#she'll be fine shes just not used to something rattling over her head

[fjordfolk]

Sparts thoughts on Car Crate: GOOD (contains treats)

Trojs thoughts on Car Crate: UNSURE (contains troj)

[hellishere7980]

Whatever It Takes (CH-5)

Three days after Ra’s Al-Ghul died

She was shaken out of her thoughts as the train rattled to a stop. Such broken down trains were very uncommon to see in the USA these days, but okay, illegal businesses aren't meant to be all hi-fi and attention catching. She got up to the train onto the station, ensuring that her bun and cap were securely in place. The reason she picked this place was? You ask? Well, the only way to defeat the bat-technology was to use technology they were not accustomed to. Sadly, there wasn't much technology, or frankly, no technology that the bats weren't used to, so she used the next best thing- outdated technology. Awfully hard to make the technology corporate and a perfect grainy cover to always keep people in doubt. A lady, maybe in her 30s, looked over curiously at her.

“Are you fine, dearie? Is there someone you're looking for?” The lady asked.

She'll give up her favorite dagger if people agreed that it didn't sound creepy. Who asks a young girl if there is someone going to pick her up? That's like asking for a kidnapping. Or maybe a robbery. She'll give her the benefit of doubt.

“Why don't you mind your own business already? Desperate is not a good look on you.” She let a nice New York rockin’ accent slip in.

“Excuse me?!” The lady said, completely mortified.

“Excused.” Mariam replied while turning away.

The lady got up, huffed, and walked off, muttering something along the lines of, “Kids these days. They have no respect. No wonder the country is–”

Now before you get all judgey. This is simple human psychology. A person would be more cooperative to help find a victim if the victim was a sweet little girl. That sparked human pity. Nobody would go too much out of the way to help her rude little brat they saw on the train. While it's sad that this is the situation of the society, it's true. And she had tried it enough places to know that it worked like a charm.

Soon, Mariam got off the train. She made her way to a boarding ship that was leaving for Spain. In about 5 hours. Not her smartest choice to go there, but… She'll have time to find something in one of the boxes to wear! Shopping malls were not guaranteed to have outdated cameras. Grainy surveillance could very much stop a person from being caught shoplifting. As Mariam was looking around the boxes, she found pale pink leggings. Perfect. She thought. No excessive fabric to ruin motion. She snooped through a couple of more boxes and found a black T-shirt with purple lines on it. Another great find. These clothes are the definition of an ordinary outfit. She got into the box, changed, and then got out.

I'll just lay down for a little while. Mariam thought. Frankly, running around like a demented hooligan did tire her, despite the level of stamina she has. As she leaned against one of the crates in the shadows. She tried to think why she wasn't in her comfy bed in the league. Sure, it was just a futon on the floor, but it beat the wood scraping her back any day. Right. She thought. Just killed their Leader, so… May not be so open to the killer.

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Can it be called ceiling if it's the ceiling of a ship? Does English have a different word for the ceiling of a ship? I don't think so. Oh, good. I'm procrastinating. This procrastinating will definitely reduce my effectiveness. And now I sound like Mother. This will be the news of the town. Trained assassin killed due to negligence caused due to procrastination. Procrastination: The number one enemy of mankind. Huh, sounds like a good title. Again procrastinating. Mariam sternly told herself. Stop procrastinating. OK, deep breath in. Deep breath out. Feel your toes. Do not faint down. Mariam tried to calm herself, repeating the chant her mother taught her as a young kid whenever her focus would go off stream.

You just killed your grandfather. You declared your mother the head of the League of Assassins. You did not stay with your father or your mother. Instead, you chose to flee because you're too much of a COWARD to-look-your-brother-and-mother-in-the-eyes, because-they-have-the-same-EYES-as-your-grandfather.

She let out a sigh.

No good overthinking it now. I decided all the pros and cons before I did it. Who knows maybe this new ‘Life’ may not be so bad. It's not like I'm abandoning them. I'll still go visit and… It will work out. Hopefully. She drew a deep breath in. The breath out. No mother to help you out of a panic attack. Mariam told herself. You're on your own, kid. You can handle this. (Taylor Swift pun intended.)

With that, Mariam got into the crate, making sure that she had proper air circulation and that the crate would not shift with the ship's movement. She allowed the gentle to and fro motion of the sea to lull her into sleep. A sleep filled with green eyes, golden goblets, and murderous intentions, popularly known as her grandfather, Ra’s Al-Ghul.

She got up after one hour. League training ensured that she was always aware, even while resting. She went back to sleep. This continued to happen throughout her journey through the Atlantic Ocean. Food had never been a concern. She had too good of a stamina to let her awareness be affected by it. Soon she was woken before her one-hour gap due to the shouting above deck.

Two possible reasons. She thought. Number one, we are being taken over by pirates. Or we have arrived at our destination.

The latter reason turned out to be correct. She got off. There was a beautiful Spanish sunset. Looks like any sunset. Mariam thought in the privacy of her mind. She got off and made her way to the nearest train station.

“Excuse me?” She asked the man sitting at the counter In passable Spanish. “When does the train leave for Plymouth?”

“The day after tomorrow, kid.” The guy replied back.

He didn't even look up. Mariam thought, scrunching her nose at the man. Too busy playing Galaga underneath the desk, I see. (Avengers, pun intended.)

“Is there any way to reach there earlier using layovers?” She politely asked. This statement, however, got the guide to look up and squint his eyes at Mariam.

“Why?” He asked.

None of your business is what she would have said. Buuuut, she wanted the guy to be cooperative. So instead, she said. “It's for a school project. Our topic is to find out the difference between a straight path time and a layover path time.”

The guy looked at the chart in front of him and said, “There is a way, but it will take you about 7 hours more.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, replied and left.

Six hours later, she was asking a different counter guy for a layover ticket to Plymouth.

Another trick she learned from the guy who was teaching her. Never EVER go dot to dot. That's asking for a clear trace path. She has to use all her cards if she's trying to hide herself from the League of Assassins and the Bat Clan.

[fallenclan]

Boulderpaw's gaze swept FallenClan's camp. Even in a time of war, the sound of laughter and pleasant conversation could be made out. Bluefern, as she'd introduced herself, had padded off to go have a conversation with Maplestar.

Boulderpaw had been left with Moosefall. The tom's gaze was sympathetic, almost too understanding. It left Boulderpaw on edge. Could he really trust these cats to protect him? Or would they use him as a bargaining chip in the war against ShallowClan? It's what Violetstar would do, Boulderpaw thought grimly.

The irony was, Boulderpaw doubted ShallowClan would even want him back. He was a traitor, the worst kind, fleeing into the paws of the enemy.

Violetstar wouldn't bargain for him; she would kill him. If he--

"Who are you?" A skeptical voice abruptly pulled Boulderpaw from his thoughts. Standing about a fox-length away was a white kit with silver and orange tabby patches.

"Cinderkit, don't bother him," Moosefall chided gently.

"No, it's okay." Boulderpaw's tone was a bit hesitant. He didn't really want to talk, but he feared making the wrong impression. If FallenClan rejected him... No. Their kindness already had been enough. He could at least stomach feigning friendliness towards the clan's kits.

Cinderkit seemed to notice none of Boulderpaw's reluctance. "Are you a rogue? You smell funny." Boulderpaw could see a few kits milling around on the other side of camp, all dutifully pretending they weren't eavesdropping on the conversation. A few cats, presumedly their parents, were watching over them. One particular tom, having a distinct orange and white pelt, was watching Boulderpaw like a hawk, as if worried he would lunge and attack Cinderkit.

"I, uh--I used to be a ShallowClan cat, but I left," Boulderpaw eventually said. Cinderkit's eyes widened.

"ShallowClan?" she whispered in shock, as if Boulderpaw had admitted some sort of secret to her. Boulderpaw found this somewhat endearing. Moosefall looked concerned. "Why did you leave?"

"It wasn't a good place for me."

"Why?"

"There are some bad cats who live there."

"Weren't there any good ones?" Cinderkit pressed. Moosefall seemed ready to step in, as if concerned Cinderkit's questions would rattle Boulderpaw.

Instead, the tom replied steadily, "Yes, there were, but I wasn't particularly close to any of them."

"Hmmm." Cinderkit tilted her head. "Well, it makes sense that you'd want to come here. FallenClan is the bestest clan ever!"

Boulderpaw smiled slightly, about to respond when the orange and white tom stalked over. "Cinderkit, leave the apprentice alone."

Cinderkit sighed dramatically. "Da-a-a-ad, he said it was fine."

The kit's father attempted to transform his features into something stern. "I want you to stick by Brambletuft and your siblings." The words unspoken were clear. I don't want you near that outsider.

Cinderkit flattened her ears defiantly, stomping away. The tom followed close behind.

"That's Yewberry." Boulderpaw started at Moosefall's voice. "He's a bit wary of strangers, but he'll warm up to you quickly. He's a good cat."

Boulderpaw nodded mutely. Moosefall's brows furrowed. After a few moments, his gaze lit up. "Why don't I introduce you to Salmonskip? I'm sure she'll make you feel right at home. She's the funniest cat I know---you'll like her."

"Okay." Boulderpaw smiled weakly, but after seeing the genuine warmth in Moosefall's gaze, Boulderpaw's smile transformed into something real.

Later, after Boulderpaw had finished speaking with Salmonskip (mostly, it was her speaking and him listening curiously), the tom's heart felt lighter. The cats of FallenClan were so free and open in their affection. Perhaps, after all, there could be a place for him here.

It was a pleasant dream, at least.

-🐉 (tumblr might be eating my asks, but basically i said that i was the one who wrote the willowbub fic--not offended, just clarifying lol, praying i don't come off as hostile (the autistic struggle fr)-- and also asking if you or anyone else has requests on which character(s) they'd like to see a fic of!)

YOOO THIS IS SO GOOD I LOVE IT???? Boulderpaw my beloved augh augh augh

[askbensolo]

please tell me hows space mom

I had prepared myself for Mom to be worried about me. Usually, she wants to make sure that I haven't been hearing voices, and that I haven't been having disturbing dreams, and that I haven't been depressed or anxious, and that I haven't been participating in any weird fringe holonet politics (listen, I only fell down the What If Palpatine Didn't Die conspiracy theory rabbithole one time, and it was for research).

Anyway. I met Mom at the docking bay, where she was waiting outside the Falcon. She was leaning against the boarding ramp, dressed in casual wear but with her hair impeccably braided, scrolling rapidly on her datapad. Dad said she was always taking her work home with her, but that was just Mom. Always going.

"So. Dad let you take the Falcon out without him, huh?" I asked, causing her to look up. She smiled when she saw me, her eyes creasing, and I noticed her hair was starting to go gray near her ears. It reminded me of the mundane horror that had only begun to haunt me as an adult: the mortality of one’s parents.

I jettisoned that thought into space unknown.

"Oh, your father knows I'd never hurt his baby girl," Mom said, matching my playful tone and giving me a hug. "I'm only a little jealous."

She winked, then became more sincere as she looked at me fondly, no doubt seeing her little boy in front of her. "It's so good to see you, Ben."

"Great to see you too, Mom. Who’s your co-pilot?” I asked, leaning to the side to peer into the ship.

“You are, now,” she said, patting me on the back. “It was Threepio before.”

As if on cue, Threepio trotted out on the boarding ramp, his gold plating reflecting the late sunlight. "Oh! Young master Ben! What a pleasure to see you, sir!"

I gave him a salute. "'Sup, Threepio!"

He cocked his head and jittered his arms, flustered. "Oh, well, er...'sup, sir."

Mom and I snickered, and she gave me a smirk that I read perfectly. Threepio was an excellent protocol droid (if a little irritating), but he wasn’t a very good co-pilot.

We got situated in the cockpit. I ran my fingers over the dash…batted my hand at the golden dice that dangled from the ceiling. Took in the familiar musky scent of Wookiee hair and reformed smuggler. We started the Falcon up, and the hum of the engine was like a missing piece of my soul. The ship was a repair crew's nightmare, with so many janky modifications as to render the owner’s manual useless, and her hyperdrive failed half the time. But she was a part of us. A part of our family. Sometimes, when I couldn’t sleep at night, I closed my eyes and imagined I was in a bunk on the Falcon.

“So…how are you doing, Ben?” Mom asked, once we had left Naboo behind and open space spread out before us.

"Fine. No voices, no dreams, no neuroses, no conspiracy theories or extremist politics," I rattled off dryly, doing a Reassure Mom speedrun.

Oh Ben, I didn't mean that, I imagined her saying. I meant: how is work going? Tell me about your friends! How much can you bench now? Are you still writing poems? Have you done anything fun recently?

"Good," Mom said in reality, satisfied and clearly relieved. Something burned inside of me, biting, snarling. I turned my face away.

Chill out, I told myself. She'll probably ask more later.

And she did. In fact, the next thing out of her mouth was a question about a project at work I had mentioned to Dad a couple weeks ago, when I'd asked him to visit.

See? I told myself. The little monster inside of me grumbled and curled up to sulk.

"Maybe I could come visit you for dinner sometime," Mom said, something weird in her voice, a kind of embarrassed hopefulness. "I'm so glad you and Dad hang out. You two seem to have a good time together."

And I wish that you wanted to spend time with me, too, was the part she didn't have to say out loud for me to understand.

"Yeah...maybe," I said, embarrassed as well. "Oh...I have a different roommate, though, if you do come over. Do you remember Fannie? She was one of Luke's students..."

"Oh! Yes, I remember," Mom said. "Sweet girl. When did she move in?"

"Like...a month ago or something."

Silence. I looked at her.

"...Mom? What’s up?”

"Oh, I'm just...a bit surprised you didn't tell me sooner," she said, sounding kind of weird again. My little monster bristled defensively.

"Well...you never ask about me," I said, also starting to feel kind of weird.

"What?" she protested, the whole ship jerking slightly as she snapped to look at me, her steering hand unstable for a moment. "Ben, how can you say that? I ask about you all the time. You never respond to my messages. You've ignored my calls. You have given me every indication that you want to be left alone. I practically gave up on trying to reach out to you."

She was absolutely correct, and I didn't know how to argue with that, or how to explain what I meant. That despite all of it, I still felt like she never really asked about me.

She stared at me for several seconds, expecting me to say something. When I merely disappointed her, she faced forward again with a huff.

I wondered if maybe it would have been easier to just have dinner with Fannie instead.

"...Sorry," I mumbled, feeling five years old.

“What are you sorry for?” Mom asked, correctly not buying it.

“I don’t know,” I said, feeling four-and-a-half.

“Well...all right, then.”

Silence stretched out, like the big blackness of space, and I started feeling…I don’t know. Scared. Lonely. Angry. All those ugly teenage feelings I had declared to be cringe.

Or maybe they weren't teenage feelings. Maybe they were just person feelings, and they never went away.

...Well, one thing that was different from being a teenager is that I knew how to handle those feelings better. Most of the time, anyway.

I took a slow, deep breath to calm myself down, and let it out in a sigh, not taking my eyes off the stars. "...Look, Mom, I...I'm sorry. Really. I shouldn't have said you never ask about me. And I'm sorry I've been so terrible at keeping in touch. It's just...still kind of difficult for me that you're so—" Paranoid? Wait, no. Delete. "—concerned about my safety. I know it's 'cause you love me, but...really, I'm fine."

Mom was quiet for a moment. I looked at her. Her brows were furrowed.

"Ben...of course I trust you," she said finally. "You've grown up to become such an intelligent young man. But...you have to understand that what happened to you with Snoke wasn't...normal. This family isn't normal. Part of it is the life I chose, that your father chose when he joined the Rebellion and when he married me...and part of it, we did not choose, and I often don't understand. I have seen too many things happen to too many people I've loved, and I will never, ever let anything happen to you. Never again." Her voice was strained, as if breaking under the weight of a hundred past experiences I couldn't imagine. She turned to look me in the eyes. "Do you understand?"

Yeah, I understand there's no getting through to you, said the sassy teen Ben who lounged on the couch inside my brain. I kicked him in the shins.

"I understand, Mom," said adult Ben, who was civil, if not always fully sincere. "You've been through so much. Thanks for always looking out for me."

"I'm sorry it's been difficult for you, Ben," she said. "I always wanted you to be able to have a normal life, as much as you could. But...I wish I had realized sooner—much sooner—that in some ways, that was never possible for you. If only I had known that...if only I had been more on guard..."

Then maybe Snoke would never have gotten his hands on you, was the part she didn't have to say out loud for me to understand.

"...Hey. Mom." I reached over to pat her hand, offering a hopeful smile. "It's okay. I'm okay. See? I'm here. I lived."

I meant it as a joke, but I forgot there was a part where I almost didn't.

"What I mean is, it wasn't your fault," I said quickly. "There's no way you could have prepared yourself for something like that. There's no way any of us could have."

Mom shook her head. "I suppose not. But...don't you understand? That's why I have to make sure I'm as prepared as possible—to the extent that I can be, at least—for anything that could happen to our family in the future. To you, to Rey, to Dad...even to Uncle Luke."

"Yes, Mom. I understand," I said quietly.

And I did. I didn't like it or agree with it, but I understood.

The Falcon whirred and hummed like a happy tooka.

Mom cleared her throat. "...So. Fannie. You're...roommates now?"

I rolled my eyes. But of course, how could the conversation not go this direction? It was part of why I hadn't told her for so long in the first place.

"Housemates," I corrected. "She's staying in the living room. Just for the summer. I have someone else moving in next fall—his name is Poe Dameron—"

"Oh my goodness! No way. Kes and Shara's son?"

"Uh. I don't know. Who?"

"Oh, just some friends from the old days. What a small galaxy. But—speaking of friends. Fannie...she's still just a friend, right?"

Normally I would have emitted a groan like a dying tauntaun and shouted "uh, yessssss" with the "yes" part having at least five syllables. But this time...I found myself horrifyingly speechless.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. The most disgusting awkward little chuckle came out of me, in lieu of actual words.

That was a terrible omen. I died inside.

"It's okay, sweetie, you don't have to answer," Mom said cheerfully, but it looked like she was probably formulating an answer of her own.

[pure-garbage]

Philosophical Mosshead? Eloquent Inner Thoughts Of The Swordsman

Punk Hazard presented one bizarre anomaly after another to the straw hats in what felt like a never-ending freakshow parade that defied everything Zoro knew about nature. He wasn't fazed by it, just curious. He accepted that there was a strong possibility that the island's multitudinous eccentricities would never be explained to him, and he was at peace with it.

Even so, nothing, not the bifurcated weather, not the human-animal hybrids, not the talking autonomous legs, none of it prepared him for the shock of seeing his crewmates personalities randomized among their bodies. His friends had been swapped around in a way that was mind-boggling.

'This circus is almost hilarious. Such an existentially challenging display of the superficialities of physical form,' Zoro mused privately as he watched his crew interact.

Zoro kept his thoughts to himself. He had two priorities. The first was keeping his bearings and not letting the situation rattle him.

The second was finding Lana. His eyes swept the cavern, taking in the befuddled straw hats, captive centaurs and gigantic children. The scene was incredibly chaotic in a quiet, dazed way. Even so, he felt like he should have spotted her by now.

"Think we should tell him?"

Zoro's haki caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Despite the fact that Nami hadn't said his name, he knew she was talking about him. Her intent invoked his presence and drew his attention preternaturally.

"I don't know. I doubt he would take it well. And she can take care of herself, right?" Franky replied, voice low. Not low enough. Zoro bore down on the two, hands firmly on his hips, eyebrows knit with concern and suspicion, lips pressed together in a hard, humorless line. His crewmates unconcealed intents betrayed the identity of the 'she' they mentioned.

"Where's Lana?" he demanded, drawing their attention for the first time. Franky squeaked, jumped and gulped, shrinking back a little from the imposing presence the swordsman was projecting. Nami, by contrast, crossed her arms obstinately over her chest, squared her stance, threw her shoulders back and met his gaze with no sign of intimidation. A second later, she cast her gaze down, eyes tripling in size as she realized the effect the change in posture had on her breasts.

"Wow, Nami! They're so full from this angle in this pose!" she exclaimed, expression enamored.

"Idiot!" Franky scowled. He raised his hand, but then seemed to think better of it and held back. "Stop looking! If that wasn't my body, I would have knocked you clean out by now!"

The strange behavior reminded Zoro that he couldn't take his crew at face value at the current moment. Sanji was in Nami's body and Nami in Franky's. He made a mental note. He wouldn't confuse the two again.

"Hey! Both of you cut it out!" he scolded the pair. He needed them to focus. "I know you were talking about Lana! What is it you're not going to tell me? What won't I take well?"

Nami and Sanji shared a look, then Sanji shrugged with Nami's delicate shoulders.

"He's wise to the fact that something's wrong," he sighed. "Might as well tell him what we know."

"For all the good it'll do," Nami sighed. "Not like we know much anyway."

"Nami! Spit it out!" Zoro barked.

"Cool the aggression, moss-head," Sanji scowled. "No one's happy with what's going on, don't take it out on Nami-swan."

"If someone doesn't tell me where Lana is," Zoro seethed, patience quickly wearing thin.

"We don't know," Nami cut him off. "That's all. She's... been missing since we all woke up after being gassed. She wasn't with the rest of us in the cell and we didn't see her while we were escaping the lab."

"The last time anyone saw her was on the ship," Sanji informed him.

Dread curled in Zoro's gut, but he clamped down on it with every shred of discipline and logic at his disposal.

'She's fine. She can take care of herself. Wherever she is, whatever happened, she'll be alright.'

Even so...

"Missing... you should have said something sooner," he grumbled. He reached inside his robe, down into the left pocket of his pants, rustling through its contents until he came up with a scrap of folded purple paper. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

'Not singed. She's fine. Still... just because she's not dying doesn't mean she's not in trouble. She should have been with the others when they were captured... why wasn't she with them when they all woke up?'

"Luffy!"

Zoro left Sanji and Nami to find his captain cavorting with the gigantic children like he was one of them.

"No one's seen Lana since we left the ship," Zoro informed him. "I'm going to look for her, that alright?"

"Don't see why not," Luffy shrugged. "Want me to come with you?"

"No, that's fine," Zoro shook his head. "You've got enough to deal with here."

"If you say so! Hey, Mocha peeked!"

"I did not!" the enormous child squealed.

Zoro walked away from his captain, leaving him to whatever game he was occupying the children with. He held the vivre card on his flat palm, watching as it slowly, surely tugged toward his thumb. He set off at once in the direction it indicated, but only made it a few paces before he came face-to-face with a wall. Unconcerned and determined to carry on in a straight line, he drew Shusui. The hum of tempered black steel caught Usopp's attention, who shrieked and rushed over to restrain his friend, frantically grappling with Zoro's wrist.

"Zooorooo! Whaaat do you think you're doing?!" Usopp howled, pulling Zoro's arm back with his entire body. Zoro submitted to his pulling, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I don't see any doors, so I'm going straight through," he explained, tone implying this should have been obvious.

"Are you crazy?! We know the marines are on the island, and Nami made it sound like Luffy's warlord buddy Trafalgar isn't acting as friendly as Luffy expects him to!" Usopp scolded fiercely. "How about moving through this place with at least a little attempt at subtlety?!"

"I don't need subtlety," Zoro growled. "I'm going to find Lana and I'll slice up anything or anyone who gets in my way!"

"Can't you at least put some distance between yourself and our little hideout before you start wrecking things?!" Usopp moaned desolately.

"Get off my arm, Usopp! You're slowing me down!" Zoro scowled, shaking his arm lightly in an attempt to dislodge his friend. Usopp just shook his head and held on more stubbornly as the waving motion of Zoro's arm pulled him off his feet.

Robin approached with a smile that was equal parts amusement at her friends' antics and a kind offer to help in any way possible.

"Why don't you let me accompany you, swordsman?" she proposed. "I can help you find the doors so you don't have to slice through any walls."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'll move faster on my own," Zoro grumbled. He raised and lowered his arm violently with Usopp still clinging to him, yelping through clenched teeth.

"And if you mistakenly slice Lana in half by cutting down a wall while she's on the other side?" Robin mused morbidly.

"Yeah, Robin, that's it! Psyche him out with the power of your secret inner darkness," Usopp cheered. Zoro finally managed to shake him off and he fell to the ground in a dazed heap. "So dizzy..."

"In addition to helping you locate the doors, I can help keep a lookout as well," Robin informed Zoro. As if to prove her point, she materialized a dazzlingly bright blue eye on the wall at eye level with the swordsman. "I may even be able to locate Lana in advance."

"I'll know when she's close," Zoro retorted. His observation haki was still rough, but he imagined he was familiar enough with Lana's presence that he would be able to feel her when he drew near to her. He sheathed Shusui. "But... I guess a few extra sets of eyes couldn't hurt."

"You two have fun," Usopp called after them, recovering and hauling himself back to his feet. "Robin, try to make him be subtle! And don't let him get lost!"

"I'll see what I can do," she promised in parting.

_________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

== First Chapter ==

[bevswashere]

Koi No Yokan

Chapter 4: Arachnophobia

April 2005 The next day.

"Uematsu-chan, we saved you some dinner last, but Satoru tells me you went for sushi last night."

I freeze. "Is there anything else he told you?"

"Mmm... Ah, that you wanted to try playing baseball?"

The next breath that leaves my lips is a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I did mention I wanted to try out different sports." 

"In that case, you'll let me teach you how to play basketball some time?" Geto says. "I think you'll enjoy the pace of it more than baseball."

"Then, I'm excited to try—"

"There's my favorite first-year!" A warm arm lands heavily around my shoulder. "What have I missed this morning?"

"I was telling Uematsu-san I want to play some basketball with her."

"Is that so?" Gojo says, rattling my body as he speaks, "Well, I'm sure she'll enjoy that." 

"He said something about baseball too," I say. "Is that your favorite sport?"

"No, it's judo!" 

I feel Gojo's arms peel me up from the floor, "Wait!" throwing me over his shoulder, as my limbs flail against him helplessly. "Gojo! Put me down!" 

"Why should I? I'm having fun." He turns violently, my hair obstructing my vision as I teeter dangerously against his shoulder. "And I promised I would show you different sports. This is our first one!"

I still my body for a moment, feeling the blood rush towards my face. "Are you sure you want to do Judo as our first sport, Gojo?" 

"Bring it on," he laughs, "What could you possibly know about—"

I launch my upper body up, using my legs to throw Gojo off his balance. Within the single swing, we're on the floor, and Gojo's stuck in a headlock between my legs. "If that's the case, we can cross martial arts off the list."

"I got it," His voice is strained, his hand tapping against my shin repeatedly. "I forgot, Suguru, she's like a ninja." 

When I look up at Geto, his eyes crinkle as he laughs. It's cute. 

Gojo feels my grip loosen, and takes advantage fighting tooth and nail to climb above me. "Round two!" He takes my wrists and pins them above my head. "You won't catch me off guard again, Uematsu."

"You tapped already!" I say. "You can't—"

He leans in, letting the point of his nose prod mine again. "I can and I will." 

"Before you two destroy more of our campus..." Yaga's voice draws all of our eyes away. "An incident's been reported down in Odaiba. Gojo, you've been assigned to take care of it. Bring Uematsu along with you."

"Wait, I just got the chance to get away from him," I whine, trying again to free my arms to no avail. Gojo's able to hold them down with a single hand. 

"This is your first mission here at Jujutsu Tech. You're in no position to make complaints."

"Don't worry!" Gojo finally lets go, happily seated on my stomach as if I were a cushion. "I'll keep you safe, Uemats-ugh!" 

I push him off me, letting him land on the gravel. "I don't need you to keep me safe." 

∞

"This is it." 

Gojo and I stop outside of the house, a decaying wooden structure that could tip over at any moment. With that, it was radiating waves of cursed energy. Four people had already been reported missing. 

"Feeling scared yet," Gojo taunts into my ear. "Don't worry. I won't tell the others if you want to sit out and let me handle it." 

"I thought we agreed I'm just as strong as you, and faster." 

"It's different on a mission compared to some fight at school. You probably won't be able to do judo on a curse." 

"I'll be fine," I say, even though each step we take towards the house leads to a new flurry of doubt in my mind. I consider what techniques would be best, how I can conserve my energy even if I need to use barriers, how I should have brought a cursed item in case I can't make contact. Most of all, I doubted Gojo and I's ability to work together. 

The moment we arrive inside, the door slams behind us. Everything becomes pitch black and the air turns musty. "I can't see." 

Gojo understands what I mean. There's no Forward Sight in the dark like this. A small dot of blue light appears from the tip of his finger. "What would you do without me?" 

"Probably enjoy my day mo—" The sound of something moving cuts my thought short. Little taps against the wooden floor circle us. "What was that?"

Gojo's eyes captured the dim lighting more than anything else in my view. He seems to have given up on messing around, turning serious as he scans the room. "...Strange." 

"What is?"

"My Six Eyes saw it moving across the wall there, then it disappeared."

Another voice sounds in the room. A wavering, garbled up voice that spoke in fragments. "The itsy..." My ears prick up, turning left and right to find who's speaking, but I can't make anything out in our surroundings besides utter darkness. 

More pattering against the wooden floor from behind. Instantly, we turn around. "...Bitsy..." I feel Gojo's other hand wrap around my waist, "Stay close." 

"You don't need to protect me."

"I know that, but stay close to me." 

Slowly, we take tentative steps forward. Each move we make creaks loudly against the floorboards. 

More quick tapping came from behind. "...Spider.... ran up..."

The flickering light from Gojo's finger grows a bit larger, enough for us to see some sort of ball hanging from the ceiling. Looking closer, though, it's not a ball. It's a head wrapped in a thick sheet of white cobwebs. The body is hanging upside down from the ceiling. My breath gets caught in my throat. "Do you think they're still..?"

"Probably not." Gojo looks more closely. "The webbing is interesting, though. Like some sort of mask for cursed energy." 

"If it can mask itself like this, then wouldn't the house... Gojo, light the whole room."

His hand remains tightly wrapped around me, as the little ball of light grows into a huge flare. It illuminates the room long enough to show three more bodies hanging from the ceiling, all wrapped in the same thick webbing, along with every door, corner, and window. The curse must be moving through the webbing, shielding itself from Gojo's Six Eyes. 

The flare dimmed out, returning to the small orb of light at his fingertip. The pattering erupted again, speeding up until it sounded like running, circling us, round and round. Gojo finally lets go, and we put our backs together, trying to pinpoint the curse. 

"The waterspout." Its garbled voice grows louder, booming until dust sprinkles from the ceiling. "Down came the rain and..." 

The singing stops, and so does the running. I peel my eyes towards the nothingness, feeling my heart pound as I draw deep breaths. Then, as I silently beg for the monster to come out of hiding, two red dots appear in the darkness. "Found it." 

Gojo turns, sending off another flare to reveal its full body. The curse is so large it's head nearly touches the ceiling. Its putrid gray skin is masked in patches of coarse fur. The red eyes rest above six more black, beady ones. The arms are the largest part, sharp pincers at each end, so heavy that they force the curse to hunch over. 

"Washed the spider out!" It darts one of its pincers forward, crashing into the floor where Gojo and I split off. Each of its legs clatter against the wood as the curse scurries in my direction. I crawl backward on my elbows, watching the red eyes draw closer. Blurry visions of the webs that would melt me if I didn't move. 

I tumble over, hearing the floor I had been covering steam. The smell of something acidic fills my nose. 

Two techniques this curse has shown so far: webs that conceal, and webs that melt.

I jut my leg out, hitting the curse hard in the side. An opportunity opens for me to get back to my feet, and throw my fists forward. I keep my movements quick, leaving little time for the curse to regroup. But my greatest asset is what's lagging, distracting even. The curse swings one of its massive pincers, knocking me into the nearby wall and all the webs. 

"The itsy..." The webs are incredibly sticky, requiring all of my might to pry a single arm away. "...Bitsy spider..." I had been so busy trying to break free, I didn't notice the curse isn't the one singing. It's quiet, whispering from my sides. Smaller, muffled voices.

Gojo's technique dimly lights what I'm hearing: eggs, dozens of them spread out amongst the webs... all cracked open. 

It erupts at my feet, sides, and all over my head. Thousands of little legs scurrying across my limbs. "Ran up the water spout." I swipe them away in bunches, shaking my legs, but they cling to me, spewing webs weaker than their mother's, but strong enough to burn through my clothes. "It hurts," I say, being left in the dark descending me into a deeper panic. 

My fingers barely twitch, a time barrier so weak it hardly hits any of the growing pile. I want to make out something in my surroundings, anything, but I'm blind. I can't time jump away at the risk of ending up halfway through a wall, the floor, or even Gojo who's fending off the strong curse. The spiders covered me like a thick layer of fabric. 

What do I do? I'm supposed to be strong. So, what do I do?

"I'm so proud of you," my father said as the train led us into Tokyo. Momoko was asleep, nuzzled up by my side. "Some of my best years were spent at Jujutsu Tech."

"It'll be dangerous," I said.

"Of course it will be dangerous," he laughed. You'll face power on a scale you've never seen before!" He leaned his elbows down onto his legs, speaking seriously, "But so will every Jujutsu sorcerer and curse that will face you." He laughed again, slightly. "You will be the strongest Jujutsu this century has seen. No one will ever forget the name Uematsu." 

It's comforting, that thought. Not only for him, but for me too. I... like being strong, aiming to be the strongest. It feels right. No matter what I may resent him for, my heart aches apart from my mind. We value the same things, at the core. Greatness. Power.

I want to be the strongest, for him, for myself.

A new sensation took over. A clarity I hadn't felt before. One that showed me the room for the first time, not in its current state, but in its infancy. Before the rot and curses. I see a family living here. A mother, father, and two young children. I could see the hues of pink and green furniture decorating the floors, the golden framed photos hung on their walls. Their playing, the children, until they start crying, "Mommy! Mommy! There's a spider!" It's small, crawling on the floor nearby, until their mother stepped on it and threw it away. "I hate spiders," one of the kids sniffled. 

"Uematsu!" Gojo calls out. My face is the only thing left exposed beneath the mountain of spiders, but I'm calmer now. I know where to go. I time jump right between Gojo and the monstrous curse, as thousands of dead spiders sprinkle down to the floor. I was correct to assume they couldn't survive the displacement. They crumble into mere ash and severed legs, and the curse rages. I had piled in front of her nothing but her own dead children. 

Her massive arm swipes at me with its great pincer, but I can see clearly now. Like the bundles of cursed energy had unknotted themselves. There's a weak spot at the mother's center, one she's hiding with the way she hunched over. I lean back low, letting the pincer nearly miss my nose, and time jump into a corner of the room, arm already inside the center of the heavy webbing. When I jump again, I land on the curse's hairy back, a long, sticky strand of web in my hand. I wring it around the curse's neck, pulling as hard as possible. She gasps at the pressure, tossing her deadly pincers backwards only to fall short. When I tug again, I dig my heels into her back, pushing the weak spot into the open. "Now, Gojo!" 

"I don't want to hit you." 

The curse is beginning to struggle more vigorously. If we give it any more time, it'll evolve a new technique. One that involved sharp pincers growing from its back, impaling my body at the ends. "Trust me!" 

Gojo doesn't question me again, a flurry of blue light striking the curse's vulnerable center as I time jump away before the impact. He'd gone slightly over the top, though. Not only did the collision completely dissolve the curse, but it also sliced through several layers of the house. The entire top half of the building was about to collapse on us. Gojo realizes this too, balling up the back of my uniform before I could object. 

"This is humiliating," I say, feeling Gojo run us back into the street where rain had begun pouring. You could hardly see the house crumble behind the thick curtain of water. I stare at the blurry ruins, still suspended above the ground. "You can put me down now." 

"Oh, that's right." He lowers me, and I dust myself off, happy to let the rain wash away some of the grime. "Are you hurt?" 

He's not wearing his glasses anymore, bright eyes fixed on the little blisters burned into my arms and legs. My adrenaline was pumping too hard to notice the pain before. "It only hurts a little." 

He suddenly presses a hand to my center. "You're bleeding." 

His touch is so warm. "I'm fine, really." I look back to the destroyed house, "But shouldn't we have tried harder to preserve the bodies." 

"That's not our job," Gojo says indifferently. "You weren't killed on your first mission. Congratulations!" He gives me a thumbs up. 

He's right. This is the true start of it all, everything I've been raised to be. I nearly died. The thought makes me laugh.

"I didn't know you could do that," Gojo says.

"That's because," It came over me suddenly, the wave of laughter, "You never say anything funny." 

"Has all that spider venom made you lose your mind?" 

"That was awesome!" my arms shoot up into the air. I think I even hopped a little. "Let's find another one! I feel incredible!" 

Originally taken aback, Gojo's warm hand lands on the top of my drenched head. "Maybe we take you to see Shoko first." 

"No need," I say determinedly. "Come on. I feel so great I'll even fight you right now." I raise my fists, throwing short, taunting jabs. "Come on! Let's try judo again!" 

He laughs deeply. "Who would've thought you could get excited like this? You're so cute." 

I freeze, hands stilled in the air, trapped beneath his palm. He freezes too, unable to take back a statement he didn't mean anything by. 

There's something about the way he looks right now. Bashful almost, unsure of himself. Clear droplets rolling against his skin, dripping from the ends of his bright hair. "Hey," I call weakly, "Don't say weird stuff like that." 

He smiles, flashing nearly all of his teeth. I notice this time the way his eyes and nose crinkle. How joyful it all seems. "For someone who can see the future, you look pretty surprised. Have I really figured you out that quickly, Uematsu?"

"Even the most powerful Jujutsu technique couldn't predict you being nice," I push his hand away. "Speaking of which, I did something new in the spider house." 

"What is it?"

"I think I saw the past," I recount. "The family who went missing and the curse in its infancy. I could see it." 

"A new technique?" Gojo hums. "This is the first I'm hearing about Uematsu seeing the past."

"You and me both." A weakness does suddenly wash over me, though. Pain stemming from the heavier venomous burns. I stumble forward. The weather forms a cold sweat on my brow, but Gojo's warmth soothes me like a warm bath. It doesn't feel wrong to hold onto him as tight as I could manage. "I lied. It hurts."

"Idiot," Gojo mutters. "I'm taking you to Shoko."

[countrymusiclover]

9 - Tonya’s Interogation

Part 10

Other Hoyt’s Off Limits

@dragonixfrye @stoneyggirl2

During the drive I just stared out the window since it was late at night when we got the call from the camp. Watching the trees we pass on the road I glanced out the corner of my eye at Beau. “Good for nothing ex…”

He was gripping the steering wheel clearly frustrated which was a side I haven’t seen before from him. “Beau.” I called out softly towards him.

“I can’t believe he just let her go off by herself in the woods!” He apparently didn’t hear me because he grumbled some more scoffing under his breath.

Reaching over the counsel I gently shook his shoulder breaking him from his trance of frustration. “Beau! She’s gonna be fine.”

He gulped, finally sending me a glance. “Yeah….you’re probably right.”

“I am positive I am. Okay you said that he said she was back at the camp and just rattled.” I attempted to reassure him believing that I was right more than I might be wrong.

The drive fell silent for a little while. Mostly because I had no clue what to say to him. I didn’t have a child like my sister Jenny. So I wasn't sure what to say next thankfully he did break the silence around us. "You're right Mallory. She'll be fine. So what are you going to say if you're sister asks about us?"

"I'll um…think of something. We're here." He pulled the truck to a stop once we drove under the camp sign both getting out seeing the rest of the team already here.

Footsteps of Sunny Barnes came towards us while I clipped my gun to the belt on my jeans. 'Emily was the one that found Mary's body off a trail.

"Did anybody search the area where the body was found?" Beau questions her.

She shook her head. "Well, after Buck brought Mary's body back, he and Avery went back up to take a look around."

"Daddy?!" Someone called out where I saw a girl with dark slightly curly hair running towards us and throwing her arms around him meaning it could only be his daughter Emily.

He wrapped his arms around her resting his chin on top of her head. I could see relief come over him by just holding her close. "Hey. Come here.I got you. I got you. You okay? Hmm? What happened?"

"I followed Luke into the woods and I got lost. And then I saw her. She was bleeding. I don't know. She had Paige's bag. I just thought that she was hurt, but then I saw her eyes." She sobbed through his jacket.

He whispered into her hair eyeing me as I gave him a weak smile. "Okay. Baby. I got you."

"Dad who is she?." Emily pulled her head up from his chest focusing her watery eyes on me. "Is she the woman you were telling me you were dating?"

"What was that?" My sister's voice could be heard a few steps away from us.

I felt my cheeks turn red as I quickly stepped up introducing myself to the girl since we hadn't met until now. "Hi Emily, I'm Mallory. You're dad has told me some about you."

"Cool. So are you two?" She pointed her index finger between Beau and I.

He cleared his throat putting a hand on her back leading the three of us away from my sister's ears to start the questioning. "We'll explain later, Em. Right now we have some questions to ask you. Where was Buck when you found Mary?"

"I actually don't know." She replied sitting down outside one of the tents. "He must have heard me scream. Before I knew it, he was just there."

"Do you think Luke could have killed her?" I asked the teenager.

"No." She immediately spoke.

Her father asked another question. "Is that a feeling you have, or is there something else?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's just a feeling, I guess."

"Okay. That's enough questions. I know you're just doing your job. Come on, Em. Let's get you some water." His ex wife Carla led her daughter away. A man with dark brown hair that had some gray falling down to be shoulder length approached us.

“Avery.” Beau called towards him when he tried to leave with Emily.

“Mm-hmm.” The man made a noise stopping.

Beau went into full dad mode at this point frustrated with the man in front of me. “You need to tell me what the hell's going on here and why you let my daughter wander off into those woods alone.”

“We had no idea. Alright? She didn't tell Carla, either.” Avery responded before my sister’s footsteps came over to us.

She sighed heavily annoyed. “Tonya and Donno are here.”

“What?” Beau and I both asked together.

She turned her head back in their direction for me to see Tonya wave at me. “Yeah. They obviously had something to do with this.”

“Jen, come on we can’t blame them for everything…even though we know they don’t mind killing people for gain.” Crossing my arms over my chest I knew she had a point from our past.

Beau holds up a hand to us two girls hearing her not say another word. “Did they confess? If they didn't confess, we got to treat them like everybody else...Possible suspects.”

By the time the sun had risen over the camp we had been told that there was a $15 million that Avery found someone here was looking for. Meaning Luke and Paige weren’t here for vacation. Leaning my elbows on the table my sister was tying away on a computer watching Beau walk up. “So there’s an opportunity for someone to get $15 million. I mean that much money would make anyone go crazy. Luke and Paige were obviously trying to steal it.”

“Could explain why Tonya and Donno are here.” Beau adds on. “Maybe they're working a job.”

She smirked, liking that he leaning towards the pair now. “I'm glad you said it. I was beginning to think Donno was bribing you with his sandwich craft.”

“Okay, you know what? Let's not go there. 'Cause bad guys can have good points. Donno's just happens to be sandwich skills.” Beau waved his hands around loving those sandwiches.

Poporneck walked up to us smiling at the mention. “Oh! Donno's making sandwiches?”

“I wish. But no.” Beau slumped his shoulders in defeat.

Pointing my index finger between the boys I grinned feeling hungry now. “They are good sandwiches. Oh, if he wasn’t a suspect I would totally ask him to make us some for lunch.”

“Okay, okay. Can we focus on the case please.” My sister needed us to focus. “What do you got?”

Her former partner cleared his throat replying. “Uh, yeah, so there's a missing bow and quiver from the equipment shed. Arrows match the murder weapon.

“Alright so now we just need to question these two. Let’s go.” I clasped my hands together

“Mallory. You’re with me and Tonya.” The sheriff called my attention.

My sister lifted her head up confused at why he would ask that. “Why do you need her help exactly?”

“I am hoping Tonya will lighten up if there’s another woman with her.” Beau was quick on his feet while I bit my lip seeing Poperneck walking with Jack on a leash over to me.

“I was thinking we could use Jack to sniff out anything suspicious. If that’s okay with you, Mallory.” He suggested since I was the one who owned him now, not the sheriff department.

Bending down on a knee I run my hands through his fur seeing him wagging his tail. “Sure it’s fine. Now you be good for Pops.” The pair walked off before Beau and I went and found Tonya having the three of us get set up in a tent for questioning.

Beau holds the tent flap open for me hearing Tonya chuckling at seeing me again after all this time. “Well, well, look at the three of us back together in the same room. It’s a shame Donna is being questioned by someone else or we’d have the whole gang.”

“Never mind that now. We have some questions to ask you. Starting with why didn’t you go on the night hike with the others?” I said bluntly standing while Beau took the seat across from her.

“Well, I wanted to go on the hike, but Donno didn't. He's got a lot of rules.” She started off her story.

Beau tapped the pen on the table. “It's kind of odd, isn't it? You being up here with your cook? I mean, the man's interesting.”

“He's not who you think he is.” She responded back

“No, I don't imagine he is. The man contains multitudes.” He nodded.

She gave smile towards the sheriff. “Strong agree. But hiking isn't one of them.”

“What about the marriage?” I butted in knowing that during a questioning with Sunny she claimed that they were married according to how they registered. “I understand you're up here pretending to be married. Seems kind of odd for two people who enjoy murder so they can gain something like money.”

“You get freebies if you say it's your anniversary. You know, bottle of champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries.” She smiled tilting her head down.

Beau raised a brow moving his hand over the table not believing her story like me. “So it's just a total coincidence that you and Donno were on this trip at this time.”

“I mean, if we committed a crime, it's that we lied about being in love.” She shrugged her shoulders.

Beau laughed, clicking the pen open and closed on the table. “Good one.”

“I'm serious.” She sent us a smile letting her eyes drift up to mine. “So are we not going to talk about the chemistry between the two of you. Like are you two just a fling or will you get in trouble because you work together hmm.”

Raising a hand I try to keep my cool, thankful that my sister was intertwining Donno on the other side of the camp so she couldn’t hear her. “That’s none of your concern. We are here to find out about Paige and Luke.”

“Ohh so the little Hoyt sister hasn’t ever thought of getting with the sheriff in town.” She teased me by intertwining her hands together. “My former boss seemed to like him. So I’m not buying that you haven’t thought about it.”

Beau cleared his throat glancing over his shoulder at me before he spoke. “I'm not buying it. I think you're here looking for a lot more than free champagne.”

Holding the end of my shirt I could feel my nerves building up inside me. If Tonya could see right through me then could my sister do the same. “Speaking of marriages, I met your ex, Carla. She's a boss. Really impressive. I don't know why you left her.” Tonya leaned back in her chair.

“It's actually the other way around.” Beau gave her a half chuckle. “But we're not gonna get into that. As for my relationship with Mallory, it's strictly professional.”

Tonya and I locked eyes so I stood tall towards her. “No romantic relationship at all.”

“If you say so…the person you really should be looking at is Avery.” She points out.

Leaning my palms on the table, my hair falling over my shoulders hoping we are getting somewhere. “Oh, yeah? Why's that?”

“Well, his archery skills, for one. Avery's quite the marksman.” Glancing towards Beau I wasn’t sure if her words made sense.

“Avery? Really?” Even he couldn’t see it.

She nodded, seeming very certain about what she was a saying. “Deadly. He surprised everybody.

“Well, just 'cause he can shoot an arrow don't mean he killed ll Luke.” Beau responded back, lifting his green eyes up to me.

Tilting my head to the side I crossed my arms over my chest shaking my head towards her. “That might be true if we believed what you were saying. Plus we both know that Donno is capable of killing and you have a darker side too for one.”

“Well, I'm guessing that he's the one that told you about the $ million.” Tonya leaned her elbows on the wooden table.

“How'd you know that?” Beau questioned her.

She raised her hands in the air, basically putting the pieces together of what she thought. “Avery was talking to Luke, like, a lot. I'm just putting it out there. You can ask your daughter if you don't believe me. But something was going on with those two.”

“Alright I think I have enough information for now.” Beau rose from the chair turning and we started to leave the tent until she called out to us.

“So I was right, wasn't I? About you two.” Halting in my tracks, Beau glanced down at me. “I mean the looks you two give each other are so obvious. So there’s something definitely going on between you two.”

Beau turned to face her, dropping his hand that had fallen to my back now at his side instead. “Like we said before, we're just professional.”

“That’s not what her eyes say about you, sheriff.” Tonya teased resting her chin on top of her intertwined hands. “She’s got a thing for cowboys.” Turning on my heels I rushed out of the tent and he followed after me before I closed the passenger door in his face needing a minute alone.

Question my readers : should I include more flashbacks of Mallory and John Wayne. If so send me any ideas and let me know in the comments or dm me please ❤️

Comments really appreciated

[thruheavenandhighwater]

Pairing: Single Dad! Eddie Munson/ Steve Harrington

Requested By: NA

Word Count: 2,033

Series Summary: Eddie left Hawkins in 1986 with no reason to ever return. But now, a few years have passed and life has changed. Eddie finally returns home and has to deal with everything he left behind, including Steve Harrington. This story starts in May 1991.

Chapter Summary: Steve begins work on Eddie's car. They finally have a real conversation about their years apart.

Stranger Things Masterlist

Steddie Masterlist

Series Masterlist

~~~~~

The following evening, while Wayne got ready for work, Eddie took Lucy to Sarah two doors down. He set her diaper bag on the kitchen counter as he held Lucy to his chest. Sarah smiled, mentally keeping track of everything Eddie said about how to care for her.

"She usually eats around 7," he told her. "She'll almost always do six ounces right before bed but sometimes she doesn't finish it all. Hey, can I ask you something?" Sarah seemed surprised, her blonde eyebrows raising as she nodded. "Should she be eating like, real baby food yet? I saw it at the store and I just… I don't know what I'm doing."

"How old is she?"

"Six months."

Sarah smiled to Lucy, all teeth and bright eyes. "Yeah, you can start trying it," she answered. "Think my girls were six or seven months before we started them on Gerber's. Anna didn't like it at first, but Brittany loved it."

Eddie let out a breath of relief. "Okay," he smiled. "I just don't want to fuck everything up."

"You won't," Sarah told him, very matter of fact in her tone. "The fact that you care enough to ask is proof enough of that. Now you go get your car fixed and let me have my newest favoritest baby," she smiled wide again as she put her hands out to Lucy. Lucy let go of her dad's shirt, which she'd been clutching tightly in her small hands since they left the house. She liked Sarah. Eddie thought that had to be a good sign.

Steve was outside the shop when Eddie pulled up. He was leaned back against an old Chevy, a cigarette dangling from his fingers as his head laid back on his shoulders. Eddie felt a little bad about interrupting his moment. Plus, he looked so damn good under the warm summer sun that Eddie almost hated to ruin the moment. He perked up, a smile blooming over his cheeks when he heard the rattle of Eddie's car.

"Since when do you smoke?" Eddie asked as he swung the door closed behind him. "Used to get on me and Paul like flies on shit when we lit up."

Steve smiled shyly, dropping the finished cigarette to the ground and pressing it into the concrete with the toe of his work boot. "Guess I realized there are worse things than a smoke now and then. Go ahead and pull her in," Steve instructed, bending down to open the garage door that led to the shop area.

Eddie got back behind the wheel and drove the car into the shop. Steve pulled the door closed behind him. "Don't need anyone showing up for an after hours brake job," he said. "Present company excluded."

Eddie smiled as he took a seat on a stool near the wall. Out of the way and with a perfect view of the work to be done. And if he just happened to be able to see Steve, bent over his car and working up a sweat, then so be it.

Steve opened the driver's door and popped the hood, securing it with the strut just like he had the day before. "It's your lucky day, my friend," he announced. "One of the parts cars Joe's been hoarding had a beautiful alternator that I think will work just fine for you." And he set to work.

"So," Steve said as his hands worked expertly over the parts that Eddie wouldn't even be able to identify if his life depended on it. "How've ya been?"

"What?"

"How have you been?" Steve asked again, still not looking back at Eddie. He could hear the cocky smile in his voice even if he couldn't see it.

"Well, I'm sleeping on my uncle's shitty couch, trying to raise a baby on a shitty job, and you're fixing my shitty car," Eddie answered, trying to sound lighthearted.

"Okay, yeah, but she's a fairly new development, right?" Steve asked. "What were you up to before Lucy? We got five years to catch up on, Munson."

Eddie smiled to himself as he thought back. Back to 1986. He was barely 20 years old, head full of dreams and nothing but time to make them come true. He sometimes missed that version of himself. The Eddie Munson that believed he would be better than the parents that had left him. That he'd make a life for himself that he would be proud of.

"The first few years were awesome, man," he lamented. "The guys and I found this shitty little apartment right in the city. All four of us squished into two bedrooms and one bathroom. It was small and dirty, but we loved it. Made us feel like real musicians, ya know? Like we were putting in the ground work before we skyrocketed to number one."

"Sounds awful," Steve laughed, the sound echoing around the metal under the hood.

"We loved it," Eddie sighed. "We had some regular gigs at some bars. Nothing crazy, but more people than we ever played for here. For like, two years Andy told anyone who would listen that we were just one show away from breaking big."

"So what happened? Why aren't you headlining The Garden with Guns n Roses?"

"Because Axl Rose is an asshole," he answered, earning another laugh from Steve. "Honestly? We were on our way. But then I met Billie two years ago, she got pregnant, and uh-"

"Life got in the way," Steve finished for him, echoing his own words back to him.

"Yeah," Eddie agreed.

Steve paused, the silence around them almost deafening without the sounds of metal tools clanking. "Do you ever wish you'd stayed?"

Eddie was quiet as he thought about it. "I don't think so," he answered after a long pause. The tools in Steve's hands began to move again, creating a noise barrier to break up the quiet. "Guess I kinda wish things had turned out different, though. Don't get me wrong, Lucy's amazing. She's starting to crawl now. But I wish I'd been more prepared for her."

"Makes sense," Steve said.

"But I can't go back and undo it."

"Nope."

"Guess I just don't think about the 'what ifs.' More worried about right now. Making sure I don't ruin Lucy's life." Steve made an affirmative sort of sound. "What about you? I’m sure your wife and kids don’t appreciate me keeping you at work all night."

Steve scoffed, shaking his head. "Don’t have a wife or kids, actually.”

"But you were with some girl the other day,” Eddie said, almost a question more than a statement.

“Robin?” Steve asked, a smile on his voice. “We are definitely not married. Or dating or anything like that. We’re just friends.”

“She seemed pretty cozy, grabbin’ all up on ya in public like that.”

He couldn't help but smile as he listened to Steve giggle. He watched his back, the way his shoulders and back moved beneath the faded t shirt. He pictured the blush that he was sure was on Steve's cheeks. "Trust me, man, Robin and I are friends. Best friends, admittedly, but that’s it. I’ve been painfully single basically since you left.”

Eddie brought a hand to his chest, feigning surprise. "So you mean to tell me that King Steve, heartbreaker of Hawkins High, is back on the celibate train with the rest of us losers?"

Steve stood up straight and turned to face Eddie. He pulled another shop rag from his pocket, wiping his hands like he'd done yesterday. There was something about the action that made Eddie's heart beat just a little harder. He'd never noticed Steve's hands before. But now, covered in scars and grease, weathered by a few years of manual labor, he couldn't focus on much else.

"Well, that's the problem with a town like this," Steve said. "Once you've been through all the girls in high school, the dating pool gets remarkably small as an adult.

"It's nice having you back, ya know?" Steve said quietly.

"Are you saying that you missed me, Steven?" Eddie asked, his tone joking, though his curiosity was genuine.

"Are you surprised?" He asked, smiling. "I'm the one who told you not to leave, remember?"

Eddie nodded, looking to the ground between them. He did remember. He remembered it all the time, especially the first few months he was gone. He could still see Steve's face, younger then and almost sad. He remembered thinking that Steve had more to say, but not giving him the chance.

"But hey," he said, pulling Eddie out of the memory. "Can't undo it, right? And at least you're back now. Even if the circumstances aren't ideal."

He stepped away from the car towards the wall opposite Eddie's stool. He turned a knob on a radio that Eddie hadn't even noticed was there. "You mind?" He asked as he stepped back to the front of Eddie's car.

Eddie didn't answer, only nodding and offering a small shrug of his shoulders. It was nice to have the music, anyway. Just one more thing to fill the space so that Eddie wouldn't have to.

As he watched Steve work, he replayed the last time he'd seen him before he left in his mind. The way he looked shocked, almost hurt after Eddie's announcement on stage. The guilt he felt when he realized he probably should have told him sooner. The rejection in Steve's eyes when Eddie had lied through his teeth, telling him that there was nothing in Hawkins for him. He thought about the way he'd excused himself from the conversation quickly, not giving either of them time to say what they needed. He'd known even then that if Steve had asked him to stay one more time, he would have. He would have done anything for Steve.

But that was five years ago. Now he was older. He had a baby, and responsibilities that Steve couldn't understand. A part of him wished he'd stayed. Wished he'd told Steve how he felt in 1986. But he didn't. He left with the intention of putting Hawkins and everything it held behind him. He tried to forget Steve amongst a sea of unfamiliar faces, but it didn't work. Every nameless hook up in dimly lit alleys and dirty bar bathrooms only served to remind him that Steve was gone. Far away in a town that he never wanted to see again.

He thought about the first time he'd seen Billie. She was front and center at a show one night. Her brown hair teased way too high, tight dress barely covering anything. He'd taken her home that night and she was the first person that made him almost forget Steve Harrington. So he kept her. He kept her for as long as she'd allowed herself to be kept. But now she was gone. On the wind somewhere in a city that was never his home.

He continued to watch Steve work. They made small talk about their lives, work and family stuff that really didn't matter. The clock on the shop wall ticked past 8:00 before Steve dropped the hood with a sigh.

"Should be good, now," he announced. "See ya tomorrow about those brakes?"

Eddie nodded, pulling his keys from his pocket. He smiled to Steve, offering a small wave through the car window as he backed out of the shop. He watched in the rearview mirror as Steve pulled the door down, securing it with a lock. He pulled a cigarette pack from his pocket and lit one, allowing it to bounce between his lips as he sat down in his own car.

Eddie turned, putting more distance between himself and Steve before he let himself think. Maybe Steve had been right all those years ago. Maybe he should have stayed. Stayed in that alley. Stayed in Hawkins. Stayed with Steve. If he had, he wouldn’t have spent the last two days feeling bad for himself, thinking that Steve had run off and gotten married while he was sleeping his way around New York City. Maybe, he thought, a lot of things would be different.

~~~~~

previous part // next part

~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed part five! The slow burn is starting to warm up just a little bit. Can't wait to hear what y'all think of this part 🥰 have a lovely weekend!

[urban-witch101]

(Byakuya Togami x Reader? That's how this idea started.) - Danganronpa 1 Ghost AU - "They Failed."

Oh it's as funky as it sounds. Just trust me on this one. Also, big fat Trigger Warning for assault, s3xual assault, murder, and angst.

Hope's Peak Academy is reportedly the most haunted high school in Japan. After the Most Tragic Incident the world had ever seen, the class of 78 was forced into a recorded killing game run by their fellow classmates Junko Enoshima and Mukuro Ikusaba and failed to survive. The Future Foundation, after eventually beating Despair and restoring peace to the world, established the high school as a National Monument to the pain and suffering of the students and turned it into a museum recording the history.

There are too many stories of the passed students to count, some from construction workers and some from ghost hunters. These are their sightings.

============================================

Yasuhiro Hagakure is reportedly the most active ghost, which makes sense as the Ultimate Clairvoyant.

He tends to greet visitors at the entrance.

If you drop your hat or gloves and don't notice, you'll find them by the coat rack later for you to find.

Children tend to see him the most, or they hear a whispered joke in their ear if they're particularly upset at any of the Despair history.

He doesn't tend to interact with adults a lot, but he's known to follow the descendants of all their relatives or friends to make sure they're okay.

10/10 ghost, very friendly and a chill dude. Makes sure kids are okay.

Toko Fukawa is rarely seen or heard, but if she's there you know.

She hangs out in the bathrooms with the most common sightings being in the mirrors.

She's often found playing with her braids or grimacing at guests if there are a lot of people.

The friendliest sighting was when a child got lost and found their way to the women's bathroom.

When the panicked mother finally found them, their child was calm and content while playing with a stuffed toy they know they didn't bring.

When the child was guided to leave, they turned and waved goodbye to the mirror.

8/10, antisocial but harmless.

Genocider Syo is extremely active.

She likes pulling pranks on tall, skinny men, like throwing their wallets across the room and pinching their elbows.

If said men are blonde with blue eyes, they will tend to feel watched whenever the enter the building and will continue to think so until they leave.

Children tend to be scared of her, but if she sees a scared child she'll tend to leave the room so they're more comfortable.

She likes knocking over stuff, books and coffee mugs in particular.

However, if the staff scold her she'll knock it off.

She never knocks over artifacts, but people have seen her scissors rattle in their case.

8/10, harmless prankster.

Leon Kuwata can be found in the First-Floor Dorms.

People report hearing guitar strings playing in the boys bathrooms.

If someone mentions baseball around his dorm, mirrors and glass will crack or straight up shatter.

Paranormal investigators once spent the night in his old room, but they "forgot" to take off their shoes and slept above the covers.

They woke up with a blanket that hadn't been in the room covering them and their shoes neatly placed by the side of the door.

That same investigator used a Spirit Box to try and talk to him about what happened in the school.

Of course their older generations saw what happened live, but they never spoke of it.

"Do you have anything you need to say?"

"I'm so sorry."

6/10, ow.

Hifumi Yamada can be found in the kiln room in the Art Studio.

People hear camera clicks, as if he's still taking pictures.

Pencils will roll when the floor is completely flat.

He likes messing with the kiln and knocking off the hammers.

He loves playing the flashlight game.

If anyone mentions Celestia Ludenburg, people swear the room falls into a heavy and tense silence.

When everyone leaves the kiln, they feel his conflicting pain.

Anger? Sadness? They don't know. He's still grieving.

6/10, more ow.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru is silent unless he needs to talk.

He only talks if you do something wrong.

He doesn't play any of the games.

If you run in the museum, people swear they hear a loud voice telling them to stop.

If the staff breaks the rules at all, they straight up get smacked in the shoulder.

Groups of friends, particularly men, feel very welcome in his dorm room.

They all leave after a friendly, invisible squeeze is given to them on the arm.

6/10, he'll never change.

Mondo Owada has one reported sighting.

When construction to restore the building was going on, there was an incident between a worker and a girl on the street one afternoon.

He took her behind the building and attempted to hurt her.

A man in a Crazy Diamond gang jacket, which it should be noted that it doesn't exist anyore, pulled him off and hit him with a pick axe.

After the assaulter was unconscious, her savior didn't say a word; he looked at the girl up and down, presumably checking her for injuries, and passed her a card with a phone number before nodding to her and walking off.

It was the local s3xual assault line, which had been established only two years prior.

After she called the number, she was never able to find the card again.

She didn't even put two and two together until she visited the finished museum and saw Mondo's picture.

No one has ever seen him since.

10/10, badass.

Sayaka Maizono is in one of the boy's bathrooms in the dorms.

Visitors report feeling unnerved or even scared when they enter the bathroom.

She will not interact with you.

She doesn't like playing any of the games. Do not turn on the spirit box in her bathroom, the shower glass will crack.

One investigator decided to spend the night in the bedroom and turned on the shower in the morning.

When they got out, there was a message written in the fog on the mirror.

"LEON."

1/10, no fucking thank you.

Aoi Asahina hangs around the pool room.

She's reportedly like Hiro.

She's been seen walking the halls everywhere.

Children love visiting the pool room. They tend to feel excited and safe.

At night you can hear the pool splashing when no one is inside.

She has one recorded incident.

A child brought a small bag of donut holes to snack on.

Said child began to complain that "the air" kept pulling the donut holes out of his hands.

So they ran an experiment.

They dropped one on purpose and watched it roll away towards the pool room. After that, they didn't feel anymore pulls.

Now it's a tradition to leave a donut for her on Obon by the pool room or her dorm room.

Staff report donuts pulling themselves apart to share. If staff take a half that is offered, the treats are always gone by the next morning.

9/10, a whole mood.

Chihiro Fujisaki is relatively quiet.

They can be found in the boy's locker rooms by the pool.

People will smell a slight perfume over the chlorine.

Muscular men in particular will feel an odd sense of guilt when entering.

There was a guest, who was a muscular man, who took out their phone to record the room and listened back to it to find bits and pieces of the audio were gone.

They took it to a friend who deciphered it into a message in Morse code.

"I forgive you."

9/10, holy ow.

Celestia Ludenburg is only active in the kitchen.

Investigators have put on a full pot of tea water with no heat on the stove.

If they leave and come back, they'll find the pot whistling with the heat still off. The water is always the perfect temperature.

She is never active at night.

She'll only use the spirit box on Obon, but you have to make her a cup of milk tea first.

She's very picky about it.

There was one who got it right on the first try.

"Well finally," the box picked up. "Have some."

She will share details only she would know.

"I don't want to be rude, but do you have any regrets?"

A moment of silence. The cup on the table left for her shakes for just a moment.

"I have too many."

6/10, talkative but be careful.

Kyoko Kirigiri has never talked, but you'll hear her.

Staff will hear her heels clicking in the halls at night.

She likes writing in people's notebooks.

Random strangers will enter with an empty pocketbook and leave with a full one.

She loves to write.

She tells her side of the story.

If the mirrors ever fog up, she's there scratching out letters and numbers.

She also turns on the coffee pot in the kitchen.

Intuitive teenagers tend to know when she's there because they feel safer in rooms that people normally aren't comfortable in.

She writes clues to all the murders that she was never able to solve.

She's not done yet. She's made it very clear that she is not at peace.

9/10, talkative and informative.

Sakura Ogami is said to be hanging around in the recreational room where she committed suicide.

Children feel safe in there, but they never play with the old equipment.

There is an unspoken rule among them that they all know and have never discussed as soon as they walk in.

Some thrill-seekers sit in her chair.

They report feeling their head throbbing and intense nausea, some even passing out from the pain.

They also report intense guilt.

One child sat in the seat without thinking about it and they reported being fine but feeling a little sad.

She plays the flashlight game with investigators, but only if they're nice.

One turned on a spirit box and gave her a cup of tea on Obon.

"Thank you."

8/10, don't sit in her fucking chair you dumbass.

Mukuro Ikusaba is heard rarely.

Like Mondo, she has one reported calling.

In the gym, late at night, you can hear a quiet sobbing.

Children will hear a crying girl in their head:

"I didn't want this."

3/10, how is this even more ow.

Junko Enoshima is heard in the execution room.

Staff used to think there were multiple ghosts in there, but it turns out it's just her.

She laughs, cries, and shrieks.

The story is that she killed herself with her own executions after succeeding in the killing game.

At night investigators play the flashlight game with her.

Every visitor is always unnerved by her.

There is an unspoken bitterness towards her.

She doesn't deserve her success.

0/10, scary bitch.

Makoto Naegi is seen everywhere.

The Ultimate Lucky Student loves telling his story.

He's seen in windows and mirrors with his hoodie and a warm smile.

He's always kind and welcoming.

People leave him popular snacks at his dorm room on Obon.

He never speaks, he just likes watching everyone learn about them.

If children ever get lost he leads them back to their parents.

They'll always tell their family about the "nice boy with brown hair" who takes their hand gently and leads them to safety.

He feels a duty to protect the staff. They never feel alone at night. He's always there to keep them safe.

The descendant of Komaru Naegi, who happened to be a paranormal investigator, once spent the night in his old dorm room.

She reported hearing quiet crying and sniffling that morning before she opened her eyes and was flooded with a sense of relief.

Oh thank god, she was okay.

10/10, heart of gold.

Byakuya Togami is seen in one room and one room only.

He is the only one that people regularly see in the flesh as a full figure.

He's sitting in the library, reading a murder mystery novel.

He has never acknowledged any of the guests, except for one.

A small child, a descendant of Togami's old butler, gently knocked on the table to get his attention and waved politely. They thought he was a staff member.

He looked up at them, gave a little wave back, and went back to his book.

When they turned away and looked back, he was gone.

Staff will see him walking back to his room when the museum is closing up.

He's snobby, sure, but he has his manners. He won't purposefully get in the way of the staff.

9/10, super chill.

???

There is an unknown ghost that has one known/recorded interaction.

One night a paranormal investigator spent the night exploring the building.

They walked in the library to see Togami with a book and a lamp on that was previously off.

They nodded at him politely and went to the bookshelves to "find a book". They turned on a spirit box and stayed quiet.

The library door opened and closed.

They hear a passing conversation.

"Hello love."

A kiss, presumably on the knuckles.

"How was today?"

"Tiring", says a voice. "Lot of cleaning. Did you get any visitors?"

A chuckle. "Too many. I think they can see me."

"Probably."

A pause.

"Togami?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think they'll ever figure out what really happened here?"

Hesitance. "For their sake, I hope not."

============================================

Feedback would be lovely. Thank you for your time!

[loridrabbles]

Imprisoned | Dogma x Reader (part 27)

To make up for the missing chapter last week, this chapter is a liiittle longer than usual.

     Dogma's time at home with (Y/n) and Saoirse had been coming to an end, quicker than any of them had hoped. With their last day together coming to a close, all (y/n) wanted to do was hold him close and hope that time would slow down, even if just a little. She sat on the couch, listening to the fire crackling in the fireplace, watching him play with Saoirse on the floor in the flickering orange light. She was completely entranced by the rattle she had in her hands and laughed with unrestrained joy when she shook it. 

     "What time do you have to leave tomorrow?" (Y/n) asked.

     "Around 6 or so." Dogma answered, looking over his shoulder at her.

     "Am I coming with you, or should I stay here?"

     "I was hoping you would come with me." He replied. "But if you'd rather not bring her there, you don't have to come."

     "I think she'll be fine. It's busy, but it's not like we fire anti-air missiles from that base."

     "Yeah, that's true." He said, holding his hands out for Saoirse to tap the rattle against. 

     "Is there anything you want to do this evening?" She asked, sliding off the couch to sit on the floor next to him. "Go out to dinner? Go for a walk? Try and fail a new recipe ourselves?"

     He thought for a moment, holding Saoirse's little hand in his, rubbing the soft skin of the back of her hand with his thumb.

     "I think I just want to sit at that park you talk about so much. Just the three of us. No one around to distract or bother us. Maybe bring a picnic. I just want the last few hours we have together to be...just us. Calm and quiet."

     (Y/n) leaned against him, her head against his shoulder. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to rid her mind of the thought of what's to come the next day.

     "That sounds nice." She breathed.

     (Y/n) and Dogma worked together in the kitchen to make a small picnic basket. (Y/n) picked out a blanket and a couple of Saoirse's toys and stuffed them into a backpack. She bundled up her baby in some warmer clothes and they were out the door.

     The park was only a short cab ride away, where the city edged up to the river. There was a large expanse of grass and trees along a walking trail and some shrubbery to help hide the view of the city. The sun was setting, leaving ribbons of orange and yellow on the water. Across the river were apartment buildings and businesses which didn't reach nearly as high in the sky as the building on the near side of the city, allowing citizens in the part to catch a glimpse of the sunset. 

     "This looks like a good a spot as any." Dogma said, setting the backpack down a few feet from a small tree, probably only a few years old.

     "I'll get the blanket set up." (Y/n) said giving Saoirse to Dogma.

     She rolled the blanket out onto the grass and set the basket down in the corner, then pulled a rattle and a plush bear stuffed with crinkly plastic from the bag. She took a seat and held her hands out for Saoirse.

     "She's getting cranky." He said, sitting adjacent to her. 

     "She's probably hungry. She hasn't eaten since her nap." 

     (Y/n) unclasped her shirt and bra while Dogma opened the basket.

     "Do you want anything?" He asked.

     "No. I've been picking through the fridge all day." She laughed. A breeze swept through the area and rustled through the trees. Goosebumps formed up and down (Y/n)'s arms and she shivered a little. "It's chillier than I thought."

     "Here." Dogma said pulling off his zip up and draping it over her shoulders. "I have a long sleeve shirt on. I'll be fine."

     "Thanks, baby." She smiled.

     The park was as peaceful as Dogma had hoped. They had only heard the footsteps of one or two people walking along a trail in the first few minutes they were there. From their spot, they could hear the gentle lapping of the river water against the bank and the rustling of the leaves as a gentle spring breeze surrounded them. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow on their skin.

     Dogma popped a piece of fruit in his mouth and scooted closer to (Y/n). As Saoirse was happily drinking away, he stared at her tiny little lashes kissing her chubby cheeks.

     "She's so gorgeous. He said, then gave (Y/n) a kiss on the cheek. "You too."

     (Y/n) giggled and looked up at the sunset, then over to Dogma who was admiring the sky as well. She placed her hand over his as it rested on the blanket.

     "I'm glad you thought of this." She said, looking at him admiringly. 

     "Me too." He said as her cheerful face turned into a wistful smile.

     "I'm gonna miss you so much." She said, squeezing his hand. "I just got you back."

     "Don't cry, sweetheart." He said, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

     "I just can't stop thinking about tomorrow." She sniffled.

     "Then let's think about yesterday." He said. "Remember when we used to be at each other's throats?"

     "Yeah." She laughed a little, placing Saoirse on her back to lay on the blanket, handing her the stuffed bear. "I'll admit, the first time I saw the guards kicking your ass, I was a little happy."

     "Ouch." He chuckled.

     "But then, when we got back to the cell and you were hurt, I felt bad because I knew how you were feeling and it was like an insult to injury."

     "Yeah. It sucked. I think there's still a little scar just underneath my lip." He said, pointing to the corner of his mouth. "When...did you realize you loved me?" He asked. He saw a small smile spread across (y/n)'s face.

     "The first night we were in solitary and I started to panic. I realized when you rushed to my bedside." She paused and laughed a little. "I realized you loved me when you started letting me have the last of your peanut butter. What about me? When did you realize?"

     "When you asked me what my favorite color was and I kissed you for the first time." 

     "I remember that night." She smiled. "I wanted to throw up because I was so nervous and excited."

     "Me too. I was so scared that you didn't feel the same way and you'd smack me for trying to kiss you."

     "If you had caught me three days earlier, I might have."

     "Well, I'm glad I waited." Dogma said, reaching for his backpack. He shuffled around looking for something, while (Y/n) looked at him a little confused, wondering what he was doing. She had Saoirse sitting in her lap as she played with her favorite teething ring. A moment later, he pulled a small bag from inside.

     "What's that?" She asked.

     "Checkers." He said, opening the bag and spreading out the game board. "I saw it when we were at a store together and bought it while you were distracted with Saoirse.

     A huge smile spread across (y/n)'s face. She watched as he set up the game pieces on the board and realized how similar it was to the one they played with while in prison, though there were some differences. The board was made up of a much softer, thicker fabric, and the game pieces were brighter and carved out of heavy wood.

     "You go first." He said, sliding his body over a little so he could lay on his side, propping his head up on his wrist. (Y/n)'s fingers dances across her side of the board before she selected a piece to move. Dogma smile as he watched, reminiscing the days they spent together. As he moved his piece, Saoirse leaned forward in (y/n)'s arms and grabbed a piece, trying to stick it in her mouth, making her dad chuckle a little.

     "No, no, no, honey." (Y/n) took the piece and gave her a toy instead. "I don't want you to choke."

      After a few rounds of checkers, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. The black-haired little girl wiggled in (y/n)'s lap and reached her hands out to Dogma, cooing and squealing.

     "I think someone wants her daddy." She said, passing her to him. He took her in his arms and rolled onto his back with her on his chest.

     "Ahh! Come here, sweetheart." He said humorously, kissing her all over her chubby face. The sun had near set, only light illuminating them were the street lamps.

     "We should probably head back home." (Y/n) said stretching.

     "Yeah. She's starting to fall asleep already." He answered, looking at Saoirse whose eyes were getting heavy and floating shut while she listened to his heartbeat.

     The taxi ride to the base was silent. I was early. Saoirse was still asleep on (y/n)'s chest as she held Dogma's hand tightly in hers. He fought back tears half the way there and occasionally felt Dogma massage the back of her hand with his thumb as like he knew she was biting her cheeks.  As they rounded the corner and arrived outside the gates, she could hear him let out a long, heavy sigh. Captain Rex was waiting for them outside. The taxi came to a stop, and Dogma stepped out, feeling naked in just his blacks. He almost couldn't wait to put his armor back on, even if it meant he had to leave his family behind. 

     "Well...this is it." He said as (y/n) slid off the seat and onto the concrete walkway.

     "This is it..." (Y/n) sighed, looking down at her feet. "I'm going to miss you so much." She said, resting her chin on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

     "I'll come back."

     "I know." She gave him a longing smile and noticed Captain Rex approaching them.

     "Good morning, Sir." Dogma said, standing to face him. 

     "Morning, soldier. Your armor is waiting for you in your locker. Be prepared for a meeting at O'ninehundred." He said. "Are you ready?"

     "Just a minute." Dogma said, turning back to (y/n) whose eyes were red and glossy with tears. He ran his fingers through Saoirse's soft hair and gave her a kiss on her forehead before wrapping both his girls in his arms. (Y/n) wrapped her free arm tightly around his waist, tilting her head back to give him kisses along his jaw. 

     "I love you so much, darling." He said, pressing his lips firmly to hers. 

     "I love you too." She said, letting to of Saoirse as he picked her up. He pulled her close to his chest and peppered kisses all over and buried his face in her soft hair, closing his eyes for a moment.

     "I love you, babygirl." He whispered with one last kiss before passing her back to (y/n). "I'll see you soon."

     He caressed her cheek and gave her a reassuring smile before turning back to Captain Rex.

     "I'm ready, sir." He said. 

     "Good." He said. He turned to (y/n), gave her a friendly nod, and walked through the gates of the base, Dogma close behind. He wanted to look back at her so badly, but he couldn't. He knew if he saw (y/n) crying, he probably would too. He could cry later.

[lviolett]

Keeper - Chen Mafia AU

Keeper

Type: A Chen Fanfiction / Exo fanfiction

Genre: Mafia AU/ Angst/ Action/Romance

Pairing: Chen x OC | Jongdae x OC

OC - Kwang Minhee

Warning: Violence, Possible NSFW content

A/N: Since posts with links don’t appear on search (wth tumblr?) I have tagged each chapter with #chen keeper, so to find previous or next chapters, click on the tag to read them, thank you :)

-

Sypnosis: Taken by one of the biggest Korean mafias, Kwang Minhee tries her hardest to adapt to her new life. Under the watchful gaze of her capturer Chen, there is no way out. Soon enough, however, she becomes a target of a series of attacks before Chen takes it upon himself to protect her. With enemies and allies all around her and shocking revelations of her past, Minhee struggles to keep herself sane and not fall for her keeper..

-

Chapter 2

When Minhee woke to, she was in what seemed to be an infirmary somewhere, single white beds that one would expect to find in hospitals surrounded her, yet the dingy ceiling and windows bolted with metal boards let her know it wasn't a hospital.

She looked down to find herself in a long, loose-fitting t-shirt, acting as a hospital gown. Parts of her arms and legs were bandaged and her legs were restrained against the foot of the bed. She sat up with a jolt, panic washing over her as memories of what had happened presented themselves in her mind.

Thoughts such as 'Where am I?' What have they done to me?' and 'What are they gonna do to me?' ran through her head along with deep sadness but there was no one around to ask the questions and she sat there for what seemed like forever before someone walked through the door. She saw a man in a white coat enter and carefully close the door behind him, a clipboard in hand.

Seeing her awake, he smiled at her and she noticed the deep dimples of his cheeks. They really made him look innocent but she didn't think it would be the case considering he works with the kind of people who brought her here. But she also didn't understand the idea of a bunch of loan-sharks having an infirmary and doctors.

"How are you feeling?" asked the man, his voice soft as he proceeded to switch on a flashlight and hover over her.

"I'm..okay I guess," Minhee replied as he pulled out a tiny flashlight at her eyes and blinded her with the intense light.

He smiled as he informed her he was just checking her vitals before going back to his clipboard and writing something down.

Minhee decided it was the best time to ask him about her whereabouts.

Her voice felt a bit hoarse and she coughed which seemed to grab his attention.

"So..where am I? Who are you? And how long have I been here? Why are my legs tied to the bed?" she asked.

"Ah, well you're at the base of the Korean mafia. I'm Lay, the doctor here and you have been here for about 36 hours. Turns out, you were severely malnourished and starved and your body was pretty injured so it took you much longer to come to than a normal person who passed out from shock. Oh, and I was instructed to tie your legs in case you thought about escaping."

She gulped at the information. Korean mafia. Oh NO. there was no telling if they were ever gonna let her go now.

Her face might have shown her incredulous expression because the next thing Lay does is laugh slightly and says, "Yeah, you're most likely not getting out of here."

Her heart plummeted. His laughter had given her some form of hope but his words dashed them all down.

Just then, the door to the room opened and she saw the same man who brought her here enter. Now that she was not feeling like death, she only started to notice the features of his body.

Clad in all black yet again, he was of medium height and built, and she could see his muscles from under his shirt sleeve as he crossed his arms against his chest, walking towards Lay. He didn't look as dangerous as the day before but just the aura he exuded sent a red alarm through her mind and she started to concentrate on breathing steadily. Though as soon as he stepped in front of her beside Lay, her breath hitched. A shining piece of metal, that she guessed was a gun, gleamed at her from its place on the holster of his belt.

Terror seized her but before she could think of escaping, she heard him ask Lay, "She's awake huh? Fina-fucking-ly." she gulped and heard Lay say with a warning tone, "Chen, please." Then she heard the man, now she knows as Chen, huff before he directed a question towards her.

"What's your age?" Something about the tone of his voice rattled her and she felt anxiety growing in the pit of her stomach. Trying to control her anxiety, she must have taken too long to answer before he said with a harsh tone, "I asked you something!"

"I'm-I'm 19" she managed to answer, trying to not look directly at him.

He tilted her head up towards his face and she looked in his eyes as a smile formed on his face, a smile that made him look completely harmless.

"Then you're old enough," he said and she felt her blood run cold, realizing what he could have meant. Her eyes widened and her breath started coming out in short gasps as he let go of her face and he grinned happily before Lay grabbed him by his arm and took him to the far end of the room.

"What exactly are you doing Chen?" she heard Lay ask him, their attempt at whispering was turning out to be a failure since the room was completely quiet and she could hear everything.

"I'm doing my work. This is the mafia, what do you expect to do with girls like her?"

"Okay listen, the type of work you're planning to set her off to? She won't be able to handle it. That's years of malnourishment, she's not gonna survive it." Lay was explaining, and Minhee felt thankful to him, he was really trying to save her.

She saw Chen look her way and she immediately dropped her head, concentrating on the fabric of the bedsheet and she heard him sigh.

"Okay fine, but what do I do with her then, apart from killing her? She clearly can't fight, I don't trust her with information, doesn't have the loyalty to be a spy for us and, " he turned towards her, "Do you know how to hack or use computers at all?" he asked and she nodded a no, replying meekly, "I was never allowed any devices.."

He looked at Lay as if to say, 'See?' and Lay sighed and looked away.

"But.." Minhee began as she tried gripping at any last chance of a life, "I can clean. I'm-I'm very good at household work. I can clean every speckle of dirt and..and blood, anything really. And I can cook and wash too, just please.." she trailed off, unsure of what they were gonna say.

Lay then said, "She could become a maid here, but I think it's too dangerous for her over here." Chen nodded and said, "And she could mess up a lot over here."

"Why don't you make her as your maid?" Lay asked and Chen raised an eyebrow critically at him.

"What? You're barely ever there and it's more like a junkyard than a house. Plus, the place needs some seriously good cleaning after that group of guys you tortured over there," said Lay as he flinched at the memory of it.

Minhee was horrified, thinking about the kind of place she'd have to clean but it was better than whatever Chen was sending her off to do or die so she figured she'd take it. She held her breath as Chen pondered over the idea.

"Ugh, fine," he said with a groan and she felt hopeful about the tragedy that was her life.

"But," he warned as he walked to her bed, "any hint or thought of escaping, any step out of line, then you're dead meat. Do exactly you're told to do."

Minhee frantically nodded her head. She wouldn't dare.

"How long does she have to stay here?" Chen asked Lay and Lay looked at the clipboard in hand before saying, "Just give me a couple of hours for some rest and food and she'll be ready to go."

Chen nodded and looked her over one last time before he left.

As soon as the door closed behind him, She breathed a huge sigh of relief; that man was so unnerving, but she was glad he was giving her a chance. She turned to Lay and thanked him, he really helped her after all. Lay just shook his as he smiled, and then told her to get some rest before he left the room to arrange food for her, she assumed.

However, gloominess and anxiety surrounded her thoughts and she made a small prayer, thinking of her parents, her real ones, before she felt sleep take over her, hoping it would be better than what her life was so far.

A/N: I know the chapters are short but I’m in the middle of my exams so I’m not able to write as much as I want to. Still wanted to get this up! Chapters will be longer after next week. 

[sp4c3-0ddity]

pidge gets sick and lance insists on being her Devoted Nurse™ whether she wants/needs him to or not (and she'll never admit how much she actually enjoys being fussed over).

i’ve never written sick fic before and i also haven’t been really sick in a while, so i guess there’s a first time for everything. this one’s got a dose (hehe) of pining too. vaguely takes place during...season four, i guess

also it ran away from me and is ~4300 words, so enjoy!!

Pidge should’ve known something was wrong the moment shestood up. Her head spun, and the floor seemed to tilt beneath her while hervision adjusted. She rested one hand on the desk and pressed the other to herforehead, and when the dizzy spell faded she took one step, and then another,walking carefully because of the sudden weakness in her limbs, the way her legsthreatened to buckle beneath her.

Behind her, the Green Lion growled, and Pidge didn’t needtheir loosely telepathic bond to know it was a rebuke. But instead ofacknowledging it, she left the hangar, intent on drinking water to soothe herscratchy throat.

It figured that she would have seasonal allergies evenin space.

Pidge didn’t show up to breakfast, which wasn’t odd,exactly, since she almost always slept through it unless there was somethingimportant scheduled early in the day cycle, but the fact that Lance overheardcoughing from inside her bedroom when he was on his way to bed the eveningbefore worried him.

“Has anyone seen Pidge yet today?” Lance asked the room atlarge.

“I already checked the Green Lion’s hangar,” Shiro admittedwith a spork full of green goo halfway to his mouth. “She must’ve slept inher room last night.” He left the for once unspoken.

Lance glanced at Hunk, who frowned and said, “She cameto the kitchen yesterday for some water. That was the last I saw of her.”

“Hmm.” Lance turned to stare at the dining room’s door, asif doing so would summon Pidge. When it - predictably - did not, heannounced, “I’m going to check on her.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” said Shiro.

“Yeah, I know,” Lance agreed. He pushed his chair back fromthe table and stood, but before he left he reconsidered and piled goo into abowl to take, just in case.

He paused outside Pidge’s bedroom door, wondering if hishelp - if she even needed it - would even be welcome; maybe she’d rather Shiroor anyone else check on her? But before he could think too hard, he brisklyknocked on the door.

“What?” Her voice came out faint, as if muffled by somethingcovering her mouth.

“Uh, it’s me,” Lance called cautiously. “I just came byto check if you’re awake.”

“Well, you got your answer; I’ll be out soon.” This time shesounded louder, but also off.

“Can I come in?” Lance asked.

Pidge didn’t respond immediately, but then shesaid, “Why?”

He rolled his eyes and stuffed his free hand into his jacketpocket. “Like I said, to check on you. I heard you coughing last nightand–” He cut himself off when the door silently slid open to reveal Pidge’scluttered bedroom, with Pidge herself nowhere to be seen. “Uh, Pidge?”

A small, pale hand emerged from underneath a stack ofblankets on the bed, waving at him, and Pidge’s head followed, a turtle peekingout of its shell. At the admission, Lance entered, carefully picking his wayaround discarded electronics and mechanical parts, past instructional bookletsand loose sheets of paper. A furry green creature that looked a little like amammalian caterpillar drifted past his head, markings on its head glowing whenits eyes fell on him.

“Uh…”

“Don’t mind them,” Pidge said. She sat up in bed, propped upagainst two pillows, and as he watched she reached for a box of tissues on abedside table. “They won’t hurt you.”

Lance curiously stuck a finger up, and the creature sniffedit. “There’s more than one?”

Pidge nodded towards a shadowy corner of her room, wherejunk was so condensed he couldn’t make out individual pieces. “The blueone is hiding over there; it’s a bit more shy.”

“Right,” Lance said. Then he offered her a smile. “Itake it you’re sick?”

Pidge blew her nose with a noise like a foghorn. “It’sonly allergies,” she said.

“…really,” Lance said skeptically. He approached her and saton the edge of her bed without waiting for an invitation, the door sliding shutagain behind him. To his relief, she made room for him, sliding a little closerto the wall. “And I brought you breakfast,” he added, brandishing the bowlof goo at her.

Pidge stared at it for a few heartbeats, then shook her headand said, “I’m not hungry.”

Lance raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re not?”

“No.” Pidge sniffed, and followed it up with a cough.

Lance narrowed his eyes at her, examining her more closely.Her hair stuck damply to her face, which looked a little flushed, and she heldherself stiffly, like she was in pain. “I don’t think it’s allergies,” hetold her. “I think you’re actually sick.”

“Thanks for the diagnosis, Doctor,” Pidge quipped, pushingsweaty hair away from her face. “What’s my prognosis?”

Lance grinned. “Not too good, sadly,” he said, “butit could be better if you let me take care of you.”

Pidge stared at him. “Why? I’m doing fine.” She wavedat the box of tissues at her bedside, at the empty cup that must’ve held water.

“Clearly.” Lance considered her for a minute, then leanedforward and pressed his lips to her forehead - too warm, like he suspected.

Pidge stiffened and asked, “What are you doing?”

“Checking for a fever,” Lance replied once he pulled back.He squinted at her, suspicious all over again. “You look even redder now;maybe you’re worse than you seem?”

She covered her face and groaned. “Why can’t you justuse a thermometer like a normal person?” she demanded. “We’re on anadvanced alien spaceship! I’m sure Coran has a few lying around.”

“Yeah, let me just go get that meat thermometer,” Lanceretorted, “and then you’d have to convert the units from whatever Alteansuse to degrees Celsius because I’m not good at mental math.”

“Honestly I’m impressed that you even remembered we’d haveto convert the units,” Pidge said, looking at him from between her fingers.

Lance slumped. “Do you want my help or not?”

“…or not.”

“Seriously? I offer my services for free and this ishow you repay me?”

Pidge snorted and crossed her arms. “Fine,” shesaid. “As long as you don’t force feed me cough syrup, you can…take careof me.” That last bit was said in a quieter voice, and if Lance didn’t know anybetter he would think she looked embarrassed.

Then again, Pidge had a proud streak, so maybe it wasdifficult for her to admit to needing - or even wanting - help.

“Okay then!” Lance said brightly. He plopped the bowl of goointo her lap and said, “Why don’t you start with that?” He stood up andturned back to the door. “I’ll tell everyone else you won’t be trainingtoday, and then I’ll be back with some water and a thermometer after I askCoran if there’s any medicine you can take.”

Pidge picked up the spork and raised it slowly to her lips.Lance pointedly watched her put it in her mouth, chew - not that it needed chewing- and swallow. Then, when she put the spork down, he said, “I guess that’sgood enough for now, but you’d better finish it all by the time I come back.”

“Take your time,” Pidge said, and she tried anotherspork-ful.

Pidge only finished half the goo before her appetite shrunkuntil it was nonexistent. The goo tasted even worse than usual, like dampcardboard, and all she could really taste in her mouth besides was thesaltiness of her own snot and saliva.

So she set the goo aside and lay back down, tugging theblanket up to cover her face in an attempt to warm up and keep herself fromshivering. But her teeth still chattered, rattling what felt like her entireskeleton, and at the same time her eyes burned with the fever. Her stomachroiled with nausea, not helped at all by the way the goo didn’t settle in, butthe last time she found the strength to stumble into the bathroom she hadn’tbeen able to vomit.

Pidge closed her eyes, exhausted after a nearly sleeplessnight, kept awake by her own coughing and an ear ache. Oh, she would kill foreven just a spoonful of honey to soothe her sinuses, maybe with a mug of hotgreen tea, her mother’s spicy chicken noodle soup - spiced enough she couldtaste it, a bottle of Sprite or ginger ale for the upset stomach…

Still, it was sweet of Lance to offer to take care of her,and at least she knew he wouldn’t have any ulterior motives and wouldn’t extorta favor from her in the future - probably. He was just being…nice, likebringing her food and kissing her forehead to check her fever, because that waswhat close friends did.

“Right?” she asked the trash nebula caterpillar hoveringclose to her, its markings flashing.

A soft knock on the door interrupted Pidge’s thoughts, andshe called, “Come in!” She struggled to sit up as the door slid open.

Lance returned with several pouches of water, a second bowlof goo - Pidge grimaced involuntarily at the sight - and a medicalscanner. “Okay, Coran showed me how to use this,” he said, setting thebowl on her cluttered bedside table and sitting on the bed again.

Pidge shifted her legs to give him space again, andpatiently waited for him to adjust the settings on the scanner…at least untilhis confused mumbling got on her sleep deprived nerves. She snatched it out ofhis hands - ignoring his indignant hey! - and found thecorrect settings before returning it to him.

“Thanks,” Lance said.

Pidge shrugged and grumbled, “No problem.” Ishould be thanking you, she thought, but the words caught in herthroat.

Lance held the scanner up to her face, and after a beat, thedisplay flashed red and he lowered it. “Hmm, can you help me read this?”When Pidge nodded, Lance turned around so he sat beside her, leaning against herpillow and with his shoulder pressed against hers.

Pidge fought the urge to either shrink away or lean a littlecloser, instead saying, “You want to get sick too?”

“My immune system kicks ass,” Lance informed her. “I’llbe fine.”

“Tempting fate then,” Pidge said, nodding. “Suityourself, but don’t come crying for me when the inevitable happens.”

(She didn’t mean that.)

“I’ll be fine,” Lance reassured her again. Then, after hebrandished the scanner at her, he asked, “So what does it say is wrongwith you?”

Pidge took it from him - his hands felt so much cooler thanher overheated skin when they brushed against her - and glanced over thereadout. “It’s the flu,” she decided. “Or, sort of.” She passed thescanner back to him. “It predicts I’ll no longer be contagious in threedays, and a few days after that I’ll feel normal again.”

Lance raised an eyebrow at her. “Contagious?”

“Don’t worry,” Pidge said, “I won’t be kissing youduring that time.”

Lance laughed, the elbow nudging her side also doingsomething to squeeze her heart. “Good to know so I have time to prepare.”He winked at her.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “The scanner also suggested bedrest, fluids, and a decongestant.”

“Oh, well, I guess this is like space Tylenol?” Lance said,holding up a bottle and shaking it so that its contents rattled.

Pidge took the bottle and scanned the label. “It saysto take two every six vargas for an adult, but that’s for Alteans.” Shesquinted at it. “Also this stuff’s probably been expired for ten thousandyears, and no drug has an unlimited shelf-life.”

“So…no drugs for you,” Lance said, grinning sheepishly as hesnatched the bottle away from her. “Guess we should ask Coran to clean outthe medicine in the med bay.”

“Probably a good idea,” Pidge agreed.

“Also, food,” Lance said. He took her unfinished bowl of gooand dropped it into her lap. “Finish it.”

“I’m not hungry.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Come on, Pidge, you’resmart enough to know that you need to eat.”

“Yeah, well, too bad I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Pidge sighed and admitted, “I feel nauseous and I haveno appetite.”

“Well, what if I feed you?”

It took all her willpower not to gape at him - and shethanked her lucky stars that she was probably already red with fever and hewouldn’t see her blush. “I don’t see how that would help.”

“Let’s try anyway.” Lance scooped up a spork-ful of goo andraised it to be level with her mouth, but she stubbornly pinched her lipstogether. “Come on, Pidge.”

“No,” she said, barely moving her lips.

Lance pressed the spoon to her mouth. “Pidge,” hechided.

Pidge shook her head.

“Come on,” he whined. “If you don’t eat,you’ll starve and die, and where will that leave us? Without our residentgenius?”

“That’s overdramatic,” Pidge said.

“Open up for the food Lion,” Lance sang.

Pidge only stared at him.

Lance sighed and dropped the spork into thebowl. “Fine,” he said, “we can try that again later. Is theresomething else you want then?”

“Food? No.” Pidge shook her head to emphasize, then restedher head on his shoulder. “I wish I could get some tea…take a nap…” Sheyawned and wrapped her arms around Lance’s.

“Okay,” Lance said. He ran his fingers through her hair,apparently disregarding how sweaty she was. “Go to sleep then.”

Pidge closed her eyes, and this time she drifted off alittle quicker as her nausea faded.

When Pidge’s breathing slowed - though it still hitchedwhenever she coughed - Lance very carefully extricated himself from her grip,making sure her head nestled on the pillow before he retreated from her roomwith an objective in mind.

If Pidge was going to be bedridden for a few day cycles,then he could stand to make sure she wouldn’t get bored.

He peeked into the kitchen, searching for Hunk, but when hecouldn’t find him there he went down to the Yellow Lion’s hangar. “Hunk!”he called when he spotted him working on something large and mechanical nearthe Lion’s giant paw.

“Lance,” Hunk replied, smiling when he lookedup. “How’s Pidge?”

“She has space flu,” Lance told him.

“Oh, has she eaten?” Hunk asked, immediately perking up withwide-eyed worry. “Is she drinking water? Did you give her any—”

“No, yes, and everything on the ship is probably expired,” Lance answered him in turn. He tapped his footthen and before Hunk could say anything else asked, “Can you help me withsomething?”

Hunk put down the tool in his hand. “Sure,” he said. “Whatdo you need?”

“I need to move something,” Lance explained, “from my roomto Pidge’s…”

The ticker displayed from the wall indicated that less thantwo vargas passed since Pidge fell asleep leaning against Lance, who was…gone.

When she opened her eyes, still sticky with sleep, shereflexively reached across her bed towards where she’d expected him to be, butwhen only soft, slightly smelly sheets met her fingertips, disappointmentfilled her belly – better than nausea, shethought – rather than relief that she did, at least, feel better.

Her throat wasn’t so sore, her ear ache was gone, and hermuscles didn’t hurt so much. But her fever was still unbroken, and Pidge wasalone when she hadn’t expected or, truth be told, wanted to be.

Pidge glanced around the room then, struck by an urge to do…something.Though she doubted she had the strength to walk much further than the distance betweenher bed and the bathroom, her skin crawled with restlessness. She sat up,seeking something to do, when she spotted the green nebula caterpillar on herbedside table, polishing off her unfinished breakfast.

She raised an eyebrow at it and said, “I guess I can tellLance I ate it after all.” She smiled, and was about to beckon it towards herwhen she noticed a ceramic mug right next to it, curling white tendrils ofsteam rising from it. “Tea?”

Pidge carefully picked up the mug – the heat warmed her clammyhands – and sniffed at the contents suspiciously, but when all she smelled wasthe odd Olkari tea they used as a coffee substitute, she sipped at it.

It was a little too bitter for her liking, but it did itsjob, loosening the phlegm thick in her throat, the steam she inhaled soothingthe stuffiness of her nose.

While she drank, the door slid open – without waiting forher permission – and admitted Lance and Hunk.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Lance greeted her brightly.

Pidge barely heard him, her gaze drawn to the equipment inhis and Hunk’s arms. “Is that everything for the system?” she asked, feelingher eyes bug out. “Wasn’t that in your room?”

“Well, since you’re kind of stuck,” Lance said while hestarted rearranging her room’s clutter, shoving stuff aside to make room for allthe equipment, “I figured we could move it here so you’re not so bored.”

Pidge grinned. “If I wasn’t sick, I could kiss you!”

Hunk snorted, and Lance quipped, “Oh, so you finally admitthat you are sick?”

(Pidge wasn’t sure, but she thought she spied a hint of redon his face.)

“Guess there’s no point in denying it anymore,” Pidge said,shrugging.

“Because that’s the most important thing you’re denying,”Hunk said.

Lance finally approached her, nodding in satisfaction whenhe saw her drinking the tea, though when his gaze fell on the bowl – with thecaterpillar still gorging itself on the goo – he rolled his eyes and said, “Soyour dog ate your homework?”

Pidge smiled sheepishly and shooed the caterpillar away. “I’mnot hungry,” she told him, “like I said.”

“But—”

“I’ll make something else,” Hunk interrupted. He now stoodin the doorway, the gaming system fully set up. “Something more interestingthan goo, maybe.”

“You think it can have a bit more flavor in it too?” Pidgeasked cautiously.

Hunk grinned. “Of course it can, Pidge.” Then, he shot anunreadable look at Lance and left.

He booted up the console and sat with both controllers on thefloor beside Pidge’s bed. He handed up a controller to her.

Pidge took it, then said, “Give me player one.”

“I don’t think so,” Lance said. He smirked at the titlescreen as he navigated to the two-player option.

“Uh, no, I’m sick,” Pidge said, tapping his shoulder withthe player two controller in her hand.

“So now that it suits you, you’re pulling the ‘I’m sick’ card?”Lance glanced sideways at her. “Uncool, Pidge.”

“Something tells me you would do the exact same thing, and you owe me for stealing the consolein the first place. So give me.” She set her controller aside and leaned downfor Lance’s.

When her hand closed around the controller, she tugged at it,but Lance tugged back, and Pidge tumbled out of bed, her head falling againsthis thigh.

“Whoops! Sorry, Pidge,” he said, though from the impish grinon his face he didn’t look sorry at all.

Winded even from such brief exertion, Pidge glared up athim. “Are you serious?”

“Are you serious?”

Pidge grabbed his arm and heaved herself back upright untilshe sat on the floor, her back to him. “Fine,” she conceded, retrieving thesecond controller from her bed, “but you’d better be prepared for me to kick yourass.”

Lance laughed and said, “I’ve been practicing—”

“Because you stole it.”

“—so we’ll see who reallywins this round.”

Pidge won that round, and the one after that, and the next,but by the fourth and final, her consciousness wavered enough that Lance took advantageof her lapse in attention and stole that round out from under her virtual feet.

Everyone else aboard the Castle took turns visiting Pidge.Hunk brought her food – something more appealing and better tasting than greengoo – as promised, and she managed to eat most of it before she set it aside,her appetite vanishing, for the caterpillars to finish. Shiro brought a messageof well wishes to her from Matt. Allura and the mice visited together, theformer with a tablet containing a collection of her favorite books while thelatter braided Pidge’s short, sweaty hair into uneven pigtails. Coran’s visitwas the longest and the strangest, while he regaled Pidge of the tale of his ‘innerbattle’ against the dastardly Silver Fever that afflicted him when he gallivantedaround the known universe during his youth.

Pidge nodded off during Coran’s visit; for all she knew,putting her to sleep had been his intention, but it was hard to tell with him.

This time Lance was there when she woke up halfway throughthe Castle’s night cycle, the clicking of knitting needles providing a soothingrhythm to her still half-asleep brain. “What’re you making?” she asked, ortried to since the words came out a little garbled, her lips sluggish.

The clicking stopped, and she heard footsteps as Lanceapproached her bedside. “Shouldn’t you still be asleep?” he asked, peering downat her.

Pidge rubbed her eyes. “Shouldn’t you?” she retorted, squinting at him. “How can you knit in the darkanyway?”

“Portable light,” Lance said, wielding a small device. Hepressed a button and it glowed white. After a moment of consideration, he setit aside and rested the back of his hand against her forehead.

Pidge squinted at him. “What’re you doing?”

“I think your fever’s gone,” he said. He knelt beside her, foldinghis arms onto her bed and resting his chin on them. “How do you feel now?”

Mind still sluggish with sleep, Pidge was too busy watching thelight and shadows play across his face to register his words. “What did yousay?”

Lance rolled his eyes but smiled, looking almost indulgent. “Howdo you feel, Pidge?”

Pidge rubbed her face and thought about it. “Desperately inneed of a shower,” she admitted. She lifted her arm and sniffed at her armpit,wrinkling her nose at the scent of sweat and her body’s odor.

“That’s all?”

Pidge looked at him; she was pretty sure the warmth in her chest had nothing to do with thefever that had already broken, so she said, “My nose is still stuffed, and I’mgoing to be stuck with a cough for at least a week, but…I feel much betteralready.”

“Good,” Lance said.

“I…thanks, Lance,” Pidge said. “You didn’t have to take careof me, but you did, and…” She shrugged, though it probably looked odd since shewas still lying down.

“What are friends for?” Lance said, offering his own shrug. “Besides,your brother’s not here, so someone else should step in, you know?”

Pidge frowned at him, unsure what to say, or what could dispelthe disappointment settling in. Ofcourse, she thought. Out loud she finally said, “You should sleep too. Whatif you get sick just from being around me?”

“I’ll be fine, Pidge,” Lance reassured her. “You worry too much,but—” He yawned, covering his face with a hand. “Okay, sleeping actually doessound nice.” He stood up, retrieving the lighting device and turning it off sothat they were plunged into darkness. “I’ll check on you again in the morning?”

“Sounds good,” Pidge said. She rolled onto her side, notacknowledging Lance’s murmured good nightas she closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

After a shower in the morning, Pidge felt much better andstronger, and when she dressed in actual clothes rather than in her pajamas –which really needed laundering – she feltalmost back to normal…though the pile of used tissues on her bedside tablerefused to diminish.

“Gross,” she grumbled as she tossed another aside. She stoodup, about to leave her room for the first time in over a quintant, when a knockon the door made her pause. “Come in,” she said.

The door slid open to admit, unsurprisingly, Lance. When hiseyes fell on her, standing and dressed, he smiled and said, “That’s not what Iexpected.”

Pidge grinned, at least until she sneezed and had to wipeher nose again. “I’m not as weak as you think, Lance.”

“I never thought you were weak,” he argued, crossing his armsand leaning against the doorway. “But you know, I was kind of looking forwardto spending today in here again.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, surprised. “Why?”

“So I can get out of training, obviously.” He flashed her asmirk.

Pidge rolled her eyes and groaned, “Of course.”

A few quintants later, Lance ended up bedridden with thesame virus that took Pidge, and by process of elimination – because she’dalready suffered the illness and would have the necessary antibodies – she wasthe one forced to take care of him.

Or, that was the reason she told him, anyway; the Milky Waywould turn into actual milk before she ever admitted that she wanted to care for him…and the fact thatLance was so needy and borderline whiny sometimes helped her keep that fact toherself.

But when he asked her to read to him from one of the booksAllura lent her – she had to run the texts through her Altean translationprogram to fully understand them – something else in her softened.

“Thanks, Pidge,” Lance interrupted her reading, his voice hoarse.He had his head pillowed in Pidge’s lap while she idly ran her fingers throughhis hair with her free hand.

Pidge smiled, her face warm and carefully hidden from hissight by perspective and the tablet, and said, “Anytime, Lance.”