#it sucks so bad here dude. i should be able to ride a train to austin instead of taking a SEVEN AND A HALF HOUR BUS RIDE

[horsejawbone]

when there is not a functional passenger train system in your country.

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Poseidon

Fishy fishy fishy… I honestly could write 100 more things for Poseidon MC and Levi. I just love the dynamic between an insecure, otaku shut-in and a chill California surfer dead set on becoming his friend.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2, Poseidon 

For anyone unaware, Poseidon is also the god of horses. I know it's a weird combo, but I didn't write the mythos.

Lucifer

…..

They came out of the portal….

On a horse….

They brought the mortal down to the Devildom…

On a goddamn horse….

There's a demigod on a live horse brandishing a weapon and doing laps around the Student Council Room…

Congratulations, he already wants to pull his hair out!!

Honestly, it would have been preferable to pluck them out of the sea. At least then they'd just need a towel! What the hell were they going to do with an entire horse!?

And his nightmare didn't stop there. Poseidon is a notoriously mercurial god, prone to bouts of anger and spitefulness for reasons far less grievous than kidnapping his children… 

Their apology was swift and (seemingly) effective, though the tide waters around the Devildom did rise by several feet for some time…

As for the MC… uh… Well, they're an energetic one to say the least…

Lucifer hasn't met a more active individual since Mammon. They horseback ride, swim, surf, skateboard, and probably do ten other things - the point is, they Hardly. Keep. Still! 

They're also annoyingly easygoing… He can't count the number of times they've told him to, "Just chill out," or, "Hang loose…" What does that even mean??

Between having to order a stable made for their horse and just trying to keep up with them, Lucifer already thinks this mortal has caused him more trouble than they're worth… At least they keep Mammon busy...

Mammon

Upon first meeting them atop their horse, Sunset, his first thought was of course:

"I wonder if I sell that...?"

After that, they nearly fed him to sharks for trying to take their beloved steed on same night. Safe to say, he never touched a hair on its head again…

These two had a rocky start, but their relationship mended fairly quickly. As it turns out, the MC is literally one of those "go with the flow" types. You can say it was water under the bridge soon enough.

Mammon actually thinks the MC is a hell of a lot of fun, even if they're super laid-back. Most of the time, they won’t take his drive for money (or fear of his bills) all that seriously and tell him that he’s worrying too much, but they’ll still lend a hand if its on their way.

He finds their ability to control water pretty cool as well. Levi has it to some extent, but the MC can make a whole-ass whirlpool or use water like a whip! 

He once begged them to call up some rare fish for him to sell, but they got all pseudo-philosophical on him about how “trading life for material wealth” is “not cool, dude...”

He also made the mistake of challenging them to a splash fight only once…. They managed to drench the whole family with a single wave….

The only thing that bothers him is their weird insistence on being Levi's "Best Buddy…" Why would someone like them even bother with a shut in??

Is it the water? … Probably water. Levi, that lucky bastard…

Leviathan 

Thinks they're a big normie, no scratch that, a HUGE normie! The biggest normie he's ever met!! They skateboard and horseback ride for Devil's sake!!

...But they’re also, undoubtedly, the best friend he could've ever asked for.

To be fair to Levi, their friendship was sort of forced upon him. The MC took one look at him, his aquatic-themed room, and his pet goldfish then declared their new friendship status at that moment. 

Unfortunately for him, though, they're energetic, extroverted, and generally have little understanding of personal space… aka, an introvert's worst nightmare…

The next month could accurately be described as the MC doing everything in their power to make their stubborn "senpai" like them.

They would drag him out to the aquarium, beach, or pool; they befriended Henry so he could put in a good word for them; and they'd even bring him little gifts or trinkets they'd find on the ocean floor. Pretty shells and stuff like a cat bringing its master a dead mouse.

After he finally began to accept them as a persistent fixture in his life, he introduced them to gaming and anime and started accepting them little by little...

By the end of their stay, these two were practically inseparable. Not just because they like spending time together, but because they figured out they could have a telepathic link due to Levi being part sea serpent. 

No matter how far they are, they can always have a chat! (That no one else can hear so people think they’re just crazy...)

Satan

Satan honestly isn't the MC's biggest fan, he generally finds them too loud and gregarious for his liking. But their horse…?

He never really thought that he'd be a horse man... Yet it didn’t really take long for Satan to adore Sunset, their beautiful golden-maned mare. Apparently she's not their only horse, but by far their favorite traveling companion.

Sunset is a wonderful horse - brave, strong, and well-trained. It only took a few weeks before he was regularly sneaking out to the stables to brush her fur or feed her apples...

After the MC taught him how to ride, that was it. All other forms of transportation were inferior to him now.

Satan would ride Sunset everywhere and he looked damn good doing it! It takes all that fairytale Prince Charming thing he has going on and puts it through the roof.

It's a good thing too, because when I say everywhere, I do mean everywhere. Lucifer had to put seals on the House doors to keep Satan from riding Sunset through the hallways...

Of course, he’ll always let the MC have Sunset back when they need her!... with a little complaining but nothing terrible.

The MC doesn't mind much because Sunset likes him and they know he takes good care of her, but the rest of the House is slightly unnerved at how quickly he went horse crazy… What if they brought a giant crab instead?? No one wants to deal with crab-Satan...

Asmodeus 

Their body is just scrumptious. Oh, how he could look at their swimsuit-clad figure all day!! 😩

Between the swimming and the fighting, their form is toned to all hell and he can't get enough of it! Yes baby, yes!! Take those clothes off again!!! He'll help~! 😘

When he's not staring at them “totally respectfully,” then he's inviting them out to pool parties or begging them to take him riding...

There are parts of horseback riding he doesn’t like, the smell and the jostling specifically, but there is a kind of… romance to it, no?

He loves having the chance to snuggle up to the MC as they trot around the Devildom! It's so romantic, like they’re his knight in shining armor! (Or his demigod in a damp swimsuit, either works. 😏)

His Devilgram is just full of selfies of him and MC riding on the back of Sunset or sitting by the edge of the pool or them in the middle of a swim meet…

Yeah his Devilgram is now a one part him and one part MC-Appreciation account.

After the pact he'll eventually cool down some and stop staring at them like a sex-object, but even then he'll be at every swim meet. Don't you worry~

Beelzebub 

He actually really likes them! It's great to finally have another athlete in the House. 😊

The MC joined the RAD swim team just as soon the coach was able to convince Diavolo that having the child of a water god wasn't completely cheating... 

Since swim and fangol practice ends at about the same time, they walk home together a lot and complain about... sports things... (Forgive me, I don’t know sports. Uhm... Rival teams? Coaches? That one drill everyone hates? Stuff like that.)

Beel also can surf, skate, and snowboard so the two have a healthy competition going. They're about on equal footing so they tie often (except in surfing but Beel doesn't think that should count cause they’re probably cheating).

The only thing that he has to watch out for is Sunset… As in, he has to watch himself around Sunset because he absolutely could eat her on accident… 

Look, he doesn't want to and he doesn't even like horse meat that much, but even he has to admit there are times he gets hungry enough to consider it…

Of course, he knows that if he ever did Satan would rip him limb from limb then the MC would drown the rest so he really, really tries to control himself… but still… She’s a very healthy horse...

At least he didn’t try to sell her like Mammon. The MC hung him over a shark tank for that stunt… He’d feel bad, but Mammon kind of had it coming.

Belphegor 

The first time they met, the MC smelled like beach water and called him "dude-bro…" He didn't like his prospects.

For a while, he genuinely thought that they had a lump of sand where their brain was. They were just too chill!! Here he was saying that he's being held captive and they were like, "Well that sucks, man… I'll help ya, but I've got practice tomorrow. You can wait, right?"

It's not like he expected them to jump on top of it, but some urgency would have been nice…

When they eventually got around to helping him, he was actually looking forward to choking the life out of them for the extra wait. Unfortunately, they apparently had a horse…

Yeah, Belphie found out just a bit too late that the MC could summon their steed to them whenever they wanted and ended up with Sunset's hooves firmly bucking into his back for his trouble…

What followed was Belphegor running circles around the attic from the weapon-totting MC riding their terrifying murder horse until Lucifer finally intervened....

Thank the gods he wasn’t near any water….

As it would turn out later, as long as he's not being held captive in an attic Belphie kind of vibes with their laid-backness… They say they approach life "one wave at a time" or something.

He could care less about what that actually means, but what it translates to is "Stop stressing out and just keep chill" which he's all about.

Everybody should just chill out!... dude…. Nah, he'll let them stick to the “dude”-thing, it feels weird...

[y0itsbri]

Hi Bri 🥰

C-16 if you'd like to 👀

Coffee dates and disasters

au with college!lip and barista!mandy where ian is a frequent visitor at the campus café and meets mickey under rather unfortunate circumstances. don't cry over spilled milk, buddy.

which also fits under a.u.gust for @gallavichthings

words: 2.4k

"never would have thought you the type to come to one of these places," ian mused, looking around the small café with only lamps and string lights illuminating the space. "can't believe college changed you, man," ian clutched at his heart dramatically.

"don't worry. 'm still the annoying bastard you love so dearly," lip squeezed ian's shoulder before he sauntered up to the counter.

the barista's bored expressed brightened when she saw them. her perky demeanor was matched by a high pitched voice, "hey lip," she smiled, dark lipstick striking. she appraised ian with a somewhat predatory eye, "hello, lip's friend."

"uh, brother," ian coughed.

lip rolled his eyes, "and he's gay so don't even try it, mandy."

she pouted and flicked her hair behind her shoulder, "not that it's any of your business, anyways."

ian chuckled besides him, drawing another smile out of mandy, this one kinder, sweeter.

"what can i get you boys?"

the pink highlights glistened in her dark hair as she whipped up lip's cold brew and ian's caramel macchiato, then proceeded to insist that this one is on the house. neither of them argued, but thanked her before they settled down in some stools by the window.

"fucking the barista privileges?" ian asked, raising his eyebrow at his slut of a brother.

"i think of it more like fellow south sider charity," he rubbed his bottom lip, "but yours works too," lip smirked around the edges of his coffee cup.

"you're an idiot."

"can a man who got us free drinks really be deemed an idiot?" lip philosophized.

ian paused, taking a moment of thorough consideration. he looked lip straight in the eyes as he answered, "if that man is you, then without a doubt."

lip tried to knock ian's cup out of his hand, but failed at his attempt. ian thanked his well-practiced jrotc skills and a lifetime experience of growing up in a house packed with annoying siblings for his victory.

they chatted about the robotics classes lip was taking, how he got full-time access to one of the labs, and his weird ass roommate who may or may not be gay if ian is at all interested. ian scrunched up his face. after hearing so many horror stories about the guy, ian didn't want anywhere near him. he wasn't that desperate yet.

the second that lip was out of his seat and heading to the bathroom, the beautiful mess that was mandy descended.

"hiiii lip's gay brother," she leaned against the table.

"it's ian," he spun his empty cup in his hands. he couldn't help himself from smiling at her charisma.

"well hi, ian, i just wanted to say sorry if i spooked you earlier. i just had no idea lip's brother would be so cute!"

"his ugly mug's not too hard to beat." ian laughed. "he got the short end of the gallagher stick, literally."

"cute and charming. you're funny, ian gallagher, i like you." she placed her hand on his shoulder for a moment, a movement so soft compared to her rather frantic appearance. "come back here anytime and it's on the house, yeah? i work most evenings after three."

"oh. uh- okay," ian scrambled for words, "thanks."

she squeezed his shoulder once before lip returned with a rather obnoxious entrance.

"ayo mands, stop harassing him!"

ian ducked his head in embarrassment.

"oh, shut up! i'm just clearing your cups," she winked at ian as she left.

mandy was something else. but she was kind and good company. ian could get used to the chill atmosphere over the chaos of the gallagher house anytime. he might just take up her offer.

--

"you'd think with all the time you spend here, you'd be offered a scholarship or something by now." mandy sipped on her chocolate frappuccino as she laid her feet across ian's lap. he always made sure to come visit during her breaks at least twice a week during the past couple months.

ian shrugged, "guess they only had room for one gallagher."

mandy hit his arm in a way that hurt. lip was fucked if he ever broke her heart.

"does fiona even know that this is where you sneak off to?"

"yeah." mandy's look said she didn't believe him. "well, kinda. she thinks i'm visiting lip, brotherly duties and all."

"yeah? how are those brotherly duties?"

"fuck if i know."

she laughed.

"i still think you should apply here for next fall," she encouraged, "could take some art classes."

"i suck at art."

"chemistry?"

"failed that."

"business?"

"yeah, no thanks."

mandy flipped him off, "fine. botany?

"ya know what? sure." he had always wanted to grow tomatoes.

"really?!"

"heart wants what it wants, mandy. we can't all be psychology brainiacs."

"brains and beauty, what can i say?" she teased. ian laughed, eyes glistening towards his friend. mandy made things better.

"hey," she continued, "there's this concert on the main campus lawn this weekend, you should totally come!"

"isn't that just for students?"

"they don't card, dummy."

"right, right, i knew that."

"sureeee. you in?"

ian mentally checked his work schedule.

"i'm in."

--

lip and ian strolled into the café a few days later. okay, maybe ian had felt a bit guilty for abandoning his brotherly duties lately, but at least this way he could hang out with both his best friends. well he could have if he remembered the fact that mandy had the day off for her behavioral neuroscience midterm. they had literally spent her previous shift reviewing the terms, he should have known.

ian's couldn't help his face from falling as another blonde barista took their orders, mostly eyeing lip the whole time.

"hi lip," she smiled a little too sincerely, "what can i get for you today?"

ian had ordered something new at the recommendation of the blonde and he was not a fan. and to make matters worse, he had to actually pay for the atrocity that he wouldn't even be able to finish.

"so how's your little coffee dates with mandy?" lip asked over his cup.

ian nearly choked on his god-awful americano. "how'd you know?"

"please. she's obsessed with you. every time i see her, it's 'ian this,' 'ian that,' 'ian might apply here in next year.'"

"oh."

"yeah, oh. when were you gonna tell me?!"

“it’s all mandy’s idea, i’m not even sure i want to,” ian muttered, refusing to make eye contact.

“dude, i’ve literally shared a room with you since the day you popped out of monica’s wretched womb, you think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

okay maybe ian had been getting increasingly more excited about the idea of attending school and actually learning things that he wants to learn. something that might actually lead him somewhere real since rotc was looking more and more like a poor man's fantasy the more that he thought about it.

“I was gonna tell you, swear on it.” and he was. once he convinced himself that lip wasn't going to straight up laugh in his face. but the look in his eye seemed genuinely supportive.

“mhm, i gotta catch my english lit class," lip stood up, swinging his tattered tan backpack across one shoulder. he patted ian's shoulder in his big brother ways, "don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah for sure! have fun learning a language you already know!” lip flipped him off at his smartass remark.

soon after, ian stood up to return his drink to the counter, the anxiety from the conversation making him entirely lose whatever appetite he might have had. plus, it wasn’t the same here without lip or mandy. he just wanted to be wrapped up in a cocoon in his own bed. but that was so far away. maybe he could catch an early ride—

thump.

ian crashed into a guy’s sturdy body.

the remnants of his shitty drink spilled in an americano nightmare over both of them, ceramic pieces shattering on the floor in a truly horrific manner.

ian yipped and the other man let out a grunt of irritation.

they were fucking soaked. well, at least the coffee wasn't hot? ian tried justifying the situation, but, nah, this was bad.

"shit! i'm so sorry, lemme," ian reached out and the shorter man flinched away.

they were now far enough apart that ian got a good look at him. a leather jacket.. now covered in ian's drink -- shit. and shockingly piercing blue eyes that lingered too long on ian's before his cheeks turned a shade of pink that made ian's stomach flutter.

he might have seemed cold if he didn’t make ian feel so warm.

"it’s cool, man. i gotta go, uh," and he walked out of the café without looking back.

fuck.

ian smelled like coffee the entire train ride to the back of the yards. he laid in his bed regretting his entire life.

no mandy. no lip. no dignity.

--

the day of the concert that mandy had invited him to rolled around. ian wouldn’t admit it, but he was nervous to spend a coffee-less evening with mandy, their entire friendship built inside that one room. his little bubble of safety was bursting.

well, to be honest, the bubble had burst the moment that his disaster of a coffee was spilled onto one of the most ridiculously pretty guys that he's ever seen. every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the guy’s face shift from hostile to something else. he was torn between wanting to know the his name and also on never seeing him again in fear that he would simply pass away of embarrassment.

hopefully mandy hadn't heard about it. they may not have been friends for a long time, but he already knew that she would never let him live it down.

"hey ian!" her familiar voice called. that sounded promising.

his face fell with relief as he finally spotted her at the corner. she embraced him in a warm hug before pulling back and giving him a once over.

"huh, could have sworn you'd still have coffee behind your ear or something after the description karen gave me of your little disaster the other day." she smirked, quite literally double checking behind his ears as they turned hot under her gaze.

"ugh, fuck, how much did she tell you?" he itched his forehead and scrunched up his nose.

"oh, calm your tits, it's funny as fuck." she giggled, punching his arm in a way that still unintentionally hurt.

"whatever. are you excited for the concert tonight?"

their reunion conversation lulled eventually, and ian noticed that they weren't necessarily standing alone.

no. fucking. way.

just his luck, if he was being honest. he probably deserved this.

there he stood. the man that has plagued his dreams the past few days. in a light wash jean jacket that was a little tight on the biceps, leaning casually against the wall, kicking the pebbles on the ground with his boot.

"uh, what's he doing here?" ian gestured towards the victim of The Coffee Incident.

“what, you know him?” mandy asked, walking them towards him.

“vaguely.” if that wasn’t the understatement of the year.

"huh. i didn’t think my idiot brother had any friends."

brother? how did ian not realize she had a brother?

"what, did you think i was going to babysit you all night? i can't let everyone here thinking you're my boyfriend, no offense or whatever, but you're in good hands!" she kissed his cheek, clearly not helping her own not-looking-like-her-boyfriend rule.

ian eyed said brother's good hands only to see the faded letters of FUCK U-UP on them. oh.

mandy pushed ian over to her brother, "ian, mickey. mickey, ian," she introduced before pushing and shuffling her way through the crowd of college students to find herself someone’s cheap ass fruity alcohol to mooch off of.

mickey. ian's brain repeated over and over, a chime against the murmuring sea of voices they found themselves enveloped by.

"nice jacket," ian pointed out, an awkward attempt to converse before shoving his hands back in his pockets.

"it's my second favorite." the corners of his mouth lifted like there was more to the statement. ian took the bait, as if he could resist.

"what's your first?"

"first is still airing out the fuckin’ coffee smell," he smirked as ian groaned. "oh c’mon, man, don't go crying over spilled milk."

how could he not? on the bright side, he didn’t seemed to hate ian for it.

“if it was anyone else,” mickey drawled, “they’d have to get a beat down for it.”

“why do I get a free pass?” ian mused.

“well, you’re mandy’s friend, right?”

“yup,” ian tried to suppress his disappointment. he really did. but fiona always told him he wore his heart on his sleeve.

“yeah, that ain’t why, though,” his eyebrows waggled suggestively and ian nearly felt his heart drop out of his ass.

ian blessed whatever coffee god was out there for sending him both mandy and the beautiful man in front of him.

“you wanna go listen to the band?” ian nodded his head towards the stage with passionate players jumping around like they were playing lollapalooza or some shit.

“lead the way, stud, just try to keep your drinks off of me this time,” mickey knocked into ian’s own flannel covered shoulder.

yeah, ian couldn’t believe his luck. maybe karma was finally on his side.

—

mandy smirked at her brother and best friend not-so-subtly checking each other out over the course of the night, bopping their heads to the music and downing whatever free booze they could get their hands on.

she hoped that adding mickey to the equation would be enough incentive to convince ian to stick around. things were better when he was near.

the way that ian followed mickey around like a lost puppy with that dopey moon-eyed look, it seemed like her hopes would come true.

and when both ian and mickey strolled into the café to come visit her at work the next week, mickey in his worse-for-wear leather jacket and ian in borrowed denim, she thanks the coffee gods for her luck.

[rubykgrant]

(here is how I imagine Grif and Simmons’ feelings growing for each other in the early years)

In the beginning, when they first met, Grif figured he wouldn’t ever like Simmons much. The dude turned out to be kinda funny though, despite being so annoying, and he was weird in an interesting way, so they became friends. Grif talked to him every single day, from training to Blood Gulch, how could they NOT be friends? Grif started to notice that something else was going on after a while… and realized it was a crush. A stupid little crush, like a stupid little kid. He was too old for something like this. This happened around the time they thought they “traveled to the future” (but had actually just been exploded). Well, it started before then, but he hadn’t noticed. It was gross and embarrassing, and no WAY was Grif going to act on it. Grif only had a few relationships in his life that he’d be willing to call “serious” (that is, more than just a fling or a hook-up), and they never lasted long or ended well. Sometimes it was OK, at least for a while… but Simmons? The dude would absolutely not be able to handle having another guy interested in him. This crush was nothing but a bad idea. He tried to ignore it until it went away… but it didn’t. Still, he could deal with having a crush, whatever.

Then it wasn’t a crush anymore. When Simmons went through his “Blue Phase”, Grif accidentally started to put actual thought into how he felt about Simmons, which was a mistake. Grif loved him. He hated it. He loved Simmons, and he hated it. He had fallen hard for Simmons, and if this was happening at any other time in his life… Grif would have been almost bashful and possibly excited about it. When was the last time he’d actually been “in love”? A few times he THOUGHT it was happening, and then it just didn’t click. That was all years ago… but he used to be a little more hopeful when it came to romance. If he had met Simmons in his college years somehow, Grif would have been all over him (embarrassing, but true. He knew himself that well, at least). After all this time, though… Grif has become just too apathetic to hope for love. He was never good enough for anybody, and he had crappy taste in other people. He doesn’t want to even go there with Simmons… but he also doesn’t want to lose Simmons, he wants to keep being around him, as much as possible, for as long as possible.

After so many years of mocking Simmons, bothering him and irritating him, Grif had backed himself into a corner; no way in hell would Simmons EVER feel the same way about Grif. It was never gonna happen. He couldn’t stop feeling the way he did, and he also couldn’t stop acting like a jerk… the routine of this dysfunctional relationship was set in stone. What could Grif do? Just give up on Simmons completely, go find another friend, try to date other people? Grif had already done the bit where you leave your old life behind and try to make a new one… it sucked (and required too much effort). Besides, Simmons was USED to him. He might complain about Grif constantly, but also… nobody else put up with Grif the way he did. Should Grif try and actually do something about their relationship, like TELL Simmons the truth? No way. They didn’t do emotional honesty, and if Simmons didn’t feel the same way… he probably wouldn’t take it well. He’d probably freak out. Then Grif wouldn’t even have his friend anymore. He’s wanted Simmons in many different ways, and he’ll take whatever he can get…

***

There had been quite a few times in the years that they’ve known each other when Simmons thought about Grif… well, in pretty embarrassing ways. It made him feel all confused, but also fluttery, with something like glee washing over him. Simmons didn’t even know how to describe it; Grif would say something or do something, and it would just strike Simmons as the absolute PERFECT thing in the moment, it would be funny or silly, occasionally really DEEP or interesting, and somehow also charming, and Simmons would suddenly want to make Grif happy too... but it was totally different than the need to impress an authority figure. He would want all of Grif’s attention and affection, because in these moments, he felt special… and the source of that feeling was Grif. In these moments, the teasing turned into something more playful, the arm-punches turned into hugs, the endless anxiety turned into a comfortable sense of belonging. Maybe Grif had other friends in his life that got to share moments like this with him, but this was all Simmons had. Often, Grif just drove him up a wall, he was so lazy and bothersome, the opposite of Simmons in many ways… but ultimately, he was Simmons’ best friend.

It only got weird when he started having additional thoughts to go with these feelings… he’d think about hugging Grif and not letting go. He’d think about what it would be like if somebody wanted HIS attention and affection for once, and if that somebody was Grif. He’d think about so many things, stuff that was so sappy and corny… cutesy stuff. This was weird because you DEFINITELY weren’t supposed to think about your friends like this, right? Simmons never had a lot of friends, so he wasn’t sure… but these cutesy-thoughts were more like the stuff people probably did in romantic relationships. Simmons definitely had never done anything romantic with anybody in his life either, but he knew what it was. He wasn’t stupid. He was just… really confused. Maybe it was just the fact that he’d known Grif for so long, all his various emotional struggles were concentrated on the guy. The first time Simmons realized these cutesy-thoughts were a problem was when they were at Rat’s Nest; it had been just about the worst thing ever to deal with Grif being in charge, because he was NOT a good leader, and Simmons hated being bossed around by his goof-ball buddy… but it wasn’t all bad. A few times, Grif had used his position of power to force Simmons to relax (which was difficult to get used to, but he also couldn’t just say NO, and sometimes it was fun… like when Grif convinced him to go joy-riding in a vehicle or blow something up just for the heck of it. All those childhood and teenage years spent staying quiet and behaving had robbed Simmons of doing stuff like this, so he had a lot to catch up on).

One of these times, Grif got his hands on some comic books, and was gushing to Simmons about how cool they were. They’d taken most of their armor off, so Simmons could see Grif’s face and upper-body clearly… it was the first time since the surgery that Grif finally looked “evened-out” (still with patches of Simmons’ skin, but his face and arm and leg didn’t seem so withered anymore). Simmons considered lecturing Grif on how bad it was for him to waste time and resources collecting stupid comic books, but Grif looked so happy. He looked YOUNGER, even more so than when Simmons first met him. He was positively radiating joy. So instead of being a buzzkill, Simmons decided to enjoy the moment, watching Grif be just as much of a nerd as he was, and… he noticed how soft Grif’s lips were. The whole time Grif was smiling and talking... his lips just looked so soft. That did it. Suddenly, the cutesy-thoughts would randomly turn into kissy-thoughts. Suddenly, Simmons was having actual DREAMS about Grif (and in these dreams, he most definitely had all of Grif’s attention and affection. In these dreams, there was nothing stopping him from admitting that he wanted this, he wanted GRIF). This was weird, right? You weren’t supposed to want your friends like that… right? He was already such a dork, Simmons couldn’t stand the idea of being even WEIRDER. He simply shoved every single kissy-cutesy-thought away (but the dreams kept happening no matter what he did. His unconscious brain was a jerk like that).

[canyourscienceexplainthis]

And Your Jokes Are Always Bad

“Okay, guys, what’s the plan for tonight?” Sokka asks, looking through his rearview mirror at Aang and Katara’s shadowed faces in the back, and then over at Suki sitting in the passenger seat. “I thought we were heading over to chill at your place?” Aang questions from the backseat, arm wrapped around Katara and voice abnormally loud so he can be heard over the speakers blaring Rei Ami (it was Suki’s night with the aux).

“We aren’t going back to campus. If I have to go to one more party where everyone is talking about ‘Death of the Author’ or their latest shroomed out epiphany, I’m gonna jump off the roof of the library, I swear to God,” Katara says, rolling her eyes at the thought.

“Yeah, we can go to mine,” Sokka agrees, “but if you guys are expecting drinks or food at all tonight, we’re gonna have to stop somewhere cause my place is currently like an apocalypse shelter that’s running out of supplies.”

“Beer store and sevie it is!” Suki chimes.

With their drinks and snacks of choice acquired, the gang starts heading back to Sokka’s house, which they have affectionately named the shitshack. Listen, Sokka will be the first to admit that his house is a little...run down. “I think should-be-condemned is a more apt description, Sokka,” Katara had countered the first time she visited.

Sure, the foundation is caving in to the point that their bedroom doors couldn’t fully close because of the house’s slant. Yeah, weeds grow through the baseboards in the summer. And yes, he’s pretty sure there’s decomposing rat bodies under the sink cupboards. But he’s a struggling student living in one of the most expensive places in the country, and this place was as cheap as it gets (which is still way too expensive). He had decided long ago that he would rather live in an actual risk-to-human-safety with people that he can stand to be around than be paired up with strangers and live on campus.

“Fuck a princess I’m a king, bow down and kis—”

Just as they’re in the middle of the chorus, Suki’s phone starts ringing, interrupting their psyched-up, loud sing-along. Suki picks up the call but doesn’t unplug the aux, a raspy voice coming through the car’s speakers.

“Sukiii,” the mystery voice greets.

“Hey Zuko! What’s up?”

“Ugh, I’m bored! Come hang out with me,” the voice pleads.

“I’d love to, but I’m kinda on the way to my friend’s house right now…” Suki says, looking over at Sokka.

“Oh,” disappointment evident in his tone, “yeah, no worries, maybe next weekend.”

Suki glances over at Sokka again before saying, “wait, why don’t you come with?

Sokka looks over at her, shrugging his shoulders, silently saying, “the more the merrier, I guess.”

“You sure? Your friend won’t mind?”

“Nah, he’s cool with it. Where are you? We’ll come to pick you up.” At this, though, Sokka shoots Suki a glare. He has no problem with her inviting a friend over, but come on dude, gas is expensive! Suki rolls her eyes at him while waving her hand dismissively.

“I’m up at the school, actually,” he says, and Sokka nearly groans because that’s the complete opposite direction of his house.

“Really?” Suki’s eyebrow quirks. “Okay, we’ll be there in like, fifteen or twenty. I’ll text you when we’re close.”

“Okay, sounds good. Thanks Suki!” The music resumes when she hangs up. Sokka levels what he hopes is a withering stare at her.

“You know, I wasn’t kidding when I said I was going to start charging you guys for gas,” Sokka huffs.

Suki purses her lips, “alright, then I guess I’m going to stop helping you pass literally every single one of your humanities classes.”

Sokka pauses, considering whether or not it’s worth risking his GPA to continue complaining. “Fine, but anyone who isn’t helping me figure out what the fuck Derrida is talking about has to pay up!”

About 10 minutes later (because apparently, Sokka drives like he has a death wish), they’re parked outside Sokka’s first-year dorm. It’s giving him flashbacks to warm summer nights spent chilling in the woods with his friends and scattering into the trees when campus security eventually came to break up their drunken antics.

Thankfully, a light knocking on the passenger side window breaks Sokka’s train of thought before he can start dwelling on any of his more painfully embarrassing memories. It’s too dark out for him to see who knocked on the window, but Suki reaches over his lap to unlock the doors, so he assumes it must have been her friend.

What’s his name again? It starts with a Z. Zuzu? No, Zooko, yeah Zuko, Zuko, he chants to himself.

The door opens, and a shadowy figure slides into the back seat. Sokka pulls out of the parking lot and starts heading back into town. Aang, unbelievably (almost exhaustingly) friendly as always, is the first to introduce himself.

“Hey! I’m Aang. Your name’s Zuko, right?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s me. Nice to meet you.”

“Hey, I’m Katara, and that’s my brother Sokka,” she adds, leaning past Aang’s head and pointing at the back of Sokka’s seat.

“Hey dude,” Sokka says, keeping his eyes on the road but raising his hand to wave at the stranger in the back seat.

“Hey speed racer,” Katara scolds, “both hands on the wheel!”

“Katara, if you can’t handle me at my fastest, you don’t deserve me at my furiousest.” Even though he can barely make out any of their faces in the dim light of his car, Sokka can tell they were all rolling their eyes at his attempt at humour. Except for Zuko, who snorts out a soft laugh. Sokka has a feeling he’s going to like this guy.

“At least Zuko thinks I’m funny.”

“That’s cause he doesn’t know you yet,” Suki scoffs. “He’ll learn to tune you out like the rest of us soon enough.”

The rest of the ride passes with easy conversation and songs that, according to Suki, “just make you feel like a bad bitch.” As soon as he pulls into his driveway, Sokka jumps out of the car, excited to finally be home and able to blow off some steam with his friends. He bounds through the door, bellowing, “Jet! Ruru! I come bearing booze and food!” Sokka drops the bag of snacks on the kitchen table on his way over to the fridge. Opening the door, he thinks it would be pretty apparent that they’re university students by simply looking at its contents; ketchup, leftover takeout that’s been there for who knows how long, and beer. Haru springs into the kitchen and grabs at the snacks, pulling out a bag of all dressed ruffles. “Aww, you got my favourite!”

“Only the best for the best roomie,” Sokka smiles back at him.

“Hey! What about me?”Jet asks, (like the fuck boy he is, Sokka thinks) meandering into the kitchen behind Haru.

“Maybe if you learn how to unload the dishwasher or take out the garbage once in a while, you’ll get surprised with your favourite snacks too.”

Jet frowns up at Sokka, “dick.”

“Yeah fuck you too,” Sokka says, tossing him a beer from across the kitchen.  

The sound of Suki’s music emanating from the living room reminds him that “oh yeah, by the way, Katara, Suki, Aang, and one of Suki’s friends are hanging out here tonight.”

“Hell yeah!” Haru basically skips into the living room with Jet following much less excitedly in his wake. Sokka grabs some mixing bowls and starts emptying the bags of chips and popcorn. The last thing he needs is someone puking on his carpet because they started drinking on an empty stomach. From behind him, he hears a faint, “hey, uh, Sokka?”

“Yeah, what’s—” he starts, looking up.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Standing in the middle of his kitchen is who he can only assume to be Zuko. He has long black hair tied up in a half top-knot and gorgeous golden eyes. He’s wearing a black bomber jacket and crimson button-up that contrast with his molten eyes and pale skin in an unfairly beautiful way. He also has on a pair of black skinny jeans that are really working for him and working for Sokka, too, if he’s honest. It’s probably a good thing, Sokka thinks, that he couldn’t see him in the car because he probably would have completely forgotten how to drive and ended up in a ditch.

Good God, Sokka chastises himself. Get your shit together and stop staring at this absolutely stunning man like a fucking creep. Sokka clears his throat and manages to stutter, “y-yeah, what’s up?”

If Zuko noticed his gawking, he’s kind enough not to mention it. “Just wondering if I could put these in your fridge,” he asks, raising a six-pack of Strongbow.

“Yeah, for sure!” Sokka manages, voice still a little uneven.

Zuko walks over to the fridge, placing his ciders beside Sokka’s beers, then takes one and cracks it. He turns to face Sokka again, and they both stare at each other for a moment, the only noise being the hum of the bass in the background. Neither one seems to know what to do next. Thankfully for Sokka’s current error 404 brain, Zuko pipes up first.

“You’ve got a nice place. I really like it.” If he were judging by the tone of Zuko’s voice, Sokka would almost think he’s being sincere. However, the evidence proving that this was, in fact, a shithole of a house was literally everywhere.

“Hey, it's okay dude, we all know this house is awful. No need to sugarcoat it,” Sokka chuckles.

“No, really, I mean it. Obviously, it’s got its...flaws,” well that’s putting it mildly, Sokka thinks, “but I like what you guys have done with it. Like,” Zuko points to a Pavement poster hanging on the wall in front of Sokka, “how you’ve decorated it.”

“Are you a Pavement fan,” Sokka asks, eagerness clear in his voice at the prospect of talking to someone about his favourite band.

The edges of Zuko’s lips curl into an almost indistinguishable teasing smile, and his eyes glance down to his drink. “I guess you could say that, if you think going to their reunion show in 2010 counts as being a fan,” Zuko notes nonchalantly. Sokka doesn’t know if he’s ever been more jealous of someone in his life.

“Oh my God! You’re kidding?! I would have killed to have seen that show! Was it incredible?” He asks, humming with excitement.

“If I told you it sucked, would it make you feel better about missing it?”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“Then no, it was one of the worst live performances I’ve ever seen. They completely fucked up Embassy Row.”

Sokka hums, grabbing his chin like he’s contemplating whether or not he’s still upset that he missed the show of a lifetime. “Yeah, I’m still jealous. Guess I’ll just have to catch their thirty-year reunion tour.”

Zuko genuinely smiles then, and any composure Sokka had regained in the last minute goes down the drain. “Yeah, I guess so,” he murmurs.

Suddenly Sokka’s attention is jerked away from Zuko’s breathtaking smile by a loud crash emanating from the living room. Spinning his head in the direction of his exceptionally disastrous friends who apparently cannot be left alone for ten minutes, he yells, “Hey! What the fuck are you guys doing!?”

Katara sprints into the kitchen wearing a slightly guilty expression, clearly searching for something. “Dish towels?”

“What did you guys do now,” Sokka sighs, giving her a handful from under the sink.

“Thanks,” she says, grabbing them, “uh, well, Jet bet Suki a round at the brewpub that he could beat her at beer pong, and they kinda both launched themselves at the table trying to get balls back…”

Sokka crosses an arm over his chest and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fucking menaces. I thought we all agreed that we weren’t going to let them do shit like this anymore! They’re both way too competitive, and our house seriously can’t stand any more abuse! For real, I’m surprised they didn’t fall right through a hole in the floor!”

“Do you really think there’s anything anyone could do to dissuade them once they’ve decided they’re gonna do something? No. So all we can do is mitigate the damages,” Katara emphasizes her words by holding the towels up to Sokka’s face.

“Yeah, okay, fine,” Sokka concedes, “just tell Jet I said he’s a fucking asshole.”

“That,” Katara mumbles, walking back towards the rest of the group, “I can do.”

Once again, it’s just Sokka and Zuko standing in the kitchen. However, Zuko now looks incredibly amused.

“What,” Sokka levels at him with his patented wiseass smile, “is my living space getting even more trashed funny to you?”

“No, it’s not that. I mean, it’s just...I’m sure I don’t know Suki as well as you guys probably do, and I just met Jet, but he must be a real dumbass to challenge Suki to anything.”

Yeah, Sokka was right earlier; he’s really going to like this guy.

After many rounds of beer pong and even more spilled drinks later, everyone seems to be approaching the more relaxed stage of their typical hangout. Aang and Katara are sitting on floor cushions, leaning into one another, and Sokka can only assume, whispering sickeningly loving things. Likewise, Jet and Haru are having their own coupley moment on the futon in the other side of the living room. He still finds it hard to believe that they’re together, but opposites attract, right? He, Suki, and Zuko are lounging on the couch (which is probably the nicest thing in their house because it’s a hand me down from his dad and Bato, unlike all of their other thrift shop furniture).

Sokka and Zuko are currently monopolizing the conversation, discussing one of their favourite shows that Suki had noted she’d never seen.

“I mean obviously it’s fucked, but it blends misanthropy and humour perfectly into a nice nihilistic package,” Zuko says, his eyes locked with Sokka’s.

“Firstly, agreed. Secondly, how in the fuck are you using words like misanthropy and nihilistic when you’re five drinks down?”

Zuko’s eyes flick with mischief. “I guess I’m just too much of a genius for you to keep up.”

Sokka isn’t sure what to say to that. He’s starting to think Zuko might actually be a genius. That, or he just has excellent taste in music and TV, which, to Sokka, is basically equivalent to having Mensa level IQ. Also, Zuko is probably the hottest person he’s ever seen. All of this put together has him questioning where his brain cells have gone, or if he even had any to begin with.

Suki, taking advantage of the brief lull in their discussion, decides this is her moment to stir shit up. Sitting cross-legged on the corner of the couch and looking down at her nails, she suddenly breaks their conversation, saying, “hey Sokka, did you know Zuko and I were each other’s New Years’ kiss last year?”

In hindsight, Sokka wonders if Suki knew what she was doing. Maybe she just wanted to take Zuko down a peg for his arrogant comment, or she was tired of being left out of the conversation. Probably a combination, he thinks.

His brow quirks up as his gaze flashes back to Zuko, who is staring at Suki with an expression edging on murderous. “Oh yeah?’

“Suki…” the warning tone of Zuko’s voice doesn’t seem to faze her in the slightest.

“Yup,” Suki confirms, unperturbed and grinning wickedly. “Zuko was the only person I knew at the party and I thought, fuck it! So we decided we’d be each others’ kiss.” She looks up from her apparently fascinating cuticles and gazes directly at Sokka, “and he apologized to me after cause he didn’t think he was a very good kisser.”

“OH MY GOD, SUKI!” Zuko sputters, choking on his cider and blush colouring his cheeks.

“What? You did!” She argues, her grin morphing into something truly evil.

“That’s not fair! We were both drunk and, and...I don’t know! But I officially hate you and I’m never covering a shift for you again!”

Zuko looks absolutely mortified. Sokka holds back his laughter at the objectively ludicrous visual if only to save Zuko from even more embarrassment.

Sokka feels bad for him. Really, he does. Suki just blasted him in front of someone he met a couple hours ago. However, Sokka recognizes that she also set him up to bat, so he doesn’t really feel that bad.

“Well, I’ve been told I’m an excellent kisser,” Sokka says, putting on a voice that he hopes resembles something sultry. “I can show you how it’s done. If you want.”

He simultaneously feels very powerful and very vulnerable. Sokka knows that he excels in the kissing arena, but, and he can’t quite put his finger on why, but if Zuko turned him down, he would be really disappointed. Maybe it’s just because Zuko is so pretty, like Sokka wants to draw him like one of his French girls pretty, or maybe it’s because he hasn’t had any action in a while. Either way, he hopes Zuko is either, 1) into the idea, or, 2) lets him down easy.

They stare at each other for a beat, gold eyes meeting blue. Zuko looks down at his hands, curled in his lap, and his blush travels from his cheeks to his just barely visible chest. Sokka wonders if he’s ever seen anything so fucking endearing. Zuko nods so slightly that if Sokka had blinked, he would have missed it.

“Is that a yes?”

“Y-yes, um, yeah, you can do that…” Zuko stammers, looking up at Sokka with both nervous and pleading eyes, “if you want.”

“Yeah, I want.”

Consent confirmed. Sokka wonders if he should hold off because they’ve been drinking, but then he remembers that Zuko just used the word “misanthropy” not five minutes ago in casual conversation. At this moment, he doesn’t know if he could even look at Zuko without spontaneously combusting, so if anything, Zuko would be taking advantage of him, and Sokka is very okay with that. Sokka gently grasps Zuko’s hip with one hand and his waist with the other. He pulls him nearer, noticing how Zuko leans into his grip and silently exhales as the distance between them closes. Their eyes meet again for a fleeting moment. Sokka realizes that Zuko’s pupils are blown so wide that his irises are nothing more than a thin golden ring circling black.

Ever since seeing him in the kitchen, Sokka hasn’t let himself look at Zuko like he wanted to. ‘I’m sure he’s uncomfortable enough in a room full of strangers without you eye-fucking him every five minutes’, he said to himself. But now he can really admire him. Sokka is drinking him in, looking at him like something to be cherished, adored, kissed all over. Fuck. He is gorgeous.

Like Sokka had said, he knew he was a great kisser, but something about Zuko made him want to make this particular make-out session even better than great. Maybe it was because he was supposed to be showing Zuko how it’s done (ugh, nice line Sokka), or maybe it was because Zuko was without a doubt the hottest person Sokka had ever seen in real life. Either way, he knew he had to make the most of this.

Slowly he closes the last couple of inches between Zuko’s mouth and his. He feels Zuko’s shaky exhale on his lips, and damn if that isn’t hot. What feels like ages later, their lips press together. Sokka notes that Zuko’s lips are so deliciously soft, but also hesitant. The kiss is so tender and timid, and delightfully honey-sweet. He leans in farther, moving his hand from Zuko’s hip up his side to cup the back of his neck. Zuko’s mouth opens up in an almost silent sigh, and Sokka takes the opportunity to lick his bottom lip lightly before slotting his tongue alongside Zuko’s.

Sokka can’t remember the last time he’d shared such a delicate kiss.

He dated Yue in first-year, and they had shared some beautiful moments. Being each others’ first relationship, they traversed the adoring, intimate, and sometimes incredibly awkward territory that came with one’s first time. But she had gone to study abroad in Bhutan for a year, saying it was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. Before she left, they mutually decided long distance wouldn’t suit either of them and it would be best to break up.

And delicate wouldn’t be a word he’d use to describe his and Suki’s relationship. Obviously, they loved and respected one another. Still, it was very much just a good friends that hang out every day and sometimes hook up with each other and sometimes hook up with other people kind of deal. Admittedly, Sokka’s brain kind of imploded when he saw Suki sitting on Yue’s lap at a party about a month after she got back to campus. And it doubly imploded when they told him they were dating. He couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised, but he was happy two of his favourite people found someone that makes them happy. What? He loves love, okay?

But this.

This was...different.

Just as Sokka was about to move his attention from Zuko’s mouth to his cheek, neck, chest, anywhere and everywhere else, he was pulled out of the moment for the second time that night by Katara’s shriek of, “Jesus Christ Sokka! I don’t want to see that shit! Get a room!”

For a moment, he truly forgot that there was anyone else in the room. Snapping back to reality felt like waking up from a half-asleep half-awake dream. In the back of his mind he knew where he was and what was going on around him, but it was a hazy awareness, and one that he’d rather not focus on. Feeling feather-light and slightly out of it, Sokka gathered himself the best he could.

“Katara you do realize this is my house, right? Every room is my room!”

[stardust-walker]

High Hopes: Chapter 14

Previous Chapters:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

word count: 3443

______________________________________________

Dove wasn’t sure how long she’d slept for, but the sun was already shining and the RV was moving when she opened her eyes. Bleary eyed and still feeling tired, she rolled over onto her back as Carol shook her awake. “Mornin, sleepyhead,” Carol smiled a little as she brushed Dove’s hair back off her face.

Dove sighed as she rose into a sitting position. “How long was I out for?”

“A decent time,” Carol sighed as she sat next to her sister. “They wanted to wake you up when we were setting things out for Sophia, but I told them that you needed your rest.”

Dove scoffed and ran a hand through her hair before she pulled a hairtie from her wrist. “You’re one to talk about needing sleep,” Dove mumbled as she held the hairtie between her teeth. She was pulling her hair back as she listened to her sister.

“Shush. Daryl held true to his word. Made a nice big sign on the back window of a car and all that. Said someone should try to circle back at least once a day until she comes back,” Carol sounded confident in the efforts of the redneck and Dove couldn’t help but agree with her.

A few moments later, they came to a stop as people came filing out of a big farmhouse. Dove followed close behind Carol as she descended the steps. The members of the household stood back and Dove couldn’t help but observe them once she heard that Carl was alright. The older man, Hershel, stood close to a small blonde girl and a boy who had to be her boyfriend by the way she clung to his arm. The woman from the woods who had spirited Lori away to be with her son, an older blonde woman, and a tall young man with curly black hair all stood on the steps of the house.

Dove’s attention shifted to Shane as Rick spoke. “We would’ve lost Carl if not for him.” Dove paused for a moment before she followed Carol over and embraced Lori right along with her. The last thing she expected was to be pulled into another funeral, but that was what life had in store for them it seemed.

The dark haired man cleared his throat before he looked at the man who owned the house. “Hershel? Now that this is all handled…think we can do that thing for Otis now?” His words were careful and Dove saw the older blonde start to tear up. She could only guess who Otis was.

Hershel was a well spoken man and gave a nice service, even if Dove wasn’t so sure what she believed in anymore. Dove’s attention shifted to Shane again as Hershel attempted to direct him to speak. “I’m not very good at it, sorry.” Shane twitched slightly and Dove moved her hand up to clutch her necklace. Something about the way he was acting was just…off. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it felt wrong.

“You were the last one with him,” Patricia began to cry again. “You shared his final moments. Please.” She began to plead and Dove stared at her feet. “I need to know his death had meaning.”

Shane stepped forward to speak and the whole group seemed to go silent. “We were about done. Almost out of ammo. We were down to pistols by then. I was limpin, it was bad. Ankle all swollen up. ‘We’ve gotta save the boy.’ See that’s what he said. He gave me his backpack, shoved me ahead. He said he would take the rear and cover me.” Dove’s gaze shifted around the group. 

The dark haired young man from before clenched his jaw as he stared across the group at Shane. Carol reached out and Dove reached back and instinctively gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “And when I looked back…”Shane stopped and walked forward. “If not for Otis, I never would’ve made it out alive. That goes for Carl too.” Dove’s eyes locked with Dale across the group as the man with the curly hair shook his head and began to stomp back to the house. Dale didn’t look like he bought it either. Maybe she wasn’t crazy after all.

~

“Hey,” Dove turned slightly at the unrecognizable voice, only to see the young man from before. She raised an eyebrow as he approached; he looked less miserable than before but she couldn’t blame him. “Sorry if I spooked ya, Hershel just told me I should come get ya. They’re talkin about goin to look for that little girl.”

“Sophia,” Dove stated as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Right, sorry…you’re her aunt, I think the sheriff said,” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“’S right. Name’s Dove…Sawyer,” she held her hand out and the young man shook it, maybe too enthusiastically.

“Julian. Julian Montgomery. Now you’re just gonna wanna head up to that silver car right up there. Maggie’s bringing a map for ya’ll to look at.” He pointed towards the small group gathered right in the spot he’d said.

“Thanks. Think you can help my friend Glenn over there put up his tent? He acts like he’s good at it but he really sucks,” Dove mumbled as she patted the younger man’s arm in thanks before she began to speed walk off.

“Sure thing,” she heard the man reply from behind her.

As she approached, she heard Hershel almost scold Rick. “Not you, not today. You gave three units of blood. You wouldn’t be hiking five minutes in this heat before passing out. And Shane, push that ankle now, you’ll be laid up for a month.”

Dove slid into the space between Andrea and who must have been Maggie and spoke up, “I’ll take Rick’s spot.”

Rick shook his head, “No I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should stay here with Carol and…”

“And what? Mope around and wish that I was out there able to do something? Besides, Sophia might not respond well to everyone. She doesn’t,” she trailed off and took a deep breath, “she doesn’t trust a lot of people. Odds of her coming out of wherever she is if she hears my voice are a lot higher than some strangers. No offense.”

There was a pause before Shane sighed, removed his baseball hat, and ran a hand over his now bald head. “Bird’s got a point.”

Daryl let out an annoyed grunt as he reached out for the map. “Look’s like it’s just me, then.”

Rick sighed and pinched his nose, “Daryl…”

“I work better alone,” Daryl said as he surveyed the map.

“Well that’s too damn bad, Dixon.” Dove felt her anger at the man flare up again. “Because like I said. It doesn’t seem like alone is gonna bring Sophia out of hiding anytime soon.”

The tension in the air was thick before Daryl spoke again as he pushed the map back over towards her. Dove caught Andrea’s eye and raised an eyebrow at her. The older woman just shrugged her shoulders. “We head back to the creek then. Work our way from there.”

Shane was going to go back to the road and Dove felt a little bit better about everything before Shane spoke again. “We can’t have our people out there with just knives.”

“We don’t just have knives. Daryl’s got his crossbow, I’ve got my crowbar. We’re fine,” Dove planted her hands on the hood of the car.

“Not saying you won’t be fine today, but what about tomorrow. Everyone needs gun training. We’ve been promising them,” Shane said. Dove rolled her eyes and patted the hood of the car.

“Alright well, you let me know when we’re heading out,” she pointed across the hood at Daryl before she turned on her heel and caught sight of Carol. She caught up with her as she started to set up camp. “I just wanted to let you know…I’m goin with Daryl to look for Soph.” She looked down at her feet as she heard Carol stop moving.

Carol sighed. “Alright. Just…please be careful. I don’t need to lose you too,” Carol looked up at her younger sister from her spot on the ground.

Dove chuckled and gave Carol’s shoulder a playful shove. “I think the only thing I have to worry about it Daryl leavin my ass out in the woods if he decides I’m too annoying.” She caught a glimpse of the man as he walked towards the house, so she leaned closer to her sister, a devious sparkle in her eye, “Or he pisses me off and I give him an old ‘one-two’ with old trusty here,” she waved her crowbar close to Carol.

Carol rolled her eyes and slapped the weapon away from her, “Just behave yourself and be careful, please.”

“Yes, mom,” Dove called over her shoulder as she turned and walked off.

Julian stopped what he was doing as he saw Maggie approach. He raised a hand in greeting, “Hey, Mags! You meet Glenn yet?” He called and a glare from Glenn went unnoticed as the brunette woman shook her head.

“No, but I was lookin for him.” Maggie turned her attention to Glenn. “I hear you’re fast on your feet and know how to get in and out.” Julian let out a quiet snort of laughter as Maggie continued. “Got a pharmacy run. You in?”

Glenn didn’t seem to know what to say and, thankfully, Dale interrupted. Julian tried to bite back another laugh once Maggie walked off to saddle up a horse for the new guy. Glenn glanced between the three men around him, “Horse?”

Julian couldn’t hold it in anymore and laughed, “Ever ridden one before man?” Glenn shook his head as a look of concern washed over his face. “Don’t worry, dude. It’s just like riding a bike. Except the bike is alive and can buck you off if you…”

“Julian.” A loud voice from the house interrupted his as the small blonde stepped out onto the porch and waved him towards her.

“Ah, nevermind. Let me know if you guys need anymore help later,” he nodded at the members of the new group. “Good luck, Glenn.” Once the young man was far enough away, Dale spoke up.

“What a strange boy,” Dale shook his head.

T-Dog rolled his eyes, “Man almost threw up when he saw my arm last night. Don’t think they’ve seen other people in months. Just let it go, man.”

~

Dove wasn’t surprised that she almost missed Daryl leaving and it was only by the good grace of Rick Grimes that she was able to catch him before he left without her. “It puts you off the hook. You don’t owe us anything,” Rick called over to him as Dove stopped behind the man with the crossbow.

Daryl paused a moment, “My other plans fell through. C’mon,” he walked past her with an angry look on his face.

“What was that all about,” Dove took long strides to keep up with the older man.

“Nothin, don’t worry about it. Now be quiet. I need to be able to hear out here,” Daryl grunted as he walked into the tree line.

Dove sighed as she stepped into the trees behind him. “Sorry, guess I’m a bit of a nervous talker,” she whispered.

“Haven’t noticed,” Daryl hissed back.

Dove chewed on the inside of her cheek to stay quiet as best she could. She wasn’t necessarily in the mood to be on Daryl’s bad side today. So, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and wrapped her thin fingers around the pendant that the same angry person had given to her last night.

“You alright back there,” Daryl turned his head.

Dove’s eyes snapped open and she felt heat rush to her cheeks. With a shake of her head, she let go of her necklace and moved to catch up to him. “Sorry, didn’t realize that I’d fallen behind.”

“You best keep up. Don’t need your sister on my ass for losin you while we’re out here lookin for Sophia,” he looked her up and down as she stepped up alongside him.

Dove scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Shit.”

“What?”

“You fucking sound like Carol,” she rolled her eyes and motioned for him to get moving again.

Daryl huffed as he started moving through the trees again. It didn’t take too long for them to reach a clearing. Dove, however, was surprised as she stepped out into the bright sunshine. She stared ahead and her heart leapt as she caught sight of a house. “You think she could be in there,” she turned her head to look at Daryl.

“Don’t know, could be. Let’s go,” he spoke quietly before he motioned for her to follow him. “Keep that thing close,” he pointed to the crowbar in her hand.

Dove nodded as she tightened her grip on the weapon as they approached the home. Dove felt her pulse quicken as they walked through each room. She wanted to call out for Sophia but she knew that wasn’t the best idea. A walker could hear them, then they would all be up shit creek. It was as Daryl picked up a can of tuna that she heard it. Something moved in the closet. She stared at it as the man slowly rose into a standing position and began to move towards the sound. All the horror movies she’d ever seen told her it was an awful idea, but Daryl pulled the little door open before she could protest.

A sharp exhale left her as she felt her sense of hope deflate like a balloon. There was nothing in the cupboard except for blankets and a pillow. She stepped up next to him and stared down at the small pile on the ground for a few moments. A hand on her arm snapped her out of it and she turned her head slowly to see Daryl put his hand back on his crossbow. “C’mon. Maybe she’s outside,” he was already out the door, calling for her before she even had a chance to move.

Dove’s feet carried her quickly as she ran out the door and towards the opposite end of the clearing from Daryl. She yelled for Sophia over and over again for what felt like hours but was really only minutes. Her hazel eyes started to fill with tears as she turned around and spotted Daryl. He had a white flower in his hand. What the fuck.

Daryl must have great hearing, she thought as he turned around once she started to approach. “Can you hold this,” he held the flower out to her. Her eyes widened as she stared at his hand before her gaze shifted back to his face. “It’s for your sister. A Cherokee rose,” he explained. Dove stared blankly. “You know, right?”

Dove raised an eyebrow, “The…state flower of Georgia?”

Daryl rolled his eyes and shoved the flower into her grasp, “Can’t believe you don’t know the story.”

Dove sighed as she began to follow Daryl back to their new camp. “I…I think I wanna hear the story,” she looked down at the flower in her hand as Daryl peeked over his shoulder at her. “I mean, if you’re alright with talkin in the woods and all that.”

Daryl paused for a moment, just long enough for Dove to keep up and match his stride. “Just an old wives tale, I think. Heard it from school…my mom, don’t really remember. Just remember the story.”

Dove chuckled and nudged Daryl’s arm with her elbow as they walked, “I don’t mind old wives tales. Just as good as any other story. I wanna hear it. If you got this,” she held the flower up, “for my sister because of a story or whatever, it must be a good one. You don’t seem like a man who does or says much if it doesn’t have a purpose.”

Daryl squinted at her for a moment before he turned his attention forward with a nod of his head. “Alright. But I’ll tell ya when we get back. Don’t wanna repeat myself.” Dove rolled her eyes and kept her mouth shut the rest of the walk back. He was doing a lot for her family, that was the least she could do for him.

Dove let out a low whistle as she looked around the clean RV. “I cleaned it up. Wanted it to look nice for her,” Carol spoke from the small table. A smile crossed Dove’s face as Daryl reached back and took the flower from her. She was careful as she slipped past him and took a seat across from her sister.

“For a second, I thought I was in the wrong place,” Daryl replied. Dove reached across the table and gave Carol’s hand a squeeze.

“You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Care,” Dove patted Carol’s hand once more before she folded her hands on the table in front of her. Her eyes settled on the Cherokee rose that was now placed on the counter.

“A flower,” Carol asked.

“It’s a Cherokee rose,” Daryl motioned towards the flower. Dove raised an eyebrow at the older man expectantly. He had told her that there was a story, she didn’t want to have to ask. He sighed and stepped closer to the table. “The story is that when American soldiers were moving Indians off their land on the trail of tears, the Cherokee mothers were grieving and crying so much ‘cause they were losing their little ones along the way.” Dove caught herself starting to chew on her thumb nail as she listened to Daryl talk. A glance over at her sister showed that she was just as caught up in the story. “Ya know, exposure and disease…starvation. A lot of them just disappeared. So the elders, they said a prayer; asked for a sign to uplift the mothers’ spirits, give them strength and hope.” Carol’s gaze settled on the flower on the counter, but Dove’s focus didn’t shift from the man as he spoke.

Dove was good at picking up lies. She had to be in her old life before everything ended. She could pick up the slightest tell in most people after knowing them for a little while. But Daryl didn’t seem like a liar or insincere. She felt tears start to form in her eyes and she raised a hand to wipe them away as he continued. “The next day, this rose started to grow right where the mothers’ tears fell. I’m not fool enough to think there’s any flowers blooming for my brother. But, I believe this one bloomed for your little girl.”

Dove let out a quiet laugh along with her sister as a smile finally showed on Carol’s face for the first time in days. Once Daryl had left, Dove took a deep breath and spoke. “Damn that was quite a story,” she chuckled as she wiped tears from her cheeks.

Carol nodded her head, “Did you know about that?”

Dove shook her head, “Nope. Daryl’s the one who picked the flower for you and everything. I didn’t even know what he was talkin about when he mentioned it in the woods…I get it now, though.” Dove smiled at her sister. “Unless it was just an excuse for Daryl to bring you a flower because he’s got a crush on you,” Dove wiggled her eyebrows as she ducked to avoid a swat from Carol.

The short-haired woman shook her head as she let out a laugh, “You cut that out!”

“Oh come on, he’s not that bad,” Dove laughed as she tossed a crumb of food towards her sister.

Carol raised an eyebrow at her, “You been spending some time with him the past few days. Are you…what do ya call it? Projecting?” A sly look was on Carol’s face as she went back to her knitting.

Dove let out a loud, incredulous laugh as she shook her head, “See now that? That’s taking it way too far!”

It was strange, but it was the most at peace that Dove had probably felt since Sophia had gone missing. Still, she couldn’t help but feel just a little guilty for it. “You were right, back on the road.”

“Huh,” Dove tilted her head.

“If anyone’s gonna find Sophia, it’s probably a tracker,” Carol nodded her head.

Dove stood up and walked around the table before she settled back down and leaned her head on her sister’s shoulder. “I hope you’re right.”

___

@crossbowking​ @momc95​ @chaotic-gary-king-stan​​

[that-vigilante-piedpiper]

Welcome to My Discards Folder 🤩

[Here’s some context for people who didn’t see my previous posts, this is what I originally had planned for Midoriya’s USJ excuse, in this version he’s already much better friends with Kirishima and is already acquainted with Uraraka and Iida, his wounds weren’t as serious and the scar on his neck doesn’t exist, most of the build up is the same, just sped up as he doesn’t spend nearly as much time at home, he’s also already been to the hospital with the same excuse he uses in this scene 💞]

______________________________________

“Midoriya? What are you doing over here?” The voice belongs to Uraraka. He turns to see her pushing through 1-A’s door, walking towards him.

“Ah, just following the crowd, they’d seemed pretty enthusiastic about something.” The boy scratches at the back of his head, a shy smile on his lips. The action sends a flare of pain through his ribs and Izuku’s expression quickly melts and he drops the arm. “But, nevermind that. I heard on the news what happened, is everyone okay?”

“Mhmm. All the kids got out pretty quickly without having to fight. But, Aizawa sensei and Thirteen got injured pretty badly.”

His next words catch in his throat at the mention of Aizawa.

“Midoriya?”

“Are they okay?”

She eyes him worriedly. “Yeah. Thirteen’s injuries weren’t as bad as Aizawa sensei’s and he showed up at school today so… Midoriya?” she asks. “Are you okay? You seem pretty out of it.” She leans in, studying the dark circles beneath his eyes.

“Ah Ha Ha!” he cries, stepping back, “I was just thinking that Recovery Girl’s quirk really is amazing!” He rushes to cover the unidentifiable surge of emotions that he’s feeling at the knowledge that Aizawa is here.

Kirishima comes up beside the girl as the crowd disperses and they continue down the hall together.

At some point Uraraka breaks away to catch up with Iida and Yaoyorozu to ask about some homework, leaving Kirishima and him alone to discuss Present Mic’s English lessons. It’s an easy topic, one that takes their minds off of the events of the days before.

The breath in his lungs catches when someone bumps shoulders with Izuku, pain flaring through his ribs. He takes in a choked gasp and tries to keep himself from bringing his hand up to cradle his side.

Kirishima catches the pained expression that passes across his face. “You alright dude?”

“Fine,” he gasps out, fists clenching as he tries to breath through the pain. “I’m fine.” He’s not fine, his side feels like it’s on fire, but the last thing he needs to do is make anyone at UA suspect what he gets up to most nights. “Just some bruised ribs from the dojo.” This time he does bring his hand up to his side, cradling the area.

Eijirou’s brows furrow. “Have you been to see recovery girl about it? I’m sure she could help.”

“I’m not a hero course student.”

The boy lets out a breathy laugh, “And Recovery Girl isn’t a hero course nurse. Now come on.” Kirishima grabs him by the wrist, dragging him through the crowd. Midoriya blinks, taken off guard as Eijirou cuts a path through the other students, careful not to let any of them bump into him.

It isn’t until the redhead is sliding the door to the nurse’s office open that he remembers his injuries are a bit more extensive than “just some bruised ribs from the dojo”. 

“Recovery Girl, I brought someone to see you.” 

From over his friend’s shoulder, Izuku is able to see the small figure of UA’s nurse. 

“Oh? Well, bring them in. What’s the matter?” The woman scowls. “Your class didn’t have another training session with All Might today, did you?”

Midoriya can see Kiri’s cheeks flush and he brings up his free hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “No, ma’am. This is Midoriya Izuku, he’s in the Gen Ed department. He says it’s just some bruised ribs, but someone bumped into him earlier and it looked like he was in a lot of pain.” Eijirou turns back to him, shuffling over to make room to drag him inside. “Let her get you patched up, I don’t like seeing you hurt. It’s… weird.”

He catches Recovery Girl’s gaze before quickly averting his eyes.

“Please take care of him.” Kirishima squeezes his hand before he finally drops it and his head dips in Recovery Girl’s direction. “Anyway, I’ve got to get to class before Aizawa Sensei.”

Midoriya’s head turns to follow him out.

The boy turns back to look at the nurse. Recovery Girl, Chiyo Shuzenji, his brain supplies, the sole reason UA’s hero course is able to function as dangerously as it does. 

She hobbles over to one of the beds and pats the mattress. “Well, come sit down then and I’ll take a look at you.”

He still hasn’t said anything, still thinking over what he could say. If he blames such a serious injury on his training at the dojo, Chee Sensei would suffer for it. But, if he gave the excuse he’d given Ji-Woo, then there’s no guarantee that she’d even believe him. But, he can’t think up any other excuse in the time it takes him to cross the room towards the bed. Either way it’s best to be consistent.

“So tell me what’s wrong dear.”

Izuku takes a seat on the offered bed. “I’ve already gone to the hospital for it so there’s really no reason to worry.”

The woman huffs, tapping her cane on the tile. “I’ll decide that for myself young man, now out with it.”

Midoriya raises his arm to scratch at the back of his head, but thinks better of it at the flash of pain through his side. “I... got too close to a hero fight the other day and I got hit by one of the villains.” His mind flashes him back to the USJ, to the monster that appears at his side without mercy. “I got flung a good distance. Broke a few ribs.”

A scowl appears on the woman’s face, adding more wrinkles to her brow. “And the hospital?”

“One of the nurses used a quirk on me that’s supposed to accelerate healing. Though I haven't really seen much of a change.”

Her scowl deepens, “Let me see it then, lift your shirt up.”

It’s a struggle to tug his shirt up, his side screaming at him every time the bruise stretches in the slightest. He can’t reach around and pull up the hem of his shirt without his ribs shifting and his breath leaves him with a wheeze of pain.

Chiyo eyes the boy at the noise. And, upon seeing the twisted grimace that’s on his face, goes over to help.

Midoriya can tell the moment she sees it, her brows riding low over her eyes and her mouth pulling into a thin line. “How on Earth did you say you managed this?” His side is mottled in varying shades of dark cobalt and midnight purple. The nurse from the hospital had somewhat accelerated the healing process with her quirk, but it had only managed to tint the edges of the bruise a leaf green.

Izuku opens his mouth to respond, but his words are replaced with a hiss of pain when Recovery Girl gently prods the area. “I have a bad habit of following hero fights…” he gasps out instead of answering.

“It looks like you got a little more than ‘flung’.”

He knows this, but what can he say? That he, a quirkless fifteen-year-old, was playing at vigilantism and as a consequence got pummeled by a monster that even All Might had trouble defeating? He huffs out a quiet laugh.

“When my dojo instructor found out about it she took me to the hospital to get it checked out. The doctor said I had three broken ribs and three that were cracked. They gave me pain meds, but I forgot to take them this morning.”

That’s a lie, Izuku tells himself, I’ve already taken them all.

“Your friend said you only had some bruised ribs.”

A small smile tugs at his mouth. “I didn’t want to worry him. He’s got enough to worry about with everything that happened to 1-A.” He looks back down at Recovery Girl and startles when he catches the look on her face. That’s worse than Chee Sensei’s.

“You’ll feel tired after this, you can sleep in here until school’s out. I’ll let your teachers know.” She plants a kiss on the boy’s forehead.

It’s a weird feeling being healed like this. He hadn’t really felt anything when the hospital’s nurse had used her quirk on him, but now he can feel what’s happening. His side starts tingling violently, almost uncomfortably, but it’s over within seconds and he feels like the life has been sucked out of him. Midoriya droops forward a bit, drained and somehow more exhausted than before. It’s a new type of exhaustion, different from the late night vigilante work that leaves dark circles strung beneath his eyes.

“Lay down and take a nap, I’ll wake you up before school’s over.”

He does.

He’s still exhausted when Recovery Girl nudges him awake, but there’s a distinct lack of pain that snaps him into wakefulness. He pushes himself up with his elbows, staring down at his side in mild disbelief when there’s no fiery pain lacing through his ribs.

“There’s still some bruising so I’m sure you’ll be sore,” Recovery Girl says, startling him. He looks towards her, mind running through the marvels of such a quirk. “You seemed tired as it was so I didn’t want to push you too much. When you get home make sure you get some more rest.” Though the words sound as if they’re merely a suggestion it’s accompanied by a fierce glower from the woman that marks the ‘suggestion’ as a command.

Midoriya gives her a small nod as he pulls himself out of the bed, testing out his newfound range of movement. There’s a grin that slips across his face when he slowly extends his arm in an imitation of a punch and receives only a slight signal of discomfort from his ribs.

She hands him a handful of gummies that he quickly slips into his mouth. “If the pain gets too bad then over the counter pain medicine should work fine. Though the best brand would be staying away from such situations again young man, you could have easily been killed had your ribs punctured a lung or severed a major artery.”

“Yeah.” The grin melts away. “I kind of got in over my head with that one….” There’s a disquiet that Chio watches fall over the boy, a dolor expression carving furrows into his brow. He turns and bows. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“If you really want to thank me then do so by staying out of trouble.”

“Of course.” There’s a moment of silence as Izuku pulls his shoes back on and stands up. “I’ll be going then.” He doesn’t look back at the woman like she’d expected.

It seems I’ve touched a nerve.

[sunlightdances]

Weights & Dates (Personal Trainer!Bucky Barnes AU)

Title: Weights and Dates Author: Katie @sunlightdances Summary: Personal trainer Bucky Barnes. Wearing those smedium t-shirts. And sweating. Do I really have to say more?  Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky or Marvel. Please don’t repost my work on any other sites without my permission! I’d love for you to reblog this and tell me what you think if you read. It means the world to me. Author’s Note: I have a lot of other WIPs to work on but I had no choice but to write this when it was brought up in the Marvel creators Discord. Thank u for being a bad influence @jbbuckybarnes​. ALSO: this was literally just meant to be drooling over what Bucky looks like at the gym (thank u Don Saladino for those gym vids as inspo) but ended up also having FEELINGS. What can u do, you know?

You’re nervous as you walk up the concrete steps to the gym, wringing your hands together as you try to convince yourself that this is a good idea.

It’s January. The time of the year everyone makes a resolution to go to the gym more, so here you are. A fresh gym membership and a session with a personal trainer on the schedule. You want to do this, you really do - you know you’ll feel good after a workout - but you can’t help but be nervous.

You haven’t worked out in ages, and you’re worried you’ll make a fool of yourself. It doesn’t help that you looked up your trainer on the gym’s website after the session was scheduled, and he’s-- he’s so hot. There’s really no other words for it.

So, yes, you’re nervous.

Still, you tell yourself to stop being an idiot and when you get inside, you’re a little calmed by the sight of a bunch of other nervous-looking people who are clearly there for the first time, too.

When you check in at the desk to ask where you’re meant to go for your session, the girl sends you down the hall and into an empty room on the left. “Bucky will be there in a few minutes, he’s finishing up with a group down the hall.” She sends you a quick smile, and then you’re alone.

Feeling fidgety, you take off your coat and put your bag in a corner, and you’re saved from being alone for too much longer when the door opens after a few minutes and a very tall, very sweaty man comes into the room.

You recognize him immediately from the picture on the gym’s website, and oh shit, he’s even hotter in person, especially when he meets your eyes and smiles at you, a crooked slow smile that has you nearly running for the hills.

“Hi,” he says brightly, “sorry to keep you waiting. I’m also sorry I’m disgusting right now,” he says, chuckling, and you almost scoff because hello? Has he seen himself? There’s no way he could ever be considered disgusting.

You introduce yourself, still feeling a little awkward.

“Nice to meet you,” he says warmly. “Let’s sit for a second.” The two of you sit cross-legged on the floor, and you giggle a little as he struggles to lower his enormous frame to sit next to you. He smiles, amused. “So. What brings you here?”

You frown a little. Are you in the wrong place? Didn’t you sign up for a session? Why--

“I meant, why did you sign up for personal training?” He asks kindly, seeing you flounder. “Any particular reason?”

You fidget some more. “Just-- I want to get back into shape. Not--” you shut your eyes briefly, frustrated that you can’t vocalize your thoughts. “I’m not trying to lose weight. I’m happy with my body. I just want to feel better. Stronger, more energy, less aches and pains.”

You’re embarrassed, but he doesn’t look like he’s judging you at all. In fact, if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was giving you a once over, but you shake that thought away. He’s a trainer. It’s his job to assess the situation. That’s all it is.

Standing, he offers his hand. When you take it, he tugs you to your feet, and gives you that grin you’re beginning to realize might actually give you a heart attack one of these days.

“Okay then. Let’s get started.”

.

.

.

You have been training with Bucky Barnes for one month, and you regret every nice thing you ever thought about him.

Sure, you still think he’s the most good looking person you’ve ever seen in real life, but that’s it. He’s trying to kill you, you’re convinced of it.

You’re bent over at the waist, sweat dripping from your forehead, struggling to get in even one deep breath.

“Come on,” he says gently. “You got this. Two more exercises and we’re done for today.”

“I’ll be done forever if I keep going,” you grumble, and he laughs.

“You’ll be alright. Come on. Deep breath, and let’s push through it.”

You finish your workout with some pushups and situps, like always (gets the heart rate going one more time, he told you on the first day), and then you basically collapse on the mat underneath you, arms refusing to hold you up any longer.

He sits next to you, close enough you can feel the heat radiating off him. “Gonna make it?” He asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” you say weakly, “Just leave me here to die.”

“So dramatic.” He stands, offering his hand. “Come on, up you go. You’ll cramp if you sit there too long.”

After ten minutes or so and an entire water bottle chugged, you leave with a wave, and Bucky watches you go, trying and failing not to notice the way your shirt sticks to your back or the single bead of sweat that drips from your collarbone that he can see even from all the way over here at the front desk.

“Dude.”

Bucky turns to see Sam and Steve, both amused, and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t start.”

“When are you going to ask her out?”

“Literally never.” He turns to leave, but Sam and Steve just trail after him, peppering him with questions.

“Why not?!”

“She’s a client. She doesn’t need me putting the moves on her.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “She’s been looking at you the same way you’re looking at her, man.”

Bucky stops in his tracks, but tries to shake it off. That’s not right. There’s been zero signs. Even the day you were early and he caught you watching him as he finished his own workout on the squat rack-- there wasn’t anything but innocent curiosity in your eyes.

He’s pretty sure.

“Dude, you are so dumb.” Sam says, helping him put the weights you’d been using with him back in their racks against the wall.

“I’m not going to ask her out! It doesn’t matter how--” He stops himself short of saying that it doesn’t matter how beautiful or funny or smart or gorgeous he thinks you are, he just can’t. “She came here because she wanted help, and she trusts me enough to let me do that. So I’m not going to do or say anything stupid just because you two idiots think it’s a good idea.”

.

.

.

Another month passes. You’re almost at the three month mark, and it’s time to renew your membership.

You want to keep training, you’re just not so sure you should keep doing it with Bucky.

You’re-- you’re getting attached. And look, this membership is not cheap. Realistically, you can’t do it forever, and when it comes time to stop coming to the gym, you feel like it’s going to suck.

You don’t know why it feels so much like a breakup, but you’re really doing your best to avoid the subject with Bucky.

“You’re quiet,” he says, before you start your session. He’s putting out some of the equipment, and you can’t help but notice the way his muscles shift in his back, the way his shirt is pulled so tightly-- no. You have to stop, because this is embarrassing. You’re a grown ass woman. Get a grip.

“Just tired I guess,” you say, starting to stretch. You can feel his eyes on you, but not in a predatory way, you can tell he wants to say something, ask something. You hope he doesn’t.

The workout goes fine. Great, even. You can actually tell that you’ve made progress. And you’re proud of yourself for sticking with it. You can tell Bucky is too, the little smile on his face as he sits next to you as you stretch a good indicator.

“That was a good one today,” he comments, “Feeling okay?”

“Shoulder’s are a little sore from the weighted squats, but other than that I feel good.”

He hums sympathetically. “Drink a lot of water and take some pain reliever before you go to bed. It’ll help with the muscle soreness.”

As he turns to start putting some stuff away, you watch him. As his sleeves ride up, you notice a smattering of scars on his left shoulder and you find yourself realizing you know nothing about him.

It’s just a crush. You have no idea who he is other than tall, muscled, and extremely handsome. Also charming, and kind, and generous, and-- no. It’s just a crush. There should be nothing hard about ending your training with him.

“I can’t renew my membership.” You blurt, and he spins around, startled.

“Sorry?”

You shake your head, “I-- it’s been three months and the rate is going up. If I renew I’ll barely be able to pay my rent.”

He frowns. “Is it-- did I do something?” He asks, and it’s so plaintive, so concerned, you want to curl up in a ball and die.

“No! It’s not you--”

“I just--” he runs a hand through his hair, “You’ve been making great progress. And I thought we were getting along okay…”

“We are!” You’re quick to reassure him. “I just…”

He stops you before you can continue, “Wait, it’s okay. You don’t have to justify yourself to me. I get it.” He sends you a smile, but even you can tell he’s faking it.

You’re on your feet quickly, trying to end this awkward conversation before it gets any worse. “Well… I-- thanks, Bucky. Really, I lucked out with you.” You tell him, giving him a grin before shoving your hoodie in your bag and leaving before he can say anything else.

You make your last payment at the front desk, and avoid Steve’s eyes (the owner and Bucky’s best friend, you’ve discovered) when he ends your membership. Somehow you think he knows more than he’s letting on, but you appreciate that he doesn’t ask you about it.

When you leave, you wonder why you feel like you’re giving up on something that never even started.

Bucky’s still in the training room after you leave, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. People end their memberships or don’t renew all the time.

Why does this feel so different?

Because it’s her, his mind unhelpfully supplies, but it’s more than that.

He can’t get over the way you just blurted it out, like you couldn’t wait one more second to get out of there. He goes over every session, every interaction, trying to figure out where he got it all wrong.

One thing’s for sure - he was right, and he never should have let Steve and Sam try to convince him that you had feelings for him.

.

.

.

2 months later

You’re sitting at a table in a restaurant you don’t even like, trying your best not to release the tears that so desperately want to spill out.

You hate that you’re even here - talked into a blind date by your coworker is probably not the smartest decision you’ve ever made, but whatever.

Embarrassed because the waiter has definitely noticed you’ve been alone for far longer than anyone else at a table for two, you’re wondering how to avoid having to tell him that your date isn’t showing before going home.

Just as you’re looking around to find the waiter, you see him at the bar.

His eyes widen, just slightly, before he softens, hesitating before getting off the barstool and heading over to you. You feel the embarrassment welling back up inside you when he gets close enough to speak.

The way he says your name… it’s question and there’s sympathy there.

“I thought that was you,” He says. “Are you okay?” He asks, and you shrug.

You gesture to the chair across from you, and he sits, setting his drink down in front of him before pinning those eyes back on you.

“I guess my date isn’t coming,” you say lightly, and watch as that muscle in his jaw ticks.

“I’m sorry.”

You snort, “Don’t be sorry. You’re not the one who stood me up.”

He looks down, before quietly mumbling, “I wouldn’t have done that to you.”

You must look surprised, but then again so does he, a little bit, like he can’t believe he said that part out loud.

“Do you--” You start, hesitating “-- are you waiting for someone? Or would you want to…” you gesture to the chair he’s sitting in, asking without asking if he wants to eat with you. You have no idea where the urge came from.

You haven’t seen him in 2 months, and you’re starting to think it wasn’t just a crush. You’ve thought about him a lot since you stopped training, and now that he’s right here in front of you, you realize your attraction hasn’t waned. Not at all.

“I’m not waiting for anyone,” he says, a gentle smile on his full lips. “If you’re sure--”

“Even if he shows up, I don’t care.”

He grins at that, and you really can’t believe your luck that he’s here.

After a few minutes and another visit from the waiter, you ask about the gym.

“It’s the same, mostly,” he says. “Sam and Steve still annoy the hell out of me, and I’m still everyone’s favorite.”

You grin. “That’s not hard to believe.”

“You look great,” he says, a little shy. “Seeing another trainer?” He’s teasing you, you can tell, but there is an undercurrent of uncertainty there you don’t expect from him.

“I’ve gone on a few runs and worked out at home, but no. Haven’t been back to the gym.”

He props his head on his fist as he considers you. “Are you sure…” He rolls his eyes at himself, “Are you sure I didn’t do something to make you leave?”

He sounds so genuinely worried, you realize you have no choice but to tell him the truth. He didn’t do anything. It’s the truth, but the other truth is that you thought he was too cute to keep working out with. It sounds like something from high school.

“You didn’t do anything, Bucky. You were a perfect gentleman. That was part of the problem.”

Now he looks confused. Like a cute, confused puppy.

“It was the truth that the membership was getting a little expensive, but I also had a hard time because you’re super distracting.” You wait a beat for your meaning to hit him, and when it does, he reacts nothing like you expect.

He goes a little pink around the ears, but there’s a spark in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. It makes you nervous.

“I-- maybe, maybe had a crush on you and didn’t want to be that girl, so--”

“Wait, you had a crush, or you have a crush?” He interrupts. “Because if it’s past tense, what I’m about to tell you is going to sound so stupid.”

You’re a little in shock. He keeps going.

“I-- I was kinda bowled over the first time I met you.” His accent sounds a little stronger, and you’re relieved that he looks a bit nervous too. “You’re beautiful, and you were nervous, which was cute, but you made me laugh, and--” He stops for a second, probably worried he’s rambling. “I thought I was too obvious about it and that it made you uncomfortable. I thought that’s why you left. And then I was kicking myself for not asking you out in the first place, but I thought it would have been inappropriate because you were still a client.”

“Are you serious?” You blurt.

He laughs. “I’m serious.”

“So this whole time--”

“We both thought each other were hot and didn’t do anything about it,” he says, winking at you. “Really,” he adds, when he sees how skeptical you look, “You should see yourself in those leggings.”

“Bucky!”

“What! Like you didn’t know.”

“Okay, well what about you? Coming in there for our sessions with your cut off shirts and-- your muscles--”

“So, this is officially a date, right?” He interrupts your rambling, thank god. “Because I kinda haven’t stopped thinking about you for the last two months.”

You leave that night with your hand in his, his number in your phone, and a session at the gym set for next week.

[atamascolily]

lily watches fma:b, eps. 62-64

Okay, when we last left off, the Big Bad was running around half-naked in a bathroom smiting people in a knockoff young!Hohenheim body, and 50 million people in Amestris had a really shitty day being devoured alive for their life energy before being miraculously restored to their still-breathing bodies by a not-quite-deus ex machina.

hohenheim challenges father to create something and he spits out humans from Xerxes--including the asshole king whose greed destroyed his entire country and people who RECOGNIZE HOHENHEIM.

[like, the trauma here!!!]

[I also like JUST NOW REALIZED that Greedling is the same character archetype as Grimmjow from Bleach - an aggressive, hyper-macho asshole who is a surprisingly fun character to watch break things?]

[FURTHERMORE both 03!Greed and Grimmjow had the same Japanese voice actor, LOLOLLOL]

greed and olivier have a pissing contest, lol

al's body is destroyed protecting may - good thing he's got another one waiting in the wings!

and then it's everyone takes a turn at father - first the briggs soldiers, then roy with hawkeye guiding him, armstrong, lan fan,the chimeras, etc,etc,

roy is so weirded out by being able to cast without a circle, LOL.

father tries to eat greed for more stones

ed swooping in in to defend greed is GREAT

so is watching izumi fight!!

anyway, they finally wear father down to the point where God can fight back and Father vomits him back up again.

... which makes him literally a zombie staggering around for "stones"

ed's automail is shattered, and he's pinned down - al, realizing his armor is cracked and his blood seal is about to break, gets May to make a circle so he can swap out his body for Ed's arm.

it works and ed goes absolutely feral on father.

(the fact that he still looks like hohenheim probably helps ed, tbh)

everyone cheers him on and greed is like "oh, yeah, all I really wanted was FRIENDS,"sob

greed sacrifices himself to keep ling yao from being eaten by father and it's so heartbreaking, everyone loves u greed

greed is like, yeah, kid, lan fan has a stone, take 'em and go home and be emperor of xing like a boss

greed: so epic he gets to die TWICE in this show. AND WE'RE SAD BOTH TIMES BUT THIS ONE IS WORSE.

greed transforms father's body into graphite (using his Ultimate Shield ability) but gets crushed by father.

ed slams a hole in father's chest and all the philosopher's stones leach out of him and then... the black grabby shadow hands emerge from the same hole and pull him back wherever he came from...?

[ngl: I don't get WHY that works, but okay.]

and of course, he gets to monologue about how he just wanted to be free without any constraints, which gets hohenheim all emotional.

Father is back to his flash form in the Gate World and he calls Truth "God" and asks why he didn't like him... and truth's like "because you're a greedy little asshole, that's why"

father is sucked back into the open gate by more grabby shadow hands and says "no, I don't want to go back" implying that this is, in fact, where he came from because the Xerxes alchemists were fucking around with stuff they shouldn't have been.

father is screaming and truth's like, "why? this is TOTES what you wanted, isn't it?being one with god?"

meanwhile, hohenheim offers his own life in exchange for al on the grounds that he was  a crappy dad.

true, sir, but also ed is having none of it

anyway, ed offers his own gate and ability to do alchemy as trade for al's body and truth's like "Sure, yeah,why not"

turns out that even once they've won, hohenheim is still brooding and depressed over father - he blames himself because it came from his blood? Like, dude, there are a lot of things to blame yourself for and you pick the one that REALLY ISN'T YOUR FAULT?

armstrong thanks him for ed and al saving the day and hohenheim bursts into tears and walks off... and goes to resembool to die on tricia's grave?

like, did he even say good-bye to his kids? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, HOHENHEIM?

pinako finds him dead at the grave, and tbh, i'm disappointed she doesn't punch him out anyway like she promised

"goodbye, my weird immortal friend"

Anyway, umm... that's basically the end, but let's wrap up with the "where are they now?" final episode!

somehow ling is emperor because he has magic people juice to give the current emperor, which just... seems like it might lead to problems, given what happened in xerxes? Just sayin’. But he’s going to take care of May and her clan, so I guess the show’s just going to sweep that under a rug and pretend it’s fine!

[ling definitely got the best character development of anybody along with Greed]

marcoh shows up with a philosopher's stone, which Roy agrees to use to rebuild his eyesight and also Havoc's legs, which just feels a little too deus ex machina for me, and also kinda shaky ethics here. but roy's okay with it because he's going to rebuild ishval, so...

and apparently scar is gonna be there, too? still forever grumpy, though.

grumman is fuhrer now (??!!) because roy and company are rebuilding ishval, so I guess all that talk about war crime trials was just for show because that sure isn't happening now that they won.

[I'm still bitter because it should have been Olivier!!]

Mrs. Bradley is raising Pride/Selim, who seems perfectly normal, even though Grumman says they'll have to kill him if he does anything evil. Mrs. Bradley says, "I'll make sure he doesn't show anything," which is kinda ominous to me? Like this woman would do anything for her kid. If Pride DOES get out of hand, she's not going to tell anyone.

[also I'm bitter that Pride gets to live and Greed DOESN'T, sob]

Ed and Al hang out in Resembool with Winry for two years until they get restless and go off on adventures again--but separately. Al goes to Xing with Jerso and Zampano (who have suddenly decided they want their original bodies back after being fine with it for the entirety of the series).

That's fine, since Al and May are very definitely a thing, but Ed goes west--which we've never heard from in the entire series--by himself, to research alchemy after sacrificing his ability to DO alchemy. I CALL BULLSHIT.

Winry goes with him to the train station and Ed is so fucking tsundere, I cringed just watching him.

(but also it was refreshing to see a male example of this trope and it was super-cute when he started blushing)

BUT ALSO his proposal is based on "equivalent exchange" - "I'll trade half of my life for half of yours!" - which is simultaneously the nerdiest thing ever and also YOU'RE NOT AN ALCHEMIST ANYMORE, ED, STOP.

Winry says that's stupid, she'll give him all of it,and then starts negotiating to 85%.

but given that Ed is LITERALLY RIDING OFF here, I gotta wonder how the math works out.

A random woman asks why Ed's leaving if he's in love with Winry, and Winry says something about how men left at home cause trouble (which implies she's fine with a long-distance relationship). THIS FROM THE GIRL WHO GOT MAD ABOUT BEING LEFT BEHIND ON *SEVERAL* OCCASIONS IN THE SERIES.okay.

In the credits, we see Ed and Winry have two kids, so... Ed has LITERALLY BECOME HIS FATHER, wandering the earth while his wife raises two kids alone. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

I just have... questions.

Like... no. Just no. Ed stayed home and he was a great father to his kids, full stop. He did NOT repeat the cycle; he was a much better person than Hohenheim and he proved it by actually BEING THERE FOR HIS FAMILY WHEN THEY NEEDED HIM.

people say fma03 has a downer ending, but this one bums me out WAY more because it feels so ooc and contradicts a lot of stuff that the show has spent so much time building up to.

i am just left feeling very “meh” and also “what was the point of it all?” which is probably not a great place to be after finishing a story.

[master-of-cosmos]

Imprint [Ninjago Fic]

apparently some people are calling this ‘whumptober,’ so you know what that means! entersroomhoppingonmyhighheels.gif

it’s quick oneshot-inspired-by-@rinas-ninjas‘ palette-challenge-art time ❤️ that stuff is right up my alley y’all don’t even know. anyway, this is also a bit of a thank you gift to @lloydskywalkers for always being so supportive of this fandom’s writer community and such an inspiration in her own work! i absolutely do not deserve all the love you’ve given TMS, so you completely deserve some post-s4 brotherly bonding hun 💚💚

content warning: there’s lots of blood and a very likely upsetting way it’s taken care of because of the way it’s described, so please don’t read if you’re under 13 or sensitive to these things!

~~~~~

Kai wasn’t exactly expecting things to go back to normal right away. The team could still laugh with each other and band together against an enemy like nothing changed, but it’d be naive to think that, once everything settled down, there wouldn’t be some hitches.

He just didn’t think Lloyd would be one of them.

It’s three in the morning, and he’s already awake. Rolling over onto his back, he stares up at the ceiling in the guest room he’s been staying in since they got back from Chen’s outright lousy island. He blinks a few times, wondering what pulled his brain out of his coma so early.

Soft - slow - footsteps pad down the hall outside. Right, it’s time for Lloyd’s patrol. His actual one today, apparently. He’s been randomly stealing everyone’s shifts after Anacondrai gang wannabes started cropping up, inspired by Chen in spite of what happened to him.

In spite of what Sensei Garmadon sacrificed to stop him. Weeks ago.

A whole month has gone by, and Lloyd still won’t talk to anyone about it, least of all Kai. And Kai, in particular, has barely been able to have a conversation with him about anything without the kid stuttering and finding something else to do that cuts off the interaction like an axe to his neck.

He knows perfectly well why.

Kicking off the blanket, he drags himself out of bed and slips on his sandals.

He’s got no one else to blame but himself that Lloyd’s scared of him now, so he let this go on for too long. He’s not sure what’s come over him about it, but at some point in the last few days, he decided he’s putting a stop to it, any act he can do at a time.

He has to show Lloyd that he can still rely on him. That he’s trustworthy and useful and not a screw up and worth more to the team than the shattered bathroom mirror says.

His hurry down the hall causes a yawning audience to trail him, Jay mumbling, “Where’s the fire?”

Lloyd’s about to step out when he makes it to the foyer. “Hey,” he calls.

Freezing, Lloyd tilts his head back a little, answering with a hesitant, “Yeah?”

Ignoring Cole and Jay behind him, Kai moves further into the room, mustering his nerve to say, “I can take your shift. If you want.”

“It’s fine. I got it,” he responds quickly as he turns to Kai. He wavers a little bit, and the dark circles under his wide eyes stand out in Zane’s reading light.

Catching Kai’s drift, Cole gently suggests, “Lloyd, maybe it’s better for you to stay in.”

“I…appreciate the concern, but this is something I need to do,” Lloyd asserts back, his jaw locked from annoyance.

It’s clear to Kai that Lloyd’s been using the patrols to ignore what happened to his dad. Maybe he’s trying to put off sleep, too. Both worried about that and absorbing Lloyd’s aggravation like a sponge, Kai huffs, “Look, dude, it’s obvious you’re tired. Just let me cover you for one night.”

“I said it’s fine. You don’t want to be here anyway,” Lloyd bites, hardly even looking at the others when he says it, and storms out of the dojo so fast that Kai can only stare as the door slams shut.

Oh.

Kai braces himself on the front counter, squeezing his eyes shut. That’s what’s wrong. They - he - left Lloyd all alone. Of course he feels like he has to do everything like that now.

Jay humphs a little and rubs his eye, heading back upstairs as he tiredly jokes, “Well, my shift’s always open.”

Following him, Cole pats Kai’s shoulder. “Let the kid grieve in his own way. He’ll come around.”

Easy for you to say, Kai thinks. He has it on good authority that throwing yourself into work to avoid your feelings doesn’t help in the long run.

“Are you all right?” Zane asks from his chair on the other side of the room, the giant book he’s been chipping away at for three nights abandoned in his lap.

Straightening, Kai tightly answers, “Yep.”

“I am certain you will think of a way to help him,” he states, returning to his book.

Well, he already has. He races back up to his room and throws on his gi. With his comm-link in his ear, he doesn’t waste time running back downstairs. Instead, he leaps out the window as he summons his elemental dragon and takes off after his little brother.

He’s going to prove to Lloyd that he won’t just leave him on his own again.

~~~~~

A few miles out from his dad’s dojo, Lloyd rides his dragon along his patrol route and fights tears, scrubbing at his face every few moments. Stupid Kai, he thinks, but then he shakes his head, mumbling, “Stupid me.”

Somewhere inside, he’s happier than anything to have the team back together. He knew how much he missed them, but it feels a million times better actually being able to watch them work hard in the training yard, hearing them laugh at the breakfast table, everyone saying “good morning” and then “goodnight,” just like it used to be.

But he got used to his dad.

Lloyd can’t keep himself from running through scenarios that might have saved him, and some of those possibilities include things he would never voice, like not taking the challenge at all. But because he wouldn’t do something like that, Dad got to suffer the consequences.

A scream splits him from his thoughts.

“Where?” he asks the night, searching the ground. In a secluded alley, he spots what looks like three men corning a woman.

He sends his dragon into a dive for them, landing it between her and the attackers. It roars before he banishes it and readies his stance. “If you guys know what’s good for you, you’ll leave right now,” he threatens, lighting his power in his hands.

“It’s the Green Ninja,” one of them shouts to his buddies.

“Get him!”

The three drawing knives, they descend on him.

He cuts out the energy and dodges the closest man’s knife, noting the Anacondrai tattoo on his wrist. Grabbing the extended arm, Lloyd hurls the body at the next one. While they untangle themselves, he punches the third in the gut, grabbing his head when he doubles over and slamming his face on a nearby electrical unit.

The second kicks his kneecap from where he still lies on the ground, but Lloyd jumps back enough before the attack can fully connect. With a small yell, he blasts the man’s chest.

Left alone now, the first tries his luck again, charging at Lloyd with his knife held above his head. A high kick knocks it from his hand, and one more solid kick to his solar plexus takes him out.

With a stumble that he locks down on, Lloyd moves over to the woman crouched in the corner. “Hey, you’re safe now,” he says soothingly, extending his hand.

She looks up from her knees and stares at it before she takes it, her own hand trembling.

“It’s alright,” he consoles as he helps her stand. “Do you live around here?”

Wordlessly, she nods, clutching her purse close to her body.

He steps back to give her some space. “Do you need to call someone? Or, uh, I can take you there.” He accepts her careful step forward as an answer and turns around to leave the alley. Mostly to himself, he mutters, “I need to let the police know about these guys. Should’ve brought a rope or some―”

Normally, he’d never let anyone get the drop on him, especially not someone he could take without even looking, but Kai’s right. He’s tired. Distracted. Stressed and not keeping his guard up when he should, but how could he? She’s just an innocent person who needed help.

She’s not holding a switchblade, and that’s not his blood. It couldn’t be.

“It’s your fault,” she spits, circling around him. “You let those Anacondrai warriors attack my home. My children.”

Gasping, Lloyd backs against the wall the woman was just cowering against, his hand pressed to the throbbing fire in his side. “I-I’m sorry. We did―”

“Save it for your maker!” She steps over one of the men and kicks him, barking, “Get up.” The three of them groan as they comply. She hands her knife to the one who stands up first and orders, “Now finish it.”

Lloyd sucks in deeper breaths as he pushes himself to straighten. He can ignore the pain and pretend he doesn’t feel it long enough. With his teeth bared, he calls up another two energy orbs, warning, “Stay. Away.”

The man just smirks and keeps inching closer, so Lloyd pitches a sphere at him, knocking him clear out of the alley. Scrambling back to his feet, he squeaks, “Forget this,” and runs off.

Lloyd manages to re-energize his empty hand before the others get any more ideas, bending his knees and glaring, daring them.

“Yeah, I’m out. I didn’t sign up to kill him,” the second man says. The third follows after him.

The woman glowers at their retreat but makes no effort to stop them. Snapping her purse shut, she looks back at Lloyd, bitterly stating, “You may have this city worshiping you, but you don’t fool me.” And with that, she leaves him alone.

His energy orbs sputter out, taking his grip on equilibrium with them. The ground falls away like a tunnel as he staggers back a step, but he shuts his eyes and shakes his head sharply. He’ll be fine. He can get home and have this taken care of, no problem. He just needs his dragon.

Trying to summon it nearly sends him to the concrete. So he’s too freaked out to do that.

He can walk then. Find someone with a phone or something. The knife was pretty thin, wasn’t it? It can’t be bad enough that he won’t be able to walk.

One foot in front of the other. Not difficult. One step, next step, and then the next―

He gasps so hard he sees stars and has to catch himself on the wall. Restraining a scream in his throat doesn’t do much to chase away the incessant throb, but it helps the frustration building faster around his racing heart.

Flipping over, his back hits the wall. It’s practically the only thing holding him up, and that makes ice run down his spine.

He’s not as knowledgeable on anatomy as he should be, but he has a vague understanding that where she stabbed him is close to a cluster of nerves. On reflection, he instinctively twisted his torso just in time; she was probably going for his kidney or the giant artery beside it. A common target for someone who wants to cause pain.

Great, now he needs to know how bad it is.

He reaches around to touch the excruciating point under his ribs, hissing when his hand fumbles over it. Holding them up to the light of a distant streetlamp, he finds his fingers glazed in red, a mini pool of it in his palm.

A tremor’s already wracking his whole arm, and there’s warmth seeping across his lower back, stolen from his limbs.

He’s been injured and bled before, but this. It’s too much for him to deal with by himself. The pain, the fear, the knowledge of why all gather together behind his eyes and spill out as he murmurs, “Oh god.”

But there’s hope. He’s still got a spark of it. With the others home again, he has one last option.

Tapping his comm, he forces his voice to steadily enough ask, “K-Kai?”

His heart drops to his stomach when his brain promptly supplies, What if they  went back to sleep? Nobody’s listening. Even if he does hear you, the dojo’s miles away.

No one’s gonna be able to come for him. He’s in real trouble now, and it’s all because he was a jerk and didn’t let them be a team even though that’s the exact thing he wanted, and god, what’s Dad gonna think? Is he even in a real afterlife? Oh god, he’s never seeing him again. He’s gonna die out here, or some other day, and it won’t even matter―

“What’s up, Lloyd? You’re kind of staticky.”

He wants to laugh in relief, but the pain’s killing him enough, and as cloudy as it’s making his senses, he heard the worry in Kai’s voice despite the effort he used to hide it.

With his fleeting strength, he manages, “I-I need h-help.”

~~~~~

Ten minutes.

He was only ten minutes behind Lloyd.

Kai can’t hear anything outside his comm. He can barely see besides the blurry lines that are supposed to be streets he soars above. The only reason he knows Nya heard him when he told her to notify a hospital is because she commanded him to keep Lloyd talking.

“Yeah, and what’d he say to that?”

“Jeez. Gene was…s-so mad. Said..said he’d get me back f-for sure.”

“Tell me you got him first.”

“I-I tried, but I d-didn’t know where..to find…scor-scorpions.” He laughs at himself, but the sound chokes off with a gasp.

“Lloyd?”

“Are you close?”

“Yeah. Yeah, buddy, two minutes. Just sit tight.”

“A-awesome.”

“I know where we can get a couple.”

“What?”

“Scorpions. We can still get that jerk.”

“H-he’s nice…n-now…Remember? Don’t..be mean.”

“Right, yeah. We ruined a perfectly good bad boy, didn’t we? Too nice for your own good, Lloyd.”

Instead of answering, Kai just hears sniffling and measured groaning like Lloyd’s trying to control the pain.

He’s about to ask how he’s doing when Lloyd speaks up again. “Is…is that what’s…wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you, man.”

“B-but if I was mean, then…then Dad might still―”

“Hey, hey, listen. None of that was your fault. Okay? Can you see me? I think I’m over the right street.”

It takes Lloyd a minute before he hums, “Mhm. F-fire…dragon.”

“Yeah, bud. I’m right here. You’re gonna be fine.” Kai doesn’t see him, though. It’s still pretty dark, and the alley’s crowded with junk.

A green orb floats up from beside a big power box.

Kai drops his dragon and banishes it just before they hit the ground, flipping off it to break the fall. He’s at Lloyd’s side in a near instant, looking him over where he sits against the square unit, one arm bent around his torso.

Bleary eyed, Lloyd smiles at him. “Y-you made it.”

“’Course I did.” He resists the urge to yank his hair out, sinking his tooth into his cheek instead. There’s blood all over the concrete, a smudged handprint on the brick wall. Lloyd moves his arm so Kai can see, and from what he can tell, the wound’s still bleeding. His gi has a jagged rip going down, like the attacker cut into him before she got the leverage needed to sink the knife in deep.

Immediately, he presses his hand to it, making Lloyd flinch. He tries so hard to be calm, but he can’t get the terror out of his voice when he demands, “God, Lloyd, why’d you leave it like this?”

“M’sorry,” Lloyd groans in a cracking voice, slumping forward.

Kai puts his other hand on his shoulder, noticing the abandoned hood and gi sash wadded in soaked piles. Swallowing his nausea, he alternates brushing Lloyd’s arm and hair, saying, “No, it’s alright, okay? It’s gonna be fine. Nya’s already got an ambulance on the way. They’ll be here any minute.”

Shaking his head, Lloyd gasps, “Too late. T-they’re gonna be―” Suddenly distressed, he huffs and whines, “Kai…”

Kai nudges him upright. “What? Tell me.”

Lloyd’s head lolls to the side and back against the metal box before he pushes himself to lean over on his elbow, grimacing. He tugs the end of his gi aside, exposing the injury. It’s the way he pinches his brows and further labors his breathing, his expression miserably expectant as his neck gives out on him, tears and beads of sweat bouncing off his face from the movement. It says enough.

“N-no,” Kai croaks. Stronger, he says, “Lloyd, no, I can’t do that to you,” standing as he recoils.

“I-I’m gonna…bleed―” He winces, raggedly continuing, “Bleed out..i-if you don’t.”

Kai yanks on his hair anyway, but he glances back at Lloyd.

His dark circles stand out worse, a sunken mask on his paling face, and his eyelids droop despite how he’s fighting to keep them open. With the arm he’s propped on trying to shake out from under him, he’s almost lying down, each shallow pant pushing him lower bit by bit.

And now that Kai can see it, he’s losing too much blood. It’s just leaving him in small yet constant pulses, four black rivulets dripping down his stomach and adding to the puddle on the ground.

He’s right. Why does he have to be right?

Kai takes Lloyd’s weight off his arm, wrapping his under it and along to his little brother’s back, and gathers the green cloth there in his fist to keep it out of the way. “Just― just hold onto me, alright? Don’t let go.”

Lloyd nods. His arms come up around Kai’s torso and across his shoulder blades, squeezing with all the strength he’s got.

His right hand free, Kai closes his eyes and ignites it.

Or, he tries to. It doesn’t respond instantly like it should, only giving off smoke. The consequence of his own reluctance.

Sensing the hangup, Lloyd mutters, “I can…handle it..pro-promise.”

Kai inhales, letting the air out slow. “You better.” He snaps his wrist again, the fire lighting up the alleyway. For a few extra seconds, he makes it burn hotter than he usually needs before he pulls the flames down to a dull orange smoulder in his palm. “Ready? On three.”

He’s not ready, and Lloyd tenses, burying his face in Kai’s shoulder.

“One. Two…T-three.”

For the second time, Kai presses his hand on the wound.

As promised, mostly, Lloyd toughs it out at first. He keeps the pain deep in his throat, but eventually the groan turns shrill, and then he’s screaming and struggling not to writhe.

Kai wants to scream with him, but he won’t. Maybe he can’t either. All he can do is hold onto Lloyd tighter as he tries to block out the sound under his hand.

He turns his focus to how the muscles in his back seize around Lloyd’s fists from the energy he’s started channeling on agonized reflex. He gets kneed in the ribs, too, and he’d lose his grip if the slick blood wasn’t burned away.

Burned. Burning. He’s burning his baby brother.

Why didn’t he think to heat up a knife or something instead? Why’s he using his hand for it? Why’d he let Lloyd convince him to do this at all? He should’ve just carried him to the hospital on his dragon, or better yet, he never should have let any of this happen.

“I’m sorry,” Kai yells, screwing his eyes shut. Just a few more seconds, just enough to make sure it’s cauterized fully. He can’t risk messing up because if Lloyd has to suffer for nothing, then he―

Kai’s gonna―

Lloyd loses his strength to keep screaming, and then Kai’s muscles relax only a fraction when the scrabbling limbs behind him fall slack.

Enough. It has to be enough.

Ripping his hand away, he crushes Lloyd in both arms, unable to stop rocking him or repeating apologies. Not just for this. He’s sorry for everything ― the betrayal, the staff, for leaving and allowing so much time to go by that it ended up leading to now.

Lloyd probably can’t understand any of it. He just hiccups while he cries, slowly quieting until he’s too limp in Kai’s hold.

The paramedics find them like that, but they’re all strangers, and one of them talks to Kai while another tries to pry Lloyd away from him. He’s gonna blast them in their throats if they don’t shut up and stop and get their hands away.

But then the Bounty’s sailing overhead, and Nya’s getting through to him as Lloyd’s taken to someone who can actually help a hell of a lot better.

He clenches his fists the entire flight over to the hospital, refusing to look at his own hands.

~~~~~

Kai gets an earful later about how ‘incorrectly’ he handled the situation, and Master Wu adds ‘proper field medicine’ to their training schedule, but ultimately, everyone hugs him and cries and are so thankful he’d at least ‘been there to do something,’ and he doesn’t remember a whole lot of it.

He knows the others have been worried for him now, too, though.

He hasn’t been able to eat anything cooked if he’s around while it’s being prepared. Zane picks up on that in record time and starts making oatmeal and cold-cut sandwiches for him instead.

Cole and Jay learn real quick that if they ask Kai for help with fire-related needs, then his powers won’t respond. Fighting is the only thing it’s felt like doing, and fight it does. They steer clear of him when he goes out to the training yard.

Nya keeps looking at him with a face that’s so sad, like she wants to help him but doesn’t know how, he can’t help it. He retreats to his room and hides under the blanket for hours until the world stops spinning and he can breathe without needing to think about it.

But Lloyd heals fast, so there’s that.

The cops want to track down the people who attacked him, but he refuses to help, muttering something like, “She’s a mom.”

That doesn’t stop Kai from trying to find the woman himself, but he has nothing to go on, and the cops have better resources. They catch her pretty soon after that.

He does have the power to scare other Anacondrai wannabes into never showing their faces again. He gets another earful for that, but it’s worth it to rest at least a little easier.

Things get better after Lloyd comes home, where Kai can see him and be reassured.

He seems better, too. He spends more time with everyone, participates in conversations, and doesn’t run away from Kai anymore.

The thing is, Kai thinks he should. Especially now.

The heat index today’s like a hundred and ten degrees. It doesn’t really bother Kai, but the others already went inside after training as much as they can stand. Lloyd’s not done sparring, though. Said he feels like he fell behind and wants to keep going for another half hour.

But it’s still really hot out for him, so he’s folding his shirt and setting it on one of the benches before he heads back over to Kai to resume their match.

And Kai isn’t sure what he thought would be there. He knew Lloyd had to have been scarred, but he didn’t know. It didn’t occur to him at all how it’d look.

Under Lloyd’s ribs, close to his lower back, it’s a reddened, indistinct patch of burned scarring surrounding a handprint.

It looks like a violation, like a betrayal of Lloyd’s trust and Kai’s job as the Green Ninja’s protector.

He practically collapses as he sits down on the packed dirt. He waves his hand dismissively and pants, “I’m done,” when Lloyd looks at him, confused.

His confusion shifts to narrowed worry as he glances towards the scar. Carefully, he says, “You saved my life.”

Kai pulls his legs in, one hand on his thigh while the other scrapes at his forehead. “I know…I know.” He ends up ripping at his hair, closing his eyes tight. “It’s just. Everything. All of it.”

After a second, Lloyd’s kneeling in front of him. He’s put his shirt back on and has that stupid, sad face that’s gonna send Kai packing. But he can’t leave because Lloyd catches onto his shoulder and says, “You can’t hurt me, Kai.”

“But I―” Kai’s already pounding heart speeds up, making him dizzy, because he did. He let them shackle Lloyd and steal his power and drop poison on him, and he’s alone. He’s bleeding. Kai’s burning him, so who’s to say he would have dropped the staff? “I’m―”

“Hey,” Lloyd interjects, shaking him once. “You. Can’t. Hurt me. Alright?” He harshly emphasizes the words, except they’re gentle, kind, more than Kai deserves, but if he can still have conviction like that, then Kai can try to accept it.

Eventually.

His head bows. He can’t get his heart to stop demanding to fly out of his chest. It hurts, it hurts, he’s sinking, and he wants to hide because this feeling won’t go away out in the open.

“Look at me,” Lloyd says, a beacon of calm. “Just breathe. In and out. Copy me, okay?”

He does. He feels completely stupid because whatever’s wrong with him is nothing compared to what he put his little brother through, but he looks up and matches Lloyd’s exaggerated breaths.

Minutes go by as the world melts away and rebuilds itself enough to steady him, Lloyd’s presence somehow a foundation for it.

Swiping at his eyes, Kai nods when he’s fine. He huffs out a short laugh, asking, “S-someone teach you that?”

Lloyd gives him a hand up and mumbles, “Yeah. Um, Dad did.”

“Oh.”

The floodgates open with that. Kai listens while Lloyd talks about Garmadon for the first time since his funeral, the conversation leading to shared stories and lessons the man taught them both and on to experiences the ninja had with him before Lloyd got to meet him.

He does mess up again, really soon actually, but at least this time Lloyd knows someone’s coming to save him.

~~~~~

overuse of adverbs and unbroken dialogue signals that this is a ‘doodle’ lol

and because it is, i didn’t feel up to writing much more – i just want to point out here that lloyd absolutely does internalize the fact that he traumatized kai, so jot that down

*pats their heads* these beans can fit so much angst in them!

[do-what-the-knight-tells-you]

So I saw a post on here talking about how, when you take the shit Geralt says in the TV series at face value, it’s unbelievably hurtful and cruel towards Jaskier, just, downright mean, and callous, and designed to make Jaskier feel he’s wasted two decades of his life.

But I hate that, because it makes me sad, and on a rewatch, I found an alternate take.

So whether Geralt is neurodivergent in a way we recognize clinically (ASD perhaps? I won’t address that here, but I love Autistic!geralt headcanons), or whether he’s just built himself a particularly abrasive method of interaction over 100 years of shit, prejudice, and abuse, his really rough, rude abrasive words towards Jaskier are not genuine.

And I would expect/choose to believe, that if Jaskier has continued their companionship over two decades, he has not only recognized this about Geralt, but decided he’s more or less okay with it.

So I had the thought particularly during the djinn episode– saw it pointed out somewhere, how un-comforting Geralt is when the elf-healer tells Jaskier the Djinn-curse can kill him. Jaskier turns, desperate, scared, says “fuck, Geralt!” and Geralt sort of awkwardly pats him on the back and says “yeah, we’re not gonna let that happen” in a fairly begrudging way, as if suggesting that the whole situation isn’t that big a deal.

So what if that response has less to do with not caring, with being callous towards Jaskier’s life and fear, and more with either a genuine awkwardness and discomfort with the idea of comforting someone, he really doesn’t know what to say, he’s not used to being a comfort (most ppl are scared enough of him that even when he rescues them, they’d still prefer he left than comfort them in any way), and he’s probably received very little comfort in his life, doesn’t know how to do it, and is barely experienced with the idea of admitting one might want or need it.

And/or, we see the candid, unemotional way he reacts to the ghoul bite in ep7, to the knowledge that he’s seconds from death. So clearly the smooth, stoic, sarcastic, unaffected thing is his usual method of handling scary shit. He doesn’t even raise his voice unless it might help (i.e. out-yelling Yennefer to be heard over the djinn-hurricane, hoping that he can persuade he to give up the really terrible course of action she’s on that’s gonna kill her).

So the other part of it could totally be a case of him downplaying the danger, trying not to think, speak, allude to, mention the danger, possibly as his own coping mechanism (a lot easier to be “fearless” when you repress the shit out of whatever might scare you. if you never let yourself think about the possibility that things might go horribly wrong, then it’s a lot easier to conduct yourself as if nothing bad might happen).

So when he awkwardly pats Jask on the back, distractedly, begrudgingly, patronizingly says, “yeah, we wont let that happen.” It’s genuine awkwardness, and/or a coping mechanism to not let himself think about how bad it is (focus on the solution, not the problem, solve this one, and then the next, etc… he’d do a good job surviving alone on Mars, I think), and/or an attempt to keep Jask calm by not validating his panic, like how if you don’t make a big deal out of a kid’s scraped knee, sometimes then the kid doesn’t panic either and it’s fine.

And likely Jaskier has been his companion long enough to know some of that, maybe even to actually be comforted by Geralt’s lack of panic. Imagine how goddamn frightening it’d be if your super brave/tough/stoic friend actually looked scared.

(the line, when the elf dude starts talking about how in love with Yennefer Geralt must be, when Geralt says “you’re making me uncomfortable?” It’s definitely a funny line, but also it’s possibly genuine. Geralt genuinely expressing himself)

And then later in the episode, Jaskier delivers that line about “wait, is this the moment you decide to finally care about someone other than yourself?” We literally saw him drop everything, ride across the countryside (putting you on Roach, which he never does), seek help from several unknown sources, including this sketchy sorceress chick (and he admits to her and the audience that his concern over saving Jask’s life was such that he A: skipped the opportunity to seek help for his tortuous insomnia issue and B: was more than a bit willing to sell himself into indentured servitude/ something that looked a bit like prostitution)…

Like, fuck off, it’s clear he cares an awful lot about you Jask, and you have to know that. so are YOU being cruel back? or, are you playing along with what Geralt seems to be comfortable with, caring about you so long as neither of you look at that straight-on, or make him talk about it.

-

okay, so than the mountain-top divorce. like, Geralt’s p harsh through a lot of that episode, but there is a tiny bit of playfulness I think still in that dig about worthy travel companions. And if this is a method of talking to each other that they engage in regularly, that Jaskier willingly keeps subjecting himself to…

and then Jask comforts Geralt after the mountain crossing, and when he floats the bit about them traveling together again (maybe implying that these recent adventures are new-ish again, perhaps after a period of separation, perhaps Geralt is extra harsh… perhaps this is a normal-ish thing that Jask has noticed, that Geralt is always more brusque, more accidentally hurtful rather than just dry, right at the beginning or end of their travels together, a defense mechanism of sorts? protecting himself from the pain of separation he’s trying not to acknowledge even exists?) anyway, he floats the line, and I’m p sure Geralt nods.

Jaskier seems to know him pretty damn well.

So none of this makes what Geralt says not shitty, and not hurtful, but rather than let myself wallow in the idea that Jask is completely devastated, feels he’s wasted twenty years of his life on a person who is literally ready to throw him away…

Hopefully not. Hopefully he knows Geralt well enough not to… not to give him a pass, necessarily, Geralt def needs to learn from and atone for that really gross behavior… but enough to know that Geralt’s just very bad, unpracticed, and a bit oblivious when it comes to hurt feelings, to understand that Geralt’s just in a shitty toxic place, that it’s got nothing to do with Jask, that the best thing for all of them is for him to remove himself as a target and let Geralt sort his shit out in his own.

That Jask knows this is one of those times where he can trust his friend with his body, but not his feelings/heart.mind/energy, and he needs to take care of himself first.

So hurt, yeah, but not like devastated, knowing that Geralt didn’t mean his words, but did mean, in that moment, to hurt Jask genuinely and drive him off, not in the light-brusque-teasing way that they sometimes have between them. Knowing both that Geralt was reacting to Yennefer, to other hurts, not to Jask, but also knowing that Geralt was willing to put his own momentary vindictive satisfaction over Jaskier… and so knowing that is was time for them to part for a while, for his own sake. That pushing through at this time was gonna be more masochistic than beneficial or productive, so it was time to look after his own mental health.

Like, this is sort of a pattern I’ve seen in folks in the real world. There’s someone close to me who struggles with some nasty bipolar shit (he’s not found a good med combo for him yet, and even when he’s in a more healthy place, lots of his tools and learned behaviors are mostly crappy still from years of this barely coping while undiagnosed), and sometimes he’s cruel as hell, usually when he hates himself the most, and is lashing out partly in an attempt to get you to say nasty shit back, and justify both his resentment of you, and his belief that he is a worthless shitty person.

And when he’s in those periods, it behooves many of us to just… walk away. like, if you can be/are willing/able to be the person that supports someone through that kind of shit, that’s totes your call to make, and might be a really awesome thing for that person (and that’s where professional help and support can also be awesome! Ppl who have trained to be able to hear the bad shit without taking it personally, and to still be able to guide you to better tools afterwards!)

But sometimes, you also have to take your own health and energy and stuff into account and go “I know this person is being a cruel asshole because they are sick and/or hurting… but also I do not need to swallow the shit just cuz there’s an explanation. so imma peace out until they get their shit together a little more, and are gonna be less toxic/hurtful to me, stop taking it out on people. I can help them, maybe, but their mental health is NOT my sole responsibility, and I do a disservice to both of us if I decide it is, and abdicate personal responsibly for my OWN health in the process.” Put on your own mask first, and all that.

(I’ve seen this in alcoholics I know, as well, and the other side of that is letting them know “hey, I know you feel like you have no control, but one area where you do have some, is how you treat people. and if you’re acting like an asshole, then ppl won’t want to be treated that way. They aren’t leaving because You suck, they are leaving because Your Behavior sucks, and if you want to be around them in future, you should maybe work on your behavior. You are not inherently a Mean Person, but the things you do and say to people are Mean, and they don’t need to sit there and let themselves be abused” Like, it is possible to be ill, and make mistakes!, without being consistently cruel to folk.)

So, magical shenanigans and hissy-fits not a perfect analogy for BD, but it resonated a bit, so I figured I’d share

[eolian-234]

The Supplejack

Previous Chapter Nine: Progress

Summary: Peter Parker has been alone his whole freshman year but finds hope when Stark Industries announces a science competition. The prize? An internship with Tony Stark.

Chapter Ten: Fast-forward

-

Beginning of February  

“I think we might be able to start the full-scale model soon.”

Peter looked up from his phone, which he was reading his notes he doodled in class off of. Mr. Stark offered multiple times to get him a new phone but he preferred the simplicity of this. When he told Mr. Stark it was easier to use the man acted all offended under his smile. Teasing Peter about his inability to figure out a simple phone when they were working on building a full-scale code and model of tech for cars. It was also easier to understand his thoughts written down. While they didn’t look particularly neat on the page it made more sense to him. Mr. Stark seemed to understand that.

He snapped his jaw shut when he realized it was hanging wide open.

“Really?” He said, dropping his eyes back down ignoring the sinking feel in his chest.

Mr. Stark chuckled and went back to scanning the algorithms.

“We can get a full team in here to work on it. Whatever we need.”

A whole team? Someone to take over what they were doing? Peter flinched.

Their work had come so far. From car models went from mere imaginations, to metal models, and back to hologram full scale models. Their protocol were written in C++ after debating between the Python coding.

Peter found the time… soothing to his mind. Sometimes coming in late at night to work by himself even if Mr. Stark wasn’t there. Friday always let him in with a kind word.

He remembered the first couple of times they worked together Mr. Stark would get into a kind of trance, rock music blaring in the background. While Peter liked the music – he made his own playlist to all the songs they listened to – his head rang after an hour or so.

His expression must have revealed more than he wanted to because without comment the next time Peter arrived the music was quieter.  

It was little things like that and the temperature which had Peter settling into their work focusing more on Mr. Stark and less on Tony Stark.

With summer coming up in less months than he thought Peter was sure their time would be cut short.

What he wanted to do was ask the man himself. To beg him to continue working through the summer and next year and the next even if it meant bringing in fifty other people to work on it. He wanted to finish their project, to see their models turn into something real. Something that could help people. The selfish part of his brain suggested that what he really wanted was to continue working with Mr. Stark even if it didn’t end up helping anyone.

Instead what Peter did was stay silent and hum slightly to the music nothing about his appearance gave his thoughts away besides the fists he made every so often looking at Mr. Stark working.  

Would he even want to continue working with Peter?

-

End of February

Julia sat next time him while the subway rumbled forward. He kept his legs folded in front of him, fingers grasping backpack which rested on his knees in order to take up less space.

They already passed his stop but he stayed on like he always did riding with Julia.

“Do you really think the permission will go through?” She asked quietly. Julia had fidgeted today in the lab. Her eyes scanned the paperwork over and over making sure they filled out every form correctly. Their whole team practically had their proposal memorized with the amount of times they’d reworked it.

“I’m sure they will.” He said but continued when her expression didn’t change. “It was really good, Julia. You did a great job.”

Peter stared at the glass window on the other side of the subway. Their reflections looked back and he saw her head duck down.

The subway came to a stop and she stood to leave. She ran her hand through her hair and looked at him.

“Thanks for riding the rest of the way with me. Text me when you get home?” Her tone was quiet and it was Peter’s turn to drop his head. “You’re a great friend, Peter.”

He mumbled something and she smiled over her shoulder walking onto the platform. The doors closed behind her but he didn’t lift his head.

Peter switched trains but couldn’t stop the smile from coming over his face.

She thought they were friends.

-

Beginning of March  

“Kid… Peter?”

He blinked. Mr. Stark’s hand landed on his shoulder. His muscles tensed under the sudden intrusion but Mr. Stark’s eyes never left his face.  Slowly, he squeezed, calming Peter’s pulse, and stepped back.

Mr. Stark ran his hand through his hair.

“Time for food.” He said and waited for Peter to put all his notes away.

“I can just go home, Mr. Stark. It’s no problem.”

The man chuckled and Peter flushed knowing he said that every time.

“I already ordered your favorite from that Korean place down the street.”

Peter stopped walking before hurrying to catch up. They settled around the table piled with way more boxes of food they could ever finish. Sure enough a container of Bibimbap with all tofu, no eggs, and spicy sauce was waiting for him.

Mr. Stark began telling him some gossip he’d heard around the office.

“And how do you know about poor Mr. Singer?” He said, scrapping the crispy rice off of the bottom of the takeout box.

The man didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed when he spoke. “Oh, I just happened to be walking by when his wife came storming in.”

Peter snorted. “Friday told you. Didn’t you, Friday?” He asked over Mr. Stark’s copious denials.

“That is correct, Peter.”  He smiled upward at Friday and failed to notice the soft look Mr. Stark was giving him.

“You caught me, kid.”

-

End of March

It would have been easier to accept if the letters were stamped permanently in red across the whole paper. It would have made since in a way – been final. Instead they received a formal reply. One with fancy wording and apologies that had the vague pretense of sounding sincere and apologetic.

This made the news so much worse.

Their proposal had been rejected or as the letter said: “at this time we are not allowing student groups access to our facilities.”

Julia’s face crumpled while Frank swore. Monica began typing frantically but through it all Peter just sat there.

What would they do now?

-

Beginning of April

“You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want. There’s still a lot of good in the world."

They were watching The Outsiders while he waited. Peter had read it the year before in English but had missed the movie day because he had been sick.

The rain pelted down against the glass windows. Thunder and lightning battled in the sky only an arm’s length away from where they sat. He’d watched many storms pass through from his fire escape but here, this high up, Peter felt like he was inside it. Every clap of noise sent a pulse into his bloodstream pumping the blood through his veins. It didn’t key him up like it did in the apartment. The sounds were loud enough to sooth his racing thoughts enough so he could focus on the movie playing in the background and the soft sounds of response Mr. Stark was making to the movie. He felt safe there in the storm.

Of course, Peter had put up a mild protest. He’d been fine to go home, he told Mr. Stark. But the man took one look outside and suggested the movie. Food was involved, too.

It took Peter exactly thirty-two seconds to decide he could wait for the rain to pass.

An hour later, laden with stir-fry and popcorn Peter was boneless on the couch. He smiled as Mr. Stark leaned forward, his eyes focused on the screen. It was the man’s first time watching it as well and though Peter knew the ending, it didn’t stop his enjoyment.

He yawned and sank deeper into the cushions.

The day had seemed unending and filled with busywork assignments. Things that weren’t teaching him anything but would take all night to do. Ned was gone so he spent all lunch listening to Mike debate the pros of anarchy with everyone at the table. He stared at MJ until she caught him and he ran away to the library. It wasn’t until he got to the lab that he had a moment to breath.

Something touched his shoulder and then with more force he was pulled away from the couch.

The sound of the credits rolled. He didn’t realize his eyes had shut.

Peter could hear Mr. Stark’s voice whispering something and a feminine answer but his eyes stayed closed, blessedly on the brink of sleep.

His head was against a hard surface, a chest, and Peter was lulled deeper by the heartbeat within. A hand brushed back his hair after he was placed on something soft and he could swear the voice said something important but Peter was too asleep to make sense of it.

-

Ned leaned across the lunch table. His hands bordered their lunchboxes in a protective frame as Peter relayed the news from his meeting the previous week.

“I just feel so bad for those Frank and Monica. I mean they’re graduating and everything. This was their final hurrah.” He said, nibbling on a carrot.

“Dude, that sucks. What are you going to do?”

Peter nodded at the question. As it was they weren’t sure.

The prototype of the machine was necessary for them to see before they could come up with a model for themselves. He had thought about going to Mr. Stark and asking him for advice, but he decided not to in the end. It was an unfair advantage that the other teams couldn’t use. If no one else could go to the owner of Stark Industries for help, why should he?

Peter was also proud of the work they accomplished so far. Sometimes he forgot how young they all were, given the amount and quality of work they completed.

The whole experience had changed him more than that though and he was loathe to sit there and do nothing.

“I don’t know, Ned. We’ll figure something out though.”

He could only hope.

-

“Look, Peter. Mr. Stark will understand if you can’t make it today.” May spoke with an edge to her voice. “I forbid you from going.”

“May, I have to go. This is important.”

“Peter, you’re sick. It’s okay.”

He coughed into his elbow, sniffling and meagerly taking a tissue May was holding out to him with pouting lips.

Peter whispered something to her. Something he was too afraid to think but needed to say.

“What sweetheart?” She said and even though he was sick and had a fever May sat on the edge of his bed.

“It’s just,” he licked his chapped lips. “What if he finds someone else to help out?”

He thought of the team Mr. Stark mentioned before. Peter looked away from the piercing glance. His fingers fidgeted with the blanket wrapped around him.

“Peter, he would never do that. You know he wouldn’t.”

She said it with such conviction but his stomach sank. Did he know that?

May kept talking, running a reassuring thumb over his knuckles but Peter was too wrapped up in his thoughts. He went through cataloging every interaction and every word spoken between them.

Peter thought of the way Mr. Stark smiled when he came into the lab and how he would always check the temperature to make sure it was warm enough. The man practically bought the whole menu at a restaurant when Peter stayed for food and it was getting more common for him to stay after a work day. Sometimes they would watch a movie but most times he would just work on homework as Mr. Stark continued with business. But were those concrete signs? It certainly didn’t mean he would abstain from finding a replacement if the work needed to be done. Peter sighed into his hoodie, wincing at the way his stomach was cramping.

It was with the image of Frank helping Mr. Stark in the lab that Peter made his decision.

He realized May had left when she popped her head back into the room.

“Stay home, Peter. Okay? I’m sorry I have to go to work.”

His cough wracked his chest but he managed to tell her he loved her. She gave him one last searching look before she left for work.

After he heard the door shut with limbs groaning Peter got out of bed. He toggled back and forth as the blood ran to his head but with careful steps made it out of his room. His hand swept across the length of the highest cabinet and found the last packet of powdered vitamin C before mixing it in his water bottle.

There was sweat seeping into his sweatshirt and on his forehead by the time he made it to the subway platform and he shivered into it. His breath shuddered when he finally sank down into one of the empty seats, making sure to touch as little as possible. He kept his hoodie up and took small sips of the vitamin infused water, praying for an instant cure.

Friday greeted him when he got into the elevator but he didn’t lift his head up to the lights like he normally would. They burned his eyes.

“Hey, Friday.” He said rubbing his hand along his chest to stop a cough. Even to his own ears his voice sounded tired.

“Are you alright, Peter?” Friday said, softer than normal.

“I’m fine, just a cough.”

Friday said nothing but the elevators opened.

The room was void of people and Peter sat down with a heavy breath. He crossed his arms on the table in front of him. Thankfully Friday must have forgotten to put the lights on so it was dark in the room.

Every minute he sat there, Peter shrunk down until his head came to rest on his arms. Wet coughs racked his chest and he shivered again. It was cold in the room but he didn’t want to bother Friday. The curt tone he used earlier with Friday sent a guilty tendril tightening along his spine.

The doors swept open and bursting into the room with wide eyes was Mr. Stark. Peter tried to smile but from the furrow in the man’s mouth, it wasn’t as reassuring as he meant it to be.

“Kid, what’s wrong? You okay?”

Peter sat up trying to relax the ache in his muscles. He flinched back when rough hands touched his cheek before moving to rest against his forehead.

He felt silly to realize Mr. Stark had moved across the room and was now kneeling beside him. Peter concentrated on the small lines forming lightly in the corner of his eyes. For a moment he imaged being younger and being sick at home, but instead of Ben kneeling in front of him it was Mr. Stark making sure he was okay.

With a shake of Peter’s head Mr. Stark removed his hands and walked away. His voice rung out as he barked orders to Friday and then he was on the phone.

Peter gripped the edges of the counter, tears blurring in his eyes. How could he even think that? The betrayal of his thoughts sent a tear over the edge and down his hot cheek. Worse than that though was the longing he’d felt – still felt - when Mr. Stark looked at him with such concern.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t his to want.

Mr. Stark came back and led Peter into the elevator. His tone was quiet, soothing, and Peter weakly followed him after brushing his tear away. Friday chimed in to give reports on his temperature. His brain felt fuzzy.

There was an arm, guiding him, warm across his back.

“Come on, Kid.” 


They arrived into a bedroom and dimly Peter realized this is where he fell asleep the previous month. He stopped short at the door.

“Peter?” The man spoke softly and the back of Peter’s throat itched.

“But… we have the meeting. We were going to work on …” His brain failed him at the end.

“Hey, kid. You’re in no position to be working. Hell, you’re burning up.”

He sent Peter to the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

Peter sat at the very end of the mattress, his butt halfway off the edge. It wasn’t his bedroom, just one for guests. There was nothing in there that was his, but Peter noticed that the lamp was where he moved it before when he tried to get some reading in the morning when was there.

He moved closer to the headboard, eyes on the light in the bathroom, and switched it on.

Peter could still convince Mr. Stark they could work today. It would be fine. Mr. Stark wouldn’t have replaced him then as long as he remained useful.

“The work will still be there later.” Mr. Stark said emerging from the bathroom as if he read Peter’s thoughts. “Drink this while you take this.” He gestured to the water and Tylenol in his hand.

Peter’s protest died on his tongue and Mr. Stark spoke again.

“I’m not in any hurry to finish the project. As long as you get better.”

He blanched at the implication of the words.

There was no anger in the man’s face. Something uncurled in his chest when all he saw was concern. Ben used to wear that face well.

Peter’s eyes dragged on his cheek. Another cough stormed through his chest.

“I’ll go fill this up again. There’s sweatpants and t-shirts in the dresser.”

Peter stood up, feeling red on his cheeks. There were clothes there?

He browsed the drawers looking at the various t-shirts - all avengers themed. Quickly he got into sweatpants and sweatshirt glancing at the door back and forth.

With a speed he used when changing after gym class he shucked his shirt and pants off and into his chosen clothes, grey sweats and Stark Industries shirt. His hand brushed over the ironman one but he couldn’t quite make himself put it in.

He settled on the bed again just before there was a knock on the door. Dizziness wavered through him and Peter grasped the bedside table for support.

Mr. Stark came in carrying the glass. The covers were pushed back and Peter found himself lying down. The man hovered for a moment, his hand came up from his side reaching out before dropping back.

“Get some rest, Kid. Friday will be here if you need anything and I will just be in the living room outside.”

Peter’s eyes closed of their own accord and he nodded. Footsteps swept across the room but before the door could close Peter thanked Mr. Stark, wishing he had the right to say more.

“Of course, Peter.” Peter’s throat went tight. The door shut and Peter spun around. He didn’t want to look at the lights shining through the cracks in the door.

Of course, he said like he would look after Peter. As he would have if Peter’s mind conjured up sound for his imagination. Like he cared.

The knot loosened in his throat and Peter locked the guilt away for a moment, instead basking in the knowing someone was waiting up in case he needed them right outside this room that wasn’t technically his.

He reached up, adjusting the pillow under his head and closed his eyes.

-

Middle of April

Peter’s stomach protested as the smell of leftovers wafted from the lid he opened. The nausea from being sick still lingered and Peter found his appetite was suffering because of it.

The cafeteria, loud as ever, raged around him. He pushed the container of food away with a grimace.

Something nudged him from the side and he saw Ned’s profile looking straight ahead. He shrugged and went back to staring at his lunch. Ned’s elbow dug into his upper arm and Peter looked over while rubbing the spot of impact. Narrowly dodging another nudge, he got the hint and followed the boy’s gaze.

Peter blinked at the figure coming forward.

Flash waded through the crowds and tables. His gaze was fixed forward and now that they weren’t precisely enemies Peter let himself feel intrigued by how people just seemed to get out of Flash’s way.

He wondered why Ned was so interested in Flash until the boy in questions eyes moved and landed on Peter.

He was making his way in their direction.

Peter knew from the previous eight months how rare this was and his stomach cramped in response. His eyes flounced back to the Tupperware.

“I wonder where he’s off to,” Ned said.

Peter watched Ned in his observations not wanting to be caught blatantly staring at Flash himself. Despite the itching feeling crawling through his limbs Peter smiled at his friend and the way he moved forward so Flash’s view of Peter would be limited.

Under his lashes he looked up to see Flash continued the straight path to them. Peter held his breath and watched his legs, which seemed much safer than his face.

Flash continued forward until he was a table away. Peter finally looked up at a sound from Ned and met his eyes. The boy stared straight at him and Peter forced himself to maintain contact. Flash glanced toward the doors and back at Peter, his brow quirked when Peter’s face remained in ignorance. He did it again before veering off toward the exit.

The doors closed behind him blocking Peter’s curious gaze, food dilemma forgotten.

Should he follow?

Ned began talking about how weird Flash had been lately and Peter nodded along. His hands twisted in his lap, bouncing in time to the rise and fall of his foot against the ground.  

Without breaking eye contact with the door, he stood up, murmuring something to Ned whose eyes flickered to the door. Ned nodded without missing a beat.

As Peter was passing toward the door he briefly reached out to touch Ned on the shoulder before hurrying away. Ned was such a good person…. A good friend.

Backpack slung over his shoulder Peter followed the path his eyes traced before and saw Flash leaning against the lockers down the hallway from the cafeteria.

“Flash. Hey.” He said trying to keep the weary tone out of his voice. They’d seen each other off and on at their time at the Tower but hadn’t seen much of each other at school. In fact, the last time they talked was when Peter had a meltdown in front of him, which was slightly awkward to realize how Peter yelled at him before. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

The boy’s arms were crossed in front of him. Peter could see his shoulder’s tensing and he held his body still. Peter forced his hands to stop fidgeting by shoving them in his pockets. A blush worked its way onto his cheeks when neither of them spoke. Was he wrong? Was he supposed to follow Flash?

“So, I hear you need a connection at Oscorp?” Flash said uncrossing his arms and casually raising his eyebrow at Peter.

His jaw dropped. This was not what he expected.

“Uh… How did you hear that?” He said trying to find a semblance of rational thought.  

Flash had the decency to look embarrassed but he answered anyway, if a little cautiously. “That Mike kid is loud as shit. Anyway, do you?”

“Why?”

Flash sighed and crossed his arms again.

“Listen, I’m trying to be... decent. My dad has connections there and I could see if something could come of it.”

“Why?”

Was that all he could say?

“Is that all you can say?” Flash snapped.

Peter shut his mouth and thought about the options. He could lie. Say that they didn’t need this. Then he wouldn’t need to repay Flash for anything. But the image of Julia’s clenched hands and the hours they spent working came to mind. And he decided he didn’t care if he was put in Flash’s debt or that he didn’t know the motivations behind this act of supposed kindness.

Plus, Flash proved changed – sort of – mostly. If he wanted help, well, Peter wasn’t going to say no.

“Yeah, Flash. We do need help, if you’re willing to offer it.”

They nodded at one another before walking down the hallway too close to be considered friends but too far away for anyone to perceive them as enemies.

-

“Sorry, Monica couldn’t make it today but she said as long as we take notes it should be fine.”

Flash stood shuffling on the balls of his feet in the doorway. Julia and Frank were clearing off a spot for him to sit at the table while Peter motioned him forward.

Frank clapped Flash on the back in greeting and welcomed him.

“Thanks man. This is going to be a great help.”

When Flash sat down, moving his backpack to rest against the leg of the table, everyone stared at him. It was the first time after their sandwich fiasco that Peter had seen him look so embarrassed and out of place. He withheld a smile.

Flash got straight down to business, explain the security and how his father got them a tour and question time with the person in charge of the prototype. Julia’s hand flew over the paper trying to write every word he spoke. Without breaking his speech Flash slight a typed-out sheet of all the information. Her hand shook slightly and thought she thanked him, Peter noticed she didn’t look him in the eye.

The meeting passed quick and Peter was pleased with how much Flash got along with everyone. He and Frank spent a bunch of time talking about sports and the playoffs. After some cajoling he even got Julia to talk about their new kittens at home. In turn, Flash smiled as she told him how BOGO would steal all of Free’s food.

Flash smiled at the story. A real, teeth-baring smile.

-

Peter was used to things happening slowly in his life.

It took him almost half a school year to decide to participate in the S.T.A.R.K competition. Days avoiding the sign in sheet until finally he took the plunge. Months after dreading nearly everything he settled into a routine. He was opening up to the people around him.

He thought back to how scary it was considering Ned’s offer to sit with him at lunch. It was weeks until he was able to go more than once a week.  He even went over to Ned’s house over break.

But all these things took time and much thinking on Peter’s part. He weighed the consequences of everything before stepping forward and rarely out of his comfort zone. That was safe.  That was good.

Things happening quickly were never good in Peter’s opinion. Ben’s funeral came and went so fast. The whole thing sped up like someone was pressing fast-forward. Though he was careful and took his time letting Sam into his life; it took but a second for her to break his heart.

That’s why when Flash sat at their lunch table at the end of the week, Peter’s stomach turned sour. He knew to expect the worse. He foresaw the worst. But there was nothing he could do or say in the moment.

Ned, after a moment of scrutiny, looked between Flash and Peter, then stuck out his hand for the two of them to shake, forever reminding Peter how forgiving Ned was.

How many second chances had Ned given him?

Just like that Flash began to eat lunch with them sometimes. Not every day, but throughout the week he would stop by and join an argument between Mike and Midge before wandering off again. Somedays he would even find Peter in the library when the cafeteria was too much for him to get through.

Flash was quieter than Ned. He would hold himself still, aware of his space at any given time and there was still tension between them sometimes. But it was nice all the same.

Peter didn’t find it so strange that Flash and him became friends so quick this time.

-

End of April

Peter looked around the lab. Scattered on the tables were scraps of paper, all smudged with crunched writing, and metal shavings discarded from the models they had built. His backpack was folded over itself on the floor by the door on top of which his jacket was crumpled.

Mr. Stark stood beside him and if Peter turned his shoulders slightly to the left he could see the slight furrow in his brow. How his hand would come up and rest under his chin while his finger traced his goatee every five minutes or so.

It was his thinking face, Peter knew.

Months of working together and Peter’s steady heartbeat was proof he was relaxed. Content.

He didn’t think about the fact this would all be ending come summer. And he absolutely ignored the itch in the back of his throat thinking about the possibility of never seeing Mr. Stark again.

“I’m still thinking we are going to totally have to overhaul the thrust mechanisms on this side, Mr. Stark. It’s working now, but barely, and it could be so much better.” He said breaking the silence.

Mr. Stark’s eyebrows rose in response but he didn’t say anything. His eyes stayed trained on the new schematics displayed in front of him. He grumbled something under his breath and Peter cracked a smile knowing he was right.

The lab settled under the silence again. Peter moved around to Mr. Stark’s other side and grabbed a Stark pad off the table.  Easily Mr. Stark stepped to the side to accommodate his reach and giving Peter enough room to work at the table.

-

Peter yawned as he opened the door to the apartment. He grabbed a box of Chex mix and sank into the couch. His phone vibrated again and shoving his hand into the box checked his messages. The group chat between everyone went off with a near consistency putting his flip phone into overdrive.

There had been time of the subway to look at it but he ended up falling asleep, waking only to find drool gathering on his sleeve where his head rested and to hear he missed one his stop.

Even though he was barely awake now, Peter considered the walk home beneficial. The moon hung in the middle of the sky decorated by a vague face and stars all around.

It let him think, at least.

His third handful came away as the rest, only the little breadsticks and the occasional rye chip. May must have eaten her way through the bag first. He set it aside feeling a cramping in his stomach. Maybe he was still sick.

He yawned again and sank further into the couch knowing he should go to bed, but his bones felt too brittle to get up.  

Everything was coming to a head soon. Midterms, Mr. Stark and their work, and the tour were compounding at an exponential rate.

It was all amazing. Peter knew he was so lucky and at times thought he dreamed it all.

But it was sometimes too much.

He wasn’t used to having so many people in his life or having to check his phone throughout the day to see who was texting him.

Who would have thought at the beginning of the year Ned and Flash would send each other memes? Or that Julia would come out and lead one of their group meetings?

Peter smiled remembering how Monica’s jaw dropped when Julia, gently, corrected her on some of the analytics. Or how she gave everyone in their group, Flash included, a newer version of the pen that landed her in the internship program.

He felt so full of life, something he’d never thought possible for someone like him.

And right now, it hurt that all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep for the weekend. He wondered what would happen if he told them. If he just needed some time to disconnect for a bit.

He knew he couldn’t do that though. They would be fine without him, they would move on and continue texting minus his phone number, and Peter wasn’t ready to get rid of them so soon.  They deserved someone who was normal, who could sit in the cafeteria for the whole week without feeling bone tired, or someone who could be fully present without worry about sneezing the wrong way.

Peter would get through it and soak everything up. Every laugh, and debate at lunch. Flash’s and his new acquaintanceship. And especially any time Mr. Stark was willing to work together. He could push through it for now.

It would be fine.

He groaned against the couch pillow thinking about everything he had to do and after looking at the calendar on the way he realized something.

It was only a week until they would tour Oscorp.

It's always one step forward and two steps back for our Peter isn't it?

a/n: Hi sweet friends. I hope you are all doing well and you and your loved ones are staying safe. This semester has been crazy, as things get in real life. My classes have been moved online so I can finally start writing again which makes me so happy. I also just wanted to say thank you for continuing to read this story. Every comment and kudos make my week so bright.

As always, I would love to hear your thoughts.

Taglist: @verdonafrost @demi-starzak @whatisthou

Next Chapter Eleven: Welcome to Oscorp

[mustangshelby04]

Boston Boy Chapter 2

Kate stared at herself in the mirror trying to see what had made Chris Evans want to spend an entire week with her.  He had stayed till almost one in the morning.  They had spent the whole time talking and looking at pictures on their phones. Chris had taken a few of them on his phone and set one of the selfies as her contact picture when he saved her number in his phone.  Now she was waiting for him to come pick her up and take her to the game.  She’d thrown on some jeans, a pair of black leather motorcycle boots, and her Brady jersey.  Her hair was in a high ponytail and she’d thrown on her usual makeup consisting of under-eye concealer, powder, mascara, and Chapstick.

There was a loud knocking on her door and she took a deep breath before opening it.  Chris stood there with his brother Scott and another guy she didn’t recognize.  Chris was beaming at her. “Good.  Got the lucky jersey on.  We should win today, right?”

“If the luck holds up.” She said, smiling back.

“Kat, this is my brother Scott and his friend Tyler.”

“Nice to meet you.” She reached out and shook their hands.

“You’re right, Chris.” Scott said. “She’s beautiful.” Chris blushed and avoided eye contact with her.

“Don’t embarrass him.” Tyler said.

“He’s my brother.  I can if I want.” Scott turned back to her. “He gushed about you the whole ride over here.  He used the word perfect about twelve times.  And I think he wrote a sonnet about your eyes.  Which are gorgeous, by the way.” It was her turn to blush.

“Scott!” Chris cried. “Man, you have no chill.” He turned to her. “I’m sorry about him.  I said I was going to the game and he invited himself and Tyler.”

“Seriously, it’s really nice to meet you.” Scott said, giving her a bright smile. “My brother is weirdly shy and for him to actually have a multiple hour conversation with a woman he just met is really rare.  Be glad he only told me about you.  If our mom and sisters find out…. Well, I hope you like Boston cause they’ll move your stuff up here for you.”

She laughed. “Wow. My brother is contemplating coming out here with one of my cousins and my step-dad to scare ‘the Boston boy’ off.”

“We might have a war on our hands.  Fun!”

Chris laughed and looked back at her. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.  Let me grab my coat and my phone.”

“Is that David Bowie you’re listening to?” Scott asked as they shuffled into her room.

“Yeah.  You a fan?”

“Of course!  I don’t trust a person that doesn’t listen to Bowie.”

“Me either.” She turned the bluetooth speaker off and unplugged her phone before grabbing her coat. Chris helped her into it and his fingers brushed the back of her neck as he helped release the bottom of her ponytail from the coat.  She held onto the urge to shiver but bit down on her bottom lip. “Ok.  To the game!”

“To the game!” Chris repeated, holding the door open for her.  Scott and Tyler made it to the elevators first and held the doors so Chris and Kate could get on too.  She caught Chris eying her a few times and smiled to herself.  Scott and Tyler were engaged in a conversation about the game and didn’t seem to notice the other two in the elevator.  Chris shot her a smile and she smiled back.  

The elevator doors opened and just before she stepped out, she remembered something. “Shit! I’ve gotta run back to my room.”

“What’s wrong?” Chris asked.

“I forgot to take my blood pressure meds.”

“Oh.” Chris turned and tossed the keys to his brother. “We’ll meet you out front.” He stepped back onto the elevator and waved at Scott as the doors shut.

“I’m sorry.  I keep forgetting that I’m supposed to be taking it. I haven’t been on it long, so it’s an adjustment.”

“High blood pressure?”

“Yes.  Genetics is a bitch.  Though I technically got lucky.  Mom was on them from the time she was 16 and her blood pressure is really high. I just got on them last month and it’s the lowest dose of medication since my blood pressure isn’t bad.  Just high enough to make my doctor and my mom worry.”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out. “Have you tried setting an alarm on your phone to remind you?” He asked.

She laughed. “I’m not sure it would help.  I did that for my birth control and I forgot to take it at least three days out of every month.”

“Yikes.”

“I don’t know why my brain doesn’t process taking medication daily on time, but it fails hard at it.  It’s why I got an IUD.  I never have to remember to take a pill every day.  If they could invent that for blood pressure pills I’d be set.” She opened her door and rushed into the bathroom, embarrassed that she’d just told him that she had an IUD.

“Hey, listen, I’m sorry about my brother.  Sometimes things come out of his mouth before he can stop them.”

She laughed. “I have that problem myself.”

He appeared in the bathroom doorway. “I hope he didn’t embarrass you too much.”

“No.  It’s ok.  I think he got you worse.” She popped the pill in her mouth and took a drink of water from the bottle next to the sink.

“It wasn’t as bad as he said.  I don’t think I used the word perfect that many times.”

“I didn’t think you had. It would definitely be a major exaggeration if you said it that many times.  Using it just once is exaggeration enough.”

“Not at all. You’re pretty awesome.”

“You’ve only known me a day.  Trust me, I’m not that great.”

“I’ve got all week with you, so I’ll be the judge of that.” He shot her a smile and moved out of the way to let her pass by him.

They caught up to Scott and Tyler waiting in the backseat of the car.  Chris held open the passenger’s side door for her to get in before walking over and getting in the driver’s seat. “So, Kate,” Scott said as they pulled out into the street. “What color are your eyes?  Chris was confused.”

“Scott!”

“What?” Scott asked innocently. “You said they look blue, but sometimes they looked more green.”

“They’re both blue and green.” She said before Chris could get any more red. “And my left eye has a streak of hazel in it.” Scott leaned forward and she turned to look at him.

“That’s neat.”

“My eyes change color, too, depending on my mood.”

“What mood are you in now?”

“Scott!” Chris cried.

“What?”

She laughed. “I’m excited right now.  I’ve made new friends and I’m going to see my favorite football team play live for the first time.  Unless you count when they came down to Richmond for training camp last year.”

“You saw them at training camp?” Chris asked.

“Yeah.  They were at the Redskins training camp in Richmond for two days.  I was there both because I’m a dork.  I got the worst sunburn, but I got to meet Gronkowski.  The only thing I could think to say was ‘you are one big dude.’”

“Did you meet Brady?” Tyler asked.

“I shook his hand, but I didn’t get to talk to him.  There were a lot of fans there and I kind of got pushed out of the way.”

“That sucks.”  

Chris glanced over at her and smiled as she kept up a steady flow of conversation with his brother and Tyler.  They made it to the stadium and had no trouble getting inside the private entrance and up to their suite.  There were a few people milling about, but the stadium below was full of people. There weren’t any players on the field yet, but there were other people out there getting ready.  Chris watched her as she stayed standing by the glass, staring out at everything with a look that reminded him of Christmas morning excitement.  He ordered them some drinks before joining her at the window.

“Our seats are over here.” He pointed to ones in the second row.

“This is unbelievable, Chris!” She was beaming and the smile was infectious. “I can’t believe I’m at Gillette!  I’ve only ever seen it on TV and now I’m here.”

“I’m happy I could put that smile on your face.” He was suddenly engulfed in a bear hug and all he could do was squeeze back as he held her up. “Wow.”

“Sorry.” She pulled away. “I’m just so excited and you’re the best for doing this for me.”

He laughed. “Don’t be sorry.  This is exciting for me too.”

  They were well into the fourth quarter of a close game.  Chris and Kate had been yelling at the teams from their seats and barely able to sit down for most of the game.  Luckily they were surrounded by like-minded people.  Scott and Tyler were excited about the game, but Scott kept stealing glances at his brother and his new friend.  He was pretty sure that Chris was really liking Kate.  He’d never seen his brother act this way with a woman he’d just met before.

“GO!” Chris yelled suddenly as Amendola caught the pass from Brady.  The stadium went mad as the refs called a touchdown.  The people in front of them threw their hands up and one of the guys lost his grip on his cell phone and it flew back and hit Kate in the mouth.  She instantly threw her hands up, but blood was already running down her chin.

Chris moved into action to grab some napkins and the man that lost his phone began apologizing profusely.  Scott and Tyler left to get some ice and more napkins.  Finally, Chris escorted Kate out into the hallway and leaned her up against the wall.  It was quieter in the hallway.

“Are you ok?” Chris asked, holding multiple napkins to her lips.

“Ow.” She said, her voice muffled behind the napkins.  Her eyes were watering profusely and she kept wiping at them. “I think a tooth is broken.”

“Let me see.” He pulled the napkins away and sure enough, the lateral incisor on her left side was missing a chunk.  He hissed and put the napkin back.

“That bad, huh?”

“Uh, yeah.  I’m not going to lie.  You’re missing part of a tooth.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Don’t worry.  I’ve got a plan.”

Scott and Tyler came running back with ice in a towel and more napkins. “How is she?” Scott asked, handing the towel over.

“Broken tooth.  I’m going to call dad and ask if he’ll fix it for her today.”

“Good idea.” Scott looked at Kate. “That’s some awesome mascara you have on.  It hasn’t budged at all with all that leaking you’re doing from your eyes.” That made her laugh.

“Here, hold this.” Chris said, guiding her hand to the towel against her mouth. “I’m going to make a phone call.”

Scott moved over to take his brother’s place in front of her and he smiled. “Our dad’s a good dentist.”

“Good.  Cause this hurts.” She said.

“I’m pretty sure if you asked him to, Chris would go beat that guy up.”

She chuckled. “It’s ok. It was an accident.  I’m not mad.  Just in pain.”

Chris came back over. “Dad’s going to meet us at his office.”

“You guys go.” Scott said. “We’ll grab a cab to take us home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Scott gave Kate a quick hug. “We’ll see you later, ok?”

“Bye.” She waved at Scott and Tyler as Chris escorted her to the elevators.

“Are you ok?” Chris asked again as the doors shut.  He was clearly concerned about her.

“You should see the other guy.” She joked.

Chris chuckled. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was an accident.”

“I know, but you’re missing the last of your first game at Gillette.”

Her eyes widened and she looked down at her jersey. “Please tell me there’s no blood on it.”

He gently pushed her head back up, replacing the ice towel on her mouth.  With a chuckle, he grabbed the bottom of the jersey and pulled it out slightly to inspect it. “Nope.  No blood.  I saved the good luck charm with my quick reflexes.”

“Thank you.” The elevator doors opened and he led her out.

  Bob lead Chris and Kate back out into the empty waiting room of his dental office. “You might be a little sore for a couple of days and you shouldn’t eat any hard foods for the rest of today.”

“Thanks for doing this, dad.” Chris said. “I know it’s your day off.”

“Yeth.  Thank you.” Kate said, trying not to sound funny through the numbness in her mouth.  It must not have worked because Chris was desperately trying to hold back a laugh.

“It’s my pleasure.” Bob said. “If that tooth starts bothering you, or starts acting funny, don’t hesitate to call me.”

“I won’t.” She followed Chris back outside where the sun had begun to set.

“I know you’ve got to be hungry.  You haven’t eaten much today.” Chris said to her as he helped her in the car.  He walked around to the driver’s side and slid in. “Do you feel up to getting something to eat?”

“I’m tharving, but I think I thould wait until this numbneth goeth away.  I might drool on mythelf.”

He didn’t hold back on the laugh this time. “I’m sorry.  You sound so funny!” She stuck her tongue out at him, but it only made him laugh harder. “Ok,” His laughter finally died down. “Ok, we’ll go back to the hotel and hang out there for a while.  Figure out what we want to get for dinner.”

“Thoundth good.” He laughed again as he backed out of the parking space. “Can I play thome muthic?”

“Yeah.” He laughed and handed her his unlocked phone.

She scrolled through his music before selecting a track by Garbage.  He shot her an approving smile and she settled back into the seat and closed her eyes.  It wasn’t long before they were back at the hotel and headed back up to her room. Chris opened the door for her and she skipped the living room and went straight to the bedroom, plopping down on the king sized bed with her legs dangling from the side.  He laughed and took his jacket off, laying it across the chair in the corner before sitting down on the bed next to her.

“Did we win?” She asked.

“Yeah.  Scott texted me.  We won.” He laid back. “Good.” She opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him.  He was lying so close to her that their arms were touching and she could feel his breath tickling her nose. “Is this real?”

“What?”

“Are you really here?”

He smiled and linked some of his fingers with hers. “Yeah.  I’m here.”

“Chris….”

“Your talking is back to normal.  How are you feeling?”

“Light headed.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“Me too.  Let’s go for a walk and just pick a place we come across.” He stood up and held his hands out to help her up.

“Sounds good to me.” She took his hands and he pulled her up.  For a moment they were almost pressing against each other, but she stepped sideways and went into the bathroom. “I’ll be out in just a minute.”

“Ok.”

She shut the door and sat down on the edge of the bathtub.  What was happening?  Chris Evans was flirting with her.  Her of all people.  She wasn’t a movie star.  She wasn’t a model.  She wasn’t even close to his league.  Why was he flirting with her?  Fairytales weren’t real and they definitely didn’t come true for people like her.  She looked in the mirror and stared at herself.  There was nothing remotely special about her.

There was a knock at the door and Chris called, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah.” She stood up and brushed her hair. “Sorry,” She opened the door. “I was inspecting my tooth.”

“It looks good. You ready?”

“Yeah.”

They didn’t talk much as they walked down the streets.  It was full dark out, but the street lights and the lights from businesses lit up the sidewalk.  They found a Tapas restaurant on Newbury Street a couple of miles away from the hotel and decided to eat there.  After they were seated, Chris watched her for a long moment.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing.” He took a sip of water and looked down at his menu. “So, you haven’t mentioned a boyfriend back home yet.  Nobody special?”

She didn’t look up from her menu. “Nope.  You?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t had a lot of time recently.  You?”

“I haven’t found what I’m looking for.”

“What are you looking for?”

“I have no idea.  I guess I’ll know when I find it.”

“That’s a very romantic way of thinking.”

“Yeah?  I’ve never really considered myself very romantic, honestly.  I’m not a flowers and chocolates kind of girl.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “I prefer things that don’t die in a week and my taste buds get more excited over fruity candy than chocolate.” He nodded like he was taking mental notes. “I like stargazer lilies, though.  I would accept those flowers happily.” The waiter came and took their order and they no longer had menus to hide behind. “I also have a hard time trusting people.”

“Because of your father. I remember.”

“That’s not the only reason.” She took a deep breath. “I was engaged to this guy.  I met him at work.  He was younger than me by five years, but he seemed so much older.  When I met his family, it made sense.  They’re mostly barely functioning alcoholics and he kind of had to raise himself.  We got pretty serious pretty quick.  We moved in together barely three months after we started dating.  We were living in a house with an acquaintance of mine. Things were good for a while, but my best friend came over one night to take me out for a girls’ night out and he didn’t want to let me leave.  He whined and moaned and said he wanted to come with me, but I laughed and said no and didn’t think much of it.  But the next few months, he got really…. Possessive I guess is the word.  I was kind of kept at a distance, but he didn’t like me going out with any of my friends.  I look back now and realize he was using mental abuse to keep me at home. About a year into the relationship, he gave me a ring and we were suddenly engaged, but it wasn’t what I’d expected it to be.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know.  A nice gesture?  Him to at least get down on one knee, you know?  But we were sitting at dinner and he slid it across the table and said ‘we should get married’.  I was so excited, I didn’t even really think about it then.  My friends that I was still in contact with weren’t happy.  They all said that I looked different and sounded different…. Like they were talking to a stranger with my face.  A few months later it was Christmastime and we were busy at work.  He left his phone in my desk while he was out in the warehouse and it kept going off, so I pulled it out to turn it off.  The first thing I see when I unlock it is this message from a girl talking about how wet she was and how badly she needed him to come take care of her again.  I opened the text up and there were more.  There were pictures passed between them that should’ve only been reserved for us, you know?”

“They were sexting.”

“Not just.  He was meeting her behind my back.  And when I dug a little deeper, it wasn’t just her. It was two other girls as well. And I mean girls.  They were all about eighteen years old, if that.  I kind of lost my shit and my boss had to restrain me from killing my fiancé when he walked in my office.  I screamed at him and my boss told me it might be best if I went home.  When I got there, I just couldn’t stay there so I went to my parents’ house.  The next day was a weekend for us, so I went home and confronted him about everything.  He blamed it all on me.  Said I wasn’t what he wanted and the only reason he kept me around was because my paycheck helped him pay the bills.  I really felt less than human at that point.  I told him to get out, but he said that he was just going to move into the upstairs bedroom.  That he was going to bring his girls home and fuck them so loud every night I would never get any sleep.  So my roommate, who heard all of this, told me he would let me out of the lease if I wanted to leave.  I’ve never packed up a house so fast.  My friends Ryan and Mike, they had heard through my parents what had happened and they came and helped me move.  We were out of there in 4 hours.”

“Damn.  I’m so sorry.” He reached over and took her hand.

“It doesn’t stop there. After about a month of seeing him at work and still having these annoying feelings for him, I let him come back. We started seeing each other again. I found out that I had a strain of HPV that could be treated and gone in two years, but it was still an STD.  It’s a dangerous one, too, that can lead to cancer later on in life.  Anyway, he accused me of cheating on him because there was no way he had given it to me. You’d think I would’ve wizened up at this point, but I let him stick around.  I was living at my parents and they went out of town, so he came to stay with me for a weekend.  That Monday he left work before me and kept asking me for the key to my parents’ house. I told him no, I didn’t feel comfortable giving him the key and he said that someone had to feed the dogs because I didn’t know when I’d be home.  He promised he would be waiting for me.  I was busy with work and he just kept pestering me, so I gave in against my better judgment.  When I got home a couple hours later, he was just shutting his car door and getting ready to leave.  I got out to ask him what was going on and I spotted the Wii that he’d bought me sitting in his car.  He’d gone into my parents’ house and stolen it.  I tried to get past him, but he was bigger than me and he shoved me backwards. I ended up landing on the gravel and scraping up my hands and that snapped me back to myself.  I got up and decked him so hard when he fell, he cracked his window on the driver’s side of his car.  I grabbed my phone to call the cops and he hightailed it out of there.”

“Fuck!” He shook his head. “No wonder you have trust issues.”

“I’m working on the trust thing, but it takes time.”

Their food came finally and they ate in silence for a little while.  Chris kept stealing glances at her which she pretended not to notice.  The only conversation they made was on how good or bad the food was.  They had ordered about six different types of tapas and were making their way through each one.  

A little over half way through, Chris said, “Did he even feed the dogs?”

She looked up at him incredulously, but began to laugh. “You know what?  I don’t think he did.”

“Fucking asshole.” They laughed until their sides hurt and the waiter had to come over and make sure they were ok.  They finished their dinner and Chris paid for the meal before they started walking again. They made their way towards Boston Common and were standing on the bridge looking out over the lake with the swan boats.  

They leaned their arms against the railing and listened to the sounds of the evening around them. Chris moved closer to her and purposely rubbed his knuckles against the back of her hand.  She looked over at him like he’d lost his mind and he gave her an embarrassed look.

“Was that too forward?” He asked.

“Uh….”  She stood up straight.

“You seem a little freaked out whenever I touch you.  I don’t want that.  I just…. I like you.”

She gave him another ‘are you crazy’ look and shook her head. “It’s barely been two days.  You don’t even know me.” She started to walk away and he moved to catch up.

“But I want to get to know you.  I feel a connection to you, Kat.  You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

“How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know.  But it’s true.  I feel completely at ease with you.  I don’t feel that with anyone else outside of my family.  Especially not this quickly.” Chris boldly took her hand and pulled her to the stairs on the side of the bridge.  There was no one there, so he sat her down at the bottom of the steps and stepped back a couple of paces. “Look, I’m not saying let’s run off to Vegas and get married.  I’m just saying…. Let’s seize the moment.  Live in the now.  See where this goes.”

“I’m leaving in a week.”

“I’ve got two weeks before I need to be anywhere and I’ve never been to Richmond.  I want to get to know you and see what happens.  If you don’t feel like there’s anything here, I won’t push it.  But will you at least give it the two weeks?  Please?”

“What happens after two weeks?”

“I don’t know.  But if there’s something real here between us, I don’t want to regret not trying.”

“How could there be anything between us?  You’re completely out of my league.”

“What do you mean?”

She surged up and walked past him towards the water, stopping just before the edge. “Have you looked in a mirror?  Have you seen your ex-girlfriends?” She turned back to him. “I’m a fan of yours, Chris, remember?  I’ve looked up your name on Tumblr and seen you in magazines while I buy groceries. I know that I don’t even come close to stacking up with your life.  I’m ordinary. You’re extraordinary.”

He laughed. “I’m not extraordinary.  I’m nothing close to it.  I’m a dude from Boston who listens to 90s music and drinks beer and laughs at fart jokes. I’m the most ordinary guy out there. You’re the extraordinary one.” She huffed. “Really?” She huffed again. “Ok, from the little that I know about you so far, you’re remarkable.  You’ve survived an abusive parent, you were at the brink of suicide and fought back, you went through a terrible relationship that nearly killed your spirit, and you’ve survived a family full of boys.  As far as I’m concerned, you’re a fucking superhero.  I’m in awe of you.”

She shook her head. “The internet never said you were crazy.”

“Well, the internet doesn’t know everything about me.” He grinned. “Look, it’s two weeks and if at the end of it, you don’t want anything to do with me, then I’ll go back to work and we’ll both just have great stories about the times we went to new places together.”

“Fine.  Ok.  I will spend the next two weeks with you.  But if you’re going to get to know me, then I want get to know Chris Evans, the beer drinking fart guy from Boston.”

He laughed. “Ok. Fair enough.”

“I still feel like I’m Jim Carrey in the Truman Show, though.”

“There are no cameras. I promise.” He held his hand out to her and after a moment’s hesitation, she took it.

Tag List:

@joannaliceevans-fanficblog @jamielea81 @southerngracela @kelbabyblue @introvertedmouse

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 33

Last time: Some other stuff happened but who cares because WE’VE GOT ANOTHER ARMSTRONG WOOT WOOT. Onwards!

No, wait. I need to calm down, this is a character I haven’t met yet, I can’t just assume that they’ll be good. Even though they’re related to The Mighty Armstrong. Even though they feature prominently in the intro. Even though Uncle apparently spent the outro last episode fanboying over her. Even though Tephi has been subtly eager for me to get to this point, and my coworker Michael has not so subtly demanded that I talk with him about this episode once I’ve finished it. I must not hype. Hype is the mind-killer. Hype is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my hype. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the hype has gone there will be nothing. Only canon will remain. Ok. I’m good now. Onwards. Huh, we’ve got Narrator!Uncle at the start of this episode, talking about how the Elrics are searching for May, while the “Crimson Alchemist” Kimblee is tracking Scar west, until his trail vanishes. Was there a gap between these two episodes? Kimblee’s checking out the twisting railroad in the mountains, trying to figure out if his quarry went north or south. Mooks keep running up with possible Scar sightings to the south and west, but Kimblee notes an “old abandoned logging path” to the north, when he goes to investigate the MPs just chalk up the rubble blocking the road to the rockslides that shut it down in the first place. But Kimblee’s got a hunch, and finds a stone with some clear Transmutation marks on it. Whoops. Looks like Scar didn’t cover his tracks well enough. The chase is back on! Episode 33 - “The Northern Wall of Briggs” Ed’s running through a station in his new cold-weather coat, Al following as the locals clearly wonder what kind of maniac wears full plate armor in this climate. There’s a cute moment when the brothers admire the snow- that quickly sours when Ed slips on the train station’s stairs. See, this is why I want to live as close to the equator as possible - snow and ice may look nice, but in practice they suck.

A bit of younger brother teasing about taking a tumble, some reminiscing about “that one good snow when we were kids” that everyone seems to have, and looking around town for a bite to eat before their Fort Briggs train transitions to Kimblee’s command post where mooks are running about, answering phones and yelling at each other. The hunter’s sulking in a chair until a report comes in of Scar boarding a train towards Fort Briggs (I wonder who’ll get there first, the Elrics, May, or Scar?). Kimblee immediately brushes off the rest of the task force, he’s out to take down Scar and Marcoh personally. Scar and probably!Yoki are hiding out in a train car, Scar tells his companion to try and get some sleep now as he won’t be able to when it gets really cold. Then he hears something? The Ishvalan goes to check outside the car, doesn’t see anything so closes the door and turns- wait no he heard something again and yup it’s a military train on the other track, Kimblee leaning out the side and preparing to jump over. Once there he waves his ride off and marches towards Scar’s car, opens the door… and it’s empty, with the side cargo door wide open. Did Scar jump out the train at full speed? I get he could use Alchemy to soften the landing, but still. Uh oh, if he did jump then he left his cloaked companion behind, Kimblee orders “Marcoh” to stand down. The hood comes off and yup, that’s Yoki. Who apparently was a distraction! Scar was hiding out on the roof of the train car, in the moment that Kimblee is wondering who this guy is and probably about to kill him, Scar swings back in and throws a few kicks while Yoki scrambles away. Scar and Kimblee are facing each other down now, Kimblee snarks about “the murderous Ishvalan he’s heard so much about” when the moon lights up the car and they both have a little “hold up I remember that face!” moment. Well, not so little actually. Scar is furious to see the man who murdered his family, and Kimblee’s got a really happy grin at seeing the one who got away. Glowy eyes of anger! Hand of Doom! Yoki whining about getting away from the monsters fighting and then realising that he can’t get off the train! The smoke clears to show Kimblee just smirking at Scar even after the HoD, the ass talking about seeing another person looking like Scar, only with glasses and a distinct lack of blood. Yikes, come on Scar, keep it together. You’ve got to know that Kimblee’s riling you up, controlling the fight. Oh! But for all Kimblee’s insults, internally he’s worried. He’s only just got out of prison while Scar’s been fighting for years against State Alchemists. He’s physically weaker than- oh. Oh my, that was quick. See, this is why you don’t just stand around and internally monologue during a fight, you leave yourself wide open to a pipe through the gut. Wow. Gotta admit, Kimblee. I expected better from you. Here you were being talked up as the Butcher of Ishval, wielder of a Philosopher’s Stone and the newest weapon of the Goths. And what do you do? You get completely shut down minutes into your first fight with Scar, bleeding from the gut while he just looks down on you. If it wasn’t for Scar wanting to deal his brother’s injuries to Kimblee instead of going straight for the kill, you’d be gone. As it was, Scar has a lapse of judgement, and Kimblee takes the moment to decouple the train car, swearing that they’ll settle things next time they meet.

Yeah, no. I thought Kimblee was a good threat when he first showed up and was looking forwards to his fight with Scar, but this? This was just sad. Dude had better shape up before the next fight, especially if everyone’s going to Briggs and he’ll be facing the Protagonist and the Princess as well. The train driver finally realizes that they dropped a few train cars and stops to see what the heck is going on, and is understandably shocked to see Kimblee bleeding out on the new caboose. Kimblee just snaps at him for stopping the train, ranting about death and destruction. Dude is positively gleeful at the idea of Scar the Worthy Opponent, how being at risk means that he’s alive. Whatever buddy, the sooner you go after the guy who just did this to you the sooner I can stop listening to you. Next day, we’ve got May and Marcoh walking through the snow, talking about how Scar and “Marcoh” were drawing off the military so they could head north. Ouch! I was worried that Marcoh’s face would just be a mess of scars, but it’s still sad to see him look so much older with an apparent blinded eye. Maybe when this is over May can finish patching him up, even if he thinks he deserves this new face. The two stop to look over the Briggs mountain range, Amestris’ border with Drachma. Almost to the place Scar stashed his brother’s research notes? What possessed him to hide them here of all places? Mid-ep pictures of Solf J. Kimblee (get it together, dude) and Olivier Mira Armstrong aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh No! Keep it together!

Damnit stop dropping all the way down south to Rush Valley again we are so close to the new character argh Winry’s calling after the Elric Brothers only to learn they’ve checked out of the hotel and headed north. Ed, you’d better give her a call when you get to the fort, don’t just let her stay worried. Especially when Winry’s boss doesn’t think they’ll be safe. Damnit Ed! Wear a hat for petes sake, I don’t care how thick a coat you have if you don’t keep your head covered of course you’ll catch a cold! The Elrics are dropped off at a road to Fort Briggs, the driver heads off… after asking if Al’s wearing automail, saying he should be ok since it isn’t, and they should stay on the road if they want to live. Um. Yeah, Ed’s appreciation for show is officially gone. The boys are stumbling through a blizzard now, Ed tries to psych them up by talking about Teacher surviving out here for a month, fighting bears (hee, now I’m remembering that video about her meeting Sig)- Gah! Big Man! Big Man from the intro, with the chainsaw/scissor arm! Ed freaks out at seeing him and goes into blade mode. Then the guy nets Al?! Dude what the heck, do you just wander around attacking anyone not clearly military in the area? He insults Ed’s automail arm (somewhere Winry gets the urge to swing a wrench), says he has Combat Automail Model 1913A, “The Crocodile”. [Chainsaw-Man]: “Now surrender peacefully, you miserable Drachman spy, or I’ll show you exactly what this baby can do.” Ah ok that makes more sense. This is military land so seeing someone wandering around not in your own uniform would be suspicious. But how do you get non-military personnel or new people to the fort then? Did the brothers miss a phone in North City they were supposed to call ahead with? Yikes ok Chainsaw-Man is not listening, Ed has to keep dodging until he grasps his shoulder. It hurts? Aw crap, he does have a metal arm attached to his body in the middle of a blizzard. It’s painful enough to grab doorknobs when it’s freezing outside, to have metal constantly touching your bare skin? Ouch.

Uh. Actually, that whole “attached to his body” thing might not be relevant much longer; Chainsaw-Man’s revved up his arm and is trying to cut off Ed’s hand. Quick Ed, return the favor!... I said, return the favor! … Why isn’t his Alchemy working? Did Uncle do another anti-Alchemy pulse? Alright, Al’s untangled himself! A quick helmet toss tangles up the chainsaw, and both brothers are ready to fight again. Hopefully with fewer scratches on the automail this time, it’ll be bad enough explaining the current damage to Winry. Come on dude, stop dissing Ed’s arm. It’s got more uses than yours, at least. I’d like to see you tie your shoelaces! Actually, as a unique character I’m assuming he’s an officer at the fort, he might just order one of the Snowtroopers who are surrounding the Elrics to tie them for him. Oh hey, the snow’s died down and there’s a big wall close to them. They made it to the fort! Alright, fight’s over now, let’s just calm down and explain why you’re here. Hand over the letter and- [HER]: “Buccaneer! Who are they?” she’s here Buccaneer spins around to apologize for the noise, the Elrics look up to see Major-General Olivier Mira Armstrong glaring down at them. Major Armstrong’s older sister. Yesssss What, you don’t see the familial resemblance? I mean, I didn’t at first, either (in retrospect her wearing the blue uniform in the intro should have been a dead giveaway) but just because she isn’t as tall as her little (snrk) brother shouldn’t make you so doubtful. Ed introduces himself as the Fullmetal Alchemist, the General simply orders them to be searched. What, do you have a lot of pipsqueak spies and hollow suits of armor showing up to spy for Drachma? Aha, the letter of introduction! There, read The Mighty Armstrong’s letter, I’m sure that- or you just tear it up unread. I can get making your own opinions of people, but you’re just throwing away a source of information? Oh. Oh wow. The tossed aside letter fragments are being blown up the wall. And up. And up. And up… That’s a big wall. Like, wow. Ok, you’ve gotten permission to enter, head on inside and uh oh. Something to note about General Armstrong - she does not care for fools who A) don’t immediately follow her orders, and B) are so easily impressed by their surroundings. Bunny!Ed cowers from the glare of Bear!Armstrong. [General Armstrong]: “Be warned, I won’t coddle you just because you’re children. This is the Mountain Fortress, Briggs! Here only the strong survive!”

Alright, so it seems that our Protagonist didn’t make the best first impression, and Armstrong the Great has been established as a hardline commander. I am really looking forward to seeing more of this fort, and the person who leads it. Post-credits scene! May and Marcoh have reached a small cabin and dug up a box, holding Scar’s brother’s (does the guy actually have a name?) research notes. Could the combination of Xing Alkahestry and Amestris Alchemy be an alternative to the Philosopher’s Stone? [Marcoh]: “Well… there’s only one way to find out.”

[wafflewarriors]

The Not-So-French Mistake

Chapter 5: Ain't In Their Blood

Dean had finally arrived at the heat-stricken town. He appreciated the short drive; the knowledge of how cramping, long car rides wore a person down was now ingrained after years of life on the road.

The town was eerily quiet. An unnatural fog was settling at the peak of the brick architecture that set off alarms within Dean’s gut. He shivered as the hairs along the back of his neck stood on end; goosebumps developed along his shoulders, spiraling down the ridges of his spine.

It was then Dean realized it wasn’t fog: it was ash. Descending scorching embers and ash-surfaced buildings sent Dean into a silent, frozen frenzy. He didn’t dare breathe. Upon not finding Sydney immediately, his mind worked up worrying scenarios. Had they already lost her? What if she had suffered for hours, hoping someone would save her before her last minutes ticked past? Would he find her charred body? He slammed the breaks, launching himself out and slamming the door behind him in utter denial. She was not dead. He wouldn’t allow it.

He marched toward the center of the town, prying his eyes for an indication of life or Sydney. The street and sidewalk were coated in a crispy layer of soot, sticking to the heels of his boots unpleasantly. Dean startled when an unsupported plank of thick wood collapsed with a resounding snap and clattered, whacking several iron beams on its way down. It struck the floor with a deafening clap.

“Woah,” Dean breathed, “this place looks like it’s been struck by a bomb.”

The main road was singed and still burning with life. As he walked, the smoky cloud revealed a relievingly large mass of people, fortunately having survived the recent inferno.

By the looks of it, they had voted somebody as captain among their bunch, commanding the crowd with results and success. A random, attentive individual amongst the crowd caught the apparent leader’s attention and pointed subtly toward Dean until they swiveled around.

Dean suddenly felt stupid.

The dusty auburn hair and gritty jean jacket should have been the dead giveaway. Her leggings had been discolored and torn at the knees, and filth stained her cheeks. A pair of men’s shoes adorned her sockless feet, too wide for her to walk without the heels slipping off; were those his?

“Yo, cheeseball,” he called flatly,  “are you wearing my shoes?”

“Dean?” She straightened herself, slightly self-conscious with a crowd eavesdropping in on the conversation.

“Yep. You ready to go, or do I need to transport more strays? I've got room in the back seat.”

Sydney shook her head. “No, they'll be fine. I taught them how to hijack a car, pick a lock, and an idea of how to fend for themselves.” Her chest puffed with pride.

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“What?” She shrugged, “You guys were gone for a while, and I know a few things; I'm not totally useless.”

Dean snorted. Who was she reminding him of? He puzzled on it until he poked the memory of red-toned hair and geeky skills. A name sprung to mind, and he grasped onto it: the nerdy hacker, Charlie Bradbury. That was it. The girl who had assisted in the exterminate Dick Roman, the egotistic Leviathan whose death slung him and Castiel into Purgatory. Good times.

“What happened here?” he asked once he’d realized his delayed reaction.

“We really don't know. We figured out the pattern out too late; if we let one person out of our sight, they disappeared and left a giant bloodstain where they'd been standing. No signs of struggle―like they had been dead before they comprehended it.” She lowered her eyes bitterly. “It only took looking away for a second, and then you'd turn around to find their blood staining the grass.” 

She sighed, “Caleb's missing, too; he was a real help.”

“Caleb?”

“Yeah, good kid. Helped be distribute water to everybody. Your brother, Sam, had encouraged him.” Sydney shared a frustrated frown. “Not that it did much good. This is all that's left.” She gestured to the group, which contained several hundred people. Out of an entire town, that was a terrifyingly small number.

“All right. We'll find them.” The thought of leaving children to whatever evil was terrorizing this town was despicable, and Dean wasn't having any of it.

“And what if they're dead?” There had been a lot of blood.

Dean was steadfast with his decision. He growled, “Then you'll have a body to bury.”  He remembered all the unfortunate times when the burial had been an empty casket on a case, and it only became heavier. “Trust me, that's better than never knowing what happened. Otherwise, you'll always blame yourself for not trying. Trust me. I know from experience.”

Sydney signaled for the group to stand. Her shoulders squared and her vulnerable expression vanished as she faced the town. “What I taught you today will not be enough. Dean knows a lot more than I do. Trust him; he knows what he’s doing.”

The survivors mirrored Sydney's military expression when regarding Dean.

He could make do with this; it was a dedicated, able-bodied group ready to throw themselves into combat for the greater good, and while they seemed stable, he would need to see what they were capable of. “Awesome. Let's get to work.”

After the assembly of people had adjusted to the new leader amongst them, they congregated into groups. Dean and Sydney swapped to help in different locations, looking to teach efficiently. Those who were not yet instructed reviewed their previous learning and class with Sydney. Thankfully, everyone remained compliant and willing to listen to diverse ideas.

He found quickly that Sam was a treasure of a partner compared to these peevishly ordinary civilians. They just weren't hunters! Dean remained collected though; there was no reason to snap at anyone. They were only looking to help.

He held the gun comfortably, easing his form and supporting the weight of his right hand with his left. He displayed it openly, modeling his posture and stance. “You see? Fully extend your arms, but don't lock them; you'll hurt something. Remember it will recoil.” 

The instruction continued to frustrate.

“No, don't lean away from it.”

“You can't flinch. It will totally ruin your aim.”

“Yeesh! Don't point it at me! At the target! At the target!”

“Dude, you're holding upside down. How did you even manage that?”

“How on earth did you shoot backward?! The target is right in front of you!”

Dean wiped at the sweat that had accumulated along his brow. He hadn't even worked out; he was just exhausted from the few hours of worrying for the people's safety, along with his own. He might combust if he had to show one more person how to load a gun; his fingers ached and cramped at the thought. The fact that he was hungry only made him more irritable. He barely reacted when he noticed the figure of Sydney making her way over.

“At least they're trying.” She offered.

Her optimism was uninvited. “They are?” he snapped incredulously, “This is worse than Sammy's first shooting lesson.”

She sat down, considering it. “That bad?”

“That boy was reluctant to shoot the target. ‘Fraid he'd hurt it or something.” He was too cranky to soften his criticism. This all just sucked. “Your army will need more work before they are ready for war, Sugar. There are some dumb bricks out there; I caught one loading the bullets backward. Who does that?”

“Do you... do you need any help?”

“I need a burger,” he said.

She sighed, knowing this was the expert, and if the expert was tired, she knew everyone was. It took an effort to crack Dean. She clapped for everyone's attention, shouting, “Okay, everybody! Let's set up camp. We'll resume tomorrow. By then, we'll hopefully have a lead.”

They left their training posts as the word spread their cessation. Soon, they had dispersed, tents illuminating across the broken town like waking fireflies. The hot gaze above them finally died, cooling as the sun shrank on the horizon.

And night began to cool the world again.

Tags: @queen-bubble

[honestsycrets]

Not My Scene || 5CW: Hvitserk

❛ Author’s Notes | fulfillment: party with hvitserk, masturbation with panties, right one too late.

❛ pairing | hvitserk/reader

❛ word count | 4661

❛ genre | angst

❛ summary | once upon a time, hvitserk cheated on his girlfriend. what a mistake that was.

❛ warnings | mention of drugging, mention of cheating, crazy margrethe, crazy freydis, reader is biiiiitch, but a lovable bitch

He could have stayed home. After all, house warming parties weren’t really his style. They were just excuses to booze up. Which, shit, he had. His brothers were busy arguing over wine coolers. Ivar insisted that they were a pussy man’s drink with malt liquor while Sigurd insisted that they could have heavier alcohol if they wanted to! Then were wine coolers really wine coolers or malt coolers?

Ugh. This whole thing was giving him one huge headache and he wasn’t sure it was the frozen tequila lemonade swirled with raspberries that he had downed. It was… well, it was you. You were slinking around wearing a cute tule minidress complete with a black matching cincher. A silky bow around your waist and--

Wait, he recognized that leather jacket.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been the one wearing it that first day he met you, swirling around in chunky black ankle boots that you were also wearing just by chance.

“Hvitserk!” He hears a group of your friends call out to him. His big brother Bjorn and Ubbe were in the fray. “Come take a picture with us!”

When Ubbe was there, he made it really hard to say no. So biting the bullet and carrying on, he made his way over to the group with his hands shoved in a freshly new hoodie.

“Stand by (Y/N)! For old times sake!” Your bubbly asian friend calls out and before he can really deny her, her adorably pudgy frame pushes him in beside you.

“Come here, bun-bun.” You pose cutely beside him, the side of your breast against his flat chest. “You’re not wearing a white shirt, today, white shirt?” You tease like old times, letting the ache of his heart beat for the times which… things were easier. When you loved him. He looks down to his black v-neck, laughing softly.

“No, guess I’m not.” He notes.

One! Two! Three! The blinding light of a flash marks the end of a photo. You reach onto the top of your head, flicking down holographic bug eyed glasses.

“Nice to see you again!” You wink at him then bubble on past the thin, stringy purple curtains back to the kitchen of your home. He wonders, and yet he knows, you feel nothing for him after falling apart in college.

You had your scene.

He had his.

With an aching sigh in his chest, Hvitserk turns the corners up the stairs to your bathroom. He could do with a cold splash of water to drag him out of this funk. It wasn’t as if Ubbe hadn’t taken to Bjorn. Sigurd and Ivar were begrudging company in their drinking contests-- spiting each other and loving each other all in one.

Climbing up the hardwood stairs, he comes to the bathroom. Locked with the flicker of a bright yellow light and obscene-- faster, faster off the lips of a couple. He almost thinks its some dude getting his rocks off but then, you like that? The other voice has an equally feminine quality.

Shit, he feels himself grow beneath his pants. He knows its wrong to harass a couple that may or may not be lesbians. So instead of beating down the door, he spots another room. The second he walks into it he knows its a mistake.

You always loved fairy lights. White ones to contrast against your favourite lavender, royal purple and cerulean blue. Deep and vivid while still being light and dainty. Quirky-- like you. He travels his fingers along the airy white of your furniture.

That one he pounded you into while your father was downstairs, claiming that the door better stay open. Then the armoire where… and mistakenly he ambles that way, sliding the metal dangling moon on top of your long cabinet that sits on top of the wooden piece to pull out the one place where you always kept them.

His fingers run across pretty, stringy panties. The other will be the same, he assumes. You always kept bras in one place and panties with another. Your sex toys would be in a sneaky-not so sneaky pouch and god, you would sneak into your bed at night and ride a fat dildo just for him on really good nights. Send him the video while you thought he wasn’t looking.

God damn.

His favourite panties always were those stringy, aqua cheekies with the cut outs. They weren’t there. He closes back up despite catching sight of all of the pretty white, powder pink and dark blue and purple panties that he bought you once upon a time. There’s some other obscure colours even. But his curiosity brings him to your galaxy clothes bin, searching between mini skirts and leggings until he finds what he’s after… his favourites.

Used and soiled by your sweet cunt, he shudders to think of where these might have been. Hvitserk hopes that they weren’t where he thought they were.

Bun-bun. Bunny.

He can hear that stupid nickname. What was it? For your love of bunnies or his man bun that had been chopped off the moment you messaged him, we’re over. God, it burns, it burns. He comes to your bed, squeaking as he lays upon it.

But it wasn’t all bad. There were good times! How cute you dressed up as his very own playboy bunny once. He sucks in air at that very memory on this very bed, shaking your puffy faux fur tail at him. Which really wasn’t a tail but a cheap marketing ploy for a beautiful fucking anal plug.

He should really not be here but thank god he locked that door because the heavy steps outside your door as he loosens his pants would have been killer. Beside your bed is a desk, bearing stupid little k-beauty masks and sweet vanilla lotion. He pumps a bit into his hand, drawing the panties around his cock. To his shock-- there’s still a moist spot.

Did you wear them to bed?

With another man?

A woman?

Or were you being the woman he remembered, watching your favourite porn on x-videos or hentai haven or whatever it was. Your body would grind down upon the chair, a bullet grazing your lips up to your slutty clit for love and shit, he knows how much you used to love gangbang porn.

Shiiiit. He tugs his cock, turning in the bed to turn his nose into your lavish silk pillows. Good for the hair, or some shit. He inhales sharply, working his fist harder and reliving the moments he was so able to lay in bed  with you… once upon a time ago. His strokes lose focus, falling apart in the richest of his memories.

“Bunny?”

Oh no. His nose is still deep in your pillows when he dares turn his face to you. Shock wears your beautifully done up face-- that purple highlighter accentuating your cheek bones and adorably innocent white glitter of your eyes. Shit, he squeezes his dick in his hand.

“You’re not…. You are!” You flick off those bug eyed glasses, tossing them aside as you take a few steps closer. He cringes, turning onto his forearms and backs up as if that can help him find the right words.

To be in your bed-- jerking his cock off.

With your panties.

“I… was… uh.” Hvitserk runs his hand through his slicked back hair, trying to find the right words. You pluck your panties off of his dick, flicking them in another direction. He nearly leaps out of his skin when you fist the root of his cock, sinking onto the bed.

“No need to say anything.” You hum, slapping the head of his dick against your glossed lips. “You missed me, BunBun.”

He wishes he could come up with something, but the only words are a shocked moan when you shove his dick into your wet, hot mouth. Hvitserk cringes, trying his best to still upon the bed. He can’t help himself, kicking out his legs as you suckle him down. It’s a show, taking him as far as you can take and then lifting up off of him like he was nothing.

“Please… no.” He whines at the absence of your lips upon him. But then, your lips sloppily kiss down his shaft in the same way he used to make whilst eating you out. Your mouth makes its way down to his balls, suckling one. Instant pleasure hits him like a train, causing him to uncomfortably shift. His hands search out for the top of your head but then-- you take ahold of his shaft. It’s too much-- it’s too much to have your lips upon him, migrating from one side to another, then on top of his his tip to devour him whole.

“Stop, stop stop!” He shouts for you to stop. Instead of helping though, you ignore him. He spills into your mouth with a great shout, painting the cavern of your mouth with his seed. Your lips seal around his cock, suckling the remains of his excitement down.

Damn.

“Shit.” He curses as you sit up. You push the remnants of his excitement into your lips and despite having gone soft-- its almost as if he wants to go hard allll over again. Your lips quirk into a wicked smile.

“You’re as easy as I remember.” You say, bouncing off of your bed and going into the connected bathroom. He hears you in the bathroom messing with your brush and toothpaste.

“What are you doing?” He asks from your bed— as meek as the bunny he was named after.

“Cleaning your spunk out my mouth, what do you think?” You say. A few minutes later, you resurface from the bathroom fluffing your hair a bit.

“Well? Get out, Bun Bun.” You busy yourself with applying a bright, popping lipstick. “If we get caught, it’ll be all your fault.”

You were kicking him out without talking of that? Whatever that was… it was random. He tucks himself away into his pants and you toss him your panties to confuse him further. You pop the door of your room open, flicking your glasses back on.

“Keep them as a momento. Since you’ll never get my pussy again, slutty bun. Maybe Margrethe is out there somewhere.”

I was drunk!

It was his fault.

All of this-- losing you, sleeping with Margrethe. Yeah, he knew that you were in your right to break up with him. But as he composed yourself in your bathroom, he kept convincing himself that there was something there.Most women would have tossed him out on his ass if there hadn’t been! Not sucked him off.

Even with all that in mind, he wished he could remember actually sleeping with Margrethe. This was the exact reason you kicked him out of your shared apartment at the time-- throwing trash bags of his shit out the door with. Every time that he tried to recall it, it was like descending into a deep black abyss. Perhaps guilt had done him in. Water is cold on his skin, sweat on his body mattifying. He digs into his jacket pocket, covering himself in what you always called a whore’s bath of cologne.

Fuck this… fuck this. Why couldn’t he… remember? Why!?

“Hvitserk.”

Behind him, Ubbe stood with his latest fling. A curvy, dark skinned girl with beautiful waved curls that wave in front of her face. Her slanted eyes dark and obscure… but she was warm. Different from what he was used to seeing on Ubbe’s arm.

“Yeah.” He smoothes out his hair, a few stray honey locks in his eyes.

“Laarni and I are going home.” Ubbe slides his arm behind the small of her back, leaning in to plant a small kiss on her head. Her plump lips spread into a sickly bright smile-- and of course it did. They were happy. “Margrethe and Freydis are here. Are you coming home?”

“I’ll be fine.” He says, staggering from behind the couple. “I just need a drink.”

Against his better judgement, Hvitserk stays.

Freydis and Margrethe were an unlikely sort of friends. He can’t say how they really got to know each other, only that as he sways down the steps, they cluster about drinking. Freydis chitchats beside her boyfriend Eric.

“--a little cherry makes it all better.” He catches the tail end of Margrethe’s words. “Hvitserk!”

Shit, fuck. She’s here. Hvitserk gives a light smile as he turns into the cluster of friends. Beside them is a cooler of drinks. He slips down to pick up a beer, popping it open and standing beside them. Margrethe sticks to him like a magnet, one that he quickly shaves off of his arm.

“Uh, I think I gotta go…” He murmurs an excuse for himself. Past Freydis’s sassing bob and Eric’s smooth hair, he finds you standing in the way you always used to when you watched him. A pop of your hips out, weight on one hip and your nail to your lip. The other held some kind of hard liquor. You shift the glass around between your manicured fingertips, tilting your head like the time you overheard he ate a pound of sourbelts at the mall.

“Why? Do you have someone new?” Freydis asks, bobbing her hair in a sassy little bob.

“No, I just…”

“Margrethe is here to take care of you.” She cuts him off, running the back of her hand over Margrethe’s soft cheek almost affectionately so. The touch could even be called tender. The thought whizzes by his head that the two must have been sleeping together because god, Margrethe leans into the touch.

“Uh, no I-- I think I’ll go home.” He slurs. “Lemme just go get a snack before I call a uber. I’m kinda wasted.”

Before he can move, Margrethe grasps his shoulder. She reaches out to take his drink, holding it with a sickingly bright smile that Hvitserk can’t see past.

“Get me some too! I’ll hold your drink.”  

Against his better judgement, he slips off to the kitchen. If it means getting away from Freydis, he would do anything. There was something… wrong about her. He couldn’t place it. It would just take a little bit, he reasons. Then he could get away from them. Besides he swore that there were wings when he came in earlier!

“Okay.”

Something didn’t sit well with you.

Yeah, Hvitserk wasn’t your responsibility any more. You should have just left things where they were in that room. He could have your panties and Margrethe’s pussy. Who cared! You certainly didn’t-- but in the same breath…Hell yeah you cared, that was the bitch that he cheated on you with.

You convince yourself to focus on what you were talking about. But of the corner of your eye, you catch something that doesn’t set well with you. Freydis digs into her glittering handbag, handing Margrethe something small. A vial that is smaller than her finger. Margrethe fiddles with the top, cracking the plastic top open… and then she spills it within what you were sure was Hvitserk’s drink. She swishes it around just enough that the liquid might mesh with whatever he has been drinking. There’s no guessing what that was.

“Sis, take a picture with us!” Your twin brothers call out to you. Ahh, shit. Being popular wasn’t all what it was cracked out to be.

Before you could get back to Freydis and Margrethe, Hvitserk came back with a plate for his once fling. Margrethe took it from his fingers, handing him his drink. Hvitserk sets his hand into his pocket.

“It’s kind of salty.” He motions, chugging down his drink. His face scrunches up tight. “So is this shit.”

“Must’ve gotten one of those skunk beers like me.” Eric nudges Hvitserk’s arm with a closed fist. Innocently Hvitserk thinks nothing of it. Shit, it happened. He moves to toss it into a recycling bin when you grab his wrist tight.

“Shit!” He jumps, heart pumping. “(Y/N), where did you come from?”

“Did you drink that?” You ask, light strobing off of your lovely cheeks. His face contorts as if he can’t understand why you were so protective over a drink. Maybe it was yours?

“Uh… was I not supposed to?” He asks.

“We were just leaving!”

From his side, Margrethe clings to his arm. You almost throw back something at Hvitserk, but he’s the first to insist that he wasn’t going with her. Desperately he looks toward you as if concerned that you would believe her-- her over him. Reasonable, you think. You recognize the glazing look over his eyes little by little. Just like last time.

“The fuck you are, you ratchet little bitch.” You sneer.

“Excuse me?” Margrethe rolls her neck around, a pink bob of hair bobbing on her head. Hvitserk looks between his ex and well, his other ex.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re playing with?” You snap her hand off of Hvitserk’s toned upper arms. A small, hope filled smile creeps onto his face-- but not at all for the reasons that he originally hoped.

“(Y/N), I’m uh, I’m fine.” He deflects the impending fight. Beside Hvitserk, Freydis and Erik creep closer. It should have been intimidating, but pushing Hvitserk behind your arm you ball up your fist. He staggers back from your arm shielding him.

“Get out of my damn house.”

It’s the first and last warning. Freydis looks toward Erik as if to threaten him-- but with two muscular twin brothers pushing past those clustered around the fight, Erik takes the high road. Sensing her boyfriend’s skepticism and perhaps having some of her own, Freydis reaches for Margrethe’s hand, pulling her in the way of the door.

“Come on Margrethe.” She says. “You can see Hvitserk later.”

The pathetic little whimper signals the fact that yeah, they’re leaving. As you turn back to Hvitserk, it’s with the realization that the glazing of his eyes has only thickened. If what you thought was true, was really true, time would be on your side.

“Are you okay, Bunny?” You ask.

It’s slow at first. The sluggish way he scratches the back of his head, arms like heavy weights. Everything in his body slowly begins to feel weaker, more prone to accidental brushes when his perception is throne off.

“I don’t feel so good. I’m sleepy.” Hvitserk’s speech shifts, almost pleasured. “But you look good. Real good.”

You shift around Hvitserk, bringing his arm over your shoulder. You grasp his waist to help him up the steps to your bedroom.

“Let’s go to my bedroom, okay?” You ask.

“For fuckin’?”

“Not quite, bunny boo. You’re drunk baby.” You respond in a smooth, quick response.

“I want it. I miss that tasty fucking pussy on my face.” Well, at least he wasn’t agitated.

Whatever it was that they had slipped into his beer, you couldn’t say. But knowing Hvitserk and his fear of doctors, you take him up to your room. Your brothers pull open the door and help you lower him onto the bed. Hvitserk’s drops his hands at his sides, laying limply upon your bed while you slip off his shoes.

“You okay, Hvitty? I’m going to change you, okay?” You slip off his socks, loosening the button to his belt. His eyelids are heavy with his need to sleep but he still manages to nod at you loosely.

“Okay… Does this mean I get a kiss? I got a headache…” He whispers while you strip him off his pants. His pasty legs are still beneath the fabric-- even more when you pull them away. You’re not entirely sure how the loss of motor function doesn’t bother him.

“Kiss?” He whines heavily while you walk over to your dresser. His old basketball shorts in your dresser being one of the main items. You lift up from his hips to place a gentle kiss on his lightly damp forehead.

“Kiss.” You affirm. At long last Hvitserk smiles loosely, but its not without its drawbacks. The heaviness of his eyes begins to overtake him. How did I get here? Before he can even get the answer to that question, he loses himself to the wave of exhaustion.

If this time was like last time, so you feared, Hvitserk wouldn’t remember anything from the next day. On the top of your bed was a thick, green blanket. Black shadowing makes the outline of a cutesy kitten with pearly white fangs mewing at the viewing party. You drape it over Hvitserk’s body, watching his respirations closely.

Through the night, it all becomes obvious.

Catching Hvitserk in bed with the claim that… he couldn’t remember anything. Back then it seemed like a handy excuse for a man that was caught in bed with his woman. Why not? You had caught him in his ball faced lie! What man woke up in bed with a woman and could not remember any details of the affair?

Apparently, Hvitserk.

The next morning comes as a shock to Hvitserk, puking his brains out into the trash receptacle on his edge of the bed the second he woke up. He felt his mind wandering… and again, that black hole of space owns his head.

Except this time, it’s not with Margrethe. Its your perfumed pillows under his head. Your quirky sheets and most importantly, your body by his. In his daze, he can hardly appreciate the fact that yeah, it wasn’t her this time.

“Shit… what happened?” He collapses upon the pillows at long last. You lay beside him, hands on your chest. A plain black slip covers your body-- evidence that he didn’t fuck you. If he had, shit, that thing would have been chucked onto the floor. His favourite was spooning naked with you, after all!

“What do you remember about the night I caught you cheating?”

That was a hell of a way to wake up the morning. Reflecting back upon it, the whole… weekend was a blur. He could hardly tell down from up or left from right. Not that he thought that you needed to know how he handled that night after catching him in another woman’s bed. No woman deserved that.

“I don’t remember. You… I guess you found me in bed with her when you came home from your overnight shift. So you broke up with me then and there.” Hvitserk states with stale emotion as if he’s reading lines handfed to him out of a book. Of course you knew that!

“Before that.” You roll onto your side with eyes following the fuzzy line of his sideburns down to his jaw.

“I don’t.” He states uncomfortably. What kind of man was he to… to… “Do we have to talk about this? You didn’t explain how I got here.”

As he points it out, you don’t have the heart to tell him why. Really why, not because of what happened that night. What could have happened before was what frightened you. What did Freydis, Eric and Margrethe want with your Bunbun? What had they planned to do to him?

“The girls drugged you.”

Hvitserk turns to face you in the bed and meets you with uncertainty. No, not uncertainty glinting in his innocent grassy eyes. That was… fear inking his irises. After all, it… if it was true… that could only mean one thing to him. Hvitserk wasn’t going crazy like Ivar and Ubbe told him he was while recounting the story.

It wasn’t because he was a whore who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. That wasn’t the reason that he lost time with the one woman that changed his traitorous body from succumbing to lust. No, he hadn’t just… laid on his back and slept with someone else because he wanted to. The whore, skank, slut, easy, she’s better off without you at school. It wasn’t him.

“What… what do you mean?” He dares to ask, knowing indeed the answer to his own irrelevant question.

“She was planning to rape you, Bunny. If I… hadn’t been watching, Erik and Freydis would be in bed with Margrethe and you.” Your words settle like a heavy stone in his gut. Of course, he always speculated there was more.

But… this? Margrethe would do this to him?

He never thought he broke up that cruelly with her for Margrethe to ruin his world. Not just his world, but to strip away something that belonged to him: his memory. For so long Hvitserk did not believe his own brain. He lays there, staring at the smooth lines of the top of your room.

“She… raped me.”

It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense. Your hands come over his waist, winding around him to hold him nice and tight. His hand falls down to the one around his waist.

“It’s okay Bunny.” You soothe. “It’ll all be okay.”

It certainly didn’t feel okay. Not when he considered all that he lost. Yet…

“Don’t tell Ubbe. You know my brothers.” He glances over his shoulder, tears pricking his eyes that he holds still. If Ubbe found out then the rest of his brothers would surely know. Sigurd could hold no secrets and he fears what Ivar would spill with that big mouth of his. Because, after all, what kind of man allowed himself to be drugged by a woman? He was meant to be a protector. To protect YOU. Not the other way around.

“You should tell him.” You whisper, setting your cheek upon his shoulder. “In your time.”

All this time he thought he drank too much.

“Maybe one day.” Hvitserk nudges his arm over his cheek, rolling into his shoulder to dry the wet lines of his shame. You know that he would not. Pressing him-- after all that he had gone through, that would have been a mistake. After a decisive moment, you reevaluate everything.

“Bunbun?”

Hm? Hvitserk grunts in his response.

“Was that the only time you… “cheated” on me?” You question with great skepticism. That wasn’t cheating. Of course you knew that was a woman that worked hard with at risk youth who had gone through the same experiences as your sweet, adorable bun. Who was now much less of a Bunbun than he used to be.

“Why would I do that?” Hvitserk turns back around. The tears he spilled earlier are dry and now, well, he only shows his outrage to the assumption that he had done it upon his own. Not exactly the most graceful of appeals but he knows the manner in which you speak. If there was any doubt of that-- he rather take care of this pesky issue now.

“I never gave you reason before then. (Y/N) if I ever did you should have asked me! I wouldn’t lie to you. You are the only reason I would cut my bun, (Y/N). The only one!”

Sure, he never did. But in your concern for going through that feeling again, kicking Hvitserk out with trash bags of his things, slouching against the cold walls of your constricting apartment… you had to ask. You hold his green eyes in an accusatory glare, searching out the sign of his fault. There’s none.

“Then… you can come back home.” Your hands travel behind his head, picking at the short little bits of hair that have been making a sad little ponytail.

“What?” He murmurs. A smile escapes his lips, growing until you give him a little tug. “You serious?”

“But first you have to grow out your hair, Bun!” You exclaim. What kind of bun didn’t have a proper bun!

“Done and done.”

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