before but that didn’t go down well.

You didn’t dare ask Lucifer well because, he’s Lucifer.

Mammon would only accept if you paid him to and even though you were in need of a prop-up boyfriend you weren’t that desperate.

Both Levi and Satan were busy the day you would need them.

And lastly there was Beel. You would’ve asked him but… on Halloween Beel was plastered and drunkenly confessed that he really liked you. After that night he hadn’t seemed awkward about doing it and you never told him he did it either.

So that left you with the youngest one that just walked away from you.

~~~

Why do you need a pretend boyfriend, you ask? Well in a phone call with your family talking about arrangements for New Years. Your mother wouldn’t shut up about the amazing guy your cousin is dating and how he’s coming to the New Years Eve party, and whilst your mom was babbling on about it you zoned out and when she asked if you had a ‘special someone’ you absentmindedly said ‘yeah’. And before you knew it she told you to bring him around and said her goodbyes as you tried to correct the situation. But it was too late.

And now you need a boyfriend.

~~~

Back at the house of Lamentation heading towards your bedroom you spot Belphegor going into his room. Taking another chance you dropped your book bag at your door and rushed over to him.

“Belphe-” Cut off by the door in your face, you roll your head back in frustration but not defeat. You had to do this! You hate to say it but he really is your last hope for this.

Knock Knock Knock.

No response. You sigh once again trying to keep your cool.

Knock Knock Knock

Your hits get a bit heavier with each one. Then finally he opens the door.

“What?” He says with a huff.

“I need to talk to you. I -” You begin to say as he rolls his eyes starting to close the door once again. Stopping the door with your palm you finally put your pride aside.

“Belphegor, please ~” Your words come out slow. Hating to beg the demon but knowing you had to at this point. The pressure on the door lightens. Belphegor stands behind the door and sighs.

“Fine.” He says. Opening the door for you to enter. Sitting down on his bed, he looks up at you waiting for you to speak. “Like I said before I kinda need you to be my ‘boyfriend’ for a night.” You say. His blank stare boring into you, “Yes you did but you failed to mention why. What, do you secretly have a crush on me.” He says with an amused grin. Your reaction only made it better,

“Tsk you wish. The reason I need you is because I’m going home for New Years and my mom thinks I’m bringing home a boyfriend.” You say with your arms crossed.

“Why would she think that?” He asks. Pursing your lips, hating your answer you sigh. “I may have accidentally told her I did when I wasn’t paying attention.” You say, refusing to look at what you’re sure is a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Ha ha oh my god. You’re more stupid than I thought.” He says laughing. Your face heats up with anger, before you can say anything he cuts you off. “You know what, I’ll do it.” He says standing up. Your anger subsides a bit when you hear those words. Slight relief sweeps through you. “Really?” You ask, happy but slightly shocked. “Yup.” He says walking past you, opening the door.

“I’ve been told it’s good to do charity. And besides this seems too funny to miss out on.” He says, walking out leaving you angry once again. ‘Guh, what an asshole!’ you think to yourself storming out of his room.

~~~

It’s New Years Eve and you are getting ready to leave devildom with Belphegor to the human world. Picking up your jacket and purse you leave your room. “Ok, let’s go.” you say to no one walking down the stairs, Belphegor waiting by the door dressed in jeans, a dark teal blazer, and a black shirt. He turns to speak but hesitates a second when he takes in your appearance. Rushing down the stairs the hem of your black velvet dress rode up your thighs a bit, your hair messily framing your face and your cheeks rosy from rushing around to get ready. “Phew, okay, I’m ready!” You say sliding your heels on at the base of the stairs. Standing straight smoothing the front of your dress you look up to see Belphegor looking at you. “What are you looking at? Are you ready?” You ask, putting on your coat. “Yeah I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.” He says opening the door.

Pulling into the driveway of your parents home you turn off the car and turn to Belphegor. “Ok like I said before, they might ask questions, especially my mother! And please, please try not to make an absolute fool in there.” You say. Belphegor laughs at your pleas. “Don’t worry I won't make a fool out of you on purpose, you do that well enough on your own.” He says with a chuckle. Man, he really knows how to get under your skin.

“Okay, okay. I’ll go in there and act like any other boyfriend.” He says with a patronizing smile. Pursing your lips trying to hold yourself back from slapping him, instead you just get out of the car. You knock on the door as you wait, Belphegor comes up behind you and you see him holding a bouquet of sunflowers. “What are you~” You’re cut off by your mother. “Well hello. Please, come on in, you'll freeze out there.” She says opening your family home to the both of you. Before you can introduce Belphegor, he’s already ahead of you.

“Thank you. These are for you.” He says handing your mother the flowers. “Oh my, they’re beautiful… oh I never even got your name.” Your mother says with a smile. Chuckling back he responds. “I’m Belphegor. And I’m glad you like them, you know sunflowers represent happiness and longevity which is not only what I hope for you this coming year but also for my time with your daughter here.” He says, pulling you in by your side, looking down at you with a smile. Your mother seemingly swooning. You smile back, “What the hell are you doing?” You ask through your teeth. “Fulfilling my end of the agreement, and taking what I want cause I don’t recall you ever telling me what I’d get in return.” He says. You fake a laugh, “What do you mean ‘get in return’?” You ask. Turning you to face him, lifting your chin. “You don’t think I came here out of the goodness of my heart do ya? I came here to have a bit of fun and I’m already just getting started.” He says. Giving you a sly look he kisses your hand sweetly before rushing over to your mother, “Please let me help you with those.” He says walking with your mother before looking back at you.

‘Oh he’s good. But two can play at that game, Buddy!’

As the night goes on you two continue to seem a convincing couple. Good to know his lying can actually be of some help in this situation. “So Y/n how did you manage to land such a charming guy?” Your cousin asks.

You hate it! How can they love him so much?

“Um well~” You start, when you feel Belphegor wrap his arm around your shoulders. “Well we actually met through my brothers.” He says. “Oh how many brothers do you have?” Your mother asks. “I’m actually the youngest of seven. And my twin brother introduced me to this girl and ever since that day I’ve wanted her by my side.” He says, with his left arm around your shoulders, his right hand makes its way on your bare knee. Laughing you look at him with warning eyes as you take his hand off you. Your family chuckles at your “puppy love” moment.

“So how long have you been together to be exact, because somehow up until a couple weeks ago Y/n had failed to mention you.” Your mother says looking at you. ‘Oh brother.’ You think to yourself. “About a year.” You say. “And here I thought it was longer. I guess that's just wishful thinking, huh.” Belphie says, looking at you with a smirk.

‘I’m gonna kill him.’

“You know if we let the love over there get too strong, we might be seeing a new addition to the family sooner than we’d think.” One of your family friends says, chuckling into his glass. The whole table starts to chuckle as your eyes widen. “O-oh no, not now.” You stutter. “Looks like my baby is blushing. She is always more amusing this way.” Belphegor says. “Haha ok enough of that. What time is it anyways?” You ask trying to get this night over with.

“It’s almost 11:40.” Says your mother. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re counting down the minutes till you can kiss me.” Belphie says, leaning into you. “Yeah, no. I couldn’t think of a worse way to start my year.” You say into your glass.

“Ok guys the ball is dropping! Count down in 10… Standing before Belphegor he just smirks. “Make sure you don’t fall in love with me after this.” He says. You almost gag, “Yeah, no problem.” you say.

Everyone chanted the countdown,

“3”

“2”

“1”

“Happy New Year!” Everyone exclaims.

Looking at each other Belphegor puts his hand behind your neck and pulls you in. Your lips touch. A second passes, still connected. The hand in your hair tightens slightly and his lips move with yours. Your mouths dance together one second and parted the next. The expectant feeling of disgust never came, rather the moment wasn’t that bad. You stand there in his grasp for a few more seconds, eyes locked. Looking up at him you notice something in his eyes you've never seen before, but it’s gone just as soon as it comes. “I think we should go before you try and kiss me again.” He says. “If you keep talking you’re sooner to get slapped, than kissed.” You say walking past him, making him laugh.

It’s nearing 1am when you and Belphegor are taking your leave, “You know you two can stay till the morning since it’s late.” Your mom offers. “No we have things to do tomorrow and I’d rather not travel in the morning.” You say hugging your mom. “Well, drive safely and Belphegor you’re always welcome in our home.” Your mom says making him smile. Taking her hand in his he places a small kiss on the back of hers, “Your hospitality is too much.” He says. You see your mom swoon once again. ‘Damn he is good.’

Finally in the car you sigh in relief. “Glad that’s over.” You say. “Yeah. When are we coming back? Maybe we can bring Beel, he’d love that- well, everything your mom made.” He says turning the car on. “Uh, what do you mean ‘coming back’? This was a one night deal.” You say laughing. “Well your mom said she’d love to see me again and I’d say I had a pretty good time playing with you tonight. So i feel it would really be a win-win situation.” He says. “How is that a win for me though.” You ask with your arms crossed.

“Well it’s a win for you cause you’ll get to kiss me again. I rather enjoyed the look you had after the first time” He says with a smirk. You finally hit his shoulder.

“I did not have a ‘look’ after kissing you.” You argue.

“Yes you did.” He says back.

“No I didn’t!” You say with more force

“Yes you did.”

And this went on back and forth the whole ride home. You knew asking him was a bad idea.

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

I hope you enjoyed this, and that you have a great New Years or when ever you find yourself reading this :3

💛 ~

#OBEY ME #obey me game #shall we date #shall we date obey me #obey me belphegor #belphegor #belphie x reader #belphegor x reader #x reader #obey me x reader #x female reader #holidays 2020 #new year #naughty or nice list #naughty list #request

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janeofcakes · 4 years ago

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Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again Chapter 8

Hello, my friends! In keeping my word, I am posting tonight to try and stay on schedule after the two-week wait for the last chapter. You may also be pleased to know that this one is more like the usual length.

---

Sherlock has just picked up the dish of shepherd’s pie from off the oven shelf when his mobile sounds. He glances to his right pocket with a sharp look and a grumble. He can hear Olive in the loo just turning on the taps to wash up for dinner. Without ceremony, Sherlock lifts the dish quickly and all but throws it on the hot plates situated in the middle of the table. He has learned over time that shepherd’s pie should live on the table while they eat it rather than on the counter. Olive always wants seconds and sometimes thirds, so it is best to have it handy.

With the dish on the table, Sherlock turns back to the counter and tosses the oven mitts onto it while fishing for his mobile. It is a number he does not recognize so not Greg or Mycroft, thank god. That’s all he needs, another conversation with his brother. The birthday party only a few short days ago seems to have opened the floodgate and the meddling sod has phoned Sherlock every day since. An utterly pointless venture, except to annoy Sherlock as Mycroft repeats himself each time. He despises the exercise as much as Sherlock does, which is not completely lost on the detective. His brother obviously considers his words of the utmost importance. Of course, he always does, but this is different. His tone is all wrong and Sherlock cannot help wondering what Mycroft is so afraid of because it can be called nothing else. Pure, skillfully hidden fear. Anger stirs hot in Sherlock’s chest again. Does Mycroft honestly think he would do anything to endanger Olive or the life he has with her? Sherlock is happier than he has ever been and how on earth could having John Watson back in his life jeopardize that?

The mobile sounds once more, coupled with Olive’s voice shouting from the loo to see if he knows it is ringing.

“Yes. Thank you,” Sherlock calls and hastily hits accept before putting the device to his ear. The case had better not be tedious. “Sherlock Holmes.”

He hears a man clear his throat somewhat nervously on the other end and rolls his eyes. Missing spouse who is really having an affair, best friend won’t talk to him and he is worried the man has been kidnapped or… Sherlock’s grey-blue eyes pop open wide. He knows this man. It is there in the timbre of his voice. There is no mistaking it.

“Sherlock,” the voice is hesitant. “Hi.”

“John,” the detective breathes, dropping his left hand to the countertop for support. At that moment, Olive rushes into the room before he can say another word. She wooshes past him and plops down in her chair.

“Shepherd’s pie! I knew it,” she leans over the dish and takes a deep breath. “Oh, it smells so good!”

“Go ahead and start,” Sherlock tells her, covering the phone with his hand. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Ok,” Olive reaches for the serving spoon with a huge grin on her face. Sherlock’s lip curls up into a half smile as he pushes through the door into the sitting room and closes it behind.

“Are you having dinner?” John is saying. “I’m sorry. I should’ve picked a better time to call.”

“It’s fine,” Sherlock assures him, staring across the room to the skull on the mantle and the photograph of himself with John that sits next to it. “We were just getting started. It’s no trouble.”

“You’re sure?” John sounds uncertain, but relieved at the same time. “I could phone later.”

“John, it’s fine,” Sherlock repeats with an edge of tension in his voice he hopes John does not notice. He will only misinterpret it as irritation when that couldn’t be further from the truth. Sherlock is actually more concerned that John will talk himself out of the phone call and then never call again.

Guard your heart.

Mycroft’s words slam their way into Sherlock’s mind with all the power of a lorry. Clenching his teeth, he pushes them away in favor of listening to his friend.

“All right,” John replies, unaware of the detective’s inner struggle. “I ran into Greg and he gave me your new number. I hope you don’t mind.��

“Not at all,” Sherlock says easily. “I had to change it about a year ago.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that,” John sucks air in through his teeth with a cringe. “Nasty business.”

“It can be, yes,” Sherlock confirms, feeling a bit less edgy. “I should have given you the number myself since the girls are friends.”

“Right,” John agrees and Sherlock can tell he is wetting his lips, readying himself to say something momentous. Sherlock swallows, every synapsis in his brain firing as one thought fills his mind.

Please don’t say Olive and Gracie can be friends, but we should never see each other. I’ve just got you back. Don’t leave me again.

Sherlock slaps the thought down hurriedly, shoves it into an open door in his mind palace and locks it. What he feels right now is exactly what his ass of a brother was referring to when he cautioned him not to open his heart to John again. Sherlock lets out a mirthless huff. As if he ever closed his heart in the first place.

“I wanted to talk to you about that,” John begins. Sherlock can hear him shifting uncomfortably. “If you’re both free on Saturday and the offer to host a playdate still stands, I’d be happy to bring Gracie by. Or we can have it here if you want.”

Sherlock’s mouth drops open and he stares numbly at the mantle, not actually seeing any of the items resting upon it. That was certainly not what he expected John to say, but he’ll take it. Reach out and grab it with both hands, in fact.

“Sherlock?” John asks curiously and Sherlock snaps to attention, wondering how much time passed while he was in his stupor.

“Yes,” he says too quickly, too excitedly and eases back when he continues. “Yes, of course. We would love to have you over. Olive has an endless list of things she wants to show Gracie.”

“I think I’ve heard it,” John lets out a warm laugh.”More than once.”

“Would just after lunch work?” Sherlock asks, a smile slowly taking over his face. This is truly too good to be. “One o’clock?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” John answers pleasantly. “We’ll be there.”

“I look forward to it,” Sherlock tells him, “and I know Olive will be overjoyed.”

“Oh, yeah,” John chuckles. “If you hear a far away explosion in the next few minutes, don’t worry. It’ll just be Gracie finding out.”

Sherlock laughs heartily and so easily it nearly surprises him. It feels good to laugh with John again. Astonishingly good.

“We’ll see you in a couple of days then,” John says in what can only be described as fond. “Good night, Sherlock.”

“Good night, John,” Sherlock ends the call and stays where he is, just breathing in and out. His heart is full and its warmth is running through his entire body. He is glowing with the feel of it.

Guard your heart.

It is already too late and Sherlock cannot be bothered to care. Not in the slightest. With a skip in his step, he turns for the kitchen and strides in to tell Olive the new plans for Saturday.

***

John and Gracie had set off as soon as they finished washing up after lunch. The walk from their flat to Baker Street isn’t far at all, but the clouds and rain saw them away in a taxi. The ride was pleasant enough, Gracie telling John for the umpteenth time what she and Olive had planned. The girl didn’t stop once to take a breath and John couldn’t stop smiling. Unfortunately, things all changed as soon as he paid the cabbie and turned to face the old building that was once his home.

John stands agog as the cab pulls away. Everything is exactly the same. Speedy’s is as busy as ever, every window has the same curtains so far as John can tell, and the door is still dark and imposing over the short step up to it. An image of a younger Sherlock Holmes standing on it flashes before John’s eyes and he sees himself limp over to the detective to shake hands. John blinks and the memory is gone as quickly as it came.

Feeling a light tug on his hand, John looks down to Gracie as she fidgets and angles her head toward the door. John nods, squares his shoulders and marches up to the door. The name plates are just as he had left them. M. Hudson. S. Holmes. John stares at the names, frozen in time. A thousand memories come unbidden, but not the cases as one would expect. Moments in the flat when they were alone. Sherlock working on countless experiments, John finding body parts in the fridge, blogging, reading, eating breakfast together, that time Sherlock covered John’s hand with his own and John was sure he saw something in the detective’s eyes before he turned away. John sees every detail in his mind’s eye as each one drifts around him, stories from a past life coming back into focus.

“Dad,” Gracie’s voice whispers through the haze and John blinks himself back to the present, his face wet with raindrops. He turns his head away from the door to see his daughter watching him with a curious expression. “Aren’t you going to knock?”

“Erm, of course. Yes, I was just…” John trails off, thinking of all the times he had let himself in and trotted up the stairs after a shift at the surgery to find Sherlock playing his violin or bent over an experiment or good god, tolerating Mycroft and his patronizing smirks. John cocks his head in thought, a warm feeling spreading throughout his body. Sherlock really had refused his brother’s information for all these years. He could have known everything from day one, but chose to give John his privacy. No, that wasn’t the only reason. It was too painful. That’s what Sherlock had said in the park. John’s heart squeezes in his chest at the thought of causing his best friend’s pain.

“Dad,” Gracie repeats, her tone impatient and bordering on irritable. “Dad, it’s raining and I’m starting to get really wet.”

“Right. Yes,” John remarks, knocking on the door swiftly and efficiently.

They only wait a moment before the door swings open to reveal Martha Hudson in a light blue dress. Her hair has gone nearly entirely grey and a few more lines have found their way onto her face, but John would know her anywhere. Mrs. Hudson’s every feature brightens as soon as she lays eyes on John, a smile of genuine delight on her lips.

“Hello, John,” she greets warmly and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Hello, Mrs. Hudson,” John replies thickly, realizing only at that moment how much he had missed her.

“It’s wonderful to see you,” Mrs. Hudson tells him and then looks down at his daughter. “And this must be Gracie. Olive’s told me so much about you.”

“She has?” Gracie asks, her excitement oozing from every pore.

“Oh, yes, definitely,” Mrs. Hudson declares, stepping aside. “Come in, come in. She’s been waiting for you all morning. Why don’t you go right on up?”

Gracie’s awed eyes follow the woman’s gesture all the way up the seventeen steps and they all three hear a clatter from the top. There is a muffled voice shouting ‘They’re here! They’re here!’ and Olive’s thumping footsteps scamper across the floor above. She throws open the door to 221B and jumps out onto the landing. Both girls squeal and start on the stairs, meeting halfway in a rib-crushing hug.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you’re finally here,” Olive gasps. “I’ve been waiting forever!”

“I know. I know!” Gracie’s voice is on the verge of a shout barely reigned in. The two girls separate and just look at each other, their bodies trembling with pure joy. Olive grabs Gracie’s hand and jumps up a step.

“Come on! You have to see our new experiment,” she darts up the stairs and Gracie follows right on her heels.

John and Mrs. Hudson watch them run and disappear into the flat above. John looks back at the older woman with an apologetic smile.

“I’d better get up after her,” he says with a quiet laugh. He turns and puts one foot on the first stair when a strong grip around his forearm stops him. He glances at her hand and then meets the kind, brown eyes of his former landlady. Mrs. Hudson’s expression is soft and wise as she silently studies the doctor. Enough time passes that John begins to wonder exactly what she sees, as well as what she’s looking for. After another long moment passes, the corners of her mouth turn up into a sweet smile and she gives his arm a squeeze.

“I’m glad you’re here, John,” she says tenderly. She glances up the stairs and nods. “He hasn’t stopped talking about this since you phoned. Cleaned the whole flat himself.”

“Himself?” John muses with raised browns. “Now that is something.”

They share a chuckle. Mrs. Hudson squeezes his arm again.

“He has changed so much, John,” she tells him in a motherly tone.

“So I’ve heard,” John replies with a touch of dismissiveness that she picks up on immediately.

“I’ll not have that tone, young man,” Mrs. Hudson chides sternly. “Not about my boy.”

“I’m hardly a young man,” John tries to reclaim the jovial mood, but gets nowhere.

“You went through so much before you left,” the older woman interrupts as if John said nothing. “No one could blame you, but he’s not the same man who did those things, who left you behind.”

“All right. Fine,” John mutters tersely, shifting his weight impatiently and glancing up the stairs before looking at her again. “What would you have me do? Just forget it all and pretend it never happened?”

“No,” Mrs. Hudson answers, her brow furrowed. “Just give him a chance. That’s all. You think you know him, but you don’t.”

John huffs a mirthless laugh and tilts his head back a fraction to look up at the ceiling, trying to hold his temper.

“You’ve seen him with Olive,” Mrs. Hudson continues on and John lowers his gaze to meet hers, already understanding. “Is that the man you knew?”

“No,” John concedes after a long pause. Sherlock hadn’t minded children and seemed to enjoy talking to them, but by his own admission it was only because they hadn’t learned enough to be as stupid as adults. What Sherlock has with Olive is genuine love and adoration, pure and simple. Even just that tells John his friend is very different these days.

John presses his lips together in a physical manifestation of tamping down his curiosity and all the questions rolling through his mind in a loop. Who is Jessie? Where did they meet? Are they married? John’s eyes widen, nerves on the rise and his heart in his throat. He fights not to look up the stairs as every muscle grows tense. He will surely meet Jessie today as soon as he enters his former flat. Suddenly those seventeen steps look like hundreds.

“Are you going to stay at all?” Mrs. Hudson’s gentle voice breaks the spell of his slight panic, bringing him back to where he stands at the bottom of the stairs.

“What? No,” John answers quickly, feeling flustered and trying not to show it. Judging by Mrs. Hudson’s empathetic smile, he has failed miserably. “I mean, I hadn’t planned on it. I have some errands.”

John had, in fact, thought he might stay for a bit and suggest tea if Sherlock did not. It seemed like the best way to assess the possibility of renewing their friendship. Now the idea of Jessie being there has John striking it from the schedule. He and Sherlock have so much history and not all of it is good. Surely Sherlock must have told Jessie enough that she will want to keep him as far from the detective as possible. Lestrade had said Sherlock was a shell of his former self until Jessie came into his life. Why would she let John hurt him again when she could protect him?

“Of course, dear. I understand,” Mrs. Hudson finally releases John’s arm, “but maybe just for tea? He’s honestly just as excited as Olive, though he’d never admit it.”

“Yeah,” John’s voice is light and he exhales a breath he had not realized he was holding. He can’t believe the words are passing through his lips even as he says, “Sure. It’ll be good to talk for a bit. I...have missed him.”

John surprises himself with the admission. He might have known Mrs. Hudson would get the truth out of him one way or another. The clever woman smiles, pats his arm and heads for her own flat.

“Stop by when you and Gracie are on your way out,” she disappears into the doorway and then peeks around the frame with only one hand and her head in John’s line of vision. “I have biscuits for you.”

John laughs quietly at her teasing voice and saucy grin.

“I could never refuse you anything, Mrs. Hudson. You know that,” he remarks with an answering grin.

“Oh, I know, dear,” comes Mrs. Hudson’s sly tone as she disappears again.

Left alone, John turns his attention to the stairs, his eyes following them all the way up to the landing. He exhales deeply, steeling himself for what lies beyond.

“Come on then, Watson,” he mumbles to himself, taking the first stair. “Once more into the breach.”

When John reaches the landing and walks through the open door to 221B, his normal pace slows abruptly.The flat is bright and cheerful in a way it certainly never was when he lived here. The skull is still on the mantle and Sherlock’s desk in the corner of the sitting room. There is a different telly, but it’s in the same place. All of the furniture and area rugs are new, except for Sherlock’s favorite leather chair and…

John stops. Everything stops. He doesn’t even hear Gracie and Olive’s giggles. Something in John’s chest that he had locked up tightly breaks open, spreading warmth and a comforting sort of tingle through his body. His lips part and he mutters quietly to himself in wonder.

“Oh, John,” Sherlock’s voice startles him out of his reverie and he turns to see the detective entering from the kitchen with the girls fast on his heels. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming up.”

The detective’s appearance and gait betray nothing, but his eyes sparkle like the night sky. It is dazzling. John closes his mouth and blinks. Wetting his lips, he shoots for casual.

“No, sorry. I was having a word with Mrs. Hudson,” John says, knowing he isn’t quite pulling it off.

“Or she had a word with you,” Sherlock counters with a playful smirk and something in John’s chest pops. Ten years is a long time to wait for that face. John didn’t even know he had been waiting and hoping until the exact moment he saw it. His mind is awash with memories once again, of stolen glances and brushing fingers never spoken of, but always noticed.

“Dad! Dad, I just got the full tour!” Gracie hoots at her stunned father. “This place is great and there’s even a cool experiment in the kitchen.”

“I still need to show you my room,” Olive declares, her whole face the very pinnacle of happiness.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Gracie chants, jumping up and down. “I want to see it all!”

“Gracie,” John scolds, even as they run for the stairs to the second level, “be courteous, please.”

“Ok, Dad,” his daughter calls back in the voice she uses when she isn’t paying attention. John sighs and turns to see Sherlock’s amused smile.

“She’s fine,” the detective waves a hand dismissively and then sobers as a thought occurs. “I assure you that the flat is quite safe. The experiment we’re conducting contains no harmful materials.”

“I know,” John replies with a shrug. “You’d never allow anything that might be dangerous.”

Sherlock’s lips curve up, but he makes no other acknowledgement. John finds himself at a loss for words. He has so many questions that he should let Sherlock answer himself, but he can’t just start blurting them out with the girls up in his old room where they could burst in at any moment. Sherlock looks as though he is about to speak, but John beats him to it, suddenly compelled to break the silence.

“She’s beautiful, Sherlock, really. She looks just like you,” John almost whispers, not caring at all that he essentially just said the same about Sherlock.

“Thank you,” Sherlock murmurs, somewhat taken aback. He regroups swiftly and gestures toward the kitchen. John’s eyes follow, his mind convinced Jessie will be standing in the doorway awaiting an introduction, but he sees no one. “Do you have a moment to spare for tea?”

“Uh, I have some errands, but yeah,” John says as disappointment flashes through his mind only to be chased away just as quickly as it came. Sherlock offered him tea. John didn’t even have to hint around it as he had planned in the cab. Mrs. Hudson was right. The detective is willing to open the door again. “I’d like that.”

“Good. That’s good,” Sherlock perks up. “Have a seat and I’ll bring it out.”

“No need to be so formal,” John replies, walking in the direction of the detective and the kitchen door behind him. “Let’s just do it in the kitchen. I don’t mind.”

Sherlock’s lip curls and he steps aside, stretching his arm toward the door.

“Be my guest,” he says knowingly and follows as John walks by.

Ten minutes later and the two men are sitting at the small kitchen table, mugs of steaming tea in hand. John opted for mugs and Sherlock had even remembered that John takes it with a splash of milk. John lets a quick breath out through his nose in place of a short laugh as he considers the man in front of him. Of course he remembers. He could probably tell from the way John tied his shoes or something.

“You’ve redone the kitchen,” John begins once they are settled. His smile grows when muffled giggles drift down from the floor above. John’s eyes look fondly upward and then back to Sherlock, who nods as he takes the mug from his lips and swallows.

“Four years ago, yes,” Sherlock fills in the blanks. “Minor explosion. Olive was not home.”

He says the last four words sternly, his face deadly serious and expecting a lecture, but John just rests his chin in his own hand and watches Sherlock with a contented gaze.

“I like it,” the doctor says simply.

“Thank you,” Sherlock clears his throat, thrown off by the unexpected response and John smiles behind his hand. “I’ll be sure to tell Olive. She was instrumental in its design.”

“You two work well together,” John says, racking his brain for some way to include Jessie without sounding like he’s being nosy.

“So do you and Gracie,” Sherlock offers sincerely and suddenly John wants to change the subject. He can tell Sherlock is going to apologize again for not knowing about Rosie and John really doesn’t want to have that conversation. He shifts in his seat and raises his own mug to his lips.

“So Greg and Mycroft?” John inquires before taking a drink. “I wouldn’t have predicted that one.”

“The last ten years have brought a good many surprises,” Sherlock responds with a chuckle. “Even my brother hadn’t anticipated that.”

“How did they even meet?” John asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.”Mycroft usually avoided everyone, especially police.”

“Olive’s first birthday party,” Sherlock says rather smugly. “I knew neither would refuse.”

“Sherlock Holmes,” John declares with an incredulous grin that makes the detective smile inquisitively, “you set them up. You’re a matchmaker.”

Without hesitation, they both burst out laughing and don’t stop for a good minute. It feels so good to laugh with his best friend again. His best friend. John hasn’t thought of Sherlock that way for years and yet, somehow he never stopped. It’s true to this day. Even with the other friends he has made, no matter how close, Sherlock has always been the best and closest one. Now that John and Gracie are back in London, maybe Sherlock could be again.

“Not so much,” Sherlock comments, his laughter devolving into giggles. John is so taken aback by the way Sherlock seems to be responding to his thoughts that the smile he wears freezes on his face and his eyes begin to widen in panic as John tries to remember what they were talking about.

“I mostly wanted them to meet because I was tired of Greg asking me about my ‘invisible brother’,” Sherlock sets John’s mind at ease as he continues speaking, “and don’t get me started on Mycroft’s thinly veiled insinuations.”

“So you just wanted them to stop bothering you,” John sums up, “and they ended up together instead?”

“They took their time about it too,” Sherlock tells him with disgust. “Three years I had to endure incessant conversation. ‘Should I ask him out, Sherlock? Is he even interested in that? What does he think of me? We had a really good time at dinner.’ And that was just Greg.”

“Mycroft,” John begins slowly, his voice flat. “Asked you. About Greg?”

“Oh god, it was detestable,” Sherlock all but moans and John has a hard time hiding a smile. The detective catches sight of it anyway and grumbles a low sound from deep in his chest. “I don’t do feelings.”

“Don’t you?” John counters instantly, not believing the man’s snarl for a minute. Sherlock meets John’s steady gaze and his expression softens as unspoken understanding passes between them. Sherlock presses his lips together and suddenly looks younger, a touch vulnerable. John sees the man who looked at him the same way all those years ago on their first case when John said he didn’t have to use his imagination to know what he would say when about to die.

“I have limits,” Sherlock snarks, pulling John from the past. The detective schools his face to match the topic again and reaches for a biscuit. “My brother’s emotional awakening extends far beyond them, I assure you.”

“I believe it,” John smirks as he takes a drink.

“I fail to see the humor in this, John,” Sherlock glowers, but there is no heat in it and his lips turn up the longer he looks at John. Unable to stop himself from imagining Sherlock rolling his eyes and covering his ears as Mycroft waxes poetic about Greg, John descends into giggles. Sherlock gives him a withering look, but the corners of his mouth begin turning up of their own accord again and his own giggles soon join John’s. A minute later both men are laughing outright. John wipes at his eyes as the snorts begin to fade.

“I didn’t even realize Greg was gay,” he says absently.

Sherlock’s chuckles stop abruptly and John looks at him apprehensively, knowing his mistake immediately and kicking himself.

“He isn’t,” the detective tells him sharply. “He’s bisexual.”

“Right,” John swallows thickly, cursing himself for being such an idiot.

A moment of awkward silence passes while Sherlock sips from his mug and John looks down at his own, contemplating what to say. Coming up with nothing, he reaches for the biscuits with a silent inquiry on his face and Sherlock waves a hand in answer. John plucks one up and pops it in his mouth.

“Mm,” John hums with enthusiasm. “Mrs. Hudson is still an expert.”

“Actually, Olive and I made them,” Sherlock corrects and then says without thinking: “It’s Jessie’s recipe.”

He stops abruptly, mouth still open and fixes a penetrating but uneasy gaze on John. The doctor stares back. This is exactly the topic he is most curious about and the focus of nearly all his questions, but he suddenly doesn’t want to talk about it. He looks into those grey-blue eyes, deep and full of emotion, and he can’t. He can’t ask, can’t know. Not right now.

“John…” Sherlock starts in. John knows what he is going to say and he can’t bear it.

“Oh, god,” John interrupts, looking at his watch. “It’s been an hour. I really have to do those errands.”

He all but leaps out of his seat and bolts for the kitchen door, pausing only a moment to look back at his speechless friend. Sherlock has risen as well, but stands in place.

“Do you need any help?” John gestures to the table. “I can wash up.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sherlock’s voice is uncertain as though he has done something wrong and John’s chest squeezes painfully.

“All right. Ok,” John’s own voice is full of tension. He doesn’t even sound like himself. He fists his hands at his sides for lack of anything else to do with them. “I’ll be back at...four? Four thirty?”

“Four thirty is fine,” Sherlock replies, sounding more resigned now. “I’ll make sure they have a healthy snack in a bit.”

Feeling like a complete idiot, John mutters his thanks and rushes from the flat without another word.

***

When John returns, it is nearly five o’clock. Tesco had been a madhouse and at least one person in every aisle was intolerable. He had texted Sherlock around four fifteen to say he would be a little late and received a response of ‘no problem’ almost immediately. Marching up the stairs to the flat, he still feels a bit guilty. Mrs. Hudson let him in the building and then rushed back to her flat to check on a cake in the oven. Small mercies, not making the walk of shame back up to 221B under her watchful eyes.

John turns to the door to Sherlock’s flat when he reaches the landing and knocks with the hand carrying only one light-weight bag. He will give it to Gracie for the trip home so he has only the two heavier ones to contend with. He hears footsteps nearing the door soon enough and Sherlock looks at him a bit oddly after opening it. His grey-blue eyes clearly ask why John didn’t just walk in, but then shift in recognition as if reminding himself that John is a guest rather than a resident.

The detective steps aside and directs John to place his bags on a bench near the door. John smiles to himself when he sees the line of eight year old shoes next to three pairs of Sherlock’s posh shoes. He still wears it when he turns around to follow Sherlock into the sitting room. John stops next to the couch while Sherlock goes to the bottom of the stairs.

“Olive, Gracie,” Sherlock calls. “John is here.”

“Ok,” his daughter replies.

Sherlock turns back to John and begins approaching the couch.

“They’ll just be a minute. I asked them to clean up a bit once you got here,” Sherlock explains and then gestures to the furniture. “Please, have a seat.”

“Ta,” John says automatically and sits on the couch, leaving room for Sherlock. John’s stomach flips when the detective sits next to him. His palms are sweaty and his pulse steps up its pace, but John tries not to show it. He’s being ridiculous.

“I hope she behaved herself,” John comments with a quiet laugh, resisting the temptation to wipe his hands on his jeans.

“She was wonderful,” Sherlock answers with an expression that says John had nothing to worry. “They kept themselves busy all afternoon. I only saw them at snack time and then they were right back at it. They get along so well.”

“Good. That’s good,” John says a little stiffly. What is wrong with him? He is tense and apprehensive and has no reason to be. Just because he ran from his friend as fast as he could when he left a few hours earlier doesn’t mean he should be uncomfortable now. Sherlock probably thought nothing of it. John sighs internally, wanting to roll his eyes. That is the single stupidest thought to pass through his mind all day.

“John,” Sherlock’s silky voice draws John’s attention, as always.

“Hm?” he hums, looking at his friend and trying not to give away every thought in his head with just one glance.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Sherlock tells him softly. John’s brows arch toward his hairline and his lips part in mild surprise. He is not entirely sure what Sherlock is referring to, but it can’t be what John thinks he means, what John increasingly wants it to mean.

“The girls have grown quite close in only a short time,” the detective continues. “They’re already planning a sleepover.”

“Oh,” John releases the breath he had been holding. He had not anticipated that, but should have. He nods in understanding, feeling both relieved and disappointed in equal measure. “I should’ve known they’d make that leap right out the gate.”

“Indeed,” Sherlock wets his lips, drawing John’s eyes and damn it if he can’t drag the traitorous little bastards away from that cupid’s bow. John is sure Sherlock notices, but he spares John the embarrassment of saying anything. “John, are you free for dinner next Saturday evening?”

“What?” John stumbles over the word like an idiot. He can’t have heard that right. Dinner? With Sherlock? With him? Then it dawns on him. Sherlock wants to introduce him to Jessie over dinner where there won’t be interruptions significant enough to pull them away. “Yeah. I don’t have plans. It’ll be easy enough to have Candace watch Gracie for the night.”

“Good,” Sherlock’s lips quirk up. “I’m glad. I...I have a lot to tell you.”

Before John can reply or even put much thought into the implications of that sentence, Gracie and Olive clatter down the stairs and bound into the room. The young blonde is at John’s side in seconds, hugging him and bubbling over about all she has to tell him.

Surrounded by constant chatter, John and Sherlock rise and all four walk to the door where Gracie pulls on her coat and shoes. Both she and John thank Sherlock and Olive for everything and then make their way down to Mrs. Hudson. She meets them in the foyer with a tin of biscuits, which they put in Gracie’s grocery bag. Thanking her as they head out the door, Mrs. Hudson waves goodbye with promises to see them again as though there was never any doubt of their return.

Once the door to the building is closed and John and Gracie are on the pavement, a cab appears seemingly from nowhere. John eyes the driver suspiciously for a moment, wondering if he is really one of Mycroft’s lackeys before dismissing the notion. He opens the door with the hand holding the lighter of his two bags and piles in with his daughter. John gives their address to the man and sits back in his seat just in time to hear his mobile ping with a text.

7 o’clock?

John can’t help the smile that blooms on his face as he types an affirmative response.

“What does that mean?” Gracie asks, reading over his shoulder. John looks down at her curious face as he pockets the mobile.

“Olive’s dad and I are going to meet for dinner next Saturday,” John tells her. “So that means Candace will stay over and put you to bed.”

“Yay!” Gracie exclaims. “She promised to play Cluedo the next time she stays over.”

“Well, I hope the two of you discover it was the doctor in the lounge with the lead pipe before it’s too late,” John jokes, wrapping his arm around his little girl and pulling her close.

“Dad,” Gracie laughs with an eye roll and hugs him.

The cab ride home is not long at all and the Watsons joke with one another all the way to their doorstep.

---

A new chapter coming with promises of dinner, Jane, and you make us wait? Gah! I may not be torturing you with the angst of my other works, but I hope to still have to on the edge of your seats. Thank you, thank you one and all for your support and love. Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlockholmes #sherlock loves john #sherlock fanfic #john watson #johnwatson #johnlock #Johnlock fanfic #John loves Sherlock #Mystrade

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