#usually when I finish a show I cry hysterically for a while but I fell to my knees in RELIEF when I ran out of eps today

[footnoteinhistory]

Finished TJLS today here are my random thoughts on the last two seasons and things that I saved as drafts but didn't post

I watched the last two seasons in the span of about 48 hours, which probably contributed to my burnout towards the show (I was ready for it to END), but also. LOL. I know they were caught between a rock and a hard place but. the tail end of TJLS makes the final seasons of Night Court look like prestige TV

Which pisses me offfffff because it was SUCH an amazing show. Genuinely the first season (and even much of s2) was, as most people who've watched it say, some of the best television I've ever seen. So raw and blunt and dark. Look at how they massacred my boy!! More thoughts on that at the end

TJLS season 3 episode 9 Hem says something rude and I thought “oh that shouldn’t be as hot as it is” and he proceeds to say it another dozen times as a recurring bit the whole scene. Literally perked up when he said it then felt embarrassed bc I do not like when men use that word but. Then he said it over and over and over again

His fake beard in s3ep19 sorry for moaning. daddy. sorry

Society if The John Larroquette Show didn’t force us to suffer through Catherine for three seasons. STOP trying to make their relationship happen it's not going to happen!!!

However her begging him to get her pregnant is kind of #real. Shoutout to the TJLS rawdogging episode

My least favorite TJLS episode turning out to be a Pynchon homage… who is surprised. No one can make me like his stories!

I abhor violence of course but I think Carly should’ve been allowed to kill Catherine with a gun (I think I wrote this during when Catherine waltzed in during their wedding)

She really became insufferable like at times I willed myself to like Catherine and tolerate her but her last few episodes... girl move on

Omg Hem calling himself “John nomiddlename Hemingway” during his vows is an obvious homage to how I always say Carl middlename Sack or Alan middlename Shore… a reference to me in TJLS wow <3

I love John Hemingway more than the moon and the stars but I do think he should be isolated from the rest of the human population in solitary confinement for his and our sakes (I think I wrote this when he suggested he and Carly and Catherine all live together but I could've written it at any point of late s3 to all of s4)

Hem was so sensitive and introspective and determined in the first season but by the end he was just. any sitcom dumb guy :( He could be a real jerk in ways I know season 1 Hemingway wouldn't be 🥺

Back to general thoughts: I'm just trying to wrap my mind around how they fumbled it so bad. The biggest (of many) problems was John/Catherine/Carly and how long it was dragged out. And even when Catherine was finally out of the picture (mostly?) they couldn't let John and Carly be happy together!!!! Not for a fucking moment!!

Also I think the episodes are out of order (even on IMDb) or something is missing because certain things in season 4 did not line up at ALL, which I noticed with an earlier season too. And since their relationships were so messy anyway, it was hard to figure out

Also still haven't been able to find s4ep12 which doesn't seem to exist anywhere. Maybe I'll have to risk buying a bootleg and hoping it's on there :|

Once we FINALLY got past the love triangle stuff we thankfully returned to more bus station hijinks, only so many of them were dumb and poorly written. Womp womp

I DID love all the fourth wall breaks and other references that hit back at NBC/network execs/the changes they were forced to make. Sitcom guerrilla warfare

TLDR John you are so sexy I'm sorry they did your show so dirty. Maybe if you didn't dye your hair this wouldn't have happened

[poesparakeet-fics]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Caleb Widogast, Caduceus Clay & Caleb Widogast, The Poly Nein - Relationship Characters: Caleb Widogast, Caduceus Clay Additional Tags: Tickling, ler!Cad, Lee!Caleb, Punishment, Injury, Injury Recovery, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Caleb Widogast is a Mess, Teasing, Queerplatonic Relationships, Pinned, Wrestling, Forced Self Love, And for once I don’t mean that in the sexy way., Safewords Series: Part 3 of The Poly Nein Summary:

Caduceus shows Caleb the consequences of dodging a healing spell around people who love you.

This one’s SFW, so please enjoy it here or on AO3!

This is what happens.

They came home battered, beaten and pissed besides. The others hung around for Jester’s prayer of healing, but Caleb slipped away, too full of old wounds and grey memories to give up his new wounds quite yet. His head ached and his side pulsed painfully while he climbed the stairs. He was nearing his door when a great, heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

“Here,” a warm voice hummed from behind him, “lemme get that for you.”

“Oh Herr Clay, it’s–”

 Caleb’s sentence was choked out by a sudden sucking feeling accompanied by a sharp sound  in his chest as Caduceus’ spell took hold. 

*POP*

Caleb froze, then swayed in his tracks. Perhaps the injury had been a little worse than he thought. He turned around to thank his friend, only to see thunder in the firbolg’s eyes and freeze. He had seen Caduceus upset, annoyed and disappointed, but he wasn’t sure he’d seen him furious before. Until now, that is.

“For real?” Cad’s voice was still it’s usual low, placid cadence. He closed his eyes and pinched the top of his nose.

“Wh-”

“That was a broken rib, Caleb.”

“I was just going to bed–”

“You didn’t take a lick of healing from Jester.” He paused while Caleb floundered under a wave of embarrassment, guilt and stubbornness. “Your rib would have been the first thing to heal, since it’s the most life threatening. Unless you had a dagger through your heart I didn’t know about.”

The lie that was ready on Caleb’s tongue died there.

“I… ah… I did not know it was broken.” He finished lamely.

“That is not…” Caduceus closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, “That’s not the point, you… dammit, OK. OK, We’re gonna deal with this.”

His hand closed around the back of Caleb’s coat, and the now-healthy wizard yipped as he was lifted effortlessly off his feet. As easy as it was to forget Caduceus’ quiet anger, it was easier to forget his rarely-used strength.

Caduceus pulled Caleb into his quarters.

“Caduceus, what–”

“It was one thing when you were still too broken to function or believe anyone could care for you. But that’s not what’s happening here, right? You know better than this now.”

Caleb felt a panicked little chill run up his spine as Caduceus carried him like a suitcase.

“Caduceus, just— wait, I didn’t know–”

“Of course you didn’t. That big, stabbing pain in the side of your body, next to all the vital organs? I can see why you weren’t concerned.” He set Caleb on the oversized bed, and used a stern look to him in place.  “Take off your shirt, I want to check your other ribs.”

“Caduceus, your spell worked fine…”

The firbolg regarded him with mild astonishment. “You really gonna fight me on this?”

Caleb swallowed, and pulled his coat off, then his holsters and shirt. He sat politely and quietly on the edge of the bed, eyes downcast. Caduceus sat next to him, tugging at his arms to manipulate his torso and peer carefully at him. Eventually he let out a breath.

“It looks like the spell healed all of the physical damage.”

Caleb was just starting to relax with slumped shoulders when one large hand caught him across his chest from behind and pulled his torso across Caduceus’ lap. That gave him a chance to catch the wicked twinkle in his friend’s eye and start fighting, but it was too late at that point. He was pinned with both wrists held over his head by Caduceus’ left hand, his torso stretched over the width of the firbolg’s lap while a heavy right elbow held his hips in place.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Caleb squeaked, legs kicking feebly against the mattress. 

“Making sure you remember what happens when you dodge heals from now on. I’m gonna check every one of your ribs, I’m gonna do it until it’s done, and you’re gonna take it because if you bamf away from me, I’m just gonna have to get other people involved.”

With that Cad started to gently trace Caleb’s short rib with a pinching finger and thumb, reaching across the wizard’s body so his arm could block Caleb’s attempts to curl up in a ball.

“Wait, I– Oh, noho!” 

Caleb threw his head back to laugh, every squirm just sending him deeper into Caduceus’ embrace. He could feel the firbolg’s mass shaking against his side, chuckling at his reactions.

“One. That first little one looks OK. Is it supposed to be that small? I should really learn more about human anatomy, huh? Two…” Caduceus moved up one rib, and Caleb’s laughter pitched up despite himself, “Hmm, yeah, that looks good too. So, did you think of what could have happened, if you went to bed?””

“Whahat?” Caleb gasped, unable to grasp the question under the onslaught he was suffering. 

Luckily Caduceus didn’t need him to. “It could have punctured your lung. -Whoops, there’s three.- It could have killed you in your sleep. Four.”

Caduceus was a good way up his ribcage now, and the precision attacks on every solitary bone under thin skin was escalating Caleb’s desperation pretty rapidly. Being stretched out over Cad’s lap made it feel like his breath was being chased out of his chest by long downy fingers.

“Please! I’m sohohory!” He squeaked, heels drumming against the bed. 

“Someone would have found you, cold and dead in the morning. Five. You know, we might have been able to bring you back, but that scar? From finding you? That’s a lot harder to heal.”

Caleb felt a sharp roll of guilt across his stomach. Not that he could express it. “Ahahaha- I-I’m sorry, pleaheeheese!”

“Hm. Are you sorry you did it or are you sorry I caught you? Six.”

“Both!” Caleb squealed, perhaps a bit too honestly.

Caduceus chuckled at him again. “Well, at least I know you’re not hiding things from me anymore. Hmm… where’s seven?”

Caduceus fingers dug around curiously, pretending he couldn’t find the rib he was currently torturing. Caleb thrashed with tears springing into his eyes, but he made no progress in escaping at all. It was like being tormented by a fuzzy mountain. 

Caduceus made a frustrated sound, stopping his torment for a second. Caleb sucked in a few deep breaths.

“You made me lose count,” Caduceus explained, voice full of patently false regret, “I’m gonna have to start over.”

“Nein!” Caleb yelped 

“You’d better hope you have more than nine ribs.” Caduceus teased, laughing when Caleb let out a frustrated growl.

Caduceus’ fingers returned to his lowest short-rib and started counting them out again, quicker than before. This time Caleb was crying by 3, trying desperately to stay still and expel all his ticklish agony without making Caduceus start over again. 

“OK, I found seven this time. Are you ready?”

Caleb sobbed and shook his head no, but Caduceus continued anyway, ignoring his squeal.

“Pleaheeheese! Please, I’m sohohorry!”

“Eight. I do believe you, now,” the firbolg answered, “but the only way you’re getting out of this is to use that special word.  And since you’re too stubborn to use that thing when Jester tortures you for fun, I’m guessing you’re not gonna use it now, when you know you deserve it. Not for little old me.”

Little old Caduceus was currently tickling a powerful mage to tears without so much as a bother, but Caleb didn’t have the breath to point it out. The first time Caduceus had seen the Nein really tickle Caleb to pieces, he had broken it up. Jester had to have a patient talk about safewords to convince him it was OK. Now he was wielding it against Caleb, and if he could, the wizard definitely would have pouted about it. 

As it was his face was forced into a bright smile that he tried to hide against one bicep, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes to roll past pink cheeks and red ears. His feet kicked helplessly at the air when Cad’s fingers moved again.

“There’s nine. So I think you’re just gonna have to take this, but if you’re cooperative and not stubborn, we’ll get through it quicker, OK?”

Caleb wanted to wail that he didn’t know what that meant but settled for just wailing instead. Caduceus was quickly getting to the ticklish spots that his holsters usually protected.

“Ten. So, are you gonna do it again?”

Caleb felt a flash of panicked confusion before he remembered what had gotten him into this mess.

“Nein!” he wheezed between fits.

“Good to hear. Eleven. Why aren’t you gonna do it again?”

“Bitte! Pleheeheese I can’t” Caleb choked, breathless.

“Oh, yeah you can. Come on, why aren’t you gonna do it again?”

He switched to one finger and a lighter touch, leaving Caleb in hysterical waves of giggles while also giving him a chance to catch his breath a little.

“Because- it would- ahaha- upset theheehee others!”

“Hm. Well, I’ll take that for now. Twelve! Now, what’s gonna happen if you do it again?”

Caduceus had to realize that the shrieking wizard had no way to answer, so he answered for him.

“This is what happens, right? We have a zero tolerance policy from now on.”

Caleb sobbed and nodded in understanding, his whole body bending to try and save the one patch of ticklish skin without any success. Then Caduceus’ hand started to wriggle and prod into his armpit and his whole body jerked like he was electrified. 

“AAHahahaha nahahahaha!” Caleb couldn’t get enough of a break to beg for mercy.

“Hmm. Looks like that’s it. Is twelve the right number?”

“Yahahahas!”

“Oh, well, good to know then.”

Caduceus released him, letting the teary-eyed wizard’s arms snap down to belatedly shield his ribcage, his face disappearing into his hands while his body shuddered with laughter.

“Shh,” he soothed as though he wasn’t the perpetrator of Caleb’s state, “ just breath.”

Caleb tried, rolling onto his side to breath into Caduceus’ linen shirt. Hysterical, pitchy laughter jerked out of him when the other man tried to pat his back and immediately stopped with a soft apology.

“You… just… please never do that again.”

“I think that’s up to you, based on the arrangement we just agreed to…”

“-under torture!-”

“… and I mean, it’s gonna happen again. At least one more time tonight.”

There was a moment of heavy, terrified silence.

“…What?” Caleb felt like a cup of ice water had been poured down his back. His eyes went perfectly round.

“I said I was gonna check all your ribs. I feel like if I don’t follow though I’ll set a bad precedent.”

Caleb immediately tried to scramble away from Caduceus, and he would have hit the floor if the firbolg hadn’t reached out to grab him around his middle and hoist the smaller man into his lap.

 “Mist! Nein! You can’t, please!”

Caduceus started the patient, gentle work of getting a grip on the wriggling wizard in his lap. He kept his right arm looped around Caleb’s middle, his other arm working to try and grab a flailing wrist. When he wasn’t quite quick enough he made a frustrated sound in Caleb’s ear, right before planting a raspberry between the smaller man’s shoulder blades.

“Hold still!”

Caleb let out a wordless peal of squealing laughter under the onslaught of soft lips, velveteen nose and wooly beard. It bolted down his spine and made his whole upper body collapse.

One big, soft palm gripped his now-limp wrist and heaved it upward, exposing his currently un-tormented right side. Caduceus looped his right arm under Caleb’s captured one, bracing his palm on the back of the smaller man’s head. Caleb’s left arm was pinned against his chest as Caduceus’ other arm wrapped around him to keep him in his seat and hover downy fingers over Caleb’s exposed ribcage.

“Pleaheeheese you’ll kill meeeheehee!” Caleb whimpered through anticipatory laughter, eyes glued on Caduceus’ hovering hand. 

“Sssh.” The firbolg soothed into the back of Caleb’s head. “I’m not gonna kill you. We’re just gonna take it really easy, OK?”

His left hand started to rub Caleb’s side in smooth circles, each one climbing higher than that last

“Nooohoohoho!” Caleb whined, eyes squeezing shut as the firbolg’s fingers found his short rib. 

“One.”

“Bitte!” Caleb squealed through gritted teeth.

“I want you to repeat after me, OK?”

Caleb tried to turn and look at him, teary eyes astonished, as though Caduceus had asked him to move the moon.

“I -yeeheehee!- I can’t! Please!

“You can, I promise. We’re gonna start off really easy. How about “I deserve to live.”

“Whahahahaat? I can’t–”

“Two.”

“-Aaah! Nohoho! OK, ok, please!”

Caduceus only gave him a moment to take a breath before it spilled out “Ideservetolive!”

“Very good!” The hand holding Caleb in a half-nelson patted his head. “How about ‘I don’t deserve pain.’ for number three?”

“Ahahaa! Says the one torturing meheeheehe!”

“Ha! Are your ribs hurting? It’s a good thing I’m checking on them. Four.”

“Aaahaaa! I don’t deserve pain!”

“See, you’re doing great,” Caduceus praised, “we’ll be done in no time. I know this one’s going to be a little tough for you, are you ready? Five. I want you to say ‘I’m loved and I deserve that love.’”

 For the first time that night, Caduceus’ request made Caleb’s jaw lock up. 

“Nein— no, aah! I can’t!” He managed to whine through his teeth and the increasingly hysterical laughter that Caduceus was pulling out from deep in his chest.

“You have my permission not to believe all of these for now, but I want you to say every one. Six.” “AhahaHA! Nein, habt Mitleid! Mehehercy!”

Caduceus snorted. “On your ribs or on your low self-esteem? Actually, don’t waste your breath. I already know the answer. Seven.”

“Aaaaii! Please! I c- I can’t remember whahahat I’m supposed to sahahay!” Caleb sobbed, body starting to go limp with exhaustion in Caduceus’ arms.

The firbolg laughed, letting up for a moment to use his sleeve to wipe the tears off his captive’s cheeks. 

“I’m loved…”

“I’m… loved…” Caleb panted, his unpinned hand holding on to Caduceus’ currently-stilled tickling hand for dear life, as if it might save him.

“And I deserve that love.

Even breathless and exhausted, Caleb winced like the sentence left a bad taste in his mouth. “I… deserve that… love.”

“Hey, good job. That was one of the hard ones.”

The sound that started to flow out of Caleb was somewhere between a panicked giggle and an exhausted sob. One of the hard ones.

“For this one I’m gonna need the whole phrase. ‘My name is Caleb Widogast, and I am a good man’ Are you ready?”

“No! Please have mercy!”

“Aw, sorry buddy. Not this time. Eight…”

“NIEN, can’t– s'too m-muhuch pleaheese–”

“Nine indeed!” Caduceus chuckled, fingers jolting upward to take advantage of the joke. “It’s not too much. I know you can do it.”

“I c-c- NO PLEASE I can’t while you–  CAN’T! BITTE!" 

Caduceus chuckled, fingers jumping up to tweak the next rib and yank a short little scream out of Caleb before he stopped moving his fingers and froze, still and menacing.

"That’s ten. Come on. I can’t make you believe it but I’m gonna make you say it.”

Caleb’s weight was leaning into Caduceus’ chest, his head leaning back against one solid shoulder with his eyes closed as he gulped in breaths.

“I'm… a good man.”

“And what’s your name?”

“Caleb Widogast… is a good man.”

“Aw, very good.” Caduceus praised, squeezing Caleb in a small hug. “Ready? Almost finished. Eleven.”

Caleb didn’t even plead this time, he just started to laugh again with his head still thrown back against Caduceus’ shoulder. 

“Last one, I promise. I want you to say "I am going to take care of myself for the people who love me, or Caduceus is going to tickle me until I scream. Every time.”

“I CA- I CA- nohohoho! Too lohohong!”

“Twelve.”

Caleb’s back arched and his feet kicked while he shrieked, unable to get even the first part of the sentence out. Caduceus did have a little mercy, then, pausing to let Caleb suck in the breath he needed.

“I'mgoingtotakecare *pant* of myself *hic* forthepeople *hic* who love me or… *hic* this is what happens…”

“Every time.” Caduceus reminded him, tapping his fingers on Caleb’s top rib.

“Every time! Every time! Pleaheeheese!”

Finally, Caduceus let him go, angling himself so the wizard could flop over onto his bedspread. Caleb curled up on his side, face in his hands as the residual laughter started to slowly die down and the shuddering feeling in his bones faded.

“Do you wanna stay here tonight? Least I could do.”

Caleb unfurled with a heavy sigh. “Ja, please." 

"Hey Caleb? What time is it?”

“Ah… *hic* probably between 10 and midnight, why?”

“Oh. No reason." 

Caleb could see the firbolg’s smug little smile, but was entirely too tired to do anything about it. 

Caduceus started to shrug off his outer layers and lowered the lamp while Caleb tucked himself in up against the wall.

"So just to be clear, this is what happens when you dodge a healing spell–”

“Yes! Yes *hic* you’ve made your point!”

“-But it’s going to get worse every time.”

Caleb just whimpered into the pillow. 

“I mean,” Cad continued, “getting Jester involved is obviously the last resort. She is the ultimate escalation. And Molly’s not far behind. Maybe Beau first?”

“Nien!” Caleb jerked himself up in the bed in a panic. “Not Beau! She’s right under Molly. Not Beau.”

Caduceus chuckled, sliding himself into the big warm bed next to Caleb. 

“So that leaves Yasha, Fjord and Veth. Wanna fill out the ranking?”

Caleb chuckled a little along with him, then whined. 

“Nooo. I feel like I’m being made to dig my own grave.”

“If it makes you feel better, you’ve definitely already done that. I saw that reaction to the raspberry. That’s how I’m counting next time.”

Caleb groaned in the back of his throat. The threats felt like they were melting him.

“Mein gotten, to think I used to believe you were the nice one.”

Caduceus chuckled again. He slung one arm over the Caleb ball next to him and pulled the wizard in for a cuddle, rubbing his back soothingly when the other man tensed up. 

“Hey, I’m done. For now. Seriously though, who’s most dangerous after Beau.”

Caleb gave a defeated sigh as he relaxed into Caduceus’ soft, solid embrace. The softly lit room took on a golden haze. Caduceus smelled like spices, cardamom and rosemary. Caleb hid his face in one wolly shoulder, his breathing evening out.

“Fjord because he teases, then Yasha because she bites.”

“Heh. So Veth’s the first level of escalation? Good to know. She seems more likely to keep this between us anyway… Caleb?" 

The only answer was a snore.

[mymoonagedaydream]

(bucky reader) the reader and bucky have been dating for quiet some while now and bucky gets this awful nightmare and he starts choking the reader while sleeping, you finally get him off of you and run out of the room to knock into steve. the bruises already forming around your neck, you just drop to the ground and start crying and catching ur breath. steve holds you and everyone starts coming down the halls, steve hands you off to tony to deal with bucky and however you would like to end that

Night Terror

Summary: You thought Bucky’s nightmares were finally under control

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Language, violence

Author’s Note: Poor ol’ Bucky, my man just can’t catch a break

---

‘Hey babe, what’s a Robocop?’

You gave Bucky a very puzzled look as he strolled through the door in his t-shirt and sweats, carrying the mug of tea you’d asked him to fetch for you.  

‘Where did you hear that?’

‘Tony just called me it. Is that a thing now? Robot cops?’

You couldn’t help laughing a little, even though you resented how often Tony casually threw mind-control jibes at Bucky from his seemingly endless list.

‘It doesn’t matter, he’s just being an asshole again.’

As he passed you the mug, you noticed straight away that it was only half-full, and you could only assume that the rest of the tea was spotted up the hallway carpet. You’d told him before not to carry drinks with his left hand, he was so easily distracted and didn’t have the sensation in that arm to feel them spilling everywhere.

You didn’t say anything though, just gave him a warm smile as he climbed into bed next to you.  

It was still early, so the two of you relaxed for a little while, curled up watching your shows. This was the part of your evenings together that you really looked forward to, but the bit that came afterwards was always a little jarring.

He had a careful routine that he had to carry out to the letter before turning the lights off, without which he couldn’t get so much as a few minutes of sleep. 

By this point, you’d memorized it too.

Bolt all the windows shut. Check the door is double-locked before and after using the bathroom. Make sure the handgun in the bedside drawer is fully loaded with the safety off. Take a double dose of sleeping pills and wash them down a full tumbler of scotch.

If it had been anyone else, you might’ve questioned whether it was necessary to do that last part every single evening. But not Bucky. Anything that helped him sleep through the night was completely fine with you.

And it did. 

Even the nightmares had waned since he’d perfected his routine. When you first met, you couldn’t even share a bed, he’d howl and thrash around like he was fighting for his life. Now he barely moved, sleeping best when he was completely cocooned around you with your back flush against his chest, like he was sheltering you from heavy gunfire. It gave him deep comfort knowing that, in this position, he could keep you safe even while he rested.  

This evening was no different than usual. 

He finished his routine, slipped carefully into bed behind you and dozed off, his warm breath on the back of your neck giving you the feeling of immense comfort and safety that helped you to do the same.

---

A sharp, throbbing pain in your arm pulled you out of deep sleep.

Still a little disoriented, you blindly fumbled at the source of the ache, finding something tight and firm. Taking a deep breath in and peeling your eyes open, you directed your hazy vision towards it.

It was Bucky’s hand. He was digging his fingers into your arm, his thumb deep in your muscle causing the bulk of the discomfort.

‘Buck?’ You muttered, trying your best to release his grip. ‘Buck, wake up.’

He didn’t so much as stir. Still half-asleep, you decided to try and crawl away to the other side of the bed, hoping to either wake him up in the process or muster enough energy to yank yourself out of his grip.

That was your big mistake.

As soon as you tried to shift yourself away from him, he wrenched your shoulder back towards the bed, flipping you onto your back and eliciting a shocked yelp from your lips. 

You were fully awake now but, before you could even try to figure out what was happening, both of his hands were sealed around your neck.

He was looming over you on his knees, elbows locked and shoulders squared. His face was completely flat, emotionless. His eyes were still closed. He was still asleep.

You quickly realised that if you didn’t start fighting back, he probably wouldn’t stop until he’d finished the job.

You started flailing your legs, whacking them against any part of Bucky they could find. You clawed at his hands but they were bolted in place. You grasped at handfuls of his hair, wrenching it as hard as you could, just hoping that’d be enough to wake him up. Nothing.

Just as darkness started creeping into the corners of your vision, you managed to manoeuvre your foot underneath him and wedge it against his throat, mustering all your remaining energy to give one powerful kick.

He fell backwards, jolting awake.

You rolled yourself off the bed and thudded onto the floor, violently coughing whilst trying to gulp in as many raspy breaths as you could. 

Without even thinking, you clambered up onto your feet and sprinted towards the door, scrambling around with the locks until it would open.

You fell into the hallway, your shoulder whacking hard against Steve’s door opposite. Bucky’s hoarse voice followed you out but, before you even begin to decipher what he was saying, Steve was standing in the doorway in front of you.

As soon as you saw his face you broke down in hysterics, your throat producing a horrific cacophony of scratchy breaths and guttural sobs. He took you in his arms, asking you what the hell had happened, demanding to know who was responsible.

He stopped when he saw Bucky stumble into the doorway of your room, wide-eyed and shaking.

All the other doors in the hallway flung open one after another, your thunderous bawling had seemingly woken up everyone within a mile of the compound. Tony bolted towards you and Steve, carefully lifting your chin up when he reached you, examining the pattern of bruising already mottling your neck.

‘What the hell happened?!’

You tried to respond but all you could produce was a series of scraping gasps, the sound of which sent you straight back into your spiral of distress.

Steve passed you over to Tony, asking him to take you down to the infirmary while he dealt with this.

As you were being led down the hallway, you glanced over your shoulder to see Steve storm into your room, yank Bucky back inside and slam the door behind him.

---

‘I told you he wasn’t good for you, y/n.’

You opened your mouth to retort, but Tony quickly raised his finger up, holding it an inch away from your lips.

‘Ah. No talking, rest your throat.’

You just shook your head, frustrated that you couldn’t come to Bucky’s defence.

You knew he’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you.

It’d been one of the most intensely terrifying nights of your life, but now you’d had some time to calm down and reflect on what’d happened, all you wanted to do was find him and reassure him that you were alright.

‘Y’know one of these days, he’s gonna-’

He cut himself off when he noticed Bucky uneasily shuffling into the room, looking more desolate than you’d ever seen him, barely even able to look you in the eyes. You felt your heart drop. His expression alone told you how savagely he was beating himself up about this.

‘You come to finish her off?’

Tony’s spiteful jeer immediately made an intense anger bubble up in your chest. You shot him a murderous glare, prompting him to put his hands up in surrender and back out of the room.

‘Squeak if you need me.’

Bucky slowly approached, stopping just a few inches in front of you, his eyes welling up as they scanned over your bruising. He brought his hand up to stroke his fingertips gently across your neck, quickly retracting when you involuntarily winced.

Before he could take a step back, you reached out to grab him by the waist, holding him in place and trying your best to give him the most reassuring look you could manage.

He lowered his head, bringing his forehead to rest against yours.

‘I’m so sorry.’

You cupped his face in your hands, stroking your thumbs across his cheeks before planting a lingering kiss just below his hairline.

‘It’s not your fault.’

Your voice was dry and scratchy, making him squeeze his eyes shut and clench his jaw, intense self-loathing in his chest rising again.

You could spot Bucky’s warning signs a mile off. 

As soon as he began to tense up, you threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into you, holding him tight to your chest until you felt some of the agitation melt away.

He buried his face in your shoulder and ran his hands up and down your back, just savouring the feeling of holding you close before having to say out loud what both of you knew was coming. 

‘I think we should sleep separately for a while.’

You pulled away slightly, giving him a weak smile and nod, doing all you could to hold back your tears for his sake. He felt shitty enough about what'd happened seeing you upset again.  

‘I’ll figure this out, I promise.’

---

[cardiophileanonymous]

Short Thorquill Drabble: Clear!

AU where the guardians take one Electro, someone with electric powers similar to Thor. He is an alien race considered gods like asgardians. I know he’s a goofy Spider-Man villain but I couldn’t find many other electric villains in the marvel universe lol so just roll with it.

...

“Ha,” Electro quietly laughed. “A GOD of thunder? You’re barely even a child, let alone a deity!”

Thor was backed up to a corner, well, more of a cliff. Quill looked up, frantically waving his arms to get the attention of the men above him.

“Thor!” His shouts fell on deaf ears as the blonde man was too busy focusing on his opponent to notice. He glanced at a broken statue before him. “Rocket, what are these statues made of?”

Rocket shrugged.

“I dunno, silver maybe? But that doesn’t matter right now!”

Without explaining himself, Quill grabbed a long stick like piece that had broken off.

“Hey asshole!” The villain looked down. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you! If you really have such amazing lightning powers, why’ve I never seen you use em?!” He lifted up the long rod as if it was a sword.

Rocket’s jaw dropped in fear. He was pretty sure he had a good idea of what he was planning, and Peter had done far more stupid things in the past. He still whispered to him, determined to say his piece and not let his friend at least know what a suicide mission this was.

“Quill, are you crazy?! Silver is the most conductive metal in existence!”

Instead of backing down, the man stood up straighter.

“At least Thor shows his ‘pathetic’ powers! You haven’t! That’s cuz’ you’re not nearly as good as him!”

Thor shook his head.

“Quill-”

The villain finished his sentence.

“I have no need to prove myself to you or any other mortal!”

Quill shrugged and began to speak in a condescending, taunting manner.

“Then, go ahead! Strike me down, Zeus!” The villain turned his attention back to Thor, but he still looked down in the corner of his eye. The human smiled, a nervous smile from fear. He had to get his attention back quick, else Thor would be toast. “YOU DON’T HAVE THE BALL-”

With that, the villain turned, throwing a full speed lightning bolt at Quill. He jumped up from the electrocution immediately.

“QUILL!”

The call came from both Rocket and Thor. Rocket was almost frozen with fear. Meanwhile, Thor has the opposite reaction, taking his large battle axe and swiping along Electro’s feet with the long handle, causing him to fall on his side.

...

Rocket wasn’t sure what he should be doing, but dammit, he was gonna do his best. He had been trying chest compressions for the past few minutes, but with his smaller size he wasn’t sure if he was getting it done properly. Thor ran up to them.

“Rabbit! Is Quill-”

“I am Groot!”

Rocket lifted his head.

“I’m tryin, alright?! Listen, there’s still a pulse!”

Thor perked up.

“There is?!”

“Yeah but it’s way too slow and irregular! I’m trying to get it back to normal, but…”

Thor suddenly got an idea. He nudged Groot out of the way and kneeled down next to Rocket, in front of Quill.

“I have an idea. I saw something back on Earth. I think I can help.”

He shooed him away and opened up Peter’s jacket before ripping off his shirt. He put his hands on his chest. Rocket couldn’t help but keep butting in through the whole thing.

“Wait, what what? What are you doing?”

Thor gave a clear warning.

“Stand back, Rabbit.”

He didn’t know how much was too much. Or too little for that matter. He focused, putting a small electric surge through Peter’s body. His chest convulsed up involuntarily before lying still again. Rocket jumped up, yapping uncontrollably.

“What are you doing, trying to kill him faster?!”

“What is his pulse now?”

Rocket brought his paw up to Quill’s neck to check. He gave Thor an odd look.

“...better than before.” He quickly started chest compressions again. “But still not good enough. His heart’s all outta whack.”

Thor looked to the side. After a few more moments of chest compressions, he brought his hands back down again.

“Stand back, Rabbit.”

He did a similar shock this time. He tried to amp it up a little bit more, just enough so he wouldn’t hurt him and return his heart to his normal rhythm. The body jumped up before falling again. Rocket monitored Peter’s pulse again before returning to chest compressions.

“Better, but it’s still, irregular, dammit!”

Thor put a hand to Peter’s wrist while Rocket continued on with his attempt at cpr. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was irregular. The odd thumping sent a chill up his spine. Still, it seemed to get slightly better with Rocket continuing to do what he was doing.

“Stand back, Rabbit.”

Thor sent another surge of electricity, raising the power up again this time. But this would be the most powerful he was willing to do. Any more, and he was positive he’d be hurting him far more than helping.

Rocket continued with chest compressions. His heart rate was better, but not by much. Thor was beginning to get worried.

“Stand back, Rabbit.”

Another surge. Quill’s whole body convulsed. Rocket shook his head, frantically pushing his chest at a consistent rate.

“A big lightning bolt did this, why can’t a big lightning bolt put it back?!”

“It doesn’t work like that!”

“I know it doesn’t work like that! But…” Rocket began to get tired. He looked down, scared that Quill would never come to. “...but I wish it did.” He slowed down, and slowly came to a stop, before kneeling down. He looked like he was genuinely going to cry. Thor sighed, recalling all the previous friends he’d seen die in battle. He didn’t want this to be another one of those memories.

“Stand back, Rabbit. I’m going to try this one more time.”

He sent one more surge of electricity, hopeful that this time, Quill would open his eyes. After his body stiffened then returned to a relaxed state, Thor took a keen look at his face. He didn’t move an inch. The god finally looked down in defeat. His eyes turned to Rocket and Groot, who were already partially mourning. They would no doubt carry him back to the ship, and subsequently to a hospital, but the ship wouldn’t be there for another fifteen minutes. By then it’d likely be far too late.

Suddenly, Peter stirred. He groaned a little before sitting up. He looked at everyone.

“What… happened…?”

Rocket started laughing hysterically, something he was doing to stop himself from crying. It was a very sad laugh as a result.

“YOU GOT STRUCK BY LIGHTNING, YOU IDIOT!”

Suddenly, Quill’s memories started coming back to him. That’s right! He had pissed Electro off enough into zapping him. But that was strange, because the shock he got from him seemed like it happened ages ago. And he could’ve sworn he came to a couple times from a different kind of electricity.

“But… I thought I just felt zapping.” He looked down and noticed his clothes. “And what happened to my shirt? Was this all from the electric shock?”

Thor lifted his head up in pride.

“I just used my powers to send a large electric current through your heart!”

Quill looked at him with a confused smile before frowning with an open mouth.

“You WHAT?”

“It’s like a technology they have on Earth. A ‘defibrillator’. It puts your heart back to a ‘normal rhythm’.”

Rocket shrugged.

“I mean, it did do that. Your heart rate was waaay worse before Thor started zappin’ ya.”

Quill was speechless. Of course, the first thing going through his mind was holy shit this idiot could’ve just fried me a million times over right now and I could’ve been long dead, did he even know what he was doing?! But then he looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. He wasn’t dead. Yeah, he was more than worse for wear, but that’s to be expected of someone who just got struck by powerful electricity. In fact, if Thor hadn’t gotten the idea to use his own hands to revive him, was it possible he could’ve died?

…

Later that night, Thor hung by the bar, laughing and joking with Drax and Rocket, as he usually did. This time, Peter joined them, and waited patiently for when Rocket and Drax decided to leave. He decided that after the other two were gone would finally be the time he’d swallow his pride. He knew he needed to say some sort of thank you. Not because of another crew mate telling him to or because his hand was forced. But out of genuine appreciation.

After Drax had left, Peter made a couple facial expressions at Rocket. The two had known each other well enough at this point that they were capable of having conversations without a single word. He indicated that he wanted to be alone with Thor and Rocket respectfully nodded and left the room. Once it was just the two of them sitting at the bar table, Peter finally cleared his throat.

“Thor.”

The god nodded.

“I guess… I just wanted to say… thank you.”

Thor seemed confused.

“Thank you?”

“Yes. For the whole shocking me, back to life, or whatever.”

“What? I should be thanking you!”

Peter turned his head to the side.

“Huh?”

“Yeah! If it weren’t for you distracting him, I’d have been finished!”

Quill’s confusion quickly turned into pride.

“Yeah…! You’re right!” He laughed, but his pride was shaky, and didn’t stay for long. After being face to face with death, again, now didn’t feel like the time to soak in praise unnecessarily. “...seriously though. Look, I know we don’t really get along, so the fact you saved me is just…” He couldn’t really convey the words, so he just reiterated his original point. “Thank you.”

Thor shrugged.

“Why shouldn’t I have? I feel I have been at your ire for no reason yet you risked your life for me in the first place.”

Quill felt like all his mental functions stopped for a moment as he registered what he was just told.

“Did I?”

“Well, what was that whole display?” Thor chuckled as he raised his bottle in the air, quoting Quill right before he got struck by lightning. “Come on, strike me down, Zeus!” He laughed at the previous sentence. “That line is actually pretty funny, since you turned out alive from this whole ordeal.”

Quill unconsciously started nodding.

“Yeah. I guess that is a funny line.”

He started to ponder, why did he do it? In his eyes, Thor was an annoying, rambunctious barbarian. He was always waiting for the day Thor would get off the ship, a day that never really came. Perhaps it was because he didn’t make a good first impression, maybe it was because he saw him as a rival for leadership. But despite all of that, there was no way in hell he deserved to die, so his heroism probably kicked in before any sort of jealousy or bitterness. Sure, literally asking to get struck by lightning was a less than eloquent way of going about saving him. But it was the best he could come up with in the heat of the moment. He snapped back to reality when Thor handed him a beer.

“How is your heart feeling?”

Peter grabbed the beer and looked him in the eyes, confused.

“Um, normal?”

“Well, what’s your heart rate?”

“Normal, I guess…? Like I don’t feel any different, so-”

Thor rolled his eyes, putting a hand on his wrist without question. After a few seconds, he nodded and smiled.

“It’s normal.”

Peter did his best not to move his hand back out of instinct. Was just randomly grabbing people’s wrists to check on their pulses a common thing among asgardians, or was this man just incredibly weird? Instead of saying anything, he tried his best to laugh it off.

“Well, that’s good.”

He swore he could still feel Thor’s fingers on his pulse long after he finally retracted his hand. It was a strange phantom touch that remained. It annoyed him a little bit, but at the same time, it was oddly… comforting? He took a few sips of his beer as Thor went to bed and he pondered when he ought to do the same.

[apineapplewithissues]

Mockery

@whumpster-dumpster -for the prompts

Whumpee sat slumped in the corner, body heavy and swollen from their beating, littered with black and blue bruises.

All they’d done was laugh, once, at one of whumpers passing comments. Whumper turned around and grinned too, making whumpee think that it was what he was after... whumpee still doesn’t know.

Whumper had been gone for some time now, and whumpee was getting worried. It seemed that whumper never left them alone while awake, always heavily sedating them before blearily blinking awake who knows how long later. But they were awake. Waiting. Alone.

Whumpee jolted at the sound of grating metal, their fears somewhat relieved when whumper stepped through the door smiling.

“Evening whumpee, sorry to leave on abruptly, but there was an offer I couldn’t refuse on very short notice... haven’t been stewing too much have you?”

Whumpee shook their head, eyes locked onto whumpers and head tilted down, just like whumper wants.

“Great, because I’ve brought a friend of yours.”

Whumpee froze when caretaker was hauled into the room, chest bare and covered in gashes, usually shiny and vibrant wings twisted at wrong angles and bleeding. Whumpees air caught in their throat, and in the next second they were beside them, cradling poor caretaker in their arms with trembling fingers. They weren’t awake, half-lidded eyes unfocused and lazily moving around the room. Whumpee bit their lip and brushed caretakers hair out of their face, willing their eyes to show any sense of consciousness.

“Surprise!” Whumper said, squatting down to their level and resting a heavy hand on whumpees shoulder, stroking caretakers bloodied feathers. “I don’t think I have to tell you how hard it was to get this guy, everyone wanted to get their claws in him.” Whumper smiled, “But I got there first. For you.”

Whumpee gazed at caretaker, fingers ghosting over the broken bones, the heaving chest, the slices into their skin. “Did... did you do this to him? Please tell me you didn’t do this to him,” whumpee asked, voice wobbly and on the verge of tears.

“The cuts? No. The wings are my handiwork though.” Whumper said calmly, sliding the arm on whumpees shoulder back to wrap around their torso. “You should have seen him writhe, ‘no! Please! It hurts!’” Whumper laughed and whumpees stomach heaved, imagining poor caretakers pain at having their wings so grotesquely broken.

“Why?” Whumpee said carefully, whumper possessively holding them new territory. “Why did you break his wings?”

Whumper smiled again, picking up caretakers wing with their free hand, stretching it out with a loud grinding and crunching of bones. Whumpees lungs refused to work as tears streamed down their face. Caretaker hadn’t even shifted. Just unfocused eyes lolling around at nothing and everything.

“Because-“ whumper said, snapping whumpee back to the horrifying reality. “I can’t have a wild bird locked in a cage, I’ve got to clip the wings first or it’ll be trying to escape all the time, squawking it’s head off.”

“Don’t say that.” Whumpee said, holding caretaker closer in their arms. “They- avians don’t squawk. They-they aren’t birds, they are people. Innocent people.”

Whumpers smile fell and their eyes hardened, fingers digging into whumpees bruised side. “It was a joke, pet. You’re supposed to laugh at jokes.” Whumpers face lit up and they stood, picking whumpee up by their arm, and letting caretaker hit the ground.

Whumper silenced their outraged cry and dragged them to the corner, shoving them to the ground and moving back to caretaker.

“If you move from that spot whumpee,” whumper grinned, “I’ll cut these wings right off hm?” Whumper said, lifting up caretakers wing and moving it around, caretakers face absently scrunching up in pain.

Whumpee nodded quickly, breath caught in their throat at the damage. Whumper smiled at their nod, satisfied, and lifted up caretaker, grabbing their wing and stretching it to its full span.

It was awful.

The feathers had been cut, sheared off the tip, and the bones bent out of shape and bleeding. Whumper flapped it and laughed, making churruping noises. “It’s like this isn’t it? When he would fly?” Whumper said, bending caretakers wing at an unnatural angle and eliciting a groan. “Or is it like this?” Whumper said again, wrenching the wing back until the joint popped.

“Stop it!” Whumpee yelled, standing with wild eyes. whumper couldn’t keep doing this to him, it would kill him. Whumpers joking smile left and replaced with dead eyes.

“It’s a joke whumpee, don’t you understand what a joke is?”

Whumper let caretakers wing drop, holding them up by the middle and holding up their face to whumpee. “Look at this face. Does it look like it deserves your pity? Look at how it’s face lolls, it’s funny whumpee.”

Whumpee shook their head, unbelieving of whumpers sadistic smile. “It’s cruel, and mockery. Nothing about this is funny.”

Whumpers smile fell again, and they let caretakers torso go, holding onto their wing and letting them swing. Caretaker slurred a moan, clutching their shoulder with blurred eyes filling with tears. Their face scrunching up and growing, hands desperately reaching for whumpers hand.

Whumper smiled, seeming to think that had proved his point. “Look at him, it’s funny. Laugh, whumpee. I want you to laugh.”

“I’m not laughing at this! It’s sick!” Whumpee cried, making to step forward when whumper stopped them.

“Remember, leave that corner and your friend becomes grounded. For life.” Whumper snarled, and Whumpee returned their foot to where it was, jaw trembling.

“Please just let them go.”

“Laugh at him then whumpee, you’ve laughed before and I would love to hear it again.”

And so whumpee opened their mouth, eyes having nowhere to look but at caretaker, innocent, beaten caretaker, and laugh.

Nothing came out at first, except a few choked up cries. Whumper started on the wings again and whumpee quickly changed their tune, sounding somewhat like laughing, but hysterical, forced. Either way, whumper grinned ear to ear.

“You get it,” he said, letting caretaker fall to the ground in a mangled heap of feathers. “It’s funny. It’s joking, it’s playing around.” Whumper tilted their head, appraisingly, turning narrow.

“That’s right, you get it, why don’t you come help me joke with him hm? Come have some fun?” Whumper smiled maliciously, tapping caretaker with their foot while whumpee swallowed.

They obediently, stupidly, stepped out of the corner, making whumper smile wider.

(Oop- I was going to write more but uh.... I just forgot and I can kinda leave it here lol, soo uh sorry 🤷‍♀️)

(I might come back and finish it properly,,,)

(I’m sorry)

( 😭)

[bedlamsbard]

Some new concept writing!  Backbone base ‘verse, as per usual for me; this one is a bit more personal than I usually go.

About 6.4K below the break.

While I don’t generally do content advisories, please note that this contains discussion of fairly severe (unnamed) depression and anxiety.

*

Hera cried herself to sleep the night before the Inquisitor arrived.

She was sick to her stomach, trying to fight down how betrayed she felt as well as her own terror. Agent Beneke had tried to comm her in the morning, but Hera had ignored her beeping comlink, knowing that she was too upset to answer in any way that wouldn’t result in a lecture.  Five years of careful training and Imperial service had gone out the window; Hera was so frightened that all she could do was weep, sitting on the floor in the corner of her cabin furthest from the hatch with her face in her hands.  She knew very well that if she hadn’t been on Naboo, she might have done something drastic, but she couldn’t leave Naboo, not from right under the ISB’s nose, so all she could do was sit on the floor and cry and hope that she would have enough notice to wash her face before the Inquisitor arrived.  She didn’t dare put on any makeup to hide her swollen eyes because of the likelihood she would immediately cry it off again.

She knew that she was upsetting Chopper, who had never seen her this miserable before.  Every time she emerged from her cabin he came up to her with a handkerchief or a wet cloth or a hot drink.  Hera took them, trying to smile for his sake if not her own, but the second time he had brought her a drink her hands had been shaking so badly that she had dropped the cup and shattered it.

She thought about leaving.

She didn’t know how to explain to Chopper what she was so frightened of, not when it was something that would never affect a droid.  She had managed not to cry in front of Agent Beneke, just barely, but she had spent so much effort fighting it that he hadn’t understood her the first time she had said, “I’m not a whore,” that she had had to repeat herself.

“You are whatever the ISB says you are,” he had told her. “If the Inquisitor wants you to warm his bed, then you will.  Besides, it may be for the best, even if it is an Inquisitor.  You know I’ve been worried about your health.  Celibacy isn’t good for Twi’leks.”

Only her training had kept Hera from just walking out of his office.  She had sat in front of his desk, barely hearing anything else Beneke said, until he finally released her.  Hera had gone back to the Ghost and barely made it to the refresher before she threw up.  The fact that she was being reassigned had barely registered with her.

That had been three days ago.

She raised her head as Chopper tapped tentatively on the door, wiping her wrist across her swollen eyes. “What is it?”

As he responded, she pushed herself wearily upright, swaying and catching herself on the wall – she had barely eaten anything the past few days and it had left her dizzy.  She found the most recent wet cloth Chopper had brought her, which was still a little damp, and wiped her face with it, then found her uniform jacket and put it on, trying not to look at herself in the mirror.  She knew that she probably looked sloppy and unprofessional and that ISB whites showed every stain; normally she would have cared, hoping that her every aspect of her appearance would outweigh her species, but apparently that didn’t matter anymore.

She left her cabin shaking so badly that her hands slipped on the ladder from the cockpit to the hold. Hera caught herself just in time, but for a bare instant she couldn’t let herself care.  She was aware that unless she fell very badly she wouldn’t break her neck; she might break an arm or a leg, which would at least have the advantage of making her unattractive if that was what the Inquisitor was interested in. Hera was too proud to fall on her own ship, though, and she finished climbing down without further incident.

She hesitated in front of the hatch for what felt like a long time, her hand hovering over the control. Finally she touched it, shutting her eyes briefly as the hatch and ramp lowered.

The figure standing outside was humanoid, his dark clothes making his silhouette briefly indistinct in the gloom of the hangar.  When Hera went hesitantly down the ramp, trying not to be too obvious about the fact she was dragging her feet, she saw that he was human after all, dark-haired and wary-eyed.  He might have been handsome; Hera didn’t look at his face for long enough to decide. He had enough height on her that she would have to make an effort to do so, and she didn’t want to.

“I’m Agent Syndulla,” she said, after they had both regarded each other silently for a few moments. She was proud of the fact that her voice didn’t shake, but wasn’t certain of her ability to keep it from doing so if she had to say much more.

“I’m the Inquisitor.” The human’s voice was quiet, a little hesitant, as if he wasn’t used to speaking much.

Hera waited for him to say something else; when he didn’t, she said, “I’ll show you to your cabin,” and stepped back, unwilling to turn her back on him.

The Inquisitor picked up the bag at his feet and followed her into the Ghost.  He moved very quietly for a big man, making Hera’s lekku prickle with unease.  A sound from above made her look up, spotting Chopper peering down from the cockpit hatch.  The sight of him made her feel a little better as she gestured upwards, saying, “That’s Chopper.”

The Inquisitor followed her gaze and said gravely, “Hello.”

Chopper made a rude sound but didn’t withdraw.  Hera glanced sideways at the Inquisitor to see how he took the insult, but he didn’t say anything, just glanced around the Ghost’s hold.  There were a few new cases of equipment that had been delivered over the past three days, as well as a new speeder bike – presumably for the Inquisitor, since Hera already had one that she had modified to her preferences.

“This way,” Hera said. She bit her lip as she turned from him to climb up the ladder, unable to shake her terrified notion that he was going to grab her right then and there.  He didn’t, though, just waited for her to get most of the way up to the cockpit before he slung his bag over his shoulder and followed her.  Chopper moved back from the hatch so that Hera could pull herself up, then resumed his position to glare at the Inquisitor as the human put his head up.  Hera was so tightly wound that the resulting face-off startled a brief, hysterical giggle out of her, which made the Inquisitor glance at her and offer something that might have been construed as a smile in different circumstances. Chopper responded by extending his electropod threateningly.

“Chop,” Hera said, since although she appreciated the thought, technically the Inquisitor hadn’t actually done anything yet.

Chopper swiveled his dome to regard her balefully, then sparked his prod again and rolled back enough that the Inquisitor could finish climbing into the cockpit.

“I haven’t seen a C1 unit in a while,” the Inquisitor said thoughtfully.

Chopper made an aggravated noise.  Hera put a hand on his dome to push him back, stepping in front of him in case the Inquisitor decided to take offense and use the lightsaber hanging on his hip.  All he did was arch one eyebrow at her and shift the bag across his shoulder.

“He’s not an antique,” Hera said defensively. “He’s just as good as an R-series –”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t!” the Inquisitor said. “I just haven’t seen one recently.”  He looked inquisitively at her.

Hera bit her lip, embarrassed at her outburst, and released Chopper as she moved towards the door at the back of the cockpit.  She veered wide around the Inquisitor as she did so, not thinking about the action until it had already happened.  He didn’t remark on it, though, just watched her.

Her lekku were prickling with nerves as she led him into the corridor, showing him to the cabin across from hers.  If he could read lekku, he would be able to tell from the agitated way the tips were flicking back and forth that she was frightened of him, but she didn’t expect that it meant anything to him; most humans had no idea that lekku conveyed Twi’lek emotions, and sometimes added an element to speech.  Hera knew that after five years in the Imperial service her signals were wildly all over the place and were so confusing to other Twi’leks that it made most of them distrust her, but a human shouldn’t be able to tell. She couldn’t remember if the rumors about Inquisitors being able to read minds were true or not.

As much as she hated having him across from her, there was nowhere else she could put him.  Even if she had been willing to share a wall with him, the cabin next to hers had been turned into an office and she hadn’t thought about moving her equipment out of it until it was too late; the cabin catty-corner to hers was missing both mattresses.  She had been too brain-fogged from lack of sleep and the fact that she had mostly stopped eating to consider the option of moving the one from the remaining cabin into the other room until she was showing him into it now.

He put his bag down carefully on the floor by the bunk, took in the small, neat cabin with a glance – Hera hadn’t made up the bed, but she had found the spare sheets and a pillow and brought them in – then turned back to her.

Hera let go of her hope that he would be content to just stay in his cabin when they weren’t in the field and led him on a quick tour of the rest of the Ghost, from the Phantom to the engine room.  He followed her and Chopper followed him, grumbling the whole time and occasionally sparking his shockprod.  She didn’t show him the smuggler’s compartments she had discovered a few months ago, but as they walked over them she saw his face change for an instant and knew that he had realized they were there.

“Agent Beneke said you would have our next assignment,” Hera said awkwardly once they were back up in the common room.  She was standing stiffly as far away from him as she thought was polite, her hands clamped together behind her back.  He hadn’t made any attempt to touch her, but nothing she could do could choke down her fear that he might try.  And probably succeed.  She was a good fighter, but he was an Inquisitor.

“Agent Beneke?” he said in his soft voice.  Hera couldn’t decide what his accent was, possibly because he hadn’t said much and possibly because he didn’t seem certain himself.  Some of his intonation was characteristic of the Outer Rim, but every now and then a word had come out with such a strong upper class Coruscanti accent that it made Hera’s back teeth ache.

“My handler – my supervisor at the ISB,” she clarified.

“Oh.  Yes, I’ve got it.”  He blinked at her for a moment, then seemed to realize that she meant that she wanted him to tell her about it.  Maybe Inquisitors couldn’t read minds after all, though Hera didn’t think this was much proof of that.  “We’re going to Barzhun – in the Colonies.”

Hera had never heard of the system before. “What’s there?”

He grimaced. “A Jedi temple.”

She looked at him in surprise. “I thought the Jedi were all dead.”

Something passed over his face that she couldn’t read, not that she had ever been particularly good at reading human facial expressions anyway; even in the Empire too many of them came from different worlds with different body languages.  “They are,” he said.

“Why are we going?” Hera said eventually, when he didn’t proffer any further information.  She didn’t particularly want to talk to him – she wanted to go back to her cabin so that she could recover from her attack of nerves – but he didn’t seem to be giving her a choice.

He looked startled that she had to ask, then apparently ran a mental replay of their previous conversation and realized he hadn’t said. “The temple there was cleared years ago – it was an old outpost temple that was shut down during the High Republic, and the Inquisition went through soon after the –”  He stumbled over the words for an instant, then seemed to decide to let her fill in the conclusion of the sentence and went on, “– but recently a few old artifacts have been showing up for sale – antique auctions, the black market, that sort of thing.”

“Jedi artifacts are interdicted,” Hera said.

He nodded. “We’re to investigate, find out where the artifacts are coming from, and shut down the trade.  And anything else we deem necessary at the time.”

Hera considered the weariness in his pale eyes – she met them for only an instant before she jerked her gaze away – and decided that it wasn’t quite the makework it sounded like. “All right,” she said. “We’re fueled and stocked up.  I’ll set a course for Barzhun, if there isn’t anything else you need to do on Naboo.”

He shook his head.

“I’d like whatever files you have on the assignment,” Hera went on. “You can transmit them to me or give them to me on a datacard and I’ll copy them to my datapad, whichever is more convenient for you.”

He nodded.

Hera hesitated, trying to think despite how tired she was.  She was suddenly almost so tired that for a moment she saw the Inquisitor as nothing more than a wary, hurt man not more than a year or two older than she was, with the scars on his face and the careful way he moved indicative of something she didn’t like to think about.  Then she blinked and he was the Inquisitor again, an unknown, dangerous quantity, with Agent Beneke’s words ringing in her mind.

“All right,” she said again, and stepped backwards towards the door leading to the cockpit.  She hadn’t closed the hatch after he had come in; she would have to do that before they took off.  Doing so would mean she would be trapped on the Ghost with him, a thought that made her shudder.

“Agent Syndulla,” he said. When she looked at him, she saw for an instant the weary, wary young man with the scarred face, not the Inquisitor. “You don’t have to – I won’t hurt you.  I try not to hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

Hera had absolutely no idea what an Inquisitor would think of as hurting someone and had the feeling that she would find out very soon.  She just said, “Please send me the files,” and left the room.

She made it to the cockpit with Chopper on her heels and let the door slide shut behind her, then locked it for good measure.  There was another way to get to the cockpit from the common room, but it involved going through the engine room and hold, and she hadn’t gotten the impression the Inquisitor had any interest in following her.  Still, she looked at the ladder and open hatch and shuddered, bending over with her hands braced against her knees as she tried to get her ragged breathing under control.

He hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t even said anything beyond that last comment, and he had been far more polite to both her and Chopper than most of her colleagues at the ISB had ever been.  But he was still an Inquisitor, and beyond that he was on her ship.  Hera had had passengers before once or twice, the odd ISB agent she had ferried from one place to another, but she had never even had detainees onboard. And now this Inquisitor was here for who knew how long and Hera’s safe haven, a minor miracle after months in prison and then years in the Imperial Academy, wasn’t anymore.  Her home wasn’t safe anymore and if the Inquisitor did hurt her, then it would be with the ISB’s blessing.

Chopper rolled up beside her and crooned a question, patting her hip soothingly with one of his manipulators.

“No – no, I’m all right,” Hera said shakily.  “I’m all right.”  She knelt down and hugged him, an awkward, uncomfortable proposition at the best of times, but at just this moment she wanted to.  She tipped her head down against his dome, trying to control her trembling and unable to do so.

The Inquisitor could hurt her, regardless of what he had said.  For all Hera know, what she considered being hurt and what he considered hurting someone could be two entirely different things.  She already knew Agent Beneke wouldn’t care, not after what he had said the last time they had talked.  He would probably be thrilled.

Chopper patted her shoulder.

“I’m all right,” Hera said, though she couldn’t make herself believe the words and suspected that Chopper knew her well enough that he wouldn’t take her words at face value the way most droids would. “It will be all right.”

She hugged him again, then forced herself to release him, though she stayed kneeling, suddenly too tired to get up. “Can you plot a course to Barzhun?” she asked him. “Then file the flight plan with the Bureau.”

She should have done that herself, but at the moment the effort seemed too much to bear.  Besides, she didn’t want to run the risk that Agent Beneke would try to talk to her again.

Chopper made a sound of agreement.

Hera reached out and took his dome between both hands, forcing him to look at her. “And don’t mess with him,” she told Chopper firmly. “He’s an Inquisitor.  He carries a lightsaber.  He could scrap you without a second thought and I probably wouldn’t be able to put you back together again, do you understand that?  Don’t mess with him.”

There was a long moment of silence, then Chopper reluctantly agreed.

“Good,” Hera said. She released him and sat back on her heels, trying to work up the energy to get up and close the Ghost’s main hatch.  Eventually she just knee-crawled over to the ladder since it wasn’t far away anyway, getting smutches all over her white trousers, but she would be back in her grays as soon as they were in the field anyway.

She made it down to the hold and paused, listening for the sound of the Inquisitor’s steps above her, but couldn’t make them out.  He could have just been sitting in one spot, she reluctantly admitted to herself, but she didn’t like the idea that he was up there somewhere, doing who knew what.

Hera went down to the edge of the ramp and stood there for a few minutes, looking around at the dark, quiet hangar.  The ISB hangars were spread around Theed, since there wasn’t enough space at ISB HQ to house all of the various ISB vessels.  This one was nearly empty except for the Ghost; there was another small freighter housed in a hangar bay on the other side of the building, and a hunter-killer had left only the previous week.  Although many ISB agents worked with the full panoply of the Empire, often in concert with other branches of the Imperial service, Hera was hardly unusual in flying a civilian vessel or working solo.  Or she had been working solo, at least.

She went outside to pace briefly around the Ghost, less because she thought that there might be anything wrong with her ship than because she wanted to not be on it just now.  Normally being dirtside made her far more nervous than being in space, even while being shot at, but when she went inside again the Inquisitor would be there, and it wouldn’t be safe anymore.  Not that Hera was under any kind of illusion about anywhere being safe, but up until now the Ghost had always been the one thing she could pretend was under her control.  She knew that there were ISB failsafes built into the hyperdrive and engines, as well as at least some surveillance, but that was just part of working for the Empire.  Chopper had had them too, but whoever had installed the controls didn’t seem to have realized how eccentric his rewiring and programming had been, since Hera had mostly been making it up as she went along when she had fixed him all those years ago.  He had shed the spyware not long after they had been reunited and let Hera know exactly how he felt about it as he did so.

She finished her circuit of the Ghost and stood outside, looking up at the cockpit.  Chopper must have spotted her, because he had rolled up to the front of the viewport and was peering down at her in concern.  Hera gave him a half-hearted wave, took a deep breath, and went back up the ramp into the Ghost. She closed the hatch behind her, braced herself again, and the went up the ladder to join Chopper in the cockpit.

“Do you have that course to Barzhun plotted?” she asked, then brought it up on the holoprojector after he replied in the affirmative.  The system was more obscure than she had expected, off the main hyper-routes; it would take them the better part or more of a standard rotation to reach it, even at the Ghost’s speed.  That meant she would spend a night on the Ghost with the Inquisitor, whether they left now or waited until morning, Naboo time. Hera didn’t see a point in waiting; it just gave Agent Beneke more opportunity to try and catch her.

“All right.  Plug it into the navicomputer and let’s be on our way.” She settled into the pilot’s seat and started the Ghost’s preflight check, feeling the engines rumble to life beneath her feet.  She probably should have gone back to let the Inquisitor know they were leaving, but presumably he was smart enough to figure it out.

For the first time in her life she winced as she touched the control yoke.  She loved her ship and she loved flying, but once she left Naboo she would be alone in the cold black of space with no one to turn to.  Not that she ever really expected much help from the ISB – she had never bothered filing a complaint when she had been at the Academy, knowing that she would have been ignored at best and punished at worst – but having the option had been something, at least.  Now she wouldn’t even have that.

Light filtered down into the shadowed hangar outside the viewport as the doors above them slid open, like a new dawn breaking.  Hera watched the light spread through the otherwise empty chamber, waiting for the alert that would tell her when she had enough clearance to take off without hitting the doors.  She tried and failed to make herself feel at least a little of the calm she usually felt when she was in the pilot’s seat of the Ghost, when she had the ship at her fingertips and – if only in theory – the galaxy spread out before her, but all she could feel was dread.

*

She stayed in the cockpit long after they had made the jump to hyperspace, staring at the lights outside the viewport until her eyes ached, then curling up in the pilot’s chair. The Inquisitor had sent the mission files to the ship’s computer, so she had them to hand to read if she wanted, but she didn’t want to.  Normally she would have left the cockpit as soon as they went to hyperspace to make herself a hot drink and review the mission files; normally she would have been alone onboard except for Chopper.

Eventually the need to use the refresher got to her.  Hera got up reluctantly, wincing as cramped muscles twinged, and gestured Chopper to stay where he was in case something happened while they were in hyperspace, visions of purrgil collisions dancing in her head.  She had heard the Inquisitor’s cabin door open and shut sometime earlier and was fairly certain that he was still inside, a prospect that made her extremely nervous, but as long as he stayed there –

She wished she had any idea what he was going to do.

Since she was up anyway and because she knew Chopper would yell at her about it if she didn’t eat, she went into the galley.  Hera had no appetite and hadn’t had any since the meeting with Agent Beneke; she found herself staring blankly at her cupboards and coldbox, moving between one and the other as if by sheer force of repetition she would finally find something that appealed to her.  Nothing did, nor in her current mood could she justify the meiloorun she had bought before her new orders had come in, even though after three days in her coldbox she knew the flavor would be starting to go.  But she had to eat something, since she was already a little shaky from lack of food and while that was more or less all right as long as she was sitting on the Ghost, it would lead to slowed reflexes in the field.

She finally picked up the jogan fruit sitting next to the meiloorun and cut it into small, precise squares, trying not to twitch every time she thought she heard something that could have been the Inquisitor leaving his cabin.  She ate the jogan with her back to the counter, forcing herself not to bolt it and flee, since at this stage doing so would probably result in her throwing it right back up.  She was trying to decide if, having eaten most of the jogan, she wanted to try eating something else or if that would be a failed endeavor when the door to the galley slid open.

Hera froze, her hands clenching on the bowl and fork she was holding.  She hadn’t heard the Inquisitor’s approach at all, except there he was.  He stayed by the door but moved to the side so that he wasn’t standing directly in front of it, looking self-conscious about the way Hera had flinched. Maybe.  She didn’t want to trust her impressions of the Inquisitor’s expressions or body language yet, not when she had nothing to compare him to except other members of the service and the only other Inquisitor she had met.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Hera just stared at him.

The silence stretched out between them, unnerving in its emptiness; Hera cast wildly around for something to say when the Inquisitor didn’t break it, and finally said, “We should be arriving at Barzhun in about fifteen hours.  It’s – it’s not on any of the major hyper-routes, which is why it’s taking so long.”

“All right,” he said, nodding.

Hera bit back her urge to flee and said, “We can go over the files and make a plan closer to our arrival time.  I don’t know what kind of field experience you have –”

“Some,” he said, hesitating briefly before he added, “Mostly not on this sort of op.”

Hera mentally translated that as mostly I spent my time killing people for the Empire, which might or might not be accurate.

The Inquisitor bit his lip, then admitted, “One of the reasons I got this assignment is because none of the others work well with the regular service.”

“Do you?” Hera blurted out.

“I’m human and I don’t kill anyone who looks at me sideways,” he said. “Presumably at least one of those helps.”

“What did they tell you about me?” Hera said quickly, before she lost her nerve.

He raised his eyebrows. “Nothing.”

Hera lowered her gaze, trying to decide if she could take him at his word.  She finally just said, “You can eat anything in here.  Um, except not the meiloorun.  Please.”

“All right,” he said again.

Hera looked down at her remaining two bites of jogan.  She had no appetite left, but both the Clone Wars and prison had instilled in her a horror of wasting food, so even though she hated eating in front of anyone else, she choked them down quickly and then turned – lekku prickling – to put the bowl in the sink.  She should have washed it as well as her fork and the knife she had used to cut up the jogan, but she couldn’t bear having her back to the Inquisitor for that long, even if it made him think she was a slob.

He was still watching her when she turned back.

“Good night,” Hera managed to say, and then forced herself to walk past him to the door.  He stepped back so that he wasn’t in arm’s reach of her as she did so, a kind of minute care that somehow made Hera even more nervous than his not moving would have.

She made it to the corridor leading to the cockpit and had to stop, shuddering.  She wanted so badly to be alone on the Ghost again, for the Inquisitor to not be there, but that wasn’t an option and might never be again.

When she had mostly stopped shaking, she went into the cockpit to check on Chopper and the ship’s progress.  There wasn’t much to see; once they were in hyperspace, there wouldn’t be short of some major disaster that no one could predict.  The problem, as far as Hera was concerned at the moment, was that such disasters had occurred in the past; at the moment, the fact that she couldn’t do anything to prevent them was foremost in her mind.

Well, not foremost. The Inquisitor was there too, but thinking about the sudden appearance of purrgil or hyperspace wreckage or the mines pirates sometimes used was preferable to thinking about him, even if it didn’t make Hera any more comfortable.  She briefly wondered if being knocked out of hyperspace by a mine would discomfit the Inquisitor at all, but knew that she didn’t really want to find out if she could at all avoid it.  Even if pirates might get more than they bargained for if they attacked the Ghost, Hera was well aware of what happened to Twi’lek women in their hands.

She sat with Chopper for a few minutes, reassuring herself with the droid’s presence, before she finally made herself get up. “Stay here,” she told Chopper as he made to follow her. “No matter what you hear.”

He grumbled a protest.

Hera grabbed his dome and forced him to look at her. “Stay here,” she told him, and waited for him to respond in the affirmative before she released him.  She didn’t bother to tell him that she would be all right this time, just hugged him again before she went to her cabin.

She locked her door and stood there for what felt like a long time, then slowly began to remove her white uniform.  She was so tired that she was shaking; she had spent the past three days sleeping very badly when she slept at all, and knew that with an op on the horizon she had to at least make an attempt at it or she would badly regret it.  But she hated the idea of being unclothed while the Inquisitor was here, the same way she had hated it back when she had been in the Academy.  She changed into her night clothes as quickly as she could, found her grays and put them out to change into whenever she woke up – assuming she could sleep at all, which she wasn’t certain of at the moment – and then climbed up the ladder to sit on the edge of her bed, holding her blaster between her hands.  She finally put it beneath the pile of pillows she slept with, where she could have her hand on it at a moment’s notice.  Hera didn’t bother turning the light off, just turned it down as low as it would go; she knew that she wouldn’t be able to sleep in the dark.  She slid between her sheets and pulled one of her smaller pillows against herself, holding onto it for all she was worth, and cried herself to sleep.

*

Hera slept badly, waking up at irregular intervals throughout the night, with scattered fragments of vivid dreams blurring the distinction between waking and sleeping. None of it seemed to form any kind of coherent narrative, though she knew the Inquisitor had featured at some point. So had the colony at Zardossa Stix, the caves on Ryloth where they had taken shelter during the Clone Wars, the Spire on Stygeon Prime, and the usual awful morass of Hera’s memories of the Imperial Academy on Serenno and the ISB Academy on Naboo.  She woke up uncertain where she was, what year it was, and how old she was, staring up at the ceiling above her until its nearness finally told her she was on the Ghost.

Hera flung an arm over her eyes, wincing as sore muscles twinged.  She must have spent the night so tense she felt like she had been beaten with sticks.  When she started to sit up, pain stabbed up her neck behind her right ear and Hera slumped back down; she’d slept wrong at some point in her restless tossing and turning.

The Inquisitor hadn’t tried to come in.

She waited until the stabbing pain behind her right ear eased and then got up, climbing wearily down the ladder.  It took her about three times as long as usual to get dressed; she picked up one of the long strips of leather she used to wrap her lekku and just stared at it, but the idea of additional pressure on her lekku was unbearable at the moment. Even her cap felt like it was squeezing her skull, and after a moment, reluctantly, Hera pulled it off again, since she knew that wearing it right now would probably trigger a headache.  As much as she hated to appear bareheaded in front of anyone, especially a human, especially a man, right now she thought she had to risk it.

She didn’t bother to put her boots on, just went out into the corridor in stocking feet.  The ship was very quiet; she couldn’t tell if the Inquisitor was asleep in his cabin or if he was in one of the other rooms. Hera went into the refresher and got undressed again, this time to shower; the hot water helped a little but not as much as she had been hoping.  She wanted to go back to bed and sleep for a week; going by the chrono she could have easily gotten a few more hours before they were anywhere near Barzhun and still had enough time to read the files.  She was up already, though, for better or worse.

She left the refresher to go to the cockpit and check on Chopper, who made a worried enquiry as she stepped into the cockpit.  Hera sank into the nearest chair, wincing as the movement jarred her stiff neck, and absently checked their progress before she said, “No, Chop, I’m fine.  I just didn’t sleep well.”

She wished that sleeping was the Twi’lek equivalent of powering down, but unfortunately it wasn’t that simple.

He made another worried sound, then rolled out of the cockpit, leaving her alone.  Hera had a pretty good idea where he was going, so didn’t protest him leaving while they were still in hyperspace.  Normally she wouldn’t have cared; at the moment she couldn’t shake the idea that something terrible would happen if neither of them was in the cockpit.

She was more than half-asleep again as Chopper came back bearing a steaming mug.  Hera took it from him, holding it with both hands so that she didn’t drop it the way she had one of his previous offerings, and inhaled the fragrant steam to realize it was what she still called sleepy tea, rather than the caf she had expected.  Twi’leks across the galaxy drank it in the evenings, from curiates like the Syndullas to members of the diaspora whose families had left Ryloth ten generations earlier.  Hera had found it in a market a few months earlier and had bought a packet, feeling as if she was betraying the Empire by doing so, and had started crying the first time she had made a cup.

Now she tried to hand it back to Chopper. “No, I need to stay up –”

He pushed the mug back at her, grumbling a response.

Hera checked the chrono again and grimaced, because technically he was right; she had enough time before they arrived to both sleep for a few more hours and read the mission files, as long as she didn’t oversleep.  And she did badly need the sleep.  But the Inquisitor –

“Where is he?” she asked Chopper warily.

Since there was only one other being on the Ghost, he didn’t have to ask who she meant, just told her that the Inquisitor was in his cabin, presumably asleep.

Hera looked down at the tea in her hands. “You’re probably right,” she admitted eventually.  She drank a little of the tea, careful not to burn her tongue, and sighed in satisfaction.  It didn’t always make her feel better – nothing could do so reliably – but if nothing else it was at least warm, satisfying, and familiar. She sat in the cockpit and drank the rest of her tea, then took the mug into the galley and washed it – the Inquisitor had eaten, she saw, and washed his plates and what she had left behind – then went back to bed.  She locked the door behind her.

[ezekielbhandarivalleros]

Addicted to Weed - Chapter 1

Characters: Jake Tweneboah (MC), Sienna Trinh, Jackie Varma (Mentioned)  Ethan Ramsey (Mentioned)

Summary: Sienna finds out about Jake’s weed problem

Rated - M

Taglist: @princess-geek @gamechoices-player @secretaryunpaid @arnikki-2406 @choicesficwriterscreations @riana-drarry @treasure-seeking-elf @lisha1valecha @yourresidentplayer @schnitzelbutterfingers

Also thanks for @secretaryunpaid for helping me make the necessary changes and editsl

Jake let out a sigh of relief as he stepped through into his apartment. Quickly he locked and dead bolted the door, and slid the security chain into place. After nearly three years at the hospital he never entered his apartment without immediately doing those three things. He turned on several lights and moved to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee brewing before dropping himself onto the couch.

Jake retrieved a cup of coffee and settled himself into the couch. He kicked off his shoes to display his mismatched socks as he loosened his tie. He was very glad to be home, but at the same time it increased his anxiety. While he was an introvert and did enjoy spending time alone with Jackie, the last few months had been hard. Lately when he was alone he turned to Weed, but for the past two weeks he had been trying to avoid using it. He hadn't been very successful. He had tried to wean himself off slowly, but once he had taken a small dose he usually got to the point that he didn't care and ended up taking more. Already, though he had only just gotten home, he felt his eyes drifting to the bathroom where he kept the drug hidden. He gripped his coffee cup tightly, trying to fight off the urge to use.

He thought briefly about calling one of the team to see if they wanted to go out for something to eat, but quickly decided against it, deciding he needed the rest of the evening to relax. Jake sighed and put his cup on the coffee table. He rubbed his face and again his eyes drifted to the bathroom. He was so tired, but he knew that he probably wouldn't be able to sleep without some help. He groaned and leaned back on the couch, and tried to distract himself by watching random videos on Youtube.

Abruptly he stood and crossed to the bathroom. He tore open the medicine cabinet and pulled the last of the weed out of its hiding spot in a box meant to hold cough syrup. Not that he really ever had anyone over to his place besides his old roommates, but he still wasn't careless enough to leave it out in the open. He tossed the box aside and unscrewed the top of the bottle. He held it wavering in his hand. He wanted desperately to just tip the bottle to empty the contents into the sink and be done with it. He had had this battle with himself many times before. Two times he had even succeeded, but then found himself calling his dealer only hours later to gain more.

Jake ran into his and Jackie’s bedroom and pulled out pieces of rolling paper and made blunts. Jackie was the only person who knew that he still smoked as he told the others that he quit a few weeks ago. He remained on the floor for quite some time, feeling no desire to move back to the living room with the tv still on.. He was perfectly content where he sat, enjoying the feeling of nothingness and after a while he dozed a bit. He didn't know how much time had passed before he heard a knock at the door. It had probably hadn't been more than an hour or two. He tried to ignore it, but whoever it was knocking was persistent.

Groaning, he rolled to his knees then used the edge of the bed to pull himself to his feet. He legs felt rubbery, so he stood there for a moment to steady himself. He looked at his reflection and stifled a giggle. At the moment he found looking in the mirror incredibly funny, but he wasn't entirely sure why. It felt somewhat surreal, looking at himself. The knocking at the door became more persistent. He sighed. It was probably was one of his friends. No one else ever came to his home this late.

He cringed as his door was pounded on, and this time was accompanied by a voice. "Come on, I know you're home. Please open the door." Jake sighed heavily. Sienna. Of course it was her. Anyone else would probably have given up, but she would be there until two in the morning, still knocking if he thought that  was home. Jake shook his head and made his way down the hallway slowly. He hadn't even made it halfway when Sienna knocked again, louder.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Jake called out. He made it to the door and fumbled with the locks, struggling with the security chain. It took several tries for him to be able to slide it free. He swung the door open. "What are you doing here, Sienna?" he asked, not bothering to try to hide his irritation. "Hey, grumpy much?" Sienna smirked and raised her hands. Jake didn't respond except to glare and gave a roll of his eyes. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" "You've never been out this late before. Why did you decide to just show up in the middle of the night?"

"Somebody's cranky when his beauty sleep gets interrupted." Sienna pushed past Jake into the apartment without his invitation. He held up a brown paper bag. "I left the office about an hour after you did and I thought I'd stop and grab some Chinese at that really good restaurant and then realized how close I was to your place so I figured I pick some up for you and Jackie and bring it over here, but as she’s asleep you can have hers”

"That restaurant is almost seven miles from here, Sienna," Jake said.

Sienna didn't seem fazed as he walked into the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards for paper plates not caring if she woke Jackie up. "I got those egg rolls that you like." "Okay, I see we're just going to pretend that you showing up here is normal," Jake grumbled. He followed Sienna as he brought the plates to the dining room.

Sienna looked around the luxury apartment, taking in the well-used but comfortable looking furniture and the many shelves housing hundreds of books and the one shelf that contained dozens of science fiction DVDs. " I can definitely tell that you live here and It shows that mostly everything belongs to you."

"It's my apartment, Sienna. Was it supposed to look like someone different lived here?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You usually reserve this level of hostility for occasions."

Jake blushed and looked away. "Sorry. I'm just tired."

Sienna shrugged. "Sit down and eat."

"I'm not really hun—"

"Sit," Sienna interrupted. "Eat." She ordered.

Jake dropped into the chair, looking a bit like a child who had been reprimanded for something. He grabbed one of the egg rolls and took a small bite.

"I'm fine," Jake said quickly.

"How often have you been using the drugs?" Sienna asked conversationally.

Jake looked up, the expression on his face giving the impression of him being a deer caught in the headlights. "What are you talking about?" he asked, voice a little higher than usual.

Sienna pushed his plate of food away and leaned forward, elbows on the table, and his face suddenly deadly serious. "You're high right now, aren't you?”

“Hey, I was still eating that” Jake screamed.

Jake laughed, the sound slightly hysterical. "Sienna, you- you're confused. I-I'm not-… I don't-…" he sputtered, trying to keep the smile on his face. "That's crazy," he finally managed to finish.

Sienna's face was still locked in that serious look. "I'm sorry, kid. I knew something was going on with you, we all did. I thought maybe it was PTSD. But we all left you to deal with it on your own. We should have been there for you. I should have been there. I should have seen. I'm sorry."

The faux smile fell of Jake’s face as she spoke. He dropped his eyes to the table, seeming to struggle with himself to find the words. It looked as though he was trying to decide if he wanted to admit to the drug use or to continue to try to deny it. The internal battle waged for nearly a minute before he looked back up. "Pretty stupid thing to do for someone who's supposed to be a genius isn't it?" he smiled, but it was bitter and self-deprecating.

"Not stupid. Not really smart either," Sienna sighed, looking at Jake his dark eyes troubled. "It's Weed, isn't it?" “Jackie has been telling me.”

Jake nodded, almost imperceptibly, avoiding eye contact. Morgan wasn't reacting to this in a way he had expected. There was no yelling, or threatening. No accusations or anger, only a weary acceptance. "I stole it from one of they younger interns after their first week and got hooked, not even my brother whose a year above me knows. After I ran out I bought my own. I t-… I tried to stop. I really did. I threw it out twice. But I always-… I always got more afterwards." He ran a trembling hand through his hair.

"How often do you take it?"

"Usually only once a day, but I don't take it at all if we're working a case," he elaborated, shooting a quick glance at Sienna.

"Why do you only take it when you're home?" She asked him. She was still acting much to calm for Jake to understand, and things that Jake didn't understand made him nervous.

Jake shook his head. "If the other know, for sure Ethan might have to report it, and you'll be fired. I won't tell him as long as you stop."

Jake looked desperate. "I've tried before, Sienna. I don't think I can do it." He looked so hopeless that it almost made Sienna want to cry.

But she didn't. Instead she leaned forward and put his hand on the older man's shoulder. "Yes, you can, and you will. You've only tried by yourself before. Now you've got help. You don't have to be alone anymore."

[morimallow]

Dive With Me

⚠ : slight (?) NSFW in the beginning.

pairing: Hoshiumi Korai x reader because he be second to my Morisuke.

HOLY SHIT, I FORGOT. THIS CONTAINS SLIGHT SPOILERS ABOUT THE HAIKYUU MANGA.

“K-Korai..!” you called out his name as you tightened around his dick. “Slow down.. a-ahh..” You grabbed the edge of the headboard to gather some strength because he was pounding into you real good. He was filling you to the brim, hitting the exact same spot over and over again.

He leaned closer to you with his mouth dangerously near your ear. Hearing his soft grunts and heavy breathing just turns you on even more than before. “If you want me to slow down, you have to beg,” he pulls out his thick cock until only the tip is in, he continued, “louder, for my name,” he thrusts in you in one swift harsh move, “and harder, my darling.” You clenched your dripping pussy upon hearing that endearment he only uses in bed.

You moaned and screamed his name as he thrusted in and out of you harder and faster. “Fuck, baby. Are you trying to milk me, huh? You feel so fucking good.” Without a word, you squeezed him inside you as you ride out your orgasm prolonged by your boyfriend's hot groans and marks by sucking your neck. Korai followed you and came inside, his thick cum filling up the condom haha u thought practice safe sex.

After resting for a bit, he stood up in all his crowning glory I mean dude he's seriously hot threw the condom in the trash bin and went back to the bed spooning you.

He placed soft open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder and nape, secretly trying to look at your phone screen.

“Korai, love,” you started and he hummed in response, his all attention on you. “Can we adopt?”

He moved his hand from your waist down and started drawing soothing circles on your stomach. “Why? Is one of us infertile or something? We can just make one. You should've told me to stop using con—” You cut him of by your hysterical laughter.

“Fuck!” You continued laughing, grabbing his hand tightly around your stomach as it starts to hurt. Then finally, you said, “But we can't make a whale, babe. I want a whale.”

Right then, you were now laying on your back and you see in your peripheral vision that your boyfriend is staring at you— blankly. After a while, he said breathlessly, “Are you serious right now? You're unbelievable.”

“But I really want a whale. Midnight is so cute!” you tried to reason out to him. You had your obsession with whales when you were in junior high. These large mammals roam in vast and calm oceans that you just wanna swim with them forever. You were a professional diver even before you started college and graduated from a prestigious school, earning your bachelor's degree in Marine Biology and now you're taking up Cetology for further studies.

Seeing that your boyfriend is still not convinced, you straddled his stomach, completely forgetting that you're butt-naked. Placing one of your gentle hands on his hard and toned chest, you gave him your puppy eyes, “Just look at him!” you exclaimed as you held out your phone to him, picture of Midnight's tail above the water.

And with that, Korai almost gave in to your charms like he always does. He placed his rough and calloused hands on your hips, “Baby, we can't possibly home a huge ass whale here—” and you snapped. You know Korai doesn't share the same love for whales as you do but he should at least know it's illegal to take whales from their natural habitat.

You got up and stood by the bed and said with such disappointment, “Home a whale? That's what's impossible. It's an adoption! It's just a certificate but the staff would take care of him. They'd just send us pictures and videos of our baby and that's it.” You stomped towards the bathroom, with your back facing him, you said, “You should've at least known that I'd never adopt a whale to live in our house but to help them,” entered the room and slammed the door at his gaping face.

Feeling irritated at your actions, Korai decided to share this to his team and get their opinions.

“Even you, Kageyama? Seriously,” he scoffed and went out for his early morning run. You usually go together but you're both irritated so Korai decided to just ignore you.

Walking out of the bathroom, you saw that Korai was no where to be found. Maybe I hurt him..? You tend to not think of someone's feelings when it comes to whales. Guessing that he won't be back until lunch or probably until dinner, you went to your university to continue your lab research. If he'll ignore you then might as well ignore him too.

You couldn't concentrate on your research and your professor suggested you go home early and come back when you feel better. You agreed, thinking that your boyfriend was waiting for you to come home and you'd make your dinner together but when you got home, it was empty. It was cold and just.. dull. He's not here. It's just a house.

Trying to be optimistic, you started to make dinner. Since your boyfriend is an athlete, you made him something which is low in carbs and high in protein. You were always thoughtful and observant — keeping tabs on every little detail about him. Like how he crunches his nose when he blushes, how he kisses your forehead when he has early morning practice, the way he moves making the smallest sounds possible because he doesn't want to wake you up..

An hour passed. Two, three, four..

You lost count and fell asleep in the dining room.

You've had enough. Alright, Y/N, you're going to the university, finish Chapter 4, pass it to professor, continue your experimentation, go for an evening jog and don't think of Korai. Who cares if you're getting busy the day before your birthday? Not like your boyfriend will throw an unexpected party or at least come home, right? You're pathetic. And you did just that.

Sun shining through the window, you slowly opened your eyes. You looked at the clock and it was already 11AM. Maybe he's home. You ran towards the door, with the biggest smile on your face, to see if his shoes are there. And they weren't.

You came home at around 21:32 and you're beat, so, you took a quick shower and went to bed, not bothered by the fact that he didn't come back.

The soft mattress of the bed left your back and was replaced by two strong and muscled arms. It was warm. It was home. It was Korai. You didn't believe that he was here carrying you to who-knows-where. But even so, guilt was eating you up and you said to the dream Korai, “I'm so sorry, love,” and you sniffled a cry. The dream Korai kissed your forehead and then a peck to your lips. “I'm sorry too, my love, but I need you to go back to sleep, okay?” He's not real but you muttered an okay back anyway.

When you dream, you always end up waking up on the floor not unless Korai is holding you in your sleep but you didn't expect that you'd wake up in a different.. soft bed. You slowly sat up because you were kinda dizzy. Maybe you did fall off the bed but the small window inside the room said otherwise. It was still dark out, probably dawn. Your boyfriend's Adlers jacket caught your eyes. It was hung beside the window with a pair track pants and your favorite shirt from Korai's closet. Feeling a little chilly, you wore the given clothes and tucked your hands inside the pocket of the jacket. You felt a paper and took it out. It read: Come to the upper deck, baby. There are signs so you won't get lost. I'll be waiting.

You saw him leaning slightly over the railings. With the strong wind and waves crashing against the ship, he couldn't hear you walking towards him. You placed your arms around his torso, placing your hands against his rock-hard abs to keep it warm. “You weren't a dream after all,” you whispered more to yourself as you tightened your grip around him.

“I'm always real,” he replied as he took one of your hands and putting it up to his lips to kiss it. It was warm. It was real. Clenching your hand to a fist, you pressed your forehead against his back and held back the tears. “You're here. You came back..”

He turned around and held your chin with his thumb and index finger to look into your eyes. His features softened even more as he saw your tears. He cupped your cheek and held you by your waist, pulling you closer to him and pressed his lips against yours. You missed this. You missed him. The kiss was slow and passionate. You pulled for a brief moment to tilt your heads and came back to each other's lips. Eyes closed, bodies in one big bubble, and hearts connected. He pulled away and you chased his lips and slowly opened your eyes. He has this mischievous glint in his eyes. You know he saw you wanting for more and you blushed looking down.

“Fuck this,” you muttered. You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tip-toes, and kissed him again. This time, longer.

He snaked his arms around your waist and backed you up against the railing. He bit and nibbled on your plump lower lip as he pulled away, out of breath. He placed an open-mouthed kiss on your exposed neck and you moaned at the warmth.

“Let's go back to our room, yeah? It's quite cold,” he stated as he ran his hands through your hair.

“Carry me? You're warm,” you showed him your puppy eyes and super pouty lips, result of your intense kiss.

He shook his head and smiled at your cuteness. He spread his arms and said, “Jump,” and you did. He immediately supported your body as your wrapped your arms and legs around him, burying your head in the crook of his neck and dozed off.

You woke up again in a moving vehicle but this time, you were blindfolded.

“Korai! Are you fucking serious?!” you shouted because you have no idea where your boyfriend is seated or whether he is in the vehicle.

Series of laughters and uh-oh's erupted as someone chuckled beside you and kissed your cheek. “Don't worry, love. We're close. I just hope you're ready for this.” You scoffed, said fine, and squeezed his hand.

After a while, the vehicle stopped. The door was opened and Korai tugged your hand. As soon as you were outside, you asked, “The ocean..?”

Korai guided you to an office. You heard him say, “Mr. Hoshiumi. Yes.. yes. Thank you.”

“Ko-chaaaaaan, tell me what's happening. Take of—” And he really did take off your blindfold. He handed you a paper bag and instructed, “Go change into that. The changing room is up ahead to the right. I'll wait for you here.”

In less than 3 minutes, you came back to the spot and screamed, “I'M GOING DIVING?!” with so much excitement that the staff started to laugh quietly. You eyed your boyfriend. The wetsuit hugging his toned body and it occurred to you.. “YOU'RE DIVING WITH ME?”

Double-checking whether your gears are properly secured, your eyes caught a whale, leaping out of the water. You're frozen in the spot. “Korai..”

“Hmm?” he replied, busy with the equipment.

“I saw Midnight,” you said to him. Then, you turned to the staff who was with you and asked, “The whale who just leapt. That was Midnight, right? Tell me I'm right.”

As she was about to answer, the sound of a whale diving back into the water entered your ears. You whipped your head and just saw the tail. Your eyes widened. “Holy fucking shit, Korai! It really is Midnight!” you whisper-shouted to him.

His eyebrows furrowed and confusion was clear on his handsome features, “How do you know? You just saw it's tail.”

“Exactly!”

“What? Don't whales all look the same?”

You can't help but roll your eyes at his question. “Of course not. Whales are identified and and named by their tails. His name is Midnight because his whole tail is a dark shade of blue.”

“Oh, good. Now I can identify my son as well,” he said to you smiling. You melted at the sight but then you realized..

“Son?! You adopted Midnight?!” you whisper-shouted at him again.

“Yes, and why are you whisper-shouting? You can just voice out your excitement, you know?”

You glared at him, “Excuse me, Hoshiumi Korai. You must know that whales could be gravely affected by noise pollution.”

After diving into the water with Korai and the staff, who is holding a camera, maybe for documentation of something, you quickly searched for Midnight.

With your keen eye, you spotted him and quickly swam towards him, Korai and the staff followed behind, so you could bond with him.

While swimming with the adopted whale with so much joy, Korai grabbed your hand and made you face him.

You gave him a questioning look and it was answered the time he pulled out a small box and opened it. You were shocked.

You pulled the him upwards, heads now above the water. You quickly took off his mouthpiece and goggles. As you locked eyes with him, he knew the answer.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close, he held the box tightly in his hand and you wrapped yours around his neck.

Your lips met. The saltwater or probably tears joining in your mouth. He pulled away, pressed his forehead against yours and held your left hand. As he slipped the ring and kissed you once again, Midnight leapt just behind you. And the staff captured this perfect moments.

After getting the certificate of adoption and the whale brochure, you were now in the upper deck with Korai by your side, enjoying the full-blown formal engagement party planned by your fiance's rivals and now friends back in his highschool days.

With a drink in his hand, a light brown-haired man approached you. You recognized him as one of Korai's teammates in the Japanese National Team.

“Congrats, man. I was gonna let you pay double for the rent if Y/N-san here didn't accept your marriage proposal,” Yaku-san said and laughed lightly. He acknowledged you by bringing his cup of wine lightly towards you and you did the same.

“Thanks and as if I'd pay double. Go away. Shoo!”

“Oh, you're dissing the owner of the ship now? How bold, Hoshiumi-san,” then Yaku started to walk away. When he was near the door, he shouted, “Pay triple, you fucktard!”

As Korai was babbling incoherent words, probably insults, you grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards the side of the deck where no one can see you. Looking down and pinching his blazer, “Give it me.”

“Give to you what?”

“Your coat! Let me wear it.. ”

He hugged you tight and placed his chin on top of your head, “Why, my fiancee? Want to show your possessio—”

“My nipples are hard, goddamn it, Korai!” you said it directly at his chest. He pulled away looked at your body. You looked extra ravishing tonight as you wore a red silk dress—low cut to show enough cleavage, a slit up just below your hip, spaghetti straps and your lower back fully exposed.

“You're so perfect I want to pound into you until you can't attend university for your degree but I'll deal with you later,” he said as he took of his coat and draped it over your shoulders.

“Let's go greet some more guests,” he said and started to walk towards the crowd.

Feeling a little bolder, you grabbed his tie and pulled him towards you, nose touching.

Maintaining eye contact, you licked his upper lip and said seductively, “Can later be now, darling?”

He groaned into the crook of your neck and replied, “I'm gonna give you the best birthday present yet.”

M. List

[stevie-kd]

Whumptober 2020

Day 5: “Where Do You Think You’re Going?”

On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

::Some villains trap Kirishima and use him as a test dummy for a quirk-enhancing drug. They make a monstrous discovery...

••••••••••••

“Crap, crap, crap, crap!”

Kirishima’s head whipped around in every direction, but there was no escape. He was trapped, the only way out being the way he’d come, which was now blocked off by the gang of thugs he’d lured here.

Stupid, rookie mistake. He ran right into an alley while trying to lead the villains away from the crowded area, only to meet a dead end of tall brick walls. There was no hope in climbing over them, no way through.

At least there were no civilians around. No one to get hurt.

No heroes either, to his dismay. Normally he would’ve been fine in a situation like this, but he’d used up his quirk in a previous fight only minutes before he and Suneater ran into these guys.

“Uh oh, kid,” said the villain with an impossibly long neck. “Looks like you’re outnumbered. And if my eyes don’t deceive me, your quirk ain’t holdin’ up so well.”

Crap! What do I do? What do I do?? he thought frantically. He was up four to one, no sign of Fat Gum or Suneater coming to his rescue. These guys were huge, and there was no beating them in a fight without his quirk.

He was screwed.

One of the other villains, this one with flaming blue hair, laughed from his belly, “He looks like he’s about to wet himself!”

Okay, ouch. That only managed to piss Kirishima off, and he felt a new wave of adrenaline rush through him. He hardened his skin, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. He surged forward, planning to take these guys out as fast as possible.

It didn’t last more than a few punches. He felt one of the villain’s fists connect with his cheek, the force of it rattling through his brain. He fell back onto his rear end, scrambling to get away from another hit. A few more like that and he’d be out of commission.

The tallest of the men stepped forward, but the other with a wickedly long goatee stopped him with a hand to the chest. “C’mon, guys. Kid can’t even activate his quirk.”

The one with the long neck pulled a gun from his back pocket, and Kirishima’s heart nearly stopped beating. The man smiled wickedly. “How about we help him out?”

Huh?

“Oh, this is gonna be entertaining,” said the tall villain.

No one made any attempts to stop him as he aimed the gun for Kirishima and fired.

The bullet struck the hero-in-training on the shoulder. The pain was intense, but it wasn’t what he’d expected. It didn’t pass through like he’d imagined a bullet at nearly point blank range would, but instead lodged into his skin. He quickly reached up and yanked it out, finding a needle at the tip.

They’d injected him with something. Shit, they injected him with some foreign drug!

If he hadn’t been panicking before, he definitely was now. He remembered the time Suneater had been shot with a similar gun filled with quirk-dampening bullets. Could this be anything like that time? That wouldn’t make sense. Kirishima couldn’t use his quirk now as it was. This was something else.

He jumped to his feet, immediately woozy. The world started to shift around him unnaturally, warping and twisting and wrong wrong wrong.

He felt his skin go rigid as it hardened against his will. His entire body hardened and it didn’t stop. He felt himself go Unbreakable, go beyond that. His body was changing, expanding, growing until he stood a foot taller than any of the villains.

“Kid’s a total monster, dude,” said the man with flaming hair. His expression was twisted into a smile, impressed with their work. “This is gonna be the perfect distraction.”

Kirishima tried to speak, to ask what they’d done to him, but all that escaped his mouth was a series of harsh, cracked sounds. Even his tongue had hardened under the drug’s effects.

He tried to take a step forward, but he wasn’t accustomed to such a large, heavy body and it sent him right to the ground. The men all stepped back, laughing hysterically.

“Come on, guys,” said the man with the goatee. He was wiping a tear from his eye after laughing so hard. “We’d better get out of here before the cops show up.”

“Let’s go find a good spot to watch the show.”

“Man, I wonder if they’ll even recognize him.”

They all darted out of the alleyway, leaving Kirishima behind. He pushed himself back to his feet, taking an unsteady step forward, then another. He barreled out into the street, into daylight where people could see him, and all hell broke loose.

A woman screamed at the sight of him. A car swerved to avoid him as he stumbled around, dazed, confused and terrified. He cried out for help, but instead it sounded like a roar that ripped through his throat. Bystanders on the sidewalks fled in horror.

Kirishima continued up the street, searching desperately for Suneater. He’d recognize Red Riot, right?

Instead he found himself up against Kamui Woods. The hero swung in using his branches, dropping ten feet in front of Kirishima.

“You’re done terrorizing these civilians, villain!” the hero stated. “I suggest you back down now before things get ugly.”

Before things get ugly?!

Kirishima shook his head, hoping Woods would understand he wasn’t looking for a fight, but the action only resulted in disorienting the teenager more. His vision tunneled, his ears rang, and he toppled into a parked vehicle, crushing it.

Branches wrapped around his body, trapping his arms against him. They travelled down to secure his legs, and he fell onto his side heavily, cracking the cement ground.

“I’M NOT A VILLAIN! I’M NOT A VILLAIN!” he tried to tell him, but his voice just wasn’t his own. He truly sounded like a monster.

��Hey, calm down!” Kamui Woods was saying from somewhere off to his left. “We can’t understand you. Slow down. Use your words.”

Kirishima couldn’t breathe. He was panicking. What if he was stuck in this body forever?! He’d been turned into a monster and no one recognized him and he couldn’t speak and they thought he was a villain and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight, couldn’t—

He effectively burst through the branches, freeing himself. Before Woods could trap him in another flurry of branches, Kirishima climbed to his feet and ran in the other direction. He needed to get away, find somewhere quiet where he could figure this out.

He barreled down the street, vision tunneling dangerously, looking for anywhere he could hide, any escape route he could take. There was nothing big enough for him to hide behind, nowhere without onlookers to give him away.

If he could just make it back to UA. It wasn’t far from here, only six blocks! He could make that, right?

He made it five blocks before Fat Gum appeared from around a street corner, blocking his route back to the school. “Hey, big guy! Where do ya think you’re goin’?”

“Fat Gum!” he cried. His voice came out a crackle of unintelligible sounds.

Suneater appeared beside him. “Stop, villain! Hey, wait—!”

Kirishima didn’t wait. He bolted past the two, neither trying to stop him much to his surprise. When he looked back at them, they were hot on his tail, probably having just overcome their temporary stupor.

Kirishima stumbled into the side of a building as he tried to round a corner, crumbling a hefty chunk of the brick wall. Crap, he was messing everything up! He was going to get arrested for destruction, let alone fleeing the scene and evading heroes!

He burst through UA’s gates, no alarms blaring because thankfully he remembered to grab his student pass! He was practically home free!

And there was Bakugou, Midoriya and a few others crossing the lawn not thirty yards away. They must have just finished the training they’d been working on together, trying out some new special moves. Bakugou was walking ahead while Midoriya chattered on about something behind him. Then the blond looked Kirishima’s way.

Kirishima froze. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t want his boyfriend to see him this way. He was a monster, and it’d hurt too much if Bakugou didn’t recognize him. He wanted to curl into a ball and hide.

Bakugou dropped his bag and started running at him. “Kirishima!” Bakugou called out. Kirishima panicked—didn’t know what to do—so he stood there, utterly frozen, and started to cry.

It was so unmanly, but he was scared to death he was going to be stuck as this monster the rest of his life. Bakugou wouldn’t want to be with some giant freak with sharp ridges for skin who couldn’t even say his own name.

“Red Riot!” called Fat Gum behind him. He didn’t turn to look, but he was sure Suneater was with him. Great, all the people he admired most were witnessing him a crying mess.

At least they knew it was him and didn’t think some monster had infiltrated the school again. Everyone circled him, the rest of the class joining Bakugou’s side, unsure what to do about their monstrous classmate in front of them.

“Kirishima…” Bakugou breathed. He stepped forward, approaching Kirishima slowly. “What the hell happened?”

Kirishima yelled, “Stop! Don’t come any closer!” but no one understood. They couldn’t understand. Even if he could speak properly, he was crying too hard to make sense.

Bakugou continued forward until he stood feet away from the hulking monster that was his boyfriend. “Shitty Hair...”

“Bakugou, don’t get any closer!” yelled Cementoss, who was just approaching the group. “He could be dangerous.”

“We don’t know his mental state,” Fat Gum backed the teacher up. “I know Red usually wouldn’t hurt a fly, but we don’t really know what we’re dealing with here.”

“It’s okay,” Bakugou said, not to the heroes but to his boyfriend, his best friend. He held an arm out, his fingers brushing the sharp, rigid skin. “I don’t know what happened, but it’ll be okay, Kirishima. Crying is manly too.”

Kirishima fell to his knees, an absolute mess of sobs. Even at this level, he was still taller than Bakugou, but that didn’t seem to bother the blond. He grabbed Kirishima’s massive hand and held it up, rubbing smooth circles against his palm, cutting his own soft hands against Kirishima’s hard edges.

“It’ll be okay, Ei,” he continued in the softest voice Kirishima had ever heard from him. “You’ll be fine. Promise.”

Then Kirishima felt it, like a spasm jerk through his body. His skin hurt and his brain went foggy and he felt so suddenly weightless. Bakugou got taller—no, he got smaller as he shrank back to his normal size.

His body felt like jelly and his legs wouldn’t support him, as light as he was versus moments ago. Bakugou had to catch him before he went crashing down.

He clung to Bakugou’s shirt, trying desperately to hold himself up, but he was just too weak after such an exhausting ordeal.

“Glad to have you back,” Bakugou smiled down at the boy in his arms.

Kirishima wanted to kiss him so bad, but he knew it wasn’t the right time or place. He could barely keep his eyes open as it was.

“Red! You’re okay?” Fat Gum asked from his other side. “What happened?”

“I-I’m fine,” he managed, voice gravelly and raw. His throat hurt, still felt like there was a marble lodged in it from crying so hard. “Those villains… they shot me… with some quirk-enhancing bullets.”

Cementoss and Fat Gum shared a look. The two pros would have to report this, and Kirishima would have to give a statement to the police.

After he got some rest. As his eyes drifted shut, he reminded himself to tell Bakugou how fucking lucky he was to have him as soon as he woke up.

••••••••••••

I hate this but I also love this ?? I had a lot of fun writing this but it’s weird and it could’ve been written a lot better if I didn’t rush so bad. I’m almost two days late! And I have yet to write today’s prompts and there’s only two hours left of the day! Grrrr !

I have days 6 & 7 already planned out, I just have to write em. I think they’ll be rather short fics, so I apologize now. It’s the only way I can catch up! Haha

Read previous day here

Read next day here

[btsslowburnfic]

Born to be Yours Ch. 10

Story Summary: For Namjoon, the moment he set his sights on being the #1 rapper, he pushed the symbol to the side and hated it. Love should be chosen, not forced on you. He didn’t believe in fate and this mark on his wrist was a big “fuck you” to all that.

Chapter summary: Life after you and RM part ways goes back to normal until an accident changes everything

Previous chapters found here: Chapter 9

You are surprised that life does in fact go back to normal. You and Xavier make up and get back to working with smaller local groups after the awards season ends. Things with you and Ben get back to normal; you become a master of using heavy foundation on your soulmark when you’re at home. The summer tour is amazing. You and Xavier traveled to 32 states in 4 months. You find yourself following Twitter and Weverse to see what RM is up to. And you sometimes found yourself thinking about that night the two of you spent together. You mostly try to push it out of your mind though. Even though you told Xavier and he randomly brings it up.

“Right here? On this desk!?!” he asks, running his hands over the surface.

“Yes. And don’t do that, it’s weird and gross.”

“How was it? Describe it to me again.”

You chuckle a bit and roll your eyes, “No. I told you once so I could get it out of my system.”

“Ughhh you’re so boring.” he whines playfully.

“Shouldn’t you be reprimanding me about being a terrible cheating slut?” you raise an eyebrow.

“No. I ship that shit.” he responds, sipping on a smoothie. “Have you eaten yet?” he asks

You laugh and look through your phone. “No, I had a zoom meeting with Gina at noon and then I covered spinning class.” You press some buttons on your screen. “There. I just ordered. I’ll see you in a while.” You stand up and put your flip flops back on.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you in pilates tonight.”

You toss your bag over your shoulder and put your sunglasses on as you step out the door. You look both ways and start to cross the street as you hear a screeching sound. The next thing you hear and feel is the sickening crunch of bone hitting glass. Tires screeching away and then everything is black.

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

Namjoon occasionally finds himself thinking about you. Mostly when he accidentally slams his body into a door frame or cuts his finger. He always says he’s sorry and then kind of feels like an idiot for apologizing to no one. He also thinks about the night the two of you shared together quite often and had made Jhope send him those photos he took.

He’s happy to be working and on tour again. It’s been a fun summer. They wrapped up the Asia portion of their journey and were well into Europe now. As usual, the filming crew was in the green room as they were preparing for their second night at Wembley. The first night had been amazing. He couldn’t think of anything that made him happier than being in front of ARMY, especially when they were singing along to the songs he wrote. He smiled as he scrolled through his phone while he had his makeup touched up. 

“10 minutes, 10 minutes.” Management called out.

“Alright guys, let’s get it.” he yells through the green room.

They gather around and do their chant. The minute they step out of the green room they can hear the fans roaring and cheering along to the pre-show videos. They each go to their respective starting positions and wait to hear the signal. 

They open quick and fast with “On” and the crowd is absolutely pumped. They begin their second song and will then introduce themselves. The music for “Dionysus” begins to play and the elaborate set pieces are added throughout the song. They are almost to the end of Dionysus when RM goes down hard. He falls off the table. People are gasping, Jin runs over and signals to the staff on the side of the stage that something is very wrong. ARMY and BTS are freaking out. The visual director quickly puts a message onto the big screens to please wait a moment. The medical staff immediately takes the lift up to the main backstage area. The obvious damage is a cut on his arm that took the brunt of the fall from the table, but that gash can’t account for the fact that he’s unconscious and breathing shallowly. There is a rush of oxygen masks and people yelling. Jimin and JK start crying, the other guys are freaked out about the show and what to do next. Jin rises to the occasion by asking if they should go ahead and skip to his and Suga’s solos until there is more information. A decision is quickly made to begin the solo portions. The two of them quickly change costumes and prepare to go out. An ambulance ends up needing to be called. The guys decide that Namjoon would want the show to go on and so they do. It’s ugly and weird and they are unfocused but they manage through it. ARMY is crying for RM because they know it’s bad when he doesn’t come back on stage. They skip the ments and encore and  the guys are immediately loaded into vans and transported to the private health facility that he’s been taken to. 

The staff escorts the six of them to a room where they wait for a doctor to come and speak to them. A translator is located and brought in as well.

“What happened? Did anybody see what happened before he fell?” Hoseok asks.

“He was fine. I didn’t notice anything strange.” Tae responds. 

“They took video and showed the doctor,”Yoongi adds, having overheard the staff on the way there.

After a few minutes a doctor comes in. “Hello Gentleman. Your friend is in good hands here, and is stable.” she reassures them. 

There is a collective sigh from the group as they hear this news.

“However, we aren’t sure what’s causing this condition. There is no evidence of an aneurysm on the CT scan and the video doesn't show any seizure-like activity prior to the fall. His heart is in excellent shape as well as his lungs. At this point we are running more tests but we do need to ask you all some questions here. Please answer honestly. Does your friend use any drugs? Even maybe extra prescription medication?”

It takes a few seconds for the translator to relay the message and the guys’ reactions range from anger to disbelief. Jin is up on his feet shouting about how they should be focusing on fixing Namjoon rather than gossiping, Jimin is crying more. It’s a mess.

“Calm down guys, it’s a standard question,” Yoongi says stoically. “She’s not trying to be rude.”

“No. He drinks beer and wine sometimes. But no. He’s not on any drugs.  That’s ridiculous.” Jungkook summarizes.

“I’m sorry, it’s something I do have to ask. Is there anything else you guys could think of that might be pertinent? An old injury? Something he did earlier today or ate that he doesn’t usually?”

The guys all sat there for a minute. It was Jin who made the connection first: “His soulmate. She lives in LA.”

Tae’s hand flew to his phone to make a phone call.. The next few things happened over the course of a few hours: a phone call to Hitman Bang to get Gina’s contact information. Several phone calls to Gina. Calls from Gina to you. No answer. Phone calls to Xavier. No answer. Xavier calling Gina back hysterically sobbing that you were in a coma with a skull fracture and blood loss, Gina crying, Gina having someone else call Hitman Bang because she couldn’t stop sobbing, Hitman Bang calling Tae back.

The doctor was updated on the situation. “Ah...well that would explain it. Were the two of them very close?” she asks delicately.

It’s highly inappropriate but Yoongi just laughs, “No. They met one time .”

The doctor raised her eyebrows, “Oh. Well that’s unusual.”

“If she dies, will he die too?” Jimin asks quietly with tears in his eyes.

“No. And especially not if they weren’t close. I need to consult with some colleagues on this before we proceed. If you all want to go get some rest I think he’s going to be like this for a while. We can call you if anything changes.” the doctor informs them.

They are uneasy about leaving Namjoon there so they split up into groups of two to take turns. Jin and JK take the first shift at the care facility.

 ----------------

The doctor reaches out to several colleagues who are familiar with more case studies of soul mate injuries and what to do when there is a mirrored trauma response. She gets permission from RM’s parents (who have flown to London as well at this point) to try a reverse cryogenic procedure to restart his systems. Basically, they will bring his body down to an almost hypothermic point and slowly reheat him, encouraging cell regeneration and movement. It has been successful in similar cases, but it is a slow procedure that needs to be carefully monitored. 

Meanwhile, social media is having a field day about what could have happened. BigHit put out that story that RM has developed a severe allergic reaction to shellfish and went into anaphylaxis on the stage; he was administered an epi-pen and hospitalized but is now resting and recovering. The rest of the guys give interviews to back up this story as well. 48 hours after the incident began, RM is slowly regaining consciousness. 

“What happened? I feel like someone is opening up my skull with a pair of pliers.” he asks the doctor.

“I’m sorry but your soulmate was in a very bad car accident. She’s in a coma and you suffered a mirrored trauma response. I’m going to go let your friends and family know you’re awake.” 

“Shit.” RM says, really taking in everything that was just said to him. 

Jin is the first one in the room. “Hey. You’re finally awake. We were so worried.”

“How long have I been out for?”

“2 days.”

“Shit. What happened with the concert? Is everything ok? Oh God. What did they tell people?”

“One thing at a time.” Yoongi said as he entered the room. “We finished the show. The tour is postponed for at least a few weeks. We told people you had an allergic reaction.”

RM visibly relaxed but was still upset about the show. “Those fans have to be so disappointed.”

“Yeah, but they want you to be well. There’s thousands of flowers and cards being left at Wembley and so many messages on Weverse. We’ll make the dates up when you’re better. ARMY understands. It’s not your fault.”

“No, it’s [Y/N]’s fault.” he says briskly. 

“I mean. She got flattened by a car. So, not really.” Tae added.”She’s in an actual coma. They can;'t just reheat her.” he was surprised by how cold RM sounded talking about his soulmate.

“You’re right. I’m just...it’s a lot. My head still hurts and I guess I just want someone to blame.”

“Blame the asshole who hit her,” Yoongi adds.

“Yeah. I will. I’m so tired.”

“Here, we’ll leave so you can talk to your parents for a minute before you rest.”

“My parents flew in?” he says surprised.

“We thought you were going to die,” Jimin says seriously. “Your sister is on her way here too.”

Rm laid his head back against his pillow. This is exactly the kind of soulmate bullshit he’s been trying to avoid. And you were in a coma. He stopped for a minute and thought about how scary it must be for you but he won’t allow himself to dwell on it. He’s getting his soul mark obliterated as soon as you wake up from your coma and sign off on it. If you wake up from it. Shit. 

----

24 hours later he is discharged from the hospital and decides to book a flight to LA to see what your doctors are doing about rectifying this situation. He can’t shake the massive headache and leg pain that he’s still experiencing constantly. He cannot perform like this. Also he’s looked into the legal status of soulmark obliteration if one party is a permanently vegetative state and what counts as legal consent. Because of course he has. The guys all talk and decide that Tae will go along with him for support. Really it’s to be the voice of reason because they can’t believe that rather than going to see how you’re doing, he is going to ask you to remove your mark. 

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

RM knows what hospital you are at because his doctor consulted with yours in order to determine the best course of treatment. You doctor was hoping that once RM woke up, you would show signs of improvement. So far though, there wasn’t a lot on your end.

Ben and Xavier dutifully took shifts staying with you in the hospital. On this particular night, Ben is taking the night shift, walking back from the vending machines. He stops when he sees two dudes who look like models standing outside your door.

“Hey. Are you guys friends with [Y/N]? You must be from the studio. I don’t think we’ve met before. I'm Ben” Ben is tired but tries to be friendly.

Tae and Namjoon turn and look to him. Ben. Ben must be her boyfriend. 

“Actually we’re from one of the bands she worked with. I’m Namjoon and this is Taehyung. You must be her boyfriend?”

“Fiance actually,” Ben politely corrects. “Just a few weeks ago actually,” he awkwardly laughs. “But then this all happened. You know the asshole didn’t even stop?” 

Tae feels extremely awkward. He can understand a small bit of what’s going on, but he knows that what’s coming will be very difficult for everyone.

“That’s awful. How is she doing?”

“Bad. Stable. But, bad. She lost a lot of blood and hit her head pretty hard. They’re surprised she didn’t have any broken bones other than her skull fracture. She dislocated her shoulder when it hit the hood. The guy was definitely speeding.” Ben runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry if you were hoping to visit.”

RM awkwardly runs his hands up and down his jeans. There is not an easy way to say this.

“So. You know that [Y/N] has a soulmark on her wrist?”

Ben stiffens ever so slightly, “I do. But it’s ok. We don’t really care about that whole destiny thing. It’s unconventional but you know…” he trails off.

RM takes a deep breath and rolls up his sleeve. “I have the matching soulmark. I was in a coma for 2 days. I need to speak to her doctor immediately.” NEXT CHAPTER

[sugamama-san]

Stay with me || Tobio Kageyama

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꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

☆ （ • •）☆ ╔uu════════════════════════════════════╗ shεlllσσσσ ενεrγσηε! τσδαγ ινε mαδε αηδ ρσsτεδ mγ sεcσηδ καgεγαmα fαηfιc bυτ τh -ιs τιmε ιτs α cσllαb ωιτh @δεηκιιριε! τhιs ωαs α rεαllγ fυη cσllαb αηδ ι hσρε γσυ gυγs ωιll εηjσγ ιτ τσσ! αlsσ α lιττ -lε ηστε τhατ ι αcτυαllγ hανε α lιl bση -υs ατ τhε εηδ sιηcε ι'δ σηlγ bε αblε τ -σ sεηδ ιτ τσ hεr αfτεr shε ρσsτεδ ιτ- sσ chεcκ συτ hεr ρσsτ αηδ mιηε αs ωεll. ησω ωιτhσυτ α fυrτhεr αδσ lετs gσ! ρs τhε hεαεr ιs mιηε ωhσ ενεr ωαητs τσ υsε jυsτ crεδιτ αηδ rεblσg <3 ╚══════════════════════════════════════╝

[@denkiipie’s part]

helping your best friend study wasn’t the best, especially if that best friend is tobio kageyama. he’s a genius when it comes to volleyball, but in academics? not so much. “do you get it now?” you asked, explaining the question for the 5th time. kageyama nods his head and flashes you his best smile, but you knew him better than that. even though he tried his best at hiding it, you could see that he was about to cry. it was math – isn’t that a valid reason to cry? you sighed and closed your notebook slowly. “you still don’t?” he shook his head ‘no’ and slumped down in his seat. you knew kageyama could do the math, he wasn’t hopeless. “i’m sorry, y/n. you’ve explained it so many times already. i-” you made a shushing motion with your finger, making him shut up immediately. he always apologizes to you every time he doesn’t get something. “no need, tobio.” you slowly opened your notebook again and went back to the same question. yes, the math is hard. but if you know how to solve it, then it’s pretty easy. honestly, teaching the math to your friend is harder than actually doing it. it seems that whatever goes inside kageyama’s ear goes out the other one. “now, what operation should you use to find the answer?” kageyama looked at you and he looked absolutely terrified. you didn’t realize you used a harsher voice than usual, so it sounded like you were mad. you weren’t mad at him, you were mad that math couldn’t solve its own problems. when you saw the look on his face, your eyes softened. the only time kageyama was this scared was when daichi was mad. “ah! i’m not mad, my voice just um… came out?” you said, making it seem like you were asking a question. kageyama relaxed a bit, but not entirely, after he heard your words. “multiplication,” he said, catching you off guard. you forgot that you asked him a question. “yeah, you’re right,” you told him, flashing a smile as you do so. maybe all he needed was some time. you asked him to solve the question given and he gladly did, confident that his answer was going to be right. you smiled at the determined look on his face, satisfied that he was confident in solving the math problem. while waiting for him to finish, you decided to check the time on your phone. “oh shit! i didn’t realize it was this late already,” you said out loud, startling the black-haired boy sitting beside you. kageyama knows he kept you too long, and he feels bad about it. “y/n, does that mean you’re leaving?” he asked you, a small frown on his face. though you want to stay longer and help him, you knew you had school tomorrow and had to wake up early. “i’m sorry, tobio. let’s continue this tomorrow.” you started packing up your things, but as you stood up, he grabbed your wrist. you were surprised by his sudden action, but at the same time you weren’t. in all honesty, you actually wanted to stay longer. you just knew that you couldn’t. staring at his face, kageyama looked at you and asked you, “could you stay a little longer?” [@sugamama’s-san part] You felt Kageyama’s soft grip on your wrist knowing that you couldn’t help but stay a little longer. You grabbed your phone and checked the time and said, “okay, but let’s make this quick.” He looked at you again and sat down waiting for you to unpack the things you had just placed in your bag. “y-y/n i'm really sorry. you can go if you want. i'll try to study on my own I don’t want you-” just before he finished his sentence, you took his hand and made him grab a pencil. “don’t say anything tobio. It’s okay, i'll help you. don’t worry,” you said with a soft voice, knowing that even if he could be cold sometimes, he was a softy. you took out your text book and showed kageyama. You made him try to memorize the process since you knew that he had a knack for memorizing. After a few tries, he finally got it. “Okay tobio, what’s the next operation after the addition?” you asked him, hoping that he would get it. He saw the look in your eyes. the look that you'd been a good teacher. “division” he told you, making you look at him and say “YES!" you smiled at him and ruffled his hair “Good job! Now can you repeat the process on the sample equation?” you asked, as if provoking him for a challenge. He smiled to you and said “Of course I can” he took the pen and managed to do the whole equation by himself. All you had to do was make him memorize. Wow, it was that simple? You were lost in your thoughts, admiring kageyama how he got it in his own way. But he had finished the equation, so he said, “done” you shook your head, almost falling asleep. You checked it and gave him a soft smile. “you did it, boke” he blushed and punched you softly, “Boke’s my line, boke” he gave you a smile which made you blush. Now you guys were both smiling and blushing. After a while, Kageyama broke the silence with a yawn. It was really loud which caused you to laugh hysterically. he blushed out of embarrassment. “Im sorry?” he said, which made you laugh at him a bit more and caused him to laugh as well. This was the life. Just chilling with your friend in the middle of the night laughing at each other because of a simple yawn. You looked over to kageyama seeing him smile again. It just made you happy and giggly for some reason. then after a while, you guys stopped laughing. Kageyama said “okay y/n we really have to go to sleep” he yawned “we have school tomorrow” he looked at you and then looked away since he wanted to yawn again. It was already after midnight and you guys were about to part ways, but you still wanted to stay. you looked over to kageyama and spoke to get his attention. “hey boke?” you asked, making him look over to you. he gave you a slightly mad look since he doesn’t like being called a dumbass, even though he is. "what is it y/n?” he looked at you with a sleepy look, but was wanting an answer. you then looked at kageyama, staring into his tired eyes. “could I stay for a little longer?” he gave a soft smile and said “Of course y/n” he said gesturing you to drop your bag and join him. You sat on the bed with kageyama and stared out of the window and rested your head on his shoulder. you then just smiled and closed your eyes. But before you could go to sleep kageyama wrapped his arm around your body and said “thank you y/n” he blinked and said “you’re the best.” He then lied down and closed his eyes. You then followed right after. Smiling as you fell asleep with you boke best friend.

[warriorlid14]

And the Dragon Goes Rawr

Summary:  Percy Weasley is six years old and ready to take care of his baby brother Ron. Molly disagrees.

Words: 2,789

You can also find it on AO3 and FFN.

Percy Weasley was a very smart and mature boy for his age. Which is why his big brother Charlie had entrusted him, and only him, with his favorite book about dragons: The Tales of the Dragon. And it was why he couldn’t let Ronnie get his hands on it. He was only two, after all, and even though he wouldn’t try to purposely destroy his brother’s prized possession, he was little and bound to accidentally rip it. Or so Percy thought, anyway. So he scooched all the way against the wall where Ronnie couldn’t reach him, as he was too small to climb onto the bed with him… Unless, of course, he pushed the chair against the bed and climbed onto that first, which he had been able to do for a month now. But Percy forgot about this as he turned page after page, each one containing an even bigger and more beautiful dragon than the last. Along with three facts about each dragon, which Percy was diligently memorizing, as it was sure to impress Charlie when he returned home.

“Perce,” a little voice called up to him (which sounded more like a combination of “purse” and “puss” than “Percy”), followed by tugging on his sheets.

“Go back to coloring, Ronnie,” he called back. Ronnie had almost burst into tears the third time Percy told him he couldn’t borrow Charlie’s book, but Percy had lent him a coloring book, and he had quickly become entertained (after Percy dutifully explained that he had color inside the lines, of course). 

Ronnie presumably did as he was told, but then two minutes later was tugging on his sheets once more. “Perce,” he said, more urgently this time. 

Percy, however, was too enthralled on the page about Hungarian horn-tailed dragons to notice. So he said, “I told you this is Charlie’s book. Go play with something else.”

“I gotta- I gotta-”

But whatever Ronnie had to do would remain unknown as he ran off to the other side of the room. Percy re-read the page about Hungarian horn-tails. They were Charlie’s favorite, after all. It was on his third re-read, however, that he noticed an all too familiar and not at all pleasant smell in the air. He immediately put his book down, and asked, “Ronnie, did you poop!?”

Little Ronnie was at the door and reaching up on his tippy toes to try to reach the door handle, to no avail. At his big brother’s question, he turned around and nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had to go potty?” Percy exclaimed. 

But Ronnie turned back to the door. “I want Mummy!” he exclaimed as he reached for the handle one more time.

Percy frowned. His mum would surely scold him. He was supposed to be watching over his little brother, and everyone knew that Ronnie was in the midst of potty training. But well… He looked guiltily at his book, then pouted. He was sure that it was not his fault; Ronnie should have told him he wanted to poop.

“Perce, help!” His baby brother sounded like he was close to tears, and Percy quickly stood up to help him. He grabbed his hand, and opened the door.

“Come on, Ronnie. Let’s go see Mummy.”

Molly, as it turned out, was hastily preparing dinner and finishing up their laundry before Arthur, Bill, and the twins came back from their trip to Diagon Alley, and before Charlie came back from his play date. It had taken longer to put little Ginny down than usual, as she had insisted on playing with her bottle and giggling at her mother’s attempts to feed her instead of drinking her bottle and going to sleep. And odds were that she would wake up at her usual time regardless.

So when Percy came into the kitchen and said, “Mummy, can you come with me?”, she barely looked up before saying “Mummy’s a little busy, dear. Is it an emergency?”

Percy opened his mouth to say yes, before taking in his mother’s frazzled appearance. He looked back at the living room where he had left Ronnie, who was on the floor, giggling at something he couldn’t see. He was suddenly hit with what he thought was his most genius idea all week and smiled. He was a big boy, after all. He was six and a half. He could help Ronnie and his mum.

“No, I got it,” he said quickly, then turned back to Ronnie.

“That’s nice, dear. Take Ron with you,” Molly called after him, clearly not having registered his response.

Little Ron was partaking in his favorite pastime: running into the magical barrier that led to the stairwell as fast as his little legs would let him, and then laughing hysterically as it caught him and gently pushed him back to the floor. The barrier had been put up for all of the children. It didn’t allow them to go up or down the stairwell on their own before a certain age, lest they hurt themselves or try to wander around the house in the middle of the night. That age was typically four, but Molly and Arthur had decided to keep the charm on for the twins for another year. Maybe two. 

“Come on, Ronnie,” Percy said, grabbing onto his little hand again.

“No!” Ron exclaimed, and he immediately tried to pull away. It seemed he wasn’t done playing with the magical barrier. Left to his own devices, Ronnie could play with that barrier for hours (a fact that his parents would capitalize on more often than they’d like to admit). It was a protective, magical barrier after all, and no matter how hard he ran towards it, it wouldn’t hurt him. 

“C’mon, Ronnie. We have to change your nappy.”

At the reminder that his nappy was currently uncomfortably full, Ron once again took his older brother’s hand who then led him through the barrier and up the stairs to his parents’ room. Percy immediately headed towards the drawer where his mum kept the nappies and wipes. He’d seen her change his siblings nappies’ plenty of times, and had even assisted sometimes. And she had even let Bill change a nappy on his own. He was sure he could manage all on his own. He was a big boy after all, and he was very mature for his age.

“Okay, Ronnie, you have to get onto the bed,” Percy said in a commanding voice.

Ronnie nodded and immediately jumped towards the bed. He put his little hands at the edge of the bed and tried and failed to hoist his little body up onto the bed. “Help, please,” he said, looking up at Percy.

Percy picked up his legs with a grunt and pushed him onto the bed. “You’re heavy,” he complained. 

But Ron paid him no mind, instead glancing at the door with a confused expression. “Mum-”

“I’m going to change your nappy right now,” Percy interrupted. Ronnie didn’t look convinced, though, and looked back at the door with a concerned expression. “And then we can go back to my room and color your dragon, okay?”

That caught Ronnie’s attention, and he immediately laid back obediently while Percy determinately set to work. He took out one Ron’s nappies from the drawer and a packet of wipes. He thought to himself that his mum would be very proud of him, taking care of Ronnie all on his own. She’d probably tell him that he was a great big brother, too. And maybe he could go down to the pond on his own now!

All thoughts of his mum, though, were immediately cut short when Percy caught sight of what was inside the nappy. “Ewww, Ronnie you stink!” He pinched his nose and took a step back.

Ronnie, thinking this was hilarious, giggled and said, “No, you stink!”

“No, you stink, Ronnie!” Percy said, taking another step back.

“No, you stink!” Ronnie said with a grin, and began to sit up to look at his brother.

“No, don’t move! You’re going to get everything dirty!” Percy exclaimed. But it was too late, and Percy looked at the mess in horror. “You got poop all over the bed!” 

“No, you poopooed on the bed!”

“No, I didn’t! You’re the one who pooped in your nappy!” Percy cried. 

Ronnie, still thinking they were playing, giggled and said, “No, you poopooed in your nappy!” 

“That’s not true! I don’t wear a nappy!” Percy was growing louder by the minute and his cheeks were turning red. “I’m not a baby! You did it!” 

“No, you poopooed in your nappy! You poopooed in your nappy!” Ron exclaimed excitedly.

But Percy, reminded of the times Fred and George danced around him singing  “poopy-head, poopy-head”, angrily yelled, “That’s not true! Stop lying, Ronnie! I didn’t poop in my nappy! You did! And I’m telling mummy, and I’m not lending you my coloring book anymore!”

Ronnie’s face fell, and his eyes instantly welled up with tears. Percy immediately felt guilty. Ronnie was only two, after all. He was still a baby. He was only playing. And he wasn’t the twins.

“No, don’t cry, Ronnie,” Percy said, and leaned over to pat his little brother on the head. But that only resulted in a loud sniff. 

“I’m sorry. We can go play after we’re done, okay?” Ronnie sniffed again, and tears fell down his cheeks. Percy began to panic.

“We can read Charlie’s book! You wanted to read it! It’s about dragons! You like dragons, right?”

Ronnie nodded slowly. 

“And- and I can show you the pictures of all the dragons. And teach you about the Hungarian horn-tail. And we can draw the dragons afterwards! Do you like that?”

“Yes,” Ronnie said, but there were still tears in his eyes. 

“And um- um-” Percy tried to remember what his parents said to make Ronnie laugh. “What color are dragons, Ronnie?”

“Gween,” Ronnie said.

“That’s right!” Percy explained. “And how do dragons go?”

“Raaaaawr!” Ronnie said with a smile.

“Yes!” Percy said proudly. “I’m going to clean you up now, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

Percy pulled out six wipes to clean his little brother up and bunched them up in a ball. He determinately set to work. All the while he kept asking him questions to cheer him up.

“What color is the sky, Ron?” Percy asked while he grabbed another two wipes.

“Blue!”

“And what color are the clouds?” Percy asked while he grabbed another two wipes.

“White!”

“Yes, but sometimes they’re also grey. Like when they’re cumulon- cumuloni- When they have a lot of rain in them, they’re grey. And what color is Gryffindor?” Percy asked while he grabbed another two wipes.

“Wed!”

“And?”

“Jello!”

“Well, it’s actually gold. And how does the Gryffindor lion go?” Percy asked as he threw the dirty wipes in the trash can.

“Raaaaawr!” Little Ron clapped as Percy finished up changing his nappy.

“That’s right! We’re all done!” Percy exclaimed, and helped Ronnie off the bed. Then he proceeded to use ten wipes to clean the mess that had been left on the bed. “Let’s go back to my room. Do you still want to read Charlie’s book?”

“Yes!” Ronnie exclaimed, grabbing Percy from the hand and pulling him towards the door.

And that’s how Molly found them. Sitting on Percy’s bed, with Percy holding the book in front of them. Molly smiled at the serious expression on Percy’s face as he loudly read from the book, and at Ronnie’s look of wonder as he stared in rapt attention at the pictures in front of him. Her smile grew when she noticed that Percy had one arm wrapped around his baby brother in a protective hug. It was times like these she regretted not having a camera on her at all times.

“How are my boys doing?” she asked fondly. 

“Good! I’m teaching Ronnie about dragons!” Percy exclaimed excitedly.

“You are? And are you learning a lot, Ronnie?”

Her baby boy beamed up at her in a way that caused her heart to melt and nodded furiously. “Look at the dwagons, Mummy!”

“Yes, I see them on the cover. And what color are the dragons, baby?”

“Gween!” he said excitedly.

“That’s right!” she said proudly. “You’re so smart. And how do dragons go?”

He took a deep breath, presumably to let out the deepest growl he could, and yelled “Raaaaaawr!”

… And immediately a small stream of fire erupted from his mouth, and the book caught on fire. 

Percy let out a screech and threw the book to the other side of the bed. Molly reacted instantly, whipping out her wand and casting a silent aguameni before the sheets caught on fire. Ron, completely unaware of the dangerous situation he had unintentionally caused, laughed wildly, yelling, “I’m a dwagon!”

Molly rushed to her boys, and swept them up in her arms, pulling them off the bed and away from the still-smoking book. “Are you boys okay?” she yelled as she put them down, frantically looking them over and checking for any burn marks, thankfully finding none.

“Ronnie breathed fire!” Percy yelled in an accusatory tone, pointing at his little brother. Ronnie, finally catching the tone in the room and at the expression on his mother and brother’s faces, immediately looked frightened.

A small part of her, the part that was still running on adrenaline and frightened and still tired from the day’s work, wanted to yell at Ron to never do that again. But one look at her baby’s tear-filled eyes, and that instinct washed away. Instead she pulled them both against her in a hug.

“It was an accident, love,” she said. “It’s accidental magic. Like when you turned Scabbers yellow without meaning to, remember?” Though it had been a while since such magic had frightened her as much. The last time was when the twins were three and apparated themselves onto the roof of the house (and then ran all over it, trying to evade capture). It was just their luck that little Ron might share their love for chaos. 

Percy nodded. “But Charlie’s book is ruined now!”

“It’s okay. We can get him another one.” Though she thought that it would probably have to wait until Arthur’s next paycheck. It was amazing how fast two babies could eat up their finances. Hopefully Charlie wouldn’t be too upset.

“But I don’t have a book to read now,” Percy said with a pout. 

“Well, we can read another one. I have a few up in my room. You can choose one, Percy.”

“About dwagons?” Ron asked hopefully.

“No more dragons,” Molly snapped. Then her voice softened, and she said, “I think I have the one about fairies. Come on, boys. Let’s go up to my room.”

She picked Ronnie up to carry him up the stairs, and stopped when she caught a whiff of a familiar odor. “Ronnie, did you poop?” she said, turning him around to check his nappy.

“Again?” Percy exclaimed. “Ronnie, you poop a lot!”

Molly stopped and looked at Percy. “What do you mean again?”

Percy’s face broke into a wide smile. “He pooped earlier, and I changed his nappy, Mummy! I did it all on my own! Like a big boy!”

She lifted Ronnie’s shirt up and checked his nappy dreading what she’d find. Sure enough, it was obvious a six year-old had changed her baby.

She closed her eyes to calm herself. She was not going to yell. She was absolutely not going to yell. Instead, she was going to be glad that she raised a wonderful boy who loved to help his younger siblings. 

In that moment, she truly envied her husband’s calm demeanor and seemingly endless patience.

“Well, it looks like he pooped again,” she lied. “Do you want to help me change him?”

Percy nodded and raced up the stairs to her room. She followed behind, dreading the mess she would find, and knowing that she’d have to wash her sheets. Sure enough, when she got to her room, she was met with funky smelling sheets and a trash bin overflowing with what looked to be an entire packet of wipes. 

A successful nappy change and change of sheets later, she tiredly suggested a nap instead of story time. Thankfully, the boys were worn out by the day’s events and they didn’t put up much of a fuss. Molly laid down next to them with a sigh, and hoped that she could get at least half an hour’s worth of sleep before Arthur and the boys returned.

Ten minutes later, Ginny woke up with a large cry, announcing to the world that she was in urgent need of attention.

[bonesthebeloved]

Complicated- creativitwins

Digging up old drafts baby here we goooo.

The father in this story doesn't have a name so you can imagine it as anyone you'd like/ as simply a stranger. Happy reading.

Trigger/ squick warning: father figures, complicated relationship with parental figures, mention of screaming, child services mention (in like...one sentence) mention of crying, mention of animal death (bunnies) mention of homophobia. <- if I missed any let me know.

Edit: I did not check spelling. We die like men

-

Pappa had always been with them.

When they were three and just formed their first memories they might remember in distant futures when all was quiet and nothing was holding them back from reminisent, they would remember about the time they’d gotten two big stuffed bears bigger than themselves When Papa had still been alone and Dad hadn’t been with them yet.

They would remember the soft fur in their little hands as they cuddled close to the things when it was naptime.

Pappa was always there for them

When Roman was five and he woke up from a nightmare where a squirrel was chasing him around the playground pappa was there to wrap his long arms around him and tell him that he was safe and that he would get his squirrel catching gear out of the supply closet the man they had started calling Dad had built for them, first thing in the morning.

When Remus faked being sick the first day of school because a kid in his class had laughed at the white streak in his hair he'd had since birth pappa had come and picked him up, explaining that poliosis is nothing to be ashamed of and laughing warmly as his son tried to pronouns the word.

-

Pappa would always protect them.

When Roman first talked about his pappa and dad in school the teacher had looked like she'd eaten something nasty. Later on Roman was moved to the same class as his brother, his own teacher saying she didn't want to be associated with his kind.

When Pappa came to pick him up that day Roman asked what that ment. And for one of the first times in his life he'd seen pappa frown.

They baked a cake to celebrate them being the same class that evening and Pappa and dad lifted the two of them high up in the air and twirled them around while cheerful music played.

When Remus got told off by a teacher for the first time because he had pushed another kid in his class he had to sit in the corner for ten minutes.

When he was allowed to go back to his spot Roman thanked him for protecting him and Remus threw the paper ball that had been thrown at him right back.

When Pappa came to pick him up he and the teacher had a long talk and they left quickly afterwards. Pappa holding both his and Roman's hands in his own big one's and telling them about how they had done the right thing.

-

Pappa would always comfort them.

When Roman came back home with scrapped knees and an attitude Pappa had asked him what had happened.

Roman hadn't answered and his brother had later told their dad's that he had seen Roman getting pushed around by some older kids. The had been yelling a word he didn't know the meaning of. When he had told it to pappa he had looked angry. And told his boys that those kids were mean and to never use that word because it made fun of good people.

When Remus began to get more friends his pappa asked him to include Roman in all of their games.

His brother had trouble connecting to people and was quickly becoming the bullied kid. And while Remus would gladly take any bullets for him he couldn't protect him at all times.

And while Remus played star wars with his friends, running around the playground and pretending to know the characters, Roman sat and drew in the little notebook pappa had given him for school.

And Remus bought him a new one with his own pocket money when a mean kid threw it in the lake nearby when they went there to explore with the class around the time that eggs would magically appear in their garden and they pretended like it was a bunny putting them there.

Pappa would always be with them.

When they went to highschool and Remus his friends could no longer play starwars with him because one moved away, one said she’d never liked him and two others went to the same school but suddenly forgot about their being friends, he sat with his brother more often.

And when Roman got friends that he wasn’t sure he liked but hung around anyways because it was better than sitting alone, Remus was left sitting at a table at lunch, other kids coming to sit at the same one in the hopes he would get up and leave.

When he had refused to do just that they’d began whispering about him pretending he didn’t hear them. And when he acted like he didn’t hear they had began calling him mean things.

After two months at the new school they came home and both called for their Pappa with shaky voices too quiet to bare any sort of good news.

And when Remus showed off his bruised wrist he’d gotten when a kid had grabbed him harshly and Roman told him about how his friends hadn’t been friends but bullies in a trenchcoat and a mustache to make him think they were friends before telling him he was too weird to hang around, Pappa had brought them both into his arms. Whispering something like ‘oh my poor, brave boys,’ before holding them a bit tighter and then telling them that sometimes, the world was mean like that and that, sometimes, it takes a while before you find the right people.

And when they went to bed that night they laid in the room and stared at the same ceiling. Both pretending they couldn’t hear Pappa arguing with Dad in the hallway.

Both pretending they weren’t crying silently until they fell asleep to Dad accusing Pappa of being a vile and horrible human being.

Pappa didn’t have all the answers.

They learnt that when they were on their second year of highschool and both of their pet bunnies died in the same night. 

Roman had sniffled and stood near the gardendoor as he watched them dig a deep hole all the way at the back of their garden. 

Remus decided that he would be sad about this at night when nobody would see or worry and stood close by Pappa as he put the two bunnies in a shoebox and put it in the hole. Saying they had probably died because of the rat poision Dad had spread across the lawn and that the mice must’ve gotten into their food somehow.

They learnt this when Dad and him had sat them down after breakfast that had strawberries to tell them that sometimes love died and that weddingrings would rust and be put in two seperate homes in two seperate boxes that would never be opened again.

They learnt this the fifth time that Remus came home with bruises and Roman began to listen to darker music and emote less dramatically. Unlearning all the expressions he’d picked up from those animated childrens series they weren’t allowed to watch but watched them anyways. He faked having imagined a happy place when the woman that was supposed to help them through the divorce told him to invision one. Instead invisioning Remus, and how he should have punched the guy that had made him drop his books the moment he saw it happening.

Pappa was  a human being.

They realised this more clearly than ever when he’d found out why Remus only wore long sleeves and got sent to therapy after their Pappa had hysterically cried over it and begged his son not to leave them before he could grow old.

When Roman stared at the ceiling after he’d taken 14 paracetamol and googling how many it would take to leave them before he could grow old, only to find that he would probably be fine and go to school the next day feeling as empty as usual. Pappa had yelled at him when he had gotten back to be more careful and not get invloved with his brothers troubles after he’d shown off the scratched shoulder from where he’d been thrown against a fence when he'd tried to stand up for him.

And when Remus got diagnosed with dyslexia and Roman with depression they said nothing. Roman shaking his head when the doctor suggested therapy and Remus sitting quietly as they explained that he might have adhd aswell.

Their father wasn't perfect.

They learnt this when Remus came back from school with a black eye and a failed math test and the test was all that was focused on. Shouting not unlike the one they'd heard all those years ago when love began to die and rings began to rust booming through the house and piercing through the music Roman was listening to in his room. A bottle cap with water falling off his desk and the little growing plant in it falling with it.

They learnt this when Roman said he was asexual aromantic and their father said that he should consider therapy again because surely that couldn't be normal.

And when Roman told him that maybe they weren't normal he'd been send to his room. Doors slamming shut and noises too loud for Remus to process.

-

Their father was wrong sometimes.

They realised this when Remus first brought a friend home and jokes about countries the kid wasn't from were made around the otherwise uncomfortably quiet dinner table. And when religion was brought up in a house full of atheists Remus stood and took his friend's hand, saying that they'd eat something at a foodtruck and storming of, leaving Roman to feed little stripes of unseasoned meat to the cat.

-

Their father was bad sometimes.

They learned this when the both of them started college and the racist microagressions turned into jokes about how they'd never make it since they were both going to art schools.

And when Remus showed him his homemade costume he huffed and said it looked great in a tone that Implied anything but. And when Roman showed him the finished piece he'd worked months on he said it looked nice even if it had mistakes while pointing at every single one of them while his son, hands still stained with markers and pencil smudges, gave a watery smile and the artwork was put in a art map to never be looked at again.

Their father wasn't good for them.

They realised this. Finally realised this, when Remus was twenty and had decided to move out, getting a small apartment would have been to expensive had his brother not eagerly asked him if he could come with him.

And they told their father while their bags were already packed and the rent was already payed.

And their neighbours registered a noise complained and whispered about calling childservices when their father started another screaming match to tell them how much he didn't want them to leave and how they wouldn't make it.

And they painted the walls mint green while Roman painted a mural around the spot where their couch would be.

And they ate lukewarm noodles from the plastic canisters while sat on the empty apartment floor.

And Roman bought a dozen succulents to take care of and make it feel more like home.

And the wall was always covered in outfit designs and storyboards as the jar they had put the sticker 'for a couch' on slowly filled up.

And they still send him Christmas cards but didn't plan on visiting that house for a long long time.

And their father would have killed them for the mess they made of the apartment sometimes.

And they preferred it that way.

-

This is both an extremely specific vent and goes out to all the kids with complicated relationships with their parents.

You're allowed to not like your caretakers. You're allowed to not want contact with them after you've moved on. You're allowed to think how they treated you was unjust because it probably was.

-

-

Taglist

@purp-man @crazycookie13o @deceitifullies101 @sapphire-knight @ragingdumpsterfiremess @chronophobica @lance-alt @mylifeisadeceit

[im14andivebeen14foramonth]

The Parent Trap AU

This absolutely WONDERFUL art is done by @sanderssidestrash27 Thank for making this I love it so much!!!!!

Summary: Almost twelve years later, separated at birth twins Roman and Remus both end up at the same Camp Sanders. What chaos will ensue those short eight weeks? And where will it lead the twins when their time together ends?

     "And, once again, we have a winner! Presenting Mr. Napa California, Remus Parker!" The crowd of boys watching the tournament let out an uproar of applause and shouting as Gavin held Remus's hand up above his head in victory. Remus grinned, whooping along with all of the boys and swooping his arm in a righteous bow. "Now, do we have any other competitors?" Gavin asked. 

     Remus walked over to the group of onlookers to them all high fives, grinning and laughing at their words of praise. Even he couldn't deny it (not that he ever would), he *was* pretty good at fencing. Great, even. 

     "Oh come on now, boys!" Gavin said as he surveyed the nearby campers. "Someone here has got to be able to beat this champion, let's give it a go!" 

     "I'll try!" Roman declared as we walked up to the scene. He had a soccer ball tucked under his arm and had two other boys trailing behind him. They all looked like they just walked off of the soccer field, still sweaty and hot of breath. 

     "Alright, epic, let's go!" Gavin scribbled down *Roman James* next to *Remus Parker* on his clipboard. Above that sat rows upon rows of *Remus Parker*s next to previous opponents, all of their names crossed out and a star besides his every time. 

     Roman walked over to the pile of equipment while Remus talked with his friends. 

     "You're gonna win this one again, man," one of them said. 

     "Yeah, you're gonna whoop his ass, dude!" Another boy exclaimed. Everyone gasped at the foul language before laughing. "Besides, look at him. He's whooped from his soccer game, he wouldn't be able to win even if he tried." Remus grinned before turning to look at his new challenger, who was already suited up. 

     "Good luck, Re!" Camden said as Remus grabbed his sabre. 

     "Thanks, Cammy. But, I don't need luck." He tossed his blade into the air, catching it in and landing in a fighting stance. He pointed the protected tip of the weapon only an inch from Camden's chest. Who immediately flinched back. Remus smirked, proud of the reaction he was given. "I'm Remus Parker. AKA the best fencer in the whole country, AKA the one who's about to beat this poor boy's ass." The boys burst into laughter and playful applause as Remus made yet another ceremonious bow. Janus *did* always tell Remus to be confident in himself and his abilities, though he always made a point to assure Remus that he got his confidence from his other father, whomever that may be. Janus usually left that part out. Well, whoever it was, Remus had to thank them one day. Without them, he wouldn't be able to wack other people with long swords. The thought made him giggle quietly to himself. 

     "Alright boys, are we ready?" Gavin asked. Remus turned back around sliding his protective mask over his face. 

     "Yup," he stated, getting into position.

     "You know it," Roman said. Remus didn't know who this boy was, but he couldn't help but want to laugh out loud at his clear British accent. What British dude would want to come to a camp like this when he could be enjoying a cup of tea with the Queen or something? Remus almost laughed out loud.

     "En garde." Gavin said, crouching down to get a better view. The two boys touched their blades together, tense and ready for battle. Most of the campers held their breaths, a few of them letting out words of praise for the player they were rooting for. Things like *let's go Roman* and *you got this Roman* rang out amongst the crowd. Anticipation hung in the air like a rope, swinging back and forth between the opposing teams. The noise dropped as silence filled the air for a few frightful seconds before Gavin declared the magic word:

"Fence." 

     With that one, little word, Remus smirked under his gear. His attitude reeked of confidence as he swung his sabre back and forth towards Roman. Roman arched his back, avoiding every blow with surprising ease. Shocked, Remus almost lost his footwork, barely avoided the tip of Roman's blade. He regained his thoughts and ran by Roman to the nearest tree. He jumped with as much grace as he could muster, kicking his foot off the tree and propelling himself in Roman's direction. Roman, however, was able to jump back and duck, moving out of the way and missing all four of Remus's attacks. Roman, catching on to Remus's style quickly, decided that it was his turn to strike. So he jumped forward and launched his sabre at Remus. Remus was able to block Roman, causing them to run backwards into the grass. Remus, having to run backwards, lost his footing and rolled onto the ground on his back. The air was knocked out of him and he clutched the dark grass with his free hand, gasping for air. A chunk of the dewy plant was ripped from the Earth as his hand flew up to his chest. When he was finally able to regain his composure, he lifted the hand up to his eyes to block out the obnoxious rays of sun and view his determined opponent. He saw Roman lurking above him. He looked like he was trying to be dramatic, waiting until the very last second to strike. *What an idiot* Remus thought, rolling his eyes. *Two can play at that game.* Remus played there, pretending to be beat. The crowd of boys had quickly caught up with the two and were now shouting at each opponent. Some called for Remus to get up, while others cheered Roman on to finish his work. Roman, being the over-the-top and confident that he was, flexed his muscles in show. Remus almost chortled at his dumb this boy was, but instead kept up his act. Finally, done with his dramatics, Roman brought his blade up above his arms, lowering it to stab directly in the middle of his chest. That's when Remus rolled away, jumping to his feet and letting out a battle cry as he ran sword-first at Roman. The 6drown let out an uproar of yells while Roman shrieked out of pure terror. He ran away from Remus and up the stairs of the outdoor dining hall with Remus following only steps behind. Remus was able to run ahead of the other and hopped onto the seat if the bench. The boys continued to fence and he shimmied down the bench and Roman along the wooden deck. Until, that is, Remus got to the end of the bench and also the end of the deck, which if course, with Remus's luck, lacked a railing. And as he turned back around to find a route of escape, Roman decided to make his final strike. Where was his dramatics when Remus needed them? As the tip of his blade collided with Remus's chest above his rapidly beating heart, the force caused Remus to stumble and tip backwards, before eventually falling off of the deck…

     And into a trough of water. 

     Oh. *There* were his dramatics. Great timing. 

     As Remus hit the water back-first, the now large crowd of onlookers all gasped and fell still. Droplets of water splashed through the air and hit the warm grass, a few campers getting wet in the process. Still, they sat there, tense and unmoving. Finally, Remus was the first to move as he slowly turned his head towards Roman. He lifted his arms, watching as water pooled off of him and back into the trough. Turning back to Roman with his arms still extended, he growled. 

     "Really?" He snarled, his strained voice muffled by his mask but clearly seeping with rage. Roman had one of his hands up to his mask to cover his mouth in shock. He shook his head in an attempt to regain his thoughts before quickly dropping his sabre. 

     "Oh my God, I'm so so sorry! Here, let me help," he said as he extended his hand towards Remus. Remus peered up at Roman, smirking. He went to match onto to Roman's hand, but before Roman could even think of pulling him onto the dock, Remus yanked his arm as hard as he could. 

With a small, high-pitched shriek, Roman went falling butt-first into the container of water. Even as Remus was hit with the spray of water and even more soaked, he couldn't help but burst into a loud fit of laughter. As he continued to laugh hysterically, Roman looked down at himself. He let out a choked, offended scoff before shoving Remus back into the water, causing him to both stop his laughter and get even more wet. When he resurfaced, he saw Roman laughing just as he had been before and huffed, clocking Roman in the face. What could he say, his dad always did teach him to stand up for himself. And if that meant punching some random dude in the face (or even shoving someone down the steps, something that apparently his father found funny but told him to stop doing after the fourth time. Sorry, Billy, but that was MY Thomas the Train.) then so be it. 

     When Roman came down from the initial shock of being punched, he turned to Remus and decked him the same way he had, right square in the face. Now *that's* when things got bad. 

     The two boys went full out brawl mode, rolling around in the water, kicking, cursing, punching, and everything in between. Both boys found the other to be surprisingly around the same strength as himself, along with very similar fighting techniques. Punches right to the face and bites on the arm seemed to be both of their go-to's, apparently. Finally, after fighting for what felt like ages, they both felt Paris of strong arms wrap around their middles in an attempt to untangle them. They continued to go at each other's throats until the second they were dropped a feet apart in the grass, soaked and furious. 

     "Boys! That is enough!" Gavin said as he stood by Roman's side. 

     "There is absolutely no fighting at this camp, do you hear me? We work through our differences with words and nonviolent activities only. Is that understood?" Leo asked, hands held on his hips as he looked between the two boys. 

     "Yes, sir," Roman and Remus muttered in unison, their muffled responses dripping with annoyance and little guilt. Their minds were elsewhere, both secretly hoping that their masks were enough to protect them from the other's blows. Neither of them had been prepared for the other's strength, their egos to big to think that they would be beat. If not, they'd both walk out of the situation with black eyes and bloodied lips, not to mention a crap ton of red scratches. A cool story in Remus's opinion, but to Roman, who had never been in a legitimate fight before, he would be horrified. People might think he was a fighter, something he kept solely for playing and daily activities, up until now. His dad would kill him, his grandfather scold him, and his butler worry over him endlessly. A part of him found this new endeavor cool, secretly hoping to keep a few small marks for a while. But longer lasting ones that would stay after the eight week camp were not worth worth any of that. 

     Sure, Remus's dad would be mad, and his nanny worried sick, but they were used to this kind if behavior from Remus. Many days he'd come home from school beaten or bruised, either from his adventures or his schoolmate differences. Janus had to even go to his schools sometimes to pick him up or clear things up with his principal and teachers. He was always really good at convincing people of things. Remus felt bad when his father had to come get him or patch him up, but he always tried to be better for him. He knew he wasn't easy to handle all the time, especially with only his dad and nanny there to take care of him. But, like usual, he would definitely be given more chores and a scolding. Not to mention, black eyes hurt. A whole lot. If he did have any, however, he was lucky that his nanny had been teaching him how to use makeup lately now that he was getting older. Some ice and concealer would do the trick.

"Boys! That is enough!" Gavin said as he stood by Roman's side. 

     "There is absolutely no fighting at this camp, do you hear me? We work through our differences with words and nonviolent activities only. Is that understood?" Leo asked, hands held on his hips as he looked between the two boys. 

     "Yes, sir," Roman and Remus muttered in unison, their muffled responses dripping with annoyance and little guilt. Their minds were elsewhere, both secretly hoping that their masks were enough to protect them from the other's blows. Neither of them had been prepared for the other's strength, their egos to big to think that they would be beat. If not, they'd both walk out of the situation with black eyes and bloodied lips, not to mention a crap ton of red scratches. A cool story in Remus's opinion, but to Roman, who had never been in a legitimate fight before, he would be horrified. People might think he was a fighter, something he kept solely for playing and daily activities, up until now. His dad would kill him, his grandfather scold him, and his butler worry over him endlessly. A part of him found this new endeavor cool, secretly hoping to keep a few small marks for a while. But longer lasting ones that would stay after the eight week camp were not worth worth any of that. 

     Sure, Remus's dad would be mad, and his nanny worried sick, but they were used to this kind if behavior from Remus. Many days he'd come home from school beaten or bruised, either from his adventures or his schoolmate differences. Janus had to even go to his schools sometimes to pick him up or clear things up with his principal and teachers. He was always really good at convincing people of things. Remus felt bad when his father had to come get him or patch him up, but he always tried to be better for him. He knew he wasn't easy to handle all the time, especially with only his dad and nanny there to take care of him. But, like usual, he would definitely be given more chores and a scolding. Not to mention, black eyes hurt. A whole lot. If he did have any, however, he was lucky that his nanny had been teaching him how to use makeup lately now that he was getting older. Some ice and concealer would do the trick. 

     "Boys!" Leo said, snapping his fingers. "Up here!" Both of the boys shook their heads and left their thoughts behind to linger on their own in favor of listening to the counselor. "Now I want you two to apologize to each other. And take off your protective gear, it must be soaking wet by now." 

     The two boys huffed and turned to face each other. In unison, the two reached up for their masks, dipping their heads downwards and sliding them off. As their arms fell to their sides, they lifted their heads, and immediately locked eyes. They both gasped at what they were met with. 

     Light brown eyes met the same pair of light brown eyes in return. They scanned each other's face, taking in their similarities. Scattered freckles splayed like the night stars, fluffy light brown hair, only partially wet as the summer sun quickly worked to dry it. Unfortunately, they both had obvious scratches and bruises along their faces, most noticeably on their cheeks and noses. It was as if both boys had the same thought process as the other. So, not only did they *look* alike, but they *thought* alike. Strange. 

     "Well, boys?" Leo asked after a few silent seconds. The boys looked over to him, confused. 

     "Sorry?" They asked in unison, the man's speech only seconds ago now long forgotten. 

     Leo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'll take it. Now please, get to your respective cabins and clean up before dinner in the mess. If you require any assistance, the medic cabin is that way. Now go, shoo. And please, no more trouble." Flapping his hands,bhe ushered the boys along. They stared at each other, not breaking eye contact as they walked towards their cabins. Once they hit a fork in the road between their two cabins, Gavin ran up to them. 

"Wow, it's like you two are twins or something! That's so weird!" He said before running off. 

     The boys looked back at each other, sparing one last glance before they glared and stomped off. 

     This was war. 

Taglist: @sanderssidestrash27 @dew-drop-of-honey @ab-artist @iinyxtello @safesandersides @yep-another-fander @savetheupholstery

I hope you guys liked it!!!!!

[bugaboosandbees]

The Unintended Consequences of a Desperate Wish ~ Part 1

So. I have to take a polymer chemistry final tomorrow and I should really be studying as it's my hardest exam this semester, but this plot bunny would not let me CONCENTRATE lmao. I blame everyone for writing awesome mlb x dc crossovers and maribat stuff for this. Now, have a freaking gigantic prolouge to a maribat story of my own. Fair warning, this starts with the final battle between Hawkmoth and our heroes and will invlove a fair amount of blood and danger. Please tell me what you think!

After five years of fighting, five years of lying to her friends and her family, of sacrificing her dreams, her time, her grades and her sleep, the final battle had come. It wasn’t planned -- despite their best efforts, she and Chat hadn’t managed to determine the identities of Hawkmoth and Mayura. No -- it had been a seemingly random day when the two villains and the ever-loyal Volpina come out in force, raining havoc down upon the city and leaving Marinette no time to get away from the battle to call for their allies. Blood from a gash to her forehead dripped into her eyes as she curled her arms protectively around her partner.

Her heart had stopped when she’d heard his scream. She’d been grappling with Mayura, close to grasping the older woman’s miraculous when she’d turned to see Hawkmoth withdrawing his weapon from her partner’s chest with a wet squelching sound. Nonononononono. Her lucky charm had given her some strange red and black spheres -- when she’d broken them against the ground, they’d filled the gardens at the Trocadero with enough noxious smoke that she’d been able to force her body to move, snatching up Chat who had fallen to his knees and was making the most awful wet gasping sounds. She sprung away from the fight as fast as she could -- the only thought in her mind to get her Chaton, her faithful partner somewhere safe. She couldn’t bring him to a hospital -- without detransforming doctors wouldn’t be able to treat him and if he detransformed Plagg wouldn’t be able to stabilize him. And she couldn’t just leave him somewhere -- it was one on three now, and no matter how hard she fought she couldn’t possibly keep an eye on Hawkmoth, Mayura AND Volpina at the same time -- if one of them were to find him when he couldn’t defend himself -- No. There was only one option.

She glanced back over her shoulder as she changed directions to make sure she hadn’t been followed. Thank Kwami that Tikki had managed to give her enough time to get away. Several minutes and too few of her partner’s gasping breaths later, she dropped down through the trap door of her room. She laid Chat down on her bed as gently as she could, seeing his eyes widen as he realized where he was. “M….M’lady?”

She had already jumped down from the loft, tearing apart a pile of boxes by her sewing machine and pressing the code into the lockbox she’d designed to free the miraculous box within. Pressing two spots on the egg-shaped box, she grabbed the jewelry that they revealed, racing back to her partner as the kwamis materialized. She could feel the two small being’s confusion at being summoned turn to worry and spiking fear as they saw her own wounds and Chat’s. Her bloody fingers fumbled to secure Orikko’s necklace around Chat’s neck and then Wayzz’s bracelet around her own wrist.

“Guardian --”

“Orikko.” She cut Wayzz off. “Can you stabilize him while I finish the fight?”

The motherly kwami looked shaken but nodded, and Ladybug returned her focus to her partner.

“Kitty? Can you hear me?” Her hands were shaking.

“Marinette?” He questioned, face contorted in pain and confusion.

“That doesn’t matter right now. I just need to make sure that you’re okay. I need you to merge Orikko with Plagg, can you do that? She’s the kwami of restoration and she’s going to help you.” She tried to make her voice as soothing as possible.

He nodded, grasping her hand like a lifeline. “Orikko, Plagg, merge!” An orange light covered him and faded to reveal orange accents running up and down his suit.

Ladybug nodded and began to stand. “Good. I’m going to go take care of things. You just stay here until I can cast the cure, okay? You’re going to be okay Chaton.” She didn’t know if she was trying to reassure him or herself. Before she could move, he grabbed her hand with surprising strength.

“Wait,” he gasped. “Plagg, divide.” Green light faded to leave her partner in an orange and red jumpsuit that looked almost like a sunrise if it wasn’t for the blood still staining his torso and her sheets. “If… if they were to find me… I couldn’t protect him. Just in case… you were followed… you need to take him, Bug.”

Tears blurred her eyes as she looked at the perfect trust in her partner’s face. Plagg himself was crying, quiet tears running down his small cheeks as he hugged Chat’s chin as best as he was able. “He’s right Bug.”  Her hand trembled as she slipped the ring onto her middle finger.

“I’ll be back soon, okay? Stay safe Kitty.” She leaped for the balcony before he could see her own tears. She ran away from her home, focused only on gaining as much distance as she could as fast as possible. The three villains likely hadn’t stayed at the Trocadero and they could jump out at her from anywhere. Pausing on a rooftop halfway across the city, she took a deep breath and looked down at the green kwami on her shoulder.

“I’m… I’m going to need to be my own shield this time. Can I rely on you Wayzz?” Her voice was soft, knowing that she was asking him to effectively relive the battle where they’d lost Fu nearly three years ago.

His eyes firmed with resolve despite a wet sheen. “You can count on me, Master.”

She nodded. “Tikki, Wayzz, merge!” When the light of the transformation left her, her suit felt much sturdier. She looked down to see interlocking armored plates extending across her body. She bent, testing her movement, and was relieved when the plates appeared to be as flexible as they were sturdy. Reaching for a new weight on her back revealed a shield patterned like the carapace of a ladybug.

“Milady!”

She heard the shout from behind her and stiffened, whipping around as Plagg darted to hide in one of her pigtails. An illusion of Chat Noir limped towards her across the roof, bloody and battered, clutching a hand to his chest.

“I’m so glad that I found you! I --” She didn’t wait for it to finish, sending her yoyo shooting through it with more force than strictly necessary, leaving a cloud of orange smoke drifting in the air.

“How dare you?!” She shrieked, voice vibrating with barely contained rage. “Why don’t you come out here and fight me yourself you coward?!” A high pitched whistling sound was her only warning, and she twirled to block the strike that Volpina had aimed at her head.

“Did I touch a nerve?” The fox villainess smirked. “I have to wonder, how did you know it was an illusion so quickly? Is your mangy sidekick already dead?” She punctuated her words with a sharp blow on her flute, conjuring a large orange beacon above them.

Ladybug flew at her with a roar, knocking the flute out of Volpina’s hands and tackling her to the ground. She could hear the breath whoosh out of the other girl and drew back her right fist to punch the akuma in the face. The blow connected with more force than she was used to -- she normally relied on her agility to fight as Ladybug -- adding Wayzz to the equation had given her more strength than she usually had.

Volpina dazedly lifted a hand to her face, her glove coming away red against her newly split lip. Her eyes focused on Ladybug’s hand and the bloody silver ring glinting in the sunlight. “Hmm,” she smirked around red teeth, “Looks like I wasn’t wrong. Poor Ladybug, can’t even save the life of your dumb partner. What a failure.”

Marinette had barely registered the words when she felt a sharp pain in her ear. Plagg. She closed her eyes and took a second to breathe, grateful for the kwami’s interference. Opening her eyes, she reached down and was about to snap the foxtail pendant on the akuma’s chest when something slammed into her from the side, knocking her across the roof. She pushed herself to her feet. Hawkmoth and Mayura had arrived.

“Hawkmoth!” Volpina shouted as she jumped to her feet. “She’s wearing the ring!”

An ugly smirk twisted the supervillain’s face as he leaped towards her, alongside the sentimonster moth that Mayura had summoned for him. “Your miraculous will be mine!”

Marinette dodged and twisted desperately, fending off attacks from three sides. She managed to score a lucky hit on Mayura, knocking the older woman back, but not a second later she felt the blade of Hawkmoth’s cane pierce her side. She faltered, looking down at the purple blade protruding from her side. No. She would not give up now. Steeling herself, she moved backward, forcing the blade out of her and threw herself towards an empty area of the rooftop, calling for Shellter. She sunk to her knees inside the green shield, hand pressed against her side and breath coming in quick pants.

“--Bug! Bug!” She looked up to see Plagg hovering in front of her.

She gave him a shaky smile and winced as she threw her yoyo into the air. “Lucky Charm!” The object fell into her hands and she prayed that somehow it would be able to fix everything. Fix her mistakes, her failures, her inability to protect Chat -- to protect herself -- her city. She very nearly broke into tears when she looked down at her hands and found only a simple hand mirror, showing her battered and blood-stained reflection.  “What can I do with this?!” She cried in despair.

Plagg looked with her, appearing first confused, and then resigned. “Think about it Bug,” he said softly, gesturing at the three supervillains battering her weakening shield. “There’s only one way to get out of this.”

It took her a moment to figure out what he was implying. “I can’t!” Her shout was semi-hysteric. “No one can be trusted with that power! If I think the wrong thing I could start world war three, or another plague, or --”

Plagg lightly scratched her cheek with one claw, bringing her back to herself. “Look, Bug. I’m not going to pretend that this is an ideal situation. Heck, I’m not ecstatic about this either. But… there really isn’t another way out. And…” He paused. “Tikki wouldn’t have told you to do this if she didn’t trust you Bug. And that’s enough for me. You know the words.”

She stared at him a moment longer, eyes swirling with indecision. Then, as her shield collapsed, she gave a shaky nod and shouted -- “Wayzz, divide. Tikki, Plagg, MERGE!”

___________________________________________________

Everything was white. Hawkmoth, Mayura, Volpina, Paris, all gone. Marinette looked down at herself. She wasn’t wearing her Ladybug suit -- just the normal clothes she’d had on that morning when she’d gone out to sketch in the gardens. She pressed a hand against her side, exhaling in relief when there was no pain, before inhaling in panic. “Am I dead?” She wondered aloud. She’d been injured, maybe combining the miraculous had killed her, and even now Hawkmoth was making his wish --

“You are not dead, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Ladybug Warrior and Great Guardian of the Miraculous.”

Marinette looked up to see what appeared to be a kwami floating in the void in front of her. It was black in color, somehow darker than Plagg as if it was a pocket of negative space. Three white eyes stared at her in unison. “Tikki? Plagg?”

“Yes, and no. We are Null, the kwami of reality.”

“So you’re…” “We are here to grant your wish.”

Marinette took an unconscious step backward as the being regarded her impassively. Her mind was racing. It was one thing to know what the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculouses could do, but this… this was something else entirely. A wish. Anything she desired, regardless of its effect on the reality which she knew. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t immediately thought of Chat. Except, wishes had brought about the sinking of Atlantis, the black plague, drought and famine, and unknown suffering. If she wished for Chat’s life, someone else could die and there would be no miraculous cure to bring them back. No -- she had to trust her partner, and she had to trust her ability to somehow make it out of this and cast the cure.

She wished Tikki was there. Tikki. The kwamis. For thousands of years, they’d suffered in a world that battled over them, causing them pain as they fought evil and lost those they cared about over and over. That was it -- she could do this for them. She looked up at Null who hadn’t moved, seemingly content to wait for her to make up her mind.

“I…” She started. “I wish that the kwamis of the miracle box under my protection could have the power of the wish and that any price exacted would affect me alone.”

Null gave her a considering look. Although the kwami had no mouth that she could see, she somehow got the impression that Null was smirking. “You are an interesting one Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Very Well. Your wish is granted.”

And Marinette saw white again.

___________________________________________________

Within Marinette’s transformation and the kwami Null, Tikki and Plagg stirred, realizing what she had done. Using one paw to shield his eyes from the blinding light emanating from Ladybug, Wayzz felt a sense of power fill him and connect him to the other kwamis. Orikko paused in her single-minded focus on healing the boy that her Master had left with her. The kwamis that had remained in the miracle box felt the compassion of their Guardian surround them as they too realized what had happened. Even trapped within the transformations of Hawkmoth and Mayura, Noroo and Dusuu felt a strange and alien kindness, both shocked at what the Ladybug holder was willing to do for the kwamis -- for them. Across their different locations, their minds reached together. Each felt as though this was a decision meant to be discussed, but the magic of the wish latched onto one common desire that had lanced through every single one of them when Marinette had made her wish.

“We wish to have a Guardian as kind as you always.”

___________________________________________________

When Marinette came to, she was back on the rooftop, Hawkmoth, Mayura, and Volpina leaping at her in what seemed to be slow motion. She held out a hand and they stopped.

“Wayzz, are you alright?” Her voice sounded strange -- it echoed in on itself and reminded her of baying hounds. The small green kwami nodded, seemingly shocked speechless. “I’m glad,” she smiled and turned her attention back to the three villains floating in the air in front of her. “Your crimes against this world, and against the kwamis of transmission and emotion will not go unpunished.” She walked forward, first crushing the foxtail pendant that hung around Volpina’s neck, grabbing the freed akuma in one hand. Her fist shone, and a purified butterfly was released. “Miraculous Cure!” A swarm of golden ladybugs trailing purple energy swept through the city, reversing the damage of the battle that had taken place. Lila Rossi dropped to the ground as Marinette stepped forward, one hand grasping Mayura’s pin and the other Hawkmoth’s broach. In one quick motion, she ripped off both miraculouses, leaving Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancouer standing frozen on the roof. She reached into thin air and pulled out a rope, tying the immobile and powerless villains together. She looked for her yoyo to call the police, but couldn’t find it anywhere amidst the purple and gold swirls of the ethereal dress this transformation had given her. “Ah.” Her lips quirked in a smile. “Plagg, divide.”

She nearly collapsed herself when the powerful energy rush of being… whatever she had been for a few short moments there left her.

“Bug.” Plagg was staring at her. “When we told you to make a wish, we never thought…”

Marinette, back in her familiar red and black spots drew the kwami of destruction close, hugging him against her cheek. “I know.” Then, she straightened and called 112 from her yoyo.

“What is your emergency?” The voice on the other end of the line asked.

“This is Ladybug. Code Polyphemus. I have apprehended Hawkmoth, Mayura, and their willing accomplice Volpina.” She looked down at the street sign below her and choked back a sardonic laugh. “I’m on the Rue des Martyrs, near Sacre Coeur. I’ll hold them until you arrive.”

There was a pause before the woman on the other end of the line let out a loud cheer. “We’ll have people there as soon as we can Ladybug. Congratulations, and thank you. Thank you so much.”

No sooner than Marinette had smiled and ended the call did her yoyo begin shaking again. She flipped open the screen to reveal a call notification from Orikko’s mirror. Her heart stopped as she picked up. “Chat?” She questioned, voice shaking.

“Ladybug! The cure -- it worked! Where are you? Do you need help?!”

She blinked back tears and let out a joyful whoop. “It’s okay Chaton. It’s… it’s going to be a long story, but it’s okay now. I have Hawkmoth and Mayura here. I have their miraculouses Chat. They’re not going to hurt anyone ever again.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line as her partner processed what she’d said before he let out a whoop of his own. “I’m on my way Milady! I’ll be there as fast as the rooster flies.”

She rolled her eyes but laughed. “Good Kitty. I’m going to need some help to get these three down to the street. I could carry them all at once, but it wouldn’t look incredibly heroic if I jostled them too much.” Pausing, she continued, voice softer. “Besides, you should be here too. This bug is nothing without her partner.” She could tell that she’d made him blush from halfway across the city.

Just as she began to hear sirens approaching, she saw her partner gliding over the rooftops on wings like sunlight, smiling brightly at her. Then his eyes traveled to the three people bound at her feet and widened, his smile cracking like broken glass. He lost altitude, hitting the roof faster than he must have planned, rolling to arrest his momentum.

“Ladybug,” His voice shook more than when he’d been dying in her arms. “Please tell me that isn’t Hawkmoth.”

For the first time since she’d come back to herself, she looked down, really registering the fact that it was Gabriel Agreste -- Adrien’s father -- angrily bound at her feet. Her eyes hardened. “I’m sorry Chaton, this is him.” She knelt down, forcing him to look into her eyes. “For what you did to this city I will make sure that you are prosecuted to the full extent of the law. What I really can’t forgive you for is what this is going to do to your son. Did you think about him at all when you decided to throw your life away like this? Despite the crumbs of attention that you give him and the multitude of things you force him to do, he loves you. And you just threw that away. You are the worst type of human being that I have ever seen.”

Gabriel had begun to look angrier the more she spoke. “I was doing this all for him!” He shouted. “For our family!”

“Bullshit!”

Marinette looked behind her at her partner’s shout, eyes widening as she saw the tears streaming down his face.

“What would you know?” Gabriel scoffed.

“More than you think. Orikko, sundown.” And a flash of golden light revealed Adrien Agreste standing where her partner had been. Gabriel looked like he had been poleaxed, but Marinette was already moving, slipping Adrien’s ring back on his finger and wrapping him in her arms. She pulled back, kissing his cheek before turning to face his father with him, their hands entwined.

“Claws out.” The hand in hers was wrapped in familiar black leather.

“Adrien.” Gabriel gasped. Nathalie was crying.

“You tried to kill me.” Adrien looked like he almost didn’t believe what he was saying. “If Ladybug hadn’t won, I would have died.” “I didn’t know!” Gabriel screamed in anguish. Then he looked up at Adrien, desperation on his face. “Now that you know, you can help me! I was going to use the wish to bring back your mother Adrien, to reunite our family!”

Marinette tightened her grip on her partner’s hand as he recoiled.

“What?” The word was filled with empty horror. “Mother is dead. She died years ago. And instead of moving on, of spending time with the FAMILY THAT YOU HAD LEFT you became a terrorist that killed countless people and made an entire city afraid of feeling. You… I can’t believe you.” He stepped forward, looking at Gabriel with deadly intent. “You are NOT my father.” He spat.

Fortunately, none of the rooftop confrontations had been witnessed by the police. Ladybug carried Gabriel and Nathalie to the waiting squad cars while Chat Noir handled Lila. The two heroes gave their statements, establishing Adrien as an unknowing and innocent victim of Gabriel’s plans and ensuring that the elder Agreste, as well as Nathalie and Lila, would all be in prison for a very long time. By the time they were able to get away, the city had begun to realize what had happened, and they swung across the rooftops to the sounds of cheering and laughing and crying below. Without even discussing it, they ended up back at Marinette’s house, dropping through the skylight and into her room. Adrien called for his detransformation as soon as they landed on her bed, collapsing into her arms with a wail.

“Shh, Chaton.” She soothed. “You were so, SO strong out there. You don’t have to be strong anymore.” Gently stroking his hair, she continued. “You’ll stay here. With Ladybug throwing her weight around, we should be able to get the custody papers drawn up soon. You’ll never have to go back there again Chaton. I’m your family now, and no one is ever going to hurt you again.”

He looked up at her in awe. “R-- Really?”

She smiled. “Of course. It’s you and me against the world, remember? Now, we should probably go talk to my parents. Tikki spots off!”

No sooner than she had released her transformation than a searing pain arched across her entire body. She heard herself screaming, and Adrien’s panicked shouts and her world went black.

[topsytervy]

After The Storm

Blurb: After you get news that your brother John B and friend Sarah have been lost at sea, presumably dead, you break down. After a few nightmares, Kiara gives you a little talk in the bathroom at The Wreck.

Word Count: 1,456

Yeah, I’m not gonna lie, I could’ve probably done better writing the second and third section (part? idk what to call it) but it is what it is. You improve with time and practice, remember that kids.

*****

You sat next to JJ, Kiara and Pope, fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist. It was one John B got you for your 13th birthday. Your brother was a year older than you and you remember John B and your dad dropping you off at Pope’s, saying that they’ll be back in an hour because they forgot your birthday gift.

It was just you and Mrs.Heyward which was fine. You always went to her when you needed a girl to talk to. When you got back home, it was decorated for a party with JJ and the Heywards there.

JJ had stolen you a polaroid camera and Pope had gotten you a book you wanted. You remember opening John B’s present to you and being confused as to why there were two of the same bracelet.

“One for me and one for you. So you always have me with you and I always have you with me.” He told you, grabbing one of them and putting it on your wrist.

JJ nudged you as Shoupe appeared, looking sorrowful.

All four of you stood up.

“Did you find them?” Pope asked.

"No." Shoupe responded

"So they got away?"

There was silence for a second, except for the thunder. You looked at Shoupe and he looked away from you.

"We… we lost them."

"You lost them?"

You felt JJ wrap his arm around your shoulder as you looked around at everyone.

"What do you mean lost them? Like they're gone?" 

The voices that surrounded you changed. They sounded as if you were underwater. You felt JJ's arm fall from your shoulders.

"So they're dead?"

"We don't know.”

And that's all it took for you to break.

You let out a heart-wrenching wail as you crumpled to the ground, holding yourself as sobs wracked your body.

Your brother was gone. The person you grew up with and the only person you had left. He helped you believe that your dad was still alive and that you two would be okay. That nothing would happen to you two and that he'd make sure you two stuck together.

Your last family member and the last bit of security you had was just ripped away from you as if it was nothing. 

Your world was crumbling to pieces. 

You felt arms wrap around you as you wailed.

"How could you! How could you!" You screamed when you saw Ward.

Most, if not all, of this could have been prevented if he didn't frame John B for murder and didn't spread lies about him. He'd still have a daughter, and you'd still have a brother. 

You stood up and went to march over to him, but JJ snaked his arm around your waist.

"None of this would've happened if you weren't a filthy, greedy, lying son of a bitch! You destroyed my family! How does it feel knowing you killed three people, one of them being your own daughter! You're going down, Ward! You're gonna be nothing in this town!" You ranted as you struggled against JJ, who was pulling you backwards.

JJ pulled you over to where the Heywards were hugging before he wrapped his arms around you, trying to provide you some comfort. Mr. Heyward turned to look at you before pulling both of you into their group hug.

You sobbed against them, not knowing what would happen next.

*****

You were laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, in the same pajamas you’ve been wearing the past three days. JJ stayed with you at your house and was usually awoken in the middle of the night by you crying or yelling. He’d run into your room to see you still asleep, cheeks wet with tears, yelling John B’s name. He’d wake you up and comfort you, staying until you fell back asleep.

One night, it wasn’t crying or yelling he woke up to, but an actual scream.

He bolted out of bed, grabbed the gun and ran into your room to see you sitting up and in hysterics.

He set the gun down on your nightstand and immediately hugged you to his chest.

“Hey, I’m here. You’re fine. Everythings fine. It’s okay.” He whispered as he stroked your hair.

“It was horrible, JJ.” You whimpered.

He hummed in response, thinking it was just another John B nightmare but he was wrong.

“Rafe just...he just busted in here and...and… just…” You made a finger gun and aimed it at him, pretending to fire it before turning and firing it at yourself.

JJ bit his lip. Rafe would do anything to make his dad proud or to protect his dad. That was proven with Peterkin. 

“We’re going to be absolutely fine.” JJ reassured you, even if he didn’t believe it himself.

****

The next morning, you and JJ met Pope and Kie at the Wreck for some breakfast.

Kie came by with your food, placing each order in front of who it was for before sitting down and eating her own food.

Nothing was said until halfway through your meal when you suddenly excused yourself, heading towards the bathroom.

“What was that about?” Pope asked, taking another bite of toast.

“She probably has to pee,” Kiara stated as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Or,” JJ whispered, nodding his head towards the door, “it’s because the devil himself just walked in. And I’m not talking about Tom Ellis’s character or Tom Ellis himself.” 

Kie and Pope turned to see Rafe, Topper, and Kelce all standing at the counter, more than likely waiting for their order.

“Why would she excuse herself to the bathroom if he’s here? Usually, she sits here telling you to cool it and that they’ll be gone in a few.” Pope looked between the girl and boy on either side of them.

“She’s probably scared. I mean, it’s Rafe. He’s not the most stable guy there is. He shot Peterkin, choked me, and let’s not forget him and his goonies ganging up on you two at the movie. And that’s just what I know he’s done.” Kie whispered.

“She had a nightmare about him shooting her last night. So yeah. I’d say she’s scared.” JJ said.

“You’re there though. With a gun.” Kie looked at the blonde.

“I’m only one guy though. If he snuck in while I’m in a deep sleep and shot me first, she’s a goner.”

“Way to be a downer, man.” Pope told him.

“Hey, blame her for the thought because that’s what happened in her dream. I’m scared too. He shot a cop and got away with it because of his daddy.” JJ leaned forward, bringing his voice down even lower.

“Yeah, but with John B exposing Ward for lying, no one’s going to believe him now. Right?” Pope looked at JJ.

When JJ didn’t answer, he looked at Kie.

“Right?” 

Kie just shrugged before getting up and walking towards the bathroom.

She opened the door and entered the bathroom, knocking on the only stall door that was closed.

“Y/N?” She called softly.

“Why isn’t he in custody?” You whispered.

“Maybe his dad took the blame or something. I don’t know.” S answered.

It was quiet for a few seconds before Kie spoke again.

“You know you have us, right? JJ, Pope and I. You have my family and I'm sure you have Pope's too. We're here for you and we're not going to leave you. Pogues stick together through thick and thin.” 

"You were gonna ditch us if Sarah was in." You reminded her.

"Okay. Yeah. Well, that was juvenile and now it's in the past and I'm still here, aren't I? I've grown as a person." Kie answered.

Kiara sighed after a minute. 

"The point is...we're not going anywhere. We're in this shit show together. We're coping with it together. And we're gonna get out of it together. Even if it means having to deal with JJ's dumbass jokes and Pope's weird facts about the human body or whatever the fuck he’ll spew at us."

You laughed at the end bit before unlocking the stall door and stepping out.

You wrapped your arms around Kie as she wrapped hers around you.

You stayed like that for a few minutes before JJ and Pope peeked in.

"So... you guys gonna come out and finish your food or not?" JJ raised an eyebrow.

Pope looked at him before smacking him. 

"What? It was a genuine question." 

"Yeah. And they were having a genuine moment."

You looked at Kie with a pained look.

"Together through it all." She reminded you as she slung her arm around your shoulders and gave them a squeeze.

"Pogues stick together." 

"Pogues stick together."