#you know when your brain keeps suggesting an answer you KNOW is wrong. so aggravating

[ilions-end]

trying to participate in social activities w/no phones, and then my mind randomly goes "quick, what's the name of tydeus' and meleager's father? now now now you need to know NOW". literally no reason for that. i couldn't remember for the life of me and was distracted all evening

[magicalshitposts]

The boy finds home

(If you wanna read on AO3 and avoid Tumblr’s awful text formatting Click Here)

The small outlier sat in the corner of Kohga’s throne room, ignoring the commotion in the middle.

“Look newbie, I don’t know what you want to do with the brat but he’s not my problem.” Kohga declared to the foot-soldier who stood in front of his throne.

“But Master, he’s just a chi-“

“Not. My. Problem.” Kohga shooed the man away, and the solider had no choice but to comply, “Boy, come over here.”

The boy did not. In fact, he made no movement at all, acting as if Kohga was not in the room.

“Boy.” Nothing still, “At least tell me your name then.”

The boy spoke for the first time, “Why? If you’re just gonna chuck me out.”

The man on the throne sighed, “Well I am the great Master Kohga. Now you know my name, tell me yours.”

Again, the boy did not.

“Kid, I have better things to do in life then sit around and wait for you to talk.”

The child spoke again, “Then do them, ‘cause your gonna be waiting a long time.”

“Why you aggravating little- Kohga stopped himself, this was a child after all- Keep calm Kohga, keep calm”

He stood himself up from his throne, “Fine, have it your way.”

Kohga was just leaving the room as a spark of panic flooded through the child. He didn’t want to be alone, not again. “I don’t know.”

Kohga turned his head back, “You don’t know what?”

“My name. I don’t know it.”

“Well that’s sad.”

“Yeah – the kid looked towards the man, puzzled– I know.”

The boy had stayed there that night, and the next, and the next and then for a week. It had become clear to the Clan that this boy was staying, if only for a while.

“SOOGA! COME OVER HERE!” Master Kohga’s voice shrilled through the halls surrounding his bedroom late one night and his right-hand man appeared beside the man’s desk in a such small time it made Kohga jump.

“Master Kohga, How may I be of assistance.” Sooga asked looking down to Kohga.

“Firstly by easing up a little, sheesh.” Kogha gestured to another chair in the room and took off his mask, getting Sooga to do the same, “Sit down, your gonna be here a while.”

Sooga sat but by no means looked more comfortable.

“Right then, the boy.” Annoyance dripped in Kohga’s voice. He clearly did not want to be having this conversation, which was a surprise to Sooga. Normally if the Master didn’t want to have a conversation, he just wouldn’t. Why was this different?

“What about him?” Sooga pushed for Master Kohga to finish his thoughts.

“If he’s staying here, he’s going to have to be called something other than ‘the boy’.” Kohga leaned on the back on his seat, his legs too short to touch the ground.

“He does not have a name though, Master.” Sooga watched apprehensively as Kohga swung back and forth.

“Exactly, so what am I getting at?”

“I’m… not sure.”

“C’mon Muscles, dig down in that cavern of a brain.”

Sooga was bothered at this comment. Everyone knew that he was the brains of the operation. The entire clan would be dead if it weren’t for him, especially when Master Kohga got put in charge. Now, Sooga didn’t want to take credit away from Kohga, in fact that was the last thing he wanted, but Kohga knew that Sooga was far from an unintelligent man and he would appreciate the recognition.

Sooga caught on.

“Please tell me you aren’t suggesting we name the child, Master?”

“Bingo, Big guy!”

Sooga looked bewildered by the proposal.

“Sir, with all due respect are-“

“No respect needed lackey; this is what we’re going to do.”

“Sir. Listen to me.” Kohga glanced towards his right-hand man, “by naming this child we claim a sense of responsibility for him, whether we like that or not. Are we prepared to care for a child? Is the Clan prepared to care for a child?”

“Come off it Sooga, you’re making us sound like a married couple.” Kohga laughed completely ignoring the question.

“Master Kohga.”

Kohga sighed. “I don’t know, but the kid’s staying now so it’s a bit too late to be asking that question. And anyway, ‘we’ aren’t caring for anything, I’ll still be preparing to the Great Calamity’s revival and you’ll still be assisting me or whatever, we’ll leave the boy under the Clan’s care. I’m sure with the hundreds of them there are, they’ll cope with one measly kid.”

Not the answer Sooga wanted but he must settle for what he got.

“Now, names!”

 The conversation carried on for a while, discussing the different names for the child. They first threw out a few random suggestions, none of which sat properly. Sooga suggested Hayle, Kohga suggested Sooga start thinking of good names before he’s kicked out.

The ideas were just a melting snowball before Sooga stated “He’s Sheikah, isn’t he?”

Kohga tapped his chair, “I mean, yes with that hair but it’s not like he knows. Why?”

“We could name him after the Sheikah naming conventions.” Sooga suggested.

“As a Yiga Master this goes against every one of my core values.” Sooga laughed lightly at the Master’s response to his suggestion. “And who would name their kid after fruit anyway, it’s ridiculous.”

“To us maybe, but this boy isn’t Yiga. We should respect his culture Master Kohga.”

Kohga rolled his eyes all too dramatically before giving in.

“Fine. We’ll call him Apple.”

“Master, Sheikah name’s derive from fruit, they aren’t directly named after it.”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Kohga jumped off his seat in his excitement, “We should name him after the mighty banana. He could be called like, Na…Bana… yeah, Bana?”

Sooga just stared towards his boss.

“Fine maybe not, but my fruit Knowledge is not too great y’know!”

Sooga looked around Master Kohga’s room, for any and all inspiration that may come his way. His eyes settled on a tiny, framed painting, one that the Master insisted he hated but had never put away. He felt like Master Kohga’s notion towards this painting may be similar to the one of the child.

“How about after strawberries?” Sooga suggested.

“Oh don’t tell me your looking at that horrible painting- Sooga smiled endiringly- What would we even call him, Strawman?”

Sooga thought about it.

“Robbie.”

“How’s that connected to Strawberries? Strawberry… straw-robbie… Oh! that’s actually nice.”

And it was decided.

The boy was no longer just ‘The boy’, but was Robbie.

 He woke up early in the morning, as he normally did. It took him a minute remind himself he was safe… ish. He wasn’t in the forest preparing to go rummage in the trash for food, so it was a step up in his book. He had been told to sleep in the dungeon, in one of the cells. This didn’t make him feel all too comfortable, but the cell door stayed open so that’s nice. He walked around, with aim of going to the mess hall for food. But the Yiga Hideout was windy and treacherous for someone who didn’t know it, especially to the mind of a small boy. He got lost far too quickly for his liking, so looked for landmarks as he did in the wild. He recognised the frog statue that had a crack in its head, it was different than the rest. He was on the right track. He passed the hallway with the holes in the ground (he didn’t know what those were for, but they looked menacing) and then took a left and he was completely and utterly lost. Crap. It wasn’t his fault, all the rooms here looked the same, how was he supposed to know the difference. He was surprised that the people who lived here could tell the rooms apart. He sat down in the dark dingy hallway and waited. There were loads of people in this place, someone would pass him eventually.

 While the boy waited for another person to see the light of day went to the closest room and examined. It’s what he did best. He decided to go over the room top to bottom. From the ceiling to the walls, he would know this room better than anyone who lived here by breakfast.

It was big. That felt like a good start. It was huge in fact. The boy knew it may just be his brain playing tricks on him as he was so small, but the hole in the middle of the room must have been the size of at least 20 moblins. A fact for you, the boy did not have the best idea of size.

The boy felt himself getting wrapped up in this room, wanting to know every secret it could ever hold. Why was there a hole in the middle? Why put a lantern over the hole, what if it fell in? How did they make the actual room round? Bricks are square! He had so many questions for this room, all of them he wanted to answer himself, through his own intuitiveness. But that opportunity was cut short by the huge man with kinda dumb hair.

“There you are boy. Come now, you’re needed.”

“Why?” The boy asked.

“Master Kohga needs you in his office.” The big man, who the boy remembered was called ‘Sooga’, put out his hand for the boy to take. He just looked at it.

“I can’t leave. I’m not done yet.”

“Done with what?” Sooga knelt to be on The boy’s level. Patronising.

The boy rolled his eyes at the fact Sooga didn’t know, it was pretty obvious to him what he was doing, “Examining the room. I still have questions to ask it.”

Sooga didn’t quite understand what the child meant but played along anyway. “Could you ask them after the Master talks to you?”

“No, I need to do this first. I’ll forget the questions otherwise.”

Sooga reflected. Normally people here would drop everything if Master Kohga needed to talk to them, but this boy wasn’t a Yiga. He didn’t know the importance of the Master.

“Well the Master needs to talk to you now,” The boy was about to protest before Sooga cut him off, “So how about we write down the questions you want to ask. Then you’ll remember them for after. I can help answer them too, if the Master allows it.”

The boy thought about it. He had never even considered writing his questions down, mainly due to the fact he didn’t know how to read or write, but if this Sooga guy could help him, maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.  

“We need to write them down now though.”

“Of course.”

 One wrong turn! He was one turn away from the mess hall! And sure, he was glad he made the wrong turn, otherwise he wouldn’t have found that cool room, but he was still annoyed at himself. Sooga had stopped in front of a big red door.

“Behave, okay.” He looked to the boy, who rolled his eye’s in response.

“It depends if he says something dumb or not.”

“Boy.” Sooga’s voice got stricter, “Behave.”

The boy shuffled where he stood, tears forming at the sides of his eyes. He didn’t like getting told off.

“Master, I’ve got him.” Sooga entered the room, ushering the boy to do the same.

“Boy! You’ve been a right pain in my side!” Kohga was sat at a heightened table, eating a banana. He pointed to the chair opposite. The boy made no sign to sit down so was guided to the chair.

Kohga raised an eyebrow, but the boy couldn’t see it behind the mask, “Where have you been?”

“In that cool circle room.” He answered, the thought of his questions came back to him, “Actually can this be quick, I still have questions to ask it.”

Sooga sighed and placed a hand on the child’s shoulder, prompting him to stop. The boy moved away from the touch.

“You hungry?” Kohga pointed to the bowl of bananas on the next table over. The boy shook his head, why were there so many tables if it was one guy’s room?

“Your loss, anyway. I got some news for you. After a week of you being here, I don’t think I’d be forgiven if I sent you back into Hyrule. So, welcome to your new home.”

The boy looked confused.

“What?” He said.

“What?” Was the only answer that Kohga gave back.

“What do you mean, ‘welcome to your new home’?”

“I mean, you can live here. With us and the clan,” He looked to Sooga who just shrugged in response.

“Why?” The boy asked another question.

“Well done kid, you know the 5 W’s.” Kohga paused, “What do you mean why?”

“You were talking about kicking me out only a week ago. What’s different now?”

“Kid, you only arrived a week ago. Of course I wasn’t keen on keeping you around then, but let’s say I’ve warmed to you. You aren’t half bad, and as long as your not a little… pest, you can stay.”

The boy paused. The thought of a home. In his brain he was jumping for joy, so this was home now. Home.

“Thanks.”

“Well that’s news one out of the way-“

The boy jumped in his seat, “There’s more?”

Kohga laughed a little, maybe childhood excitement was more contagious than he thought.

“Yeah, there’s more.”

The child waited in anticipation.

Kohga was really playing it up now, “So, I’m guessing your getting pretty sick of people calling you ‘the boy’”.

The child shrugged in response, “I guess I’m used to it now. It doesn’t really bother me.”

Ouch. Well if that didn’t tug on Kohga’s heart strings. “Well you definitely don’t like not having a name. I could see that from the day I met you. So, if it’s not too imposing or anything. Me and good ol’ Sooga here thought of one for you. Robbie.”

The boy and Sooga had the same look of surprise, but one was hidden by their mask. Sooga wasn’t expecting credit for the child’s name. If he didn’t feel a sense of duty before, he did now. Sooga was a loyal soul and vowed to himself right then and there to protect this child, Robbie, with his life.

 robbe. robby. Robbiy. Robbie. A name all of his own. Given too him by the people who he now shares a home with. Holy Hylia. Robbie was now crying. Normally he was good at holding back emotions, tears would form but never stream down his face. He’d be over it before it mattered. This however was so entirely different. He was crying. Sobbing at the idea of having a home, of being Robbie. 7 years he’d just been ‘boy’ or ‘child’, maybe that affected him more than he once thought. Because having Sooga kneeling in front of him saying “It’s okay Robbie, you’re alright” put a band aid on his scared, damaged soul. And it would be one of many as he became a part of a family.

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

I really enjoyed writing this, It’s cute wholesome fun and I will definitely be writing more of this AU. 

Also god bless This Post by 7spaceace7. I wouldn’t even know where to start about writing the hideout so this was such a help.

Anyway, have a nice day!

[whumping-to-conclusions]

Howdy there! Thanks for tagging me on the post. Could I get number 20 please? [voice trails off as I vanish behind a corner in awkward slinkiness]

This snippet introduces a couple of my OCs, Eleanor and Jesse, two definitely-not-in-love programmers in their mid-20s who you'll be seeing on here every now and then. They're a pair of cuties; I hope you like them.

----

Tap. Tap. Tap-tap. Eleanor was typing away at her computer when it started.

It was early afternoon at the office and she was editing a line of code, nose practically pressed to the screen, when suddenly, her vision went fuzzy at the edges. She rubbed at her eyes, thinking that maybe she had gotten something in them, but her periphery remained fuzzy. Lights and blobs of nameless colors started popping in front of her eyes.

“That’s weird,” she murmured.

Then came the pain.

A sharp, clear stroke of pain cleaved her forehead, like someone had driven a searing nail into her brain.

“Agh!” Eleanor took her glasses off and pressed her hands to her head, but it did nothing to abate the throbbing, aching pulse, the nail driving in further second after second.

“Eleanor? You okay?” Jesse’s voice floated out to her from the neighboring cubicle. Eleanor couldn’t even answer.

She heard footsteps approaching. Jesse’s hand touched her shoulder, the brush of a bird’s wing.

“Eleanor? What’s wrong?”

“Headache,” she gasped. “Really bad headache.”

More footsteps.

“What’s going on?” Mia’s voice. A pause. “Is… she okay?”

“I don’t know. She says her head hurts.”

Eleanor heard Mia bend down beside her, felt her feel her forehead.

“Eleanor, can you hear me? Look at me.”

Eleanor lifted her head from her hands and winced at the radiance from the fluorescent light above her. It was much too bright.

Mia was kneeling beside her, and Jesse and a few of her other coworkers were standing around her. She groaned a little. “Nothing―just―the head―and I can’t really see―it’s too bright in here.” She shivered and closed her eyes, pressing her hands to her head again.

“I think she has a migraine,” Mia said to Jesse. “She’s probably going to have to take the day off, especially if she’s got no meds for it.”

“I’ll take her home,” Jesse said immediately.

“You sure? I can take her if you’re busy with something.”

“No, I―I got it.” The others murmured their assent. Jesse’s hand touched Eleanor’s shoulder again. “Can you stand up?”

Eleanor nodded. Woozy from pain, she rose from the desk. It felt like she was underwater, her movements thick and slow. She opened her eyes a crack, looking down at the floor to avoid the fluorescent lights. Mia handed Eleanor her bag and glasses. Jesse offered his hand, and Eleanor took it, grabbing at the walls of the cubicle for support as he led her out of the office.

Jesse stopped and turned to face Mia again. “Uh, tell Ben I’m taking the day off.”

Twenty minutes later, Eleanor was huddled on Jesse’s couch as he brought her a cup of tea. The room was darkened, the lamps turned off to keep from hurting her head. The apartment was cluttered, but cozy--movie posters on the walls, CDs and books piled up around the coffee table and couches, not to mention the wealth of electronics scattered around.

Jesse handed her the cup and tried not to wince. He hated seeing Eleanor like this―her skin too grey, her hands shaking, her beautiful dark eyes dull with pain. He handed her the cup. “Drink this--my mother always made it when I was sick.” Eleanor took a sip, and Jesse glanced at her for her reaction. “You like it?”

Eleanor swallowed. “Yeah, it’s―it’s good. I just….”

Jesse knew that voice―she always had a little hesitation to her speech when she was afraid of inconveniencing someone. “What is it?”

Eleanor set down the cup on the end table. “Something cold sounds better, actually.”

Jesse nodded. “No worries, I’ll get you some ice water. Anything else?”

“And… a cool rag for my head sounds pretty good right now,” she admitted.

“Of course. I’ll be back in a second.”

Jesse dashed out to the apartment’s kitchen and poured a glass of ice water for Eleanor, then took a clean dish rag out of the cupboard and ran it under the faucet. He started wringing it out with more force than what was strictly necessary. The worst part of this whole thing was that there was absolutely nothing he could do to help Eleanor but keep her comfortable. His job as a programmer was all about fixing―tweaking the code, eliminating bugs, changing the programs to function exactly as intended. But this was a bug he couldn’t fix. He hated it.

Jesse returned to the living room along with the glass and cold rag. “Here you go, El.”

Eleanor took a sip and draped the rag on her head, brushing her dark bangs aside. Jesse took a seat on the other end of the couch and tried to let his mind wander. But he was still too fixated on Eleanor’s pain. He found himself looking back at her every minute or so, just to make sure that she was okay.

“You can go do something else if you want,” Eleanor said softly, after a while.

Taking care of you is what I want. “I’m staying here.”

Eleanor nodded.

The afternoon passed by and slowly changed into night, and Jesse’s stomach started to rumble. “I… kinda need some food,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

Eleanor gave a listless shrug. “Still hurts. And I feel a little sick to my stomach.”

Jesse took her hand and rubbed at her knuckles gently. “I’m sorry. Does food sound good or no?”

“I don’t really feel like eating.”

“Okay. Let me know if you want something later, though, yeah?”

“I will.”

Jesse turned on some classical music and thirty minutes later he sauntered out of the kitchen with a bowl of tomato soup.

“I’m sorry,” Eleanor said as he sat down on the couch again.

Jesse’s brows drew together. “For what? You haven’t done anything.”

“I... didn’t want to put you through this whole mess. I… I don’t want to be a burden on you.” She picked at the hem of her blouse.

Jesse set down the soup and looked her straight in the eyes. “Now, I want you to listen to me, El. You are not a burden. Don’t ever think that, okay?”

“Okay.” Eleanor nodded, then rubbed at her temples. “It just hurts so bad.”

“I know.” Jesse gave a sympathetic grimace. “Is there anything that can help take your mind off the pain? Any movies you like, or music? Or maybe… no, that’s a bit silly.”

“What?”

Jesse felt his ears getting hot. “I was going to suggest I could read a book to you, but, you know, if that’s childish or whatever―”

“No, that sounds nice. Really,” Eleanor added, leaning forward earnestly. “You seem like you’d have a good reading voice.”

“Okay. What sounds good?” Jesse got up and walked over to the bookshelf on the other side of the room and started running his index finger down the spines of some of the books. “I have all kinds of novels--mystery, fantasy, a little horror but you probably don’t want that right now….”

“Any fairy tales?”

Her voice was so soft, a bird’s wing brush, that Jesse wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “Sorry, what was that?”

Eleanor blushed and cleared her throat. “Sorry, I, uh, asked if you had any fairy tales.”

Jesse smiled. Look at her, all embarrassed about it. “I think I do, actually. Give me a moment.”

Jesse darted through the door on the opposite side of the living room and into his bedroom. It took a few minutes to locate the book, but eventually he found it stashed under his bed.

He walked back into the living room toting the huge volume and flopped down on the couch beside Eleanor. The cover was dusty, faded pink and green, and embossed with curly gold letters. Jesse rubbed the dust off the cover. “Hans Christian Andersen’s Compendium of Fairy Tales. My favorite as a kid, actually. Here we go.” He flipped to the first page and cleared his throat. “Once upon a time….”

Jesse had no idea how much time passed as he read tale after tale, keeping his voice lilting and soft as to not aggravate Eleanor’s migraine. Eleanor watched the pages turn with her lovely eyes, which seemed to grow just a bit brighter as he read. Eventually, Jesse realized that it was very silent, and looked over. Eleanor had fallen asleep against his arm, her head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder. Her breathing was deep and even.

Jesse didn’t want to disturb her, so he simply stayed like that for a while, listening to the sounds of the night, until the book slipped from his hands and he, too, drifted off with a head full of dreams.

[breanime]

The Mack

Oh boy, oh geez,, this got long….

This one is dedicated to @lexxierave​ and @carlaangel86​ for feeding my muse.

warning: steamy

*gif not mine*

Johnny Tuturro was a freaking masterpiece. His body was made of marble, his laugh was melodic, his smile infectious, and his kiss was orgasmic. He was sunshine personified, packaged up in a hot body with a winning smile and a gun on his waist.

You rolled your hips on top of him, biting your lips to try and keep the moans at bay. Johnny filled you beautifully, his dick hitting you in all the right places as you bounced on top of him. Johnny chuckled, and you laughed back—you always laughed when you were with Johnny.

“So,” you asked, your hands on his chest, fingers gripping his greedily, “Are you coming out with us tonight?”

“Out?” He grunted, pushing up into you. He laughed at the gasp that came out of your mouth. “Out where?”

“The bar,” you answered, bending down to kiss him, “Briggs is buyin’.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Johnny grabbed your waist and flipped you over so that he was on top, still inside of you, “Hell yeah.” He kissed you, thrusting into you sweetly.

You wrapped your arms around him, bringing him even closer, and closed your eyes. Johnny’s hands were all over you, touching and caressing and rubbing you as he moved inside of you. You moaned into his neck, biting at his skin, as your orgasm approached. He knew you were close—Johnny could read your body like a book, and he sped up his thrusts, egging you on. “Oh fuck,” you moaned into his neck, clawing at his back, “Johnny…”

He laughed, but his laugh turned into a deep growl that had you clenching around him. Johnny’s hand slithered between you, rubbing your clit as you came and making your orgasm last longer. He came shortly after, pressing into you as deep as he could as he came.

You left his room limping.

“Damn girl,” Briggs grinned, eyeing you up and down as he walked up the steps, “Johnny’s really got some game, huh? You look like you’ve been in a tornado.”

You felt heat in your cheeks; it was a well-known fact (and point of teasing) that you and Johnny had a… thing. But it still made you feel awkward talking about it. “I was just inviting him to the thing tonight.”

“Hm… And lemme guess, he said: yes, yes, yes,” Briggs moaned, closing his eyes and giving you a pretty passable O-face.

You laughed despite yourself. “He’ll be there,” you answered, walking past him, “now fuck off, I’ve gotta take a shower.”

“Yeah, wash all that sin off of you!” Briggs called, laughing.

A few hours later, you walked into the bar. You spotted the team right away; Paige was pouring shots, Mike was drinking a beer, Charlie was drinking the shots as fast as Paige could pour them, Jakes was (probably) complaining, and Briggs was telling a story. Johnny, however, was not at your regular table.

Frowning, you walked up to them, dropping your bag on the chair. “Sorry I’m late, I had to do a job for Galindo.”

“Yeah? How’s that going?” Mike asked, eager as always to talk shop.

“He’s not letting a thing slip,” you answered, taking his beer and taking a swig, “but his wife is ready to sing.”

“Blondes are always the easiest to break,” Paige—the blonde—smirked.

You guys laughed, trading jokes and stories for a few minutes. Your eyes scanned the bar as you talked, looking for Johnny. You didn’t want to ask, but… You were very curious.

“If you’re wondering where Johnny is,” Briggs leaned close to you, his voice low, “check your 9 o’clock…”

You did. Johnny—dressed in a simple black T-shirt and jeans—was having what appeared to be a very lively conversation with three beach bunnies. Your frown turned into a glare before you could mask it, and Briggs laughed.

“Hey,” he said, catching the attention of the others, “check out Tuturro…”

“Oh, man,” Charlie shook her head, a lazy smile on her face, “Johnny’s at it again.”

“Three girls?” Paige whistled. “Looks like the Mack is back.”

“The Mack?” Mike asked.

You took a drink, decidedly silent.

“Oh, you haven’t heard the story of The Mack?” Briggs asked, leaning back in his seat. “So picture this: two models, a heiress, and the most beautiful surfer girl to ever grace this beach, all fighting over one Johnny Tuturro…”

“What?” Mike laughed. “When?”

“Oh,” Charlie waved a hand in the air, “this was a long time ago, before you got here…”

“Yeah,” Briggs added, turning to you, “before you, too.”

“Wait, wait, Johnny bagged all those girls?” Paige asked, eyes wide.

“He had them sprung,” Briggs answered, “I mean, the Mack was on fire that summer. It was like a never-ending revolving door of gorgeous women.”

Jakes shook his head, sipping from his glass. “The guy has game, I’ll give him that.”

“And it looks like he is back on his bullshit,” Briggs giggled, looking over at Johnny, “who do you think he’s bringing home tonight?”

“Well,” Paige leaned her elbows on the table, “let’s see… We’ve got one of each: blonde, brunette, and a redhead…” She glanced over at you, a smile on her face. “I mean, we know he has a type…”

“My money’s on the redhead,” Briggs declared, leaning back, “she looks like she has the biggest…” He paused, licking his lips. “…Brains.”

Charlie slapped his arm. “Nah,” she countered, “John’s an ass man, he’s going for the brunette.”

“You’re all wrong,” Jakes shrugged, “He’s hittin’ all three before the night is out.”

Your grip tightened around Mike’s beer bottle, but you made an effort to keep your face nonchalant.

Mike cleared his throat, sensing your aggravation. “Hey,” he said brightly, “Charlie, you never did finish telling me that story about the sauce you make…”

Jakes and Briggs groaned together as Charlie started her story, but your attention was on Johnny. You couldn’t hear much over the noise of the bar, but you would always be able to zero in on his laugh…and he was laughing a lot with those girls. And he was talking a lot. You glanced down at your watch—you’d been there for twenty minutes now, and he was still over there! Plus, he’d been talking with them before you’d even gotten there, so…

“Yeah, yeah,” you heard Johnny’s deep chuckle as he got closer, “Just hit me up tomorrow, I’ll show you how to surf like a local!”

Your hand twitched. Oh, so now there was a tomorrow? He’d be seeing them tomorrow? And what then? The next day too? Your blood was starting to boil. You didn’t know what you would do if he brought one—or all—of them home. As reserved as you wanted to be, you knew there was no way you could just let that slide… But then again—he wasn’t yours, you had no right or claim to him…

“Hey, Johnny,” Briggs greeted him, “Didn’t know it was the Return of the Mack tonight!”

“What?” Johnny blinked, glancing at you before looking back at Briggs. “Nah, those girls just wanted some pointers on—”

“Oh, we know what they wanted,” Charlie grinned, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Come on, man,” Briggs added, “I know you liked them, and clearly, they were all over you—”

The glass in your hand broke, and you shot up, surprised. You hadn’t realized how hard you’d been gripping the neck of that bottle.

“Jesus!” Mike and Johnny were at your side in a second, checking your hand.

“Sorry, Mike,” you muttered, “I’ll get you another beer…”

“Who cares about that?” Johnny said, taking your hand and checking it for glass. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you pulled your hand back, cradling it to your chest, “It’s fine.” You grabbed a fistful of napkins and pressed them to your hand. “One second, Mikey, I’ll get your beer.” You turned, heading towards the bar. You didn’t need to look back to know Johnny was behind you.

Out of your earshot, Briggs shook his head. “Well, that took a turn…”

“How much did you pay those women to flirt with him?” Charlie asked, a smirk on her face.

Briggs smirked back, leaning back in his seat. “Now, now,” he chuckled, “a true artist never shares his secrets…”

“Hey,” Johnny frowned down at you, “What the hell was up with all that?”

“I didn’t realize I was holding it so hard,” you said back, looking straight ahead.

“You didn’t—” he sighed, shaking his head, “Let me see…” Johnny took your hand, frowning down at the small trickle of blood. “Damn, girl…”

“I told you, it’s fine,” you growled back, “You can go back with your pretty new friends now…”

Johnny froze, staring at you. “Is that what this is about?” He asked. “Jesus, Y/N, we were just talking—”

“—I didn’t ask—”

“—I spent half the damn conversation talking about you!”

You looked over at him then, surprised. “…You did?”

“Yeah,” he said, dabbing at your hand with the napkins, “I was asking their advice…”

“On what?” You asked.

“You,” he glared up at you, “Asking you out, I was…” He sighed. “I was asking them what they thought the best way to ask you out was…”

“Oh.”

“Mm hmm,” he nodded, licking his lips, “We were actually getting some good brainstorming done…”

“I…” You looked down at your hand in his. “I didn’t…” You looked back up at him, right into his big, pretty, dark eyes. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said, triumphant, “oh.” He sighed. “Forget the drink, Mikey’s a big boy, he can buy his own, we need to get this cleaned up,” he said, referring to your hand.

You nodded. “Okay… Let’s go back home.”

Johnny stopped, an eyebrow raised. “You’re giving me eyes,” he said, “Why are you giving me eyes?”

“I’m just looking at you, Johnny.”

“No,” he grinned, “you’re looking at me looking at me.”

“What?” You licked your lips, and you watched him watch your tongue before it darted back into your mouth. “Don’t you want to go home with me, Johnny?”

You were out of the bar, down the street, and on Johnny’s bed before you could even take a look back at those three pretty girls at the back of the bar.

You were on Johnny’s lap, straddling him, as he wrapped up your hand in gauze. He’d cleaned it up before bandaging it, and you thanked him with kisses. “I have,” you said, pausing between kisses, “to ask you something…”

“Okay,” he said back, his mouth on yours.

“I want…” You sighed as his mouth dropped down to your neck. “Johnny, I want…”

“What do you want, baby?”

You closed your eyes. You’d gone through a lot of emotions with Johnny in the last few hours, and you liked most of them… but walking in to see him surrounded by beautiful women and hearing how he was a ‘mack’ and imagining him with any other woman besides yourself was… not fun. You opened your eyes, taking Johnny’s chin in your hand and forcing him to look up at you. “I want you.”

He smiled, sunshine in his dark eyes. “Baby,” he laughed, “you got me—what do you think this is?”

“No,” you bit your lip, “no, I mean… I want you. For real. I want us to go on dates. I want to hear about your day every day… I want you. I want… to date you.”

Johnny’s eyes widened, and for a moment, you were afraid that he wanted something different, but then he kissed you, and you relaxed against him.

You spent the rest of the night in Johnny’s arms, rolling around in bed, kicking his pillows to the floor as you cried out with pleasure. You weren’t sure if the others had gotten home yet, but it didn’t matter either way—you couldn’t contain your moans and screams, and neither could Johnny. Besides, what better way to let your housemates know that the Mack was retired?

You slept in his bed, something you didn’t do very often before, and when you woke up to his kisses and his soft, excited promise of pancakes, you smiled, wrapping your arms around him and bringing your sunshine closer. And later, when you went downstairs and were met with Mike’s embarrassed “good morning” (his room was next to Johnny’s), and Briggs’ smug smile, you smiled back.

“Had a nice night?” He asked.

Johnny grinned, kissing the side of your face before going to the fridge in search of ingredients for pancakes. You sat down across from Briggs. “Great night, actually,” you answered.

“Yeah, sounded like it,” he said back, “Hey!” He called out to the rest of the house, and you knew everyone could hear him—Briggs was difficult to ignore. “Me and Charlie won! Payment’s due by noon!”

“Aw, man! You were takin’ bets?” Johnny asked, laughing. “Screw you guys!”

“You owe us a cut,” you said to Briggs—your tone making it clear that you were telling him, not asking.

“Sure thing,” he grinned back, “as long as you don’t strangle another beer bottle again… Mikey had nightmares.”

“Oh, I had nightmares alright,” Mike grumbled, “but it wasn’t because of the bottle…”

You grinned. “Sorry, Mikey. I owe you a beer…

…and some ear plugs.”

*******************************************************************************************

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[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 26 - Temper

Varian grumbled under his breath as he fiddled with a bunch of wires. He was sitting in his lab at school, trying to get the portal to turn on. The machine had decided not to work at all since his misadventure in the desert.

"Grrr...ow!"

His irritated growl turned to a yelp of pain as he shocked himself. This only drew more curses and angry groans.

He wasn't having a good day.

Heck he wasn't even having a good week. Everything had seemed to go wrong for him ever since he and Hiro had their run in with Momasake on Saturday.

First off, he had just gotten back from his second therapy session this morning and, while it went smoother than the first one had, it still had put him out of sorts for the rest of the day.

Dr. Brown's more reserved and quiet manner suited Varian much better than Dr. Mcguire's cherry earnesty, and he made sure not to delve too much into his past like he had last time. However it still made him feel self conscious to sit on a couch and talk to some stranger about what's bothering him.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being analyzed. Much like the way he would dissect a compound to figure out its chemical makeup, so too did the older gentleman study him; peering over his reading glasses, jotting notes down on his yellow notepad, and every so often, stroking his salt and pepper beard in thought.

They talked mostly about the nightmares Varian had been having and ways to mitigate them; habits he could try to form, like going to bed at a regular time everyday or meditation exercises similar to the ones Andrew and the rest of the Saporians would partake in. Varian wasn't sure how much he'd be able to keep up such practices and he kind of doubted that they would help anyways.

And then there was the discussion on medication, which Varian really wasn't thrilled about. Dr. Brown wanted to put him on a small dosage of some sort of 'mood-stabilizing' medicine as he had called it; which only sent alarm bells off in Varian's brain. The doctor was patient enough to walk Varian through what the drug was made of, how it worked, and to reassure him that it was only temporary.

"As a scientist yourself, you must know the importance of experimentation. You won't know if the medicine will help or not until you've tried it for awhile. That is why I'm starting you off on such a low dosage to test it out first." Dr. Brown encouraged.

Varian understood. He understood far better than either the doctor or anyone else would ever know. The brain ran on chemicals, and chemical potions could very much alter behavior and mood if ingested. The right or wrong chemicals could make ones whole personality change or compel them to do things they didn't want to…. Like tell the truth for instance. Yes, he knew that better than anyone, and it was precisely why he was so uncomfortable with idea.

But still, Varian had reluctantly agreed to give it a try anyways. If nothing else than to avoid a long drawn out argument or a lecture from someone. Though doing so had only increased his anxiety.

The second thing that had upped his discomfort was that Aunt Cass had discovered his firework display yesterday.

Instead of being impressed like he had hoped, she had rounded on him for daring to build what she referred to as a "fire safety hazard." She then called Officer Cruz to come and confiscate his stash of firecrackers and gunpowder.

Apparently one wasn't legally allowed to build explosives in one's home, even if you didn't intend any harm with them. He then had to endure two separate lectures from both of them on safety regulations.

Oh, how he hated lectures.

He just about had his fill of them these past three weeks.

He also just about had his fill of Hiro and his 'holier than thou' act. The other boy hadn't brought up the incident with Momosake's knife again, but Varian could sense tension between them anyways.

Varian didn't know if Hiro suspected the truth of what happened inside the vent or not, but the other boy had kept his distance from Varian for the past couple of days anyways. Keeping their conversations short and going quiet whenever he spotted Varian walk into the room.

Despite this, Varian didn't regret his actions at all from that night. He was only protecting his friends after all and it's not like he harmed anyone else other than their attacker.

He couldn't wrap his head around Hiro's concern for a person who actively threatened both him and people he cared about. Being noble and compassionate was one thing; going out of your way to help someone who only wants to hurt you was another.

But that's what made the two of them different, Varian guessed. It was easy being a hero when you've never had to defend yourself from seamingly the entire world; to fight just to survive.

Ever since his arrest and subsequently moving in with the Hamadas, Varian had only been reminded just how much he didn't belong there; of how much he didn't really fit in. As nice as his friends and Aunt Cass were, they really had no understanding of what he'd been through and he still felt alien to this world and to their beliefs. The run in with Momosake only served to heighten his feeling of inadequacy, as if he somehow fell short of the imaginary standards that everyone else seemingly already knew but he somehow didn't.

He kicked the device in aggravation. No, he wasn't having a good time at all and the sooner he could get back to his father then the better.

He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair as he tried to calm his runaway thoughts. Then he turned back to the console and readied to turn the portal back on, having finished his tweeks to the wiring.

He saw the giant metal ring spark to life as the turbines hummed with power, slowly the blue energy that indicate that the portal was working made its way towards the center, then it crackled, fizzled, and died out as the portal shut itself down.

Varian growled in anger and went to double check the wires again. Nothing off there. He checked the computer. Also okay there.  He even tripled checked the turbine, before trying again.

Nothing.

Varian had had it.

He gave a wordless scream of frustration before knocking his scientific instruments off his desk with a push. He kicked the portal repeatedly and threw anything he could find towards the devious device; yelling curses and venting his rage in angry grunts.

It was petulant perhaps, but Varian didn't care anymore. He was tired. Tired of failing and tired of not being the golden boy like Hiro was. Hiro never got lectures. Hiro never made stuff explode, or flood the whole school, or get trapped in a desert. Hiro never gave in to his darker side. Heck, Varian wasn't even sure he had a darker side.

If the stories were to be believe than Tadashi had been Mr. Perfect and Hiro had followed in his footsteps of being the selfless brave hero. They all had. They were all just so, good and perfect and wonderful, and he..he was broken and he knew it. And the longer he stayed, the more at risk he was of having everyone find out just how broken he truly was.

His angry yells turned to sobs. He didn't know to do with himself anymore. He turned around looking for more things to throw and was greeted by the sight of Honey Lemon and Fred standing in the doorway.

He stopped what he was doing and stood stock still. His face turned beet red and his breath hitched. They were looking on with both shock and alarm and to Varian's horror he realized that had saw everything.

He couldn't stop from bursting into fresh tears as he knew that his friends had gotten yet another look at the cracks in his happy, innocent facade. He crumpled in on himself, plumping down on the ground and hugging his knees to his chest, and then he buried his face in his arms to hide his shame.

"What should we do? Should we get Baymax?" He heard Fred say in a hushed and hurried whispered.

"No, he's with Hiro at his internship, remember?" Honey Lemon whispered back.

"Oh, should we call Gogo then or Wasabi?" Fred suggested instead.

"Umm..I think they're both in class...we're just going to have to help instead." Came Honey Lemon's nervous reply.

"Okay…......how?"

Honey Lemon didn't seem to have an answer for that question and Varian only hugged himself tighter as he feared what their response might be; another lecture, more prying questions into his past, or would they just leave altogether and refuse to have anything to do with him? This last option really scared him and brought more unbidden sobs.

He heard footsteps come closer and felt a gentle hand tentivently touch his shoulder.

"V..Varian?" He heard Honey Lemon ask. She sounded scared. He'd had scared her! Of course he had. Everyone was afraid of him back in Corona. Why should here be any different? He wasn't a hero like his friends, he was the villain and, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, it was what he'd always be.

"Why are you still here?" He sobbed, still not looking up to face them.

"I..I'm sorry. Do, do want us to leave?"

He heard Honey Lemon stammer out this apology and he finally looked up at her in surprise. He searched her eyes in confusion as she continued to apologetically ramble.

"We can go… if you want.. If you think that's best..or..we can stay too. It's up to you..we just want to help.."

Varian cut her off, "No, no, that's not what I meant. I...I just don't why you'd want to stick around...not after...not after.."

He broken down in tears again and he saw Honey Lemon and Fred exchange worried glances.

"We're just worried about you, dude." Fred explained. Honey Lemon nodded in agreement and offered an encouraging smile.

Varian eyed them both warily. "You don't have to be so nice about it. You just saw me wrecking my own lab. I don't want you to feel like your obligated to still hang around just to try and make me feel better."

"Well..if either of us was upset you'd try and help us right? That's just what friends do." Honey Lemon said.

"Oh but, that... that's different. You don't ever get mad."

Honey Lemon pouted, "I...get mad. I just... don't always know how to show it."

She sighed and slumped down next to him, leaning against the wall. "I guess that's not always healthy though."

"Neither is losing you temper and busting up the place." Varian bitterly added. He surveyed the mess around the room. He'd have a lot to clean up once this was over with.

"Weeelll, throwing things isn't...good," she agreed,"but it's okay to be angry if something is bothering you." She reached out and slipped her arms around the crook of his elbow. She then nuzzled her head upon his shoulder while she hugged his arm. "We just need to help you find a better way to express yourself." She cheerfully added, as if this was the easiest and most obvious thing in the world to do.

"Whenever I get in a bad mood, I just give Mole a prank call and that usually makes me feel better." Fred offered up blithely.

Both Honey Lemon and Varian stared at him disquitedly.

"That's..that's also not the best way to handle things." She said frowning.

"Why would you prank call a mole?" Varian asked in confusion. "I mean how would it even have a phone?"

"Not a mole, the Mole." Fred explained exasperatedly. "Richardson Mole; he's my arch nemesis. My greatest rival! The most sneaky and nefarious foe I've ever faced."

"He's the boy who lives next door. They compete over comic book stuff." Honey Lemon clarified to a now even more confused Varian.

"Try 'compete over everything'!" Fred retorted indignantly. "There's no lows to which he wouldn't sink just to show me up." He huffed and plopped down on the floor on front of them.

"Ooookay…..well that wouldn't really work for me," Varian tried to steer the conversation back to solving the current problem, "So, what do you do Honey Lemon? How do you stay so calm all the time?"

"I..don't know if 'staying calm' is the right words for what I do….buuuut, I do love going to a wrestling match now and then; it helps to release tension."

Varian looked at her in surprise. "You wrestle?" On some level he knew that Honey Lemon was a capable fighter, she was a superhero, a modern knight, after all, but it was hard to reconcile the image of the sweet natured girl throwing herself into a tournament ring to slug it out with someone.

"Oh.. Not me, no." Honey Lemon hastily corrected and gave an awkward laugh. "I mean, I wouldn't mind doing it but I'm not a professional, sooo...I just meant I go to watch. It's great fun. No one actually gets hurt and you can be as loud as you want to be." She tugged at a strand of her hair and keep nervously looking back and forth between him and the ground as if admitting some embarrassing truth. "I just like the atmosphere, and it fun to just scream your frustrations out sometimes."

Varian softly laughed, "It's hard picturing you yelling, ever, but it sounds fun. Like those brawl tournaments we have back in Corona. There's a lot of shouting and cheering going on during those too."

She perked up at that."Yeah, exactly like that! Would you wanna come to one? We could all get tickets to the next match!"

"Hey now, waaait a minute." Fred interrupted. "I thought we agreed to boycott the mecha-westling after Mole bought out the league! Please don't tell me you've still been going without me!"

Honey Lemon didn't answer, she just nervously bit her lip as Fred placed his hands on his hips and glared at her in disapproval. He then soon relented and sighed…"Fine, I'll buy us some tickets, but I'm getting us seats to a different league. There's no way I'm giving more money to Mole."

Honey Lemon's face broke out into a huge grin. Happy to have avoided an argument with her friend and even happier to attend her favorite sporting event.

"Well, before I can go anywhere, I need to clean up this mess." Varian sighed. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up, I needed it."

He stood up and started to pick up the broken metal and discarded instruments.

"Oh, we'll help you." Honey Lemon chirped.

"No, you don't have to..it's my mess, I need to be the one to clean it up."

"Yeaah, but if we help it'll go faster and then we can all go get lunch." Fred piped in. "That's why we came by in the first place. It's nearly after one and you haven't left your lab all day. Also you still haven't told us what's bugging you. You've not really been yourself lately."

Varian rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "The portal stopped working. I'm not making any headway and it's been two months now. I guess I'm just worried."

"About your dad?" Honey Lemon interjected.

Varian nodded."Yeah, that and other things. So far I've only managed to create a working spacial portal, not a interdimensional one, and even then I can't figure out how to control where it opens up at."

"Then why not focus on that first?" Fred suggested. Varian looked at him in surprise, so he explained further. "Why not master the spacial stuff, get it where you can pinpoint global places, and then work your way up from there? It's like learning martial arts; you start small before learning more complex moves."  

"It's nothing like martial arts." Varian insisted, "but, that may not be a bad idea." He relented as he ran the possibilities through his mind; mastering more local coordinates could help in figuring out how to reach his own world.

Honey Lemon also stood up and wrapped him in another hug. "You'll figure it out it!I know you will!" She encouraged.

Fred also joined in on the hug before adding, "Yeah, but before then let's get this place cleaned up and go grab a noodle burger. I’m starving."

[triptychexe]

TITLE: Escalation  SUMMARY: Jin finds out that obsession is a scary thing. GENRE: Angst (?) Slight creepiness. PAIRING: None WORD COUNT: 2.7k WARNINGS: Mentions of stalking, leaking information, leaking nudes, idk of anything else but please let me know if I should warn anything else! 

WINTER 2018

Soojin’s thumbs twiddled over her game controller, her eyes glued on the television screen in front of her. If she could just find that stupid item, then she could progress to the next part in the story and-  

Ring Ring.

Soojin inhaled deeply, preparing herself to call for one of the other girls to answer the phone. Her breathing turned into a groan, realizing that no one was in the dorm with her. She almost forgot that the girls were all out tonight, taking some time off between promotions. Jin glanced towards the direction of the dorm telephone, still ringing madly. Jin was so comfortable on her couch… Surely whoever was calling wasn’t going to say anything important. It was probably some sort of telemarketer. If it was one of the girls, they would have called her cell. Just in case, Soojin checked her voicemail for any missed calls. Nothing. The ringing stopped and went to voicemail, shrouding the apartment with the peaceful ambient sounds coming from Soojin’s game. Soojin smiled to herself. It was so nice to have the dorm to herself. Even though the other Generation 2 girls were lovely, it was nice to have a night free from the chaos. She didn’t have to fight anyone for the TV, or tell anyone that their music was too loud, or-- 

Ring Ring.

The phone started going off again. Soojin groaned, the moment of peace lost. She paused her game and rose from the couch. Before she hadn’t cared, but now she was agitated. The caller was interrupting her evening. A hand ran through her hair in aggravation as she approached the landline, prepared to be as blunt as possible with whoever was on the other line. She picked up the receiver, annoyance radiating off her.

“Hello?” Soojin snipped, crossing her arms. 

“Hello.” A smooth voice responded. “What took you so long?” 

The hairs on Soojin’s arms stood up and her heartbeat quickened. “Sojinnie, are you avoiding me?” The voice asked in a mocking coo. “You haven’t responded to any of my letters, and now you’re avoiding my calls?” 

Instantly, Soojin realized who it was. The letters. This was the author of the letters. The realization only spiked Soojin’s adrenaline, her mouth growing dry with panic. 

The last week of Trois’ debut promotions, Soojin started getting cryptic and creepy letters delivered to her. They followed her everywhere. The first one appeared on her dressing room vanity after Trois’ goodbye stage with a single red rose. The message was written using a typewriter. The letter wasn’t threatening, it was just a letter from a fan telling her that they will miss her between performances and that they couldn’t wait to see her again. Jin received sentiments like that all the time. It wasn’t anything peculiar. 

The second letter was a request to meet up for a romantic dinner date on the Han River at night. The letter detailed what they wanted Soojin to wear to the date in detail, and requested that she didn’t tell anyone where she was going. Jin was unsettled by the letter, but her managers assured her that it was nothing. It was just a fan that took Jin’s fanservice a little too seriously. For a while, Jin believed that too. She was just being dramatic.

Then the letters started arriving at personal locations. She found letters taped to the practice room mirrors, in the women’s bathroom at the company, tucked in the creases of her locker. The apartment building even called her one morning to tell her that her mailbox was getting full. When she checked her mail, she had at least ten letters from this anonymous sasaeng. That’s when Jin realized the power of the word ‘obsessed’, and just how dangerous this obsession was.

Jin tried to think quickly. The first thing she thought of was to contact her manager, tell her that it happened again. But what could her manager do? Yell at the person on the other end of the call? Tell them to cut it out? The sasaeng would probably just call again once the manager left. 

“Soojinie, why so quiet?” The voice asked. Soojin tried to focus on the voice. It definitely belonged to a man. Based on the pitch, the man was probably not a teenager. It was probably someone still young enough to know who she was, maybe a man in his twenties or early thirties.

“How did you get this number?” Soojin asked, her voice uneven with fear despite her efforts to appear bold.

“It’s easy to find things these days. Don’t worry. I did this so we can talk instead of waiting for each other to write.” The voice said innocently, as if the person didn’t see anything wrong or unsettling about calling a personal number. “I didn’t scare you too bad, right?” 

“I don’t want you calling this number. This isn’t right.” Jin shook her head. She realized how weak her words were. Whatever bravado she had put on before picking up the phone had melted completely, now turning to ice in her veins.

“Then we can meet up in person. It wouldn’t be too hard to arrange.” The voice drawled, clearly amused in the panic and chaos that he was inflicting. “I’m closer than you think.” 

Soojin’s heart leapt into her throat. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she suddenly felt as if someone was watching her. An even more horrifying thought seized her mind. What if the call happened inside her apartment. The new theory sent another wave of panic and fear through her body, the ability to think clearly fleeing her brain. She instantly ran to her door, only having enough time to slip on some sandals before bolting down the hallway of her apartment building, knocking on the door of the person she knew could make her feel better.

A sleepy looking Soonyoung answered the door, rubbing sleep out of his eyes when he realized who it was.

“Hey, Soojin. Everything good?” Soonyoung closed his eyes as a yawn emerged from his mouth. Jin felt like a child would run to their parents after a nightmare, guilt blanketing over the fear that was still causing her hands to shake.

“Um, actually, no.” Soojin said, trying not to sound too hysterical. “Can I come in?” 

The words woke Soonyoung up, his eyes suddenly alert. He stepped aside quickly, ushering his fellow member into his dorm. The minute the door closed behind her, Soojin’s tears started to fall. 

“Woah, hey,” Soonyoung furrowed his eyebrows, placing a hand on Soojin’s shoulder. “What’s happened, huh? Are you hurt?” 

“No.” Soojin shook her head, keeping her focus down. She was scared and angry, unable to stop the nagging voice in her head that told her that this could have been avoided if she just spoke up. 

“Okay, okay.” Soonyoung said soothingly, pressing his hand on the crown of Soojin’s head in a brotherly gesture. “How about we sit down?” 

Soonyoung made Soojin a cup of tea, waiting patiently for Soojin to calm down enough to speak. The lavender tea in Soojin’s cup was nearly drained before she finally found the air to speak. 

Soojin explained everything. From the first letters to the phone call she just experienced to the sudden fear that the sasaeng might be in her apartment. 

“Did you hear him in there?” Soonyoung asked in a low tone, a flicker of anger crossed his face. 

“No. But… I figured it might be a possibility.” Soojin explained, suddenly feeling dramatic for thinking that might be a reality. She would have heard a door open, or a window creak. “I feel bad for waking you up, I’m sorry.” 

Soonyoung shook his head and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It very well could be a possibility. You reacted how you felt you should. I’m glad you came here and I’m glad you’re safe.” 

Jin just nodded appreciatively, thankful for his comforting words. “We should call the police.” Soonyoung suggested in the same tone a nurse suggests for a child to close their eyes before a shot. Soojin nodded, pulling out her cellphone. Just as she was about to dial the local police, a notification from kakao popped up on her screen. 

If you don’t want me, I’ll make sure no one wants you. Not any other guy or any of your ‘fans’. I only liked you because you’re hot. You can’t sing, you can’t dance. There will be nothing for you after I’ve had my turn to humiliate you. You fucked up, Min Soojin. You fucked up so bad. Fuck you, whore.

Soojin and Soonyoung blinked at the message, both of them unable to make a comment.

“Call the police.” Soonyoung’s voice got steely. “Now.” 

Ame held the door open for Jin as they exited the coffee shop with a wide smile on her face. Jin couldn’t help but smile back despite her nerves. The younger girl had been apologizing for not being home during the situation last weekend for the past two days and was putting extra effort into making Jin feel safe and supported.

After the police questioned Jin, they said that they’d keep the report on file, but there wasn’t much evidence that they could collect. They still advised Jin to be careful of her surroundings and not go anywhere alone. Ame stepped up to the job, becoming Jin’s personal shadow. Today, Ame would be walking Jin to HBH headquarters for an important meeting with Hak Bonghwa and HBH’s lawyer team to discuss the next steps to take. Jin was concerned about the meeting. It’s been two full days since the phone call and text, and she hasn’t heard anything back from her stalker. What if they thought Soojin was just getting pranked? What if they couldn’t help her?

“Soojinnie.” Ame gave a pout, reaching over to squeeze one of Soojin’s cheeks with her thumb. “Don’t frown so much. You’re gonna get premature wrinkles.”

Soojin tried to relax her face, but she couldn’t help but feel more and more anxious. Something about today seemed off, as if the world was holding its breath. 

“Sorry… I’m just… I feel like it’s the calm before the storm, you know?” Jin frowned.

Ame pursed her lips sympathetically. “Hey, at least you’ve got HBH looking into it. I’m sure no matter what happens today, you’re going to at least have support.” 

Jin gave a small smile at the sentiment. The two girls made their way to the location they told their driver to meet them at. On the way, Jin pulled out her phone, scrolling through social media for a brief distraction.

The headline that greeted her upon opening up Naver chilled her blood. 

“HACKER LEAKS TRIPTYCH’S JIN’S KAKAO TALK MESSAGES.”

 She felt her heart seize. She dropped the freshly-made coffee cup in her hand, it’s contents pooling on the sidewalk at her feet.

“What is it, Jinnie?” Ame asked in shock, slowing down her pace beside her leader, taking a sip of the pink beverage she just purchased. 

“I…” Soojin was at a loss of words, unable to speak properly from the shock. Ame looked at the phone screen and let out a gasp. “Oh my God, Jin…” Ame looked between the cellphone and the other girl, an equal look of panic crossing over her expression. “Do you know if it’s legit?” Soojin didn’t answer. She tapped on the article link, scrolling through the details. 

‘This morning, Triptych’s Jin’s old messages were revealed…’ 

‘Containing several messages from what appears to be ex-lovers…’

‘Including some explicit photos…’ 

Soojin thought she was going to pass out. She expanded the attached photos of the screen shots, but she didn’t need to look deeply to see that they were the real thing. She vaguely remembers the boys she used to be in contact with during her trainee years, the conversations suddenly resurfacing in her memory. 

Before Soojin could truly react, a black SUV pulled up to the curb next to the idols. The passenger’s side window rolled down, revealing their manager, Hyunjung. 

“Get in the car.” Hyunjung demanded. “We have an emergency meeting at the company.” 

The idol opened the doors to the scheduled meeting room. Sat at the long oak table was Hak Bonghwa, a publicist, and few men in suits that Soojin had never met before. As if the ensemble couldn’t be any more intimidating, Yerin was also seated, a severe look on her face. 

Soojin bowed politely as she entered, taking a seat next to her leader for what she assumed would be the last time. While in the car on their way to the company, she could only come to one conclusion: she was going to be kicked out of Triptych. No way would HBH want to keep around an idol who had broken the trainee dating-ban as well as cause this much drama only a month into her debut. The only logical result would be expulsion from the group and company. 

“Well, now that we are all present, I think it’s time to discuss what has occurred this morning and weekend.” Hak Bonghwa stated, folding his hands on top of the manila folder infront of him. 

“As we are aware, Soojin’s incident has gotten more serious than we anticipated. This morning, personal information was leaked to the public.” Hak Bonghwa summarized. “We also have received,” The man opened the folder, placing a typed out note. Soojin’s blood chilled and goosebumps rose on her arm at the familiar sight. 

“A threatening letter from the stalker addressed to both HBH and Jin. Considering the… passion… behind this letter, we have no choice but to take these threats seriously.” 

 “I think it’s important that we discuss the next steps in our plan to keep Soojin protected at all costs. We know that this stalker has more private information than we realized. I think our first step is to change Soojin’s phone number and erase any old messaging apps to prevent further exploitation.” 

The other people at the table nodded in agreement.

“Following that, I suggest we put Soojin on a hiatus from public activities until the stalker is caught.” Hak Bonghwa recommended. 

“What about security at the dorms?” Yerin wondered. The protectiveness in her voice surprised Jin. The vocalist always assumed the leader had a mild dislike for her and the prospect of Nia and Jin finally getting past their tension gave Soojin a rush of hope. 

“This stalker knows where Soojin and the rest of us live. Keeping her safe at home should be an even bigger priority than pulling her from promotions.” Yerin argued. “Plus, pulling her from promotions now would mean putting all of Trois on hiatus. They can’t perform without their leader.” 

“We can arrange extra security.” Hak Bonghwa nodded. “But I still believe that a hiatus is appropriate, regardless of the circumstances.” 

Yerin didn’t look pleased with this answer, but she didn’t object. Soojin felt a wave of appreciation for Yerin so strong that it momentarily made her forget about the issues at hand. 

The rest of the meeting carried on. Only once did Hak Bonghwa address Soojin, and that was to go over the contents of the kakao messages. Hak Bonghwa suggested that for safety reasons, they claim that the messages were photoshopped. 

“I don’t care if they are real or fake, and honestly I do not wish to know.” Hak Bonghwa had stated with a sense of finality. “As far as we are concerned, they are manipulated.” 

The rest of the meeting seemed easier to get through. They discussed legal actions, pressing charges, hiatus rules, the works. Then the meeting was adjourned, and everyone rose to their seats. 

Before Yerin could get away, Soojin held onto her elbow, tethering the other girl to her.

“Yerin,” Soojin said. “Thank you.” 

The leader gave Soojin a skeptical glance. “You’re welcome?” 

“You didn’t have to stand up for me, but you did, and I appreciate it.” Soojin clarified. 

Yerin looked a little uncomfortable. “I mean… I only said what would make the most sense. Putting you on hiatus only makes you look even more guilty, but I guess I can’t argue with Hak Bonghwa.” 

Soojin’s smile faded a little, suddenly embarrassed that she thought Yerin was finally coming around to her. 

“Oh. Well. Thank you, regardless.” “Sure. Stay safe.” Yerin gave a thin-lipped smile before breaking away and exiting the meeting room.

[master-of-cosmos]

Imprint [Ninjago Fic]

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knows perfectly well why.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

Straightening, Kai tightly answers, “Yep.”

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

But he got used to his dad.

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

A scream splits him from his thoughts.

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

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

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

“Get him!”

The three drawing knives, they descend on him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

Ten minutes.

He was only ten minutes behind Lloyd.

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

“Yeah, and what’d he say to that?”

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

“Tell me you got him first.”

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

“Lloyd?”

“Are you close?”

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

“A-awesome.”

“I know where we can get a couple.”

“What?”

“Scorpions. We can still get that jerk.”

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

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

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

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

“Nothing’s wrong with you, man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One. Two…T-three.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kai’s gonna―

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

Enough. It has to be enough.

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

But Lloyd heals fast, so there’s that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eventually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

[hvlfwygod]

reoccurrence | patrick

It was the same, every single time. At least, that was what his mom said when she explained it to his brother, his dad, his doctor. She was wrong, though. They didn’t always start the same, they actually could be very different. Sometimes Patrick was at the store, sometimes in the family minivan, sometimes walking through some endless foggy forest. What was always the same was the ending. Always.

“What are you making?”

Patrick glanced up from his drawing as Dr. Wilson sat down beside him. He’d been coming to her office for weeks now, answering all kinds of pointless questions and drawing all kinds of pictures. She listened to him explain what each crayon-rendered monster meant, how often they showed up in his dreams, and his ranking on who were the scariest. Today was a new beast, some cross between a scorpion and an endless black hole; Patrick leaned back to show it off.

Dr. Wilson— she insisted he call her Samara— was patient, she listened, she suggested drawings he could revisit. He listened, too, though only halfway, usually too invested in his drawings. If she wanted him to give her all of his attention, he reasoned, she shouldn’t have put so many papers and supplies in front of him.

"This guy is cool,” Samara said, squinting at the monster. “Can I keep him?”

“It’s not done,” Patrick said, pulling the paper back to him and continuing to color in the shadows. “But later, sure.”

“Cool! Thank you. So where does he show up?”

“In... the desert,” Patrick replied.

“Mhm, and what does he do?”

Patrick hadn’t decided, yet, but he screwed up his face as if he was trying to remember. Samara shifted beside him and he heard a faint scribble of her pen. Then, she sighed and pulled out another drawing, one from two weeks ago.

“He kind of looks like this guy. Are you sure he’s a new monster?”

Slowly, Patrick lowered his crayon. “That looks different.”

“Or, Patrick, are you making up stories instead of telling me about your bad dreams?”

It was quiet for a long time, but for once, Patrick didn’t immediately resume his coloring. He sat there, stony and silent, waiting for the rest of the accusation to come.

“Patrick, you’re seven, you know better than to lie like this,” Samara said, her voice stern yet gentle. “I don’t mind you telling me... Whatever you need to, if it helps. I’d love to hear about all these creatures. But I’m starting to think you’re avoiding talking about the dreams that are giving you trouble.”

Patrick shrugged, not looking at her. “It’s dumb,” he pouted. “Nothing helps. You can’t change a dream.”

Samara sighed. “Not if you don’t try, kiddo. But I promise you don’t have to keep having this nightmare. I know you’re super tired, but we can figure this out. I love your creativity, I really do. But I need you to tell me what you’re actually dreaming, so we can get to the bottom of it. Okay?”

After another long silence, Patrick sighed and flipped his paper over to the blank side. He started drawing anew: pairs of eyes staring out through the darkness, and himself, staring back. “Okay.”

———

He was still pissed off. Patrick, just not high enough to not be frustrated, mentally cursed himself as sat before his latest painting. The oily darkness was finally starting to take on a certain depth, turning slowly back into the base he’d painted weeks earlier. If he closed his eyes, he could visualize the old image: a dilapidated house, the twinkling black lake, the almost perfect way he’d captured the radiating moonlight. But when he stared at what was in front of him, all he could think about was that this was technically his second time reaching this stage. All he could see was a hand-sized smear wreaking a diagonal ruin across the canvas.

It’d been a while since his confrontation with Koda, but the time had done nothing to dull the pangs of regret. Not for fighting with her, but for the collateral damage. Patrick couldn’t even bring himself to recreate his painting until now, and still he could barely get through it without feeling inordinately annoyed. Swallowing pills before this had done practically nothing. Reno’s words from Halloween rang in his head: your shit mood is sobering you up.

A sudden urge to chuck the frame across the room came over him. Idiot, he thought. Fucking moron. Before he fucked up his work yet again, though, Patrick stepped back from his paints and walked away. He stormed past strangers in the studio, eliciting a few complaints and sideways glances as his hand slammed against the door and stepped outside.

The afternoon sunlight was too harsh, still. Perhaps the only indication that he was actually high at all, he mused bitterly as he lit a cigarette. He inhaled, held it, and let it go, forcing himself to calm down. For a few minutes, it worked. His brain was quiet, just a low hum of empty thoughts and the rhythmic exhale of smoke.

But even out here, even high (though, he reminded himself, not quite enough), regret seeped back in.

It had been such a nice painting. Fuck. Why did Koda have to piss him off? He couldn’t believe he’d left it with her, too, or let himself think that she’d take his side. The fight started to replay in his mind, like a bad movie to which he already knew the ending, but couldn’t stop watching. The worst part was that no matter how angry he was at his sister, the world, even Tai (because this wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t jumped Patrick in the first place) he was much more pissed at himself.

Newly aggravated, Patrick killed his cigarette and then dropped it to the ground as he walked back inside. He was ready to give up, write today off, come back to this cursed project another day. But as soon as he saw his unfinished painting again, as if to spite himself, he felt compelled to keep going.

Slowly, he sat down in front of the easel and started to paint. Slowly, the house rematerialized, the shores of the lake took shape once again. Slowly, the image he’d lost crept back into existence.

Patrick worked straight through the sunset, only stopping when fatigue started to weigh his hand and caused his brush to droop between his fingers. He sat back and studied the picture, feeling strangely tilted and dizzy, then checked his phone. Patrick blinked at the hour on the screen, much later than he expected. “Damn,” he mumbled; it was the first word he’d said in hours.

Patrick looked once again at the painting. He had to admit that he was pleased, if only a little. It wasn’t the original, but he’d managed to get close. Except, peeking out from the edge of a small cluster of sinister looking trees, Patrick noticed something new. A pocket of negative space was there, glaring and distracting.  Acting on another whim, he picked up his brush again started filling in the details.

When he sat up after a few long minutes, two eyes stared back at him from the emptiness. A snout was just beginning to take shape, as if the dog was walking out from an engulfing darkness.

———

He woke up with a start, but this time, it wasn’t out of fear. No, Patrick was excited, triumphant. He threw his covers off and scrambled out of bed, disregarding that the sun had just barely started to break over the horizon.

“Mom!” he shouted, pushing her door aside as he walked into her room. She stirred in her sleep but didn’t immediately wake up, so Patrick grabbed her arm and shook. “Mooooom!”

“Patrick, shh, it’s...” she lifted her head and blinked as she checked the time, “not even six, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing! I did it. I changed the—”

“What’s going on?” his dad asked, pushing himself up in the bed beside his mom.

“I changed the dream,” Patrick said, looking to him. “I made it stop, I changed it. They looked completely different.”

“Oh.” His mother’s eyes widened. “That’s great, sweetie."

Patrick preened. “All the wolves got scared of me and started running. All the things started to...” He struggled to remember all the details. “They went away.”

“That’s awesome, kid,” his dad added in. “I’ll make breakfast to celebrate.”

Patrick nodded vigorously, never one to turn down his dad’s pancakes. Before he could follow him out of the room, though, his mom took his hand.

“Sweetheart, can you tell me more about this dream?” she asked.

“It was the same as always,” he told her with a shrug. “But I changed it. It was like I was awake and in charge of everything.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “And what did it change to? Did you notice anything? Anyone?”

Patrick frowned as he thought about it. “... Maybe?” If he thought too hard about it more of the dream started to turn into fog. “I think maybe someone was standing next to me.” His mother pressed her lips together, and he wasn’t sure what for. Patrick tilted his head. “Why?”

After a pause, she squeezed his hand. “I’m sure Dr. Wilson will want to know whatever you can remember. But I’m really proud of you, Patrick. Do you think you can do it again?”

“Yes,” he said automatically. He couldn’t explain it, but this felt huge. Like he jumped over some insurmountable hurdle and didn’t have to look back. “It was so cool, Mom. I’ll never have a nightmare again.”

———

As soon as he fell asleep, Patrick started to wander. He left his own dream behind and went looking for his target for the night. It had been long enough since his strange, bitter standoff with Graves, and he figured by now the element of surprise would be on his side. All that was left for him to do was find the son of Hermes.

He was struggling, though. Which was odd. It wasn’t because of who he was going after, though. The more familiar he became with New Athens the faster he could locate anyone, even someone he’d never interacted with in dreams before. The problem he was having was not with seeking Graves out, but the strange, stilted quality to his dreaming. It was like he was tripping in his sleep.

Maybe he’d taken too much after all. Reno hadn’t warned him to slow down, but Patrick had noticed the slightly prolonged looks before they went to bed.

After leaving the studio, he went straight to his friend’s apartment, which always was followed by some sort of mind altering substance. Combined with his earlier indulgences it was, perhaps, a bit overboard. He was honestly surprised he’d managed to sleep at all. But the fact that he had drifted off was proof enough that he wasn’t too fucked up to do this. He wasn’t going to put this off another night. Patrick felt almost sluggish, but he pushed through, and eventually, found Graves.

He stepped into the man’s dream, sliding through a brief fog and appearing outside a small shop. Peeking through the window revealed a room filled with weird oddities and trinkets. Candles covered nearly every surface, the spaces in between filled with crystals, figures, all assortment of magical items. Graves was sitting at a table, sitting over a spread of cards. It reminded him of the kind of place Cleo would like to visit. Patrick was hit with a sudden, angry flare of jealousy. He wanted to tear this stupid building apart.

Patrick reached for the door handle, but his arm was slow to react. It was like he was moving through molasses, or something was weighing down his limbs.

Sneering, he decided to stay where he was, stay hidden. From a distance, he willed the cards to flip over on the table, the candles to go out, the twinkling items to all clatter to the floor.

But nothing happened.

And then, a sharp pain exploded in Patrick’s skull.

The entire dream seemed to go dark for a moment, and it felt like he was falling. Then, he was back, landing as if he’d just entered the dream for the first time.

“What the fuck?” He felt as though he were about to pass out, in a strange, dream-logic sort of manner. Darkness crept in a little closer around the edges. But if anything happened, Graves hadn’t seemed to notice. This needled Patrick more than anything else. With effort, he pressed his hands against the side of the building and imagined the floorboards underneath Graves trembling.

Again, nothing happened and again, his head seemed to split open. “Come on,” he mumbled through his teeth. Nothing, nothing, more nothing, then clouds he didn’t conjure rolled in, and rain soaked him to the bone in a matter of seconds, and Patrick could do nothing to change it. He stared angrily at the ground, buzzing with confusion. Did Graves know he was here? Were one of his siblings fighting him back? Patrick banged on the window and his target didn’t even look up.

He blinked, and then Graves was gone, and then the building was gone, and Patrick’s stomach flipped as he fell painfully out of the dream and back into his own. It was still raining, as if the storm had followed him.

Patrick was standing all alone. It was how it always ended, with everything going sideways and a countless array of eyes glaring through the darkness, right at him.

“No,” Patrick almost laughed, shaking his head. “No fucking way.” He waved his hand, pushed the nightmare aside. But again, again, nothing happened.

Fear rolled down his spine like a cold sweat. He willed the dream to change again, and again, and again, but it was useless. All he had was the low hum of growls, a unspoken promise of everything going wrong, wrong, wrong. And the stares, glowing and malicious. Impossibly twisted canine features inching closer and closer. Patrick whirled around, refusing to accept that he couldn’t escape, but they were behind him, too, and up above, and the ground wouldn’t let him move, and they were all about to jump—

He woke up with such a jolt that his head banged against the wall behind him. Patrick cursed and curled in on himself. Pain pounded through his skull, in time with his racing heart. He’d been loud enough to wake Reno, who leapt out of sleep beside him and was halfway to standing in a matter of seconds.

“What happened?”

It was like he was a kid all over again. When was the last time he hadn’t been able to just brush that shit aside? Patrick looked over to his friend and flinched. Reno’s eyes glowed in the dark. Ice cold panic gripped Patrick’s stomach before he remembered that it was normal, Reno’s eyes were just like that and he was awake. 

Patrick pressed his palms to his head. “Nothing,” he mumbled. “Bad dream.”

“Hm.” The tone of this response was almost enough to tip Patrick into a rage, but he was too shaken to commit to the emotion. Instead, embarrassment rolled over him. It was such a stupid, simple, not-at-all scary dream. But he was sucking in each breath as if he’d genuinely been in danger. When he closed his eyes, Patrick saw the wolf in his painting. A little invader in his waking world.

“Water?” Reno asked. Patrick didn’t respond, but he nodded once. He waited until he heard his steps retreating before lowering himself onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. His vision swam, a combination of fear and the drugs still wandering through his system. What had happened? It was like his abilities had completely turned off. A part of Patrick wanted to stubbornly throw himself back into sleep, but a much bigger part was worried that his powers wouldn’t work again. That he’d stare down those endless eyes again.

In the end, he couldn’t do it. Reno returned with water, said he was going to stay up, then wandered off. Patrick followed suit, though he didn’t Reno to some other part of the apartment. Instead, he moved to sit by the nearest window and, like the endless pre-dawn mornings of his childhood, waited for the sun to rise, to banish all his fear.

[partypetes]

TUA Creator’s Bingo: Hoodie

Summary:  Vanya learns that withdrawals suck. Thankfully, her brother knows a thing or two about it.

Pairing/Characters: Vanya Hargreeves and Klaus Hargreeves

Word Count:  2276

Square Filled: Hoodie

Warnings: implied/reference drug use, withdrawals,

A/N: third entry for @tuacreatorsbingo ! some good good klaus and vanya hurt/comfort content because we need more of that in our lives

AO3 Link

It was a bad, bad day. Withdrawals were awful.

Sitting in the kitchen, Vanya was digging her nails into her arms hard enough to leave marks while she willed her body to stop shaking. She wasn’t even cold- the logical part of her brain told her that her nervous system was probably just overreacting without something to keep it calm.

Worse than the shakes were the ‘brain zaps’. The zaps were unsettling and disorienting and she could never predict when the next one would come. It was almost like trying to wait out hiccups, and it made it impossible to focus on anything- and she’d tried. She only got through half of a Beethoven piece, the zaps causing sudden stops and unexpectedly wrong notes before she gave up in a fit of frustration. Her powers made sheet music fly violently around the room as she made a loud, agitated noise.

Now, not sure she wanted to be alone with her powers and anger, but not really sure what she wanted at all- she sat in the kitchen with a now-cold mug of tea in front of her. Her nails dragged down her arms, leaving red scores.

A lack of sleep and her list of symptoms for the day left her agitated and manic, and she was trying hard not to spiral considering how her powers got when she was too emotional. She didn’t want to take the Academy down a second time, didn’t want to hurt anyone- except. Well, she kind of did. Not in a murderous way, she just- understood Diego and Luther’s constant need to punch things to cope a lot better than she used to.

Vanya didn’t know how much more of this she could take, but she didn’t know how to relieve it. She felt like a pot starting to boil over and she didn’t know how to let any of the steam loose. Old coping mechanisms from older therapists floated in and out of her mind, but she found they were more aggravating than helpful. ‘Identify your feelings. Go to your happy place. Meditate. Breathe’.

Fuck off , her brain responded to the suggestions.

Too stuck in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice her sibling until it was too late.

“Hey, Van.” Klaus greeted, giving her a nod and a smile as he moved into the kitchen, a long skirt trailing after him. A flash of irritation washed over her- if it was Allison or Five that would be one thing, but while she didn’t have much to hold against Klaus, he was so.. Loud. She didn’t think she could handle it gracefully today.

He proved her point as he started opening and shutting cabinets, digging through the fridge, setting a plate down on the counter with a clank. He even mumbled to himself - or to someone else. She and the rest of the Hargreeves were still trying to figure out what was a chatty ghost and what was Klaus being Klaus. Vanya didn’t know how long she sat there, her nails digger harder and harder into her skin as she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth and tried to stay calm. Eventually, though, she had to crack .

“Klaus, would you just shut up ?” She demanded as she twisted in her chair to face him, the cup in front of her giving an ominous rattle and spilling most of her tea over the edge. He immediately froze in response, his expression falling. He quickly plastered on another, but she definitely saw the brief moment of hurt before he put on another easygoing mask.

“Shit.” Vanya said. Shame washed over her at the outburst. “I’m so sorry.” She blurted, running her fingers through her hair and clenching her fists at her scalp, “That was unfair, I’m sorry, I’m- the withdrawals today are just-"

“Oh.” Klaus said simply, the realization dawning on his face, “It’s okay, Vanya.”

“No, it’s not, that was shitty and we both know it-”

“Hey, you would not believe the things I’ve said to Ben on my pricklier days.” Klaus said. He was back to rummaging through a cupboard. This time, however, he made sure to close the cabinets gently and not to clink the dishes around as he moved. “And vice versa.” He snorted, holding up a rag, “It’s cute that you guys still think he’s an innocent little bookworm. He knows like three languages and tells me I’m making bad choices in all of them .”

He artfully stepped over to the table, his skirt swishing around his legs while he picked her cup up and set the rag down to start soaking up the tea mess. Then, “I’ll be right back.” He said with a considerate frown, and she nodded numbly before he disappeared down the hall.

The hopeless, angry part of her suggested he probably wasn’t coming back and just wanted to get away from her craziness. But it was Klaus, and if she was crazy.. To prove the point, he soon blazed back into the room with a black bundle in his arms.

“Put this on.” He suggested, setting it down on the table instead of handing it to her directly. “It’ll help.”

Irritation scratched beneath her skin, not wanting to be told what to do, but she reached forward to grab it regardless to try and keep the peace. Unrolling it, she realized it was a comfortably worn-down hoodie.

“Is.. is this Ben’s?” She asked, confused.

“No- well, maybe, actually.” Klaus frowned thoughtfully, “No, wait, you’re right, I definitely stole this from Ben.”

Surprise, surprise . Vanya huffed out a small laugh at his antics.

Then she carefully shrugged the hoodie on- it was a size or two too big, and made of heavy material that weighed on her shoulders. It smelled like a bizarre mix of something flowery and something that was almost definitely weed, but it was something she associated with Klaus. And that small fact was somehow comforting to her, just a little. So she sank back into her chair and into the fabric, the hood bunching up around her neck.

“It helps sometimes, to just have something heavy? It’s kind of grounding.” Klaus said, rocking back and forth on his heels and his toes with a strange expression, his movement betraying his nerves.

“I think you’re right.” Vanya said softly, starting to connect the dots. Even if she wasn’t feeling many more emotions than ‘fuck this’ or ‘fuck you’, she could recognize that Klaus was the resident authority on dealing with withdrawal. He was clean- hell, cleaner than she was, but she distantly remembered the days after the not-apocalypse where he hid himself away, snapped at them, or cried in strange places.

“Do you think a hug would help?” Klaus interrupted her thoughts like he was shoving the words out of his mouth as quickly as he could.

Vanya took a deep breath and slowly let it out through her nose, genuinely considering it. “I think.. That if someone touched me right now.. I’d throw them into the wall.” She said carefully, watching Klaus’ expression.

To her bizarre satisfaction, he nodded like that was a perfectly reasonable answer. “Sounds about right.” He replied absently, his eyes wandering the room before focusing in on her again. Ghosts, or Klaus’ attention span? Who knew.

“You’ve just gotta wait it out, Van.” He sighed, smiling regretfully, “And try not to burn too many bridges along the way.”

She tapped her fingers on the table, focusing on the sound and the vibration- before stopping herself. No going down the ‘catastrophic powers’ rabbit hole, not while she felt like.. this .

“I’m just…” Her hands clenched into fists, wondering just how much he’d get it , “Klaus, I’m- I’m so angry . And even after everything that happened.. I’m not used to it. I don’t know what to do with it.”

Was it a warning? Maybe. Or maybe she just wanted to be heard while someone was there to listen. She expected her brother to shrink away or find some convenient excuse to vanish, a spiteful voice in her head reminding her of how she and her unstable powers could just be too much for her siblings some days. But Klaus only sighed and leaned his hip against the table, staring down at her.

“That’s okay.” He said, “Is your brain like.. screaming at you and lashing out at everything? That’s not you, that’s just..” He made a face. “Chemistry and brain stuff. You can’t help it right now.”

She didn’t think anything could soothe the beast clawing in her chest, but Klaus’ words helped. Maybe only a little, but she’d take what she could get.

“Klaus,” She asked suddenly, as soon as the question popped up in her mind. She twitched, her brain.. well, zapping. “Can I- can I ask you something?”

His face lit up. “Anytime!” Klaus agreed.

She clenched her fists on the tabletop. “Are you ever-“ Her nails bit into her palms as she tried to consider how to phrase it, how to get the point across. “Did you ever feel..” Scared. “Concerned? I- I know you were on drugs for.. for a really long time.” She worried her lip, not sure just how candid they could be about the subject, “So when you were stopping.. was it hard, not knowing what.. what you were supposed to be like after?”

He looked confused but kindly concerned, brow furrowed as he tried to follow along. “You mean like..” He hummed, “You- I was on drugs so long, so was it scary not knowing who I was going to be without the high?”

She breathed out a deep sigh, nodding. “Yeah. Exactly that, yeah.”

“Well..” Klaus sucked in a breath through his teeth, cocking his head to the side, “My timelines were always a little rushed. But.. yeah? C’mon, it was practically baked - get it, baked - into my personality. ‘ Klaus the drug addict ’-“ He snorted unexpectedly, “It was almost like my brand. If I wasn’t him, who was I supposed to be?”

She only nodded. He seemed lost in thought, blinked, then he let out a soft ‘oh’ when he realized the conversational ball was still in his court.

“Soo.. yeah. Yeah, Van, it was fucking scary. Once or twice I think that’s why I fell off the wagon, honestly- back on the streets, I mean.” He rambled, “It was too big and scary, looking into a future where I had to be Klaus The Adult and act ‘normal’ and ‘fix’ myself.” Klaus made a face at the very thought. “It’s hard, getting kicked out of rehab and then knowing it’s all up to you to fix your shit. Even with Ben around.”

Her heart sank. “Oh.” She said. That certainly didn’t bode well for her. But it wasn’t like she could fall off the wagon, could she? After the apocalypse they had her taking her full dose and slowly weaned her off of it, and now she was finally out of pills and it was leaving her system. But she couldn’t deny that life was easier on the pills, as much as she hated feeling ordinary. Could it be enough, just knowing she had these powers under the surface? That she counted as a member of the Academy in her own strange way?

It must’ve been written all over her face. “But!” A panicked Klaus near-shouted, causing her to flinch away and glare with the strength of a thousand suns. He grinned sheepishly, adjusting his volume.  “Sorry. Sorry. I was just gonna say- I think it never stuck because I didn’t have anyone back then. I mean, Ben, but I’d been tuning out that shithead for years. And he tried, but he couldn’t do much to support me.

“Now, though-“ Klaus gestured with his hands, a knowing smile on his face, “I had… I’ve got people . And with hi- them, by my side and willing to help, that makes the future a lot less scary.” He made a soft noise. “Rehab was always hounding me about having a support system to stay sober- guess they knew something after all.”

“Oh.” She repeated.

“Is that…” He worried his lip with his teeth, “Is that helpful? I’m not usually the pep talk guy.”

“I…” She took a deep breath and let it out, slowly unclenching her fists so that she could hide her hands in the oversized hoodie. “I think.. I think it did, actually.” She could still feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface of her skin. She still felt like she was a hair trigger away from something , and she didn’t want to find out what it was.

But the reminder that she wasn’t alone helped. Even if she didn’t trust certain siblings as much as others.. She wasn’t alone in all this. Especially with Klaus here.

Vanya looked at her brother in a strange new light. He hadn’t run away or made her feel like shit, not even when she flung her tea all over the table with her mind. So.. so no, Vanya wasn’t alone. Vanya had support.

Maybe she’d make it through.

“Thanks, Klaus.” She said softly.

“Like I said,” He replied, grabbing the rag and soaking up the rest of the mess before tossing it in the direction of the sink. It hit a cabinet and slid to the floor, but the thought was there. “Anytime, Van.” A pause. "Are you sure you don't want that hug?"

She scoffed out a small laugh. "Klaus, I love you, but go away." Vanya said mildly, the edge of her mouth quirking up in a small smile.

"Yeah," Klaus agreed, "Fair enough."

[gamechangeroo]

Part 2/3

Click for Part 1/3

Or read ahead for Part 2, which is Chapter 1, because Part 1 was the Prologue. I acknowledge the pointless confusion.

Chapter 1: Should You Buy a New Moral Compass When the Magnetic Poles Switch?

It had been two weeks since Gintoki had been ‘knighted,’ and in that time span he had gained five kilograms, Shinpachi had gained two, and Kagura had only gained one, because, despite the fact that she was eating as much of the food as all the other moochers combined, she was a monster alien girl that would never have to worry about love handles. Ignoring the limits of physics, her body morphed food into energy with a ferocity similar to what one would find in the center of stars.

That is to say, excluding that one weight loss episode, Kagura consistently had a very high metabolism.

It is perhaps a strange way to start a Gintama story where food can no longer be a concern or motivating plot point, because the Yorozuya team now had any and all of it that they could ever need. One might venture to say it is stranger still that the dawn of a Gintama story breaks over a horizon where rent was also not a concern. Yet, by this time in the plot Gintoki had already convinced Otose to take their rent as an anytime, all-you-can-eat ticket to the Foryunthustoriphyxnarfyndalvnuduraqiualinoytfusian Embassy. With these two very large issues removed from the playing field, was there any motivation for Gintoki, Kagura, or Shinpachi to do anything? Would there be any growth or motion besides the outward growth of our heroes’ stomachs?!

Gintoki supplied his answer in a large, drawn-out belch, and lazily rubbed his newly accumulated belly fat. From his spot draped over one of the embassy settees he motioned vaguely to the other side of the room.

“Oi, Patsuan. Go buy me this week’s Jump!,” Gintoki managed to mumble through his food coma. As he moved his lips, a piece of beef that had been stuck to them slipped into his mouth. He chewed on it contentedly.

Kagura burped in response. “Shinpachi left hours ago, and I don’t think it was to buy Jump!.”

Cracking open his eyes for the first time since this chapter began, Gintoki peered around the banquet hall languidly. Shinpachi was indeed gone, and Kagura was still munching away at her place at the table as the Foryunthustoriphyxnarfyndalvnuduraqiualinoytfusian kitchen staff shimmered, glistened, and replaced plates here and there.

“He said if he stayed around here any longer,” Kagura continued, “he’d turn into a good-for-nothing deadbeat.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with Hasegawa,” Gintoki defended his friend absentmindedly.

“Nobody was talking about me, Gin-san!” Hasegawa spoke up, mildly indignant. He sat across the table from Kagura, doing his best to keep on mooching on this food train, and, incidentally, had gained about 10 kilograms himself.

Ignoring the interjection, Gintoki suggested, “Why don’t you follow Shinpachi’s lead, Kagura-chan? Go out and see how the world has grown over the last two weeks. I’ve heard they changed the color palette, and the sky is turning from blue to brown.”

“Who cares about factory smog when I have factory-processed sausage right here?” Kagura asked, leisurely waving a link at Gintoki. “Go find your Jump! lackey somewhere else.”

Running his fingers through his perm in aggravation, Gintoki grumbled and debated the merits of standing up and walking to the convenience store, versus lying around and doing more nothing. Nothing really was very appealing.

However, after two weeks of nothing, its time had finally run out. It was at this moment that a Presence slid firmly into Gintoki’s brain. He blinked twice and shook his head wildly in an attempt to dislodge whatever it was from his mind and thoughts. He then whacked one ear, hoping it would pop out the other. Undeterred, the Presence poked around his mind with a sharp, callous intensity that was, frankly, incredibly annoying. It was bit like when customers come into clothing stores, throw the neatly hung up clothes carelessly off the racks, and expect the shopkeep to clean up after them without thought or concern.

To make matters worse, the Presence paused and encircled his thoughts about how walking to the convenience store to buy this week’s Jump! was too much effort. It hung there in silence, totally judging him.

“You don’t know my life!” He roared.  “Get out, you asshole!”

At this, a huge darkness fell over the hall. Actually, it wasn’t the whole hall, there was just someone looming over Gintoki. Yup, it sort of looked like Kagura when she was about to go in for the kill. He paled considerably as he realized what was about to happen.

“Uh, wait, K-k-kagura-ch-chan,” he flailed. “That wasn’t… I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to the thing in my head. Something’s in my head and judging me, so I told it to get out. I would never tell you to get out!”

Kagura halted her fist a mere hairsbreadth from Gintoki’s nose. She tilted her head to the side menacingly. Gintoki took that as an excuse to keep going.

“You… you see. All of a sudden, it just popped in there, and was looking down on me for not buying my own Jump!, which isn’t right at all! A man should have peace of mind in his own mind!”

“Not quite,” Hasegawa said through a mouthful of rice, with a small, jaded laugh. “When boys become men, even their minds have no peace.”

Kagura drew back her fist and stared quizzically at Gintoki. “Gin-chan is growing up?”

“He just grew a conscience, Kagura-san,” Hasegawa amended. “It means he can’t do anything fun anymore without feeling terrible about it.”

At this, Kagura’s face scrunched in concern, and she shook Gintoki wildly by the shoulders. “Is it true, Gin-chan?! Are you not going to come home drunk in the middle of the night anymore smelling of the scummiest parts of town?! Who will play midnight games of Five Finger Fillet with me now?”

In light of this new information, Gintoki blanched. What in the hell had Kagura been doing to him after he had blacked out on those nights?! Maybe a conscience could come in handy in having a heart to heart with Kagura about not playing evil night games with inebriated victims, but this new intruder stomping around in his head wasn’t a conscience.

“Stop putting stupid ideas in her head, Hasegawa,” Gintoki retorted. “The plot of my series is all about how I have a great conscience that orphaned children and crying women exploit to get me to save the day occasionally. It’s heartwarming, and people love it! I can’t grow what I’ve already got!”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Gin-san,” Hasegawa opined. “There are two types of consciences. The first type is the one you’ve always had: a hero’s conscience. That’s what gets Mario to save Princess Peach from Bowser all the time.

“The second type is a geezer’s conscience. That’s what makes Mario collect enough coins to pay for multiple life insurance policies, so his family knows they will be taken care of after he’s run into one too many Goombas. It’s an adult sense of responsibility, as the demands of society slowly crush his idealism and spirit.”

“Mario is such a caring hero!” Kagura enthused, spraying tofu in Hasegawa’s direction, as she settled herself back into her chair at the banquet table.

“Well, that depends on the player,” Hasegawa said with a knowing smile, and Kagura’s mouth shaped an ‘o’ of acknowledgment. A conversation about geezer consciences is where a Madao shines, after all.

“As for our Gin-san,” he continued, “his Player 1 has skipped all the coins on each level for so long that he doesn’t know what to do now that Player 1 is aiming for the life insurance policies.”

“Stop making profound statements using Mario!” Gintoki snapped. “And I am still skipping all my coins! I just head straight to Bowser, oi!”

Hasegawa just hmmed knowingly. The bastard. Look at him acting all high and mighty, while eating someone else’s food. What a terrible houseguest, who was stupid and wrong. Gintoki was the last person who would develop a geezer conscience. If there was another invasion of Earth where geezer consciences were aiming to occupy the heads of every human around, Gintoki would be once again on the front lines, but, instead of fighting Amanto, he would be fighting against the importance of mortgages and steady jobs.

“If you’re so sure, why don’t you ask your geezer conscience what it thinks of life insurance policies?” Hasegawa asked in challenge.

Gintoki narrowed his eyes, and dug into the side of the settee cushion to find a fork he had left there. He pointed it menacingly at Hasegawa. “It’s not a geezer conscience.”

“I bet it is,” Kagura chimed in again. “Or, if it isn’t, maybe it’s a brain parasite.”

Gintoki froze, a cold sweat sticking to his neck. He had not thought of that possibility. Could something have crawled into his head, and was now sucking away?! He did yank out a particularly big, green booger yesterday. Was that parasite poop?!

Though, come to think of it, he had not felt the Presence snooping around for a while. Maybe! Maybe it was gone! Maybe it leaked out somewhere! He focused his mind inward, poking around his own thoughts, and anxiously checking for any mental hitchhikers, while he dug around in his nose for any physical ones.

Just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he found it. That thing. The parasite. It was there right in the back of his mind, at the bottom of his thoughts. It was just curled up in a deep mental corner, not really interacting with his head, but also definitely not out of it.

That’s it. Poor Gin-san was going to end up a drooling, brain-dead vegetable.

“Um. Hello. Excuse me,” he thought at it.

At his word-thoughts, the thing that was probably just about ready to suck his mind out through a straw stirred and came to life in his head. Gintoki could just tell somehow. It was more ‘there’ than it had been, even though it was not swirling all around his thoughts like it first had done. It was… to put it to words… paying attention.

“I was just, um, passing by in my head,” he thought as casually as he possibly could. “And I noticed you there doing your thing, and I was-I was wondering if you thought I should get a life insurance policy?”

His brain-parasite-death-machine appeared to consider the question, and he could tell the moment it seemed to scoff. It then pushed at Gintoki’s mind with a small pressure, which popped into his brain as a mental image. There stood Kagura and Shinpachi inheriting gambling debts and bar tabs from a dead Gintoki.

At this, Gintoki mentally laughed in borderline hysteria. “You’re right!” He thought shrilly. “The best I could do for those two brats is leave them as little as possible to clean up! How perceptive of you!!”

Catching his unstable tone, the cerebral terror seemed ready to push another image-thought at him, but Gintoki had had enough. He ran quickly from the depths of his own mind, resurfacing at the embassy with a heavy gasp.

Kagura and Hasegawa stared at him from the table.

“Gin-chan,” Kagura’s voice was uncertain, “are you-”

“I think I’m going to go out and get my Jump! after all!” Gintoki interrupted. “I just remembered the cliffhanger that happened last week. I need to know if Karbo was able to escape from Tommy’s Trial!”

He sped out of the room and zoomed out of the embassy before anyone could question him further. It was time to go to the hospital. They removed brain parasites right?

Gintoki asked this question at the front desk of the nearest emergency room. The nurses backed away and whispered to each other, as they stared at the bedraggled, permy man with a parasite in his brain. Patients in the waiting room made a dash for the exit, which was certainly the right move, as far as Gintoki was concerned. Who would want to stay in a room with a brain-sucking bug?! What if it multiplied and infected everyone?! What if the devil-bug made poor, innocent Gin-san go on a murdering spree?!

Gintoki asked these questions to the tired looking, old doctor who scanned his brain with this and that machine, and occasionally rubbed her chin hairs. After an hour of poking and prodding, the woman proclaimed him parasite-free, and threw him a bottle of pills to ‘make the voices go away.’

The fretful samurai wandered down the streets of Kabukicho in a near-delirious haze of nerves and fear. If the doctors could not find anything in his brain then what was this Thing?! Was it a parasite so crafty that even old doctors with notable amounts of chin hair could not spot it, or was it something else entirely? Should he actually be taking these pills? Was it too late to get a life insurance policy?

Gintoki asked these questions to the barkeep, as he downed his third and fourth beers. He just knew the solution to all of this was waiting at the bottom of one of these glasses, or he could just get drunk enough so that none of it really mattered, waking up the next morning missing a couple digits from an inebriated attempt at Five Finger Fillet a la Kagura.

By his eighth beer, he had enough liquid courage to sink back into his own head and once again confront the beast within.

“Oi,” he thought-yelled. “Bastard!”

The parasite-horror, which had been keeping to itself without any direct interaction from Gintoki, rose up. It pushed back defensively against his anger, as if to say ‘What’s your problem, asshole?’

“You can’t just set up camp in someone’s head when you feel like it! Get the hell out!”

The eldritch monster seemed confused at the accusation. It wobbled about, and poked at the surface of Gintoki’s thoughts. Finally, it pushed an image of its own toward him. The scene popped into his head as him leaving the bar and going home to bed.

“There are enough bouncers in real life, without you acting as one in my head you… you! Whatever you are. What gives you the right to tell me to go to bed when you’re probably just going to suck out my brain when I sleep, huuuh?”

Gintoki’s parasite seemed even more flummoxed by these words. It swirled to and fro, attaching to thought after thought running through Gintoki’s mind until it finally settled around Gintoki’s suspicions about itself. As it realized that the mind it was squatting in thought it to be a parasite, the parasite had the nerve to get extremely exasperated. It roughly pushed an image toward Gintoki, which he mentally squinted at crankily.

There was a yellow book with a weird pair of brown, long somethings on the cover playing with a beach ball.  There were too many limbs for just two creatures, and was that a lightsaber?

A moment of heavy silence descended in Gintoki’s mind.

Seconds passed, until another image was furiously flung into his noggin. This time, it showed himself reading that yellow book, a look of dawning comprehension spreading across his features, as his scanned the words.

“So you’re telling me if I read this book about Jar Jar Bink’s summer vacation, you shitting on my brain will make sense?” Gintoki asked, starting to wonder if he had actually had a little too much to drink.

In response, his head-creature slapped another snapshot of the book at his mind’s eye with an aura of supreme pissed-offedness.

“Fine!” he shouted, fiercely ignoring the bartender pleading with him to stop making a scene all by himself. “I get it. Everything will be fine if I flip through this book! I’ll go do that immediately, Grand Supreme Parasite-sama! Post haste!”

…

“So you see,” Gintoki explained to the cashier at the 24 hour convenience store, as the night neared the 24th hour, “I need a yellow book with things playing with a beach ball on the front cover.”

The parasite was writhing in anger and exasperation. It punched an image of a convenience store with a red X through it toward Gintoki.

“Now, now, parasite-kun,” Gintoki mentally chided. “Have a little faith in the host you are munching on. A convenience store doesn’t always have the book you come in looking for, but it will, without fail, be carrying the one you need.”

As he thought this, the convenience store worker slid a yellow, cellophane-wrapped magazine toward him across the counter. On the cover was a beach ball being tossed back and forth between two fit bikini girls.

The parasite was reduced to a black mass of vibrating fury.

“I’m giving you a chance here and following your advice, so you should give me one too,” Gintoki addressed his mental guest with relative cheer, as he paid for the magazine. “Let’s see if I can achieve enlightenment through these pages, just like you wanted.”

Gintoki was humming to himself, happily swinging the bag that held his magazine to and fro, as he stepped toward the exit. This whole parasite thing did not seem like such a terrible ordeal with some alcohol in his gut and a dirty mag in his hand. The weird creature seemed like a bit of a prude anyway, considering the way it reacted to Gintoki’s new beach friends. Maybe he could scare it off with a little good old fashioned debauchery. Let it be known to the brain hijackers of the world that Gin-san’s noggin was not a hospitable place! He never cleaned it, and there were mysterious stains and smells everywhere!

As if at that very moment smelling something it should not have, the enraged presence in the back of his mind rumbled ominously. Gintoki simply sneered, thinking to himself the phrase ‘Just desserts.’

Lost in thought, he bumped into two masked men at the entrance to the store. One of them growled and pointed a sword at his face. The other one growled and pointed a sword in the face of the poor cashier, who immediately crumpled to the ground in the fetal position.

“Get up and give us all your money!” Robber #1 demanded of the trembling employee.

Gintoki sighed and shook his head. “You know, I’m really not in the mood for this.”

“We could not care less,” Robber #2 grunted. “Your wallet. Now.”

“Well, I just spent the last of my money on this great magazine. It gets the best reviews from alien brainsuckers. I was looking forward to reading it, but you can have it if it means that much to you.”

Gintoki threw the bag with his magazine in the face of the robber holding him at swordpoint. In this moment of confusion, he swept a leg underneath the man to send him careening forward, and slammed an elbow into the side of his head as he fell to knock him out cold.

Moving quickly, he drew his wooden sword, preparing to smash the sword out of the other robber’s hand, leaving him with no way to attack the cashier in retaliation. However, his hand’s connection with his weapon caused the parasite’s connection with his mind to flare brightly in response. The angered creature flew to the front of his mind, energized and alive, just as Gintoki swung Lake Touya down. All of a sudden, Gintoki lost track of where he ended, and the Other in his mind began – or, rather, there was no Other.

With a savage intensity that was his own, yet More, he cleaved through the robber’s sword, as his wooden blade erupted in a blast of white light that filled the store. The automatic door at the front of the building opened with a ding, providing an exit for nothing particularly corporeal.

Slowly, gradually, the large mass of light faded, and thick, sizzling tendrils of smoke took its place. Apparently, Gintoki had not only chopped the robber’s sword in half, but he had also burned a deep line through the wall of the store in the direction his wooden sword had been pointing for the cut. He could see cleaved electrical wires and singed ventilation. Following the line of his cut further down, there was a severe, charred groove in the linoleum floor, looking to be about half of a yard deep. The cut traveled along the ground, ending near Gintoki’s feet, where his wooden, infomercial-cheap sword pointed after its swing.

Um. What?

As he continued to gape at the wall, the conscious robber and shivering cashier screamed and scrambled out the door. As he continued to continue to gape at the wall, the sprinkler and alarm system both went off.

Rain dripping down his curls and squelching beneath his boots, he slowly walked toward the remaining robber passed out face-down near the front of the store. He stared at the man in the black ski mask for a few moments, before kicking him on his side and gingerly placing his smoking sword down in the slack grip of the man’s right hand. Rising, he looked ever-so-casually around, scanning the aisles of the store, and, seeing no one, began to walk toward the exit.

He was almost at the automatic doors before he turned around and quickly made his way back to the man. Gintoki crouched down and grabbed the bag with his magazine inside that he had thrown only moments before, and, with it in hand, he upped his pace, exiting the store with as much innocence as a soaked man fleeing a smoking convenience store at midnight could muster. Out on the street, he sprinted down the first alleyway he could find, disappearing into the night.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Blow By Blow ch.3 (baon)

Summary: Set the day after ‘With Brotherly LV’. Jeff is having his first day working at the Embassy, Stretch is having a bad anxiety day, Red is having a bad text day, and Edge is just having a day.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Prejudice Against Monsters, Angst, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, LV Issues, Brother issues

Notes: My timeline is getting a little wonky due to a few drabble sets and shorts. So this chapter directly follows With Brotherly LV

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter One | Chapter Two

~~*~~

Read Chapter 3 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Two hours and another coffee later, Edge had worked his way through most of the folders and had a brief web conference with the Economics and Global Affairs. He was starting to think absently of lunch when he heard the commotion from the outer room.

It was only raised voices so far, Janice’s sharp and very likely protective. Edge couldn’t make out what she was saying, but the other voice came through the door clearly with, “…my fucking brother!”

Perfect, may as well add to the chaos of the day. It was his brother who’d taught him trying to avoid unpleasantries only led them back to haunt you. Edge pressed the intercom button. “Let him in.”

Of course Red would have to make a grand entrance. He could have teleported in and no one would have been the wiser. That meant he wanted Janice to see him, as well as anyone he passed in the hallways. Trying to fathom Red’s reasoning for the things he did was a fool’s game, but all too often it turned out that he was right.

It didn’t mean Edge couldn’t be aggravated about it.

The door opened allowing Red to shuffle in and Edge frowned. His brother looked tired. His clothes were more rumpled than normal, his jacket pulled close around the same t-shirt he’d been wearing the night before. Dark reddish circles were embedded beneath his sockets, but his endless grin was as wide as ever. That grin had stopped fooling Edge long before he’d been out of striped shirts.

“When did you get in this morning?” Edge kept the question light. It made it more likely for Red to answer than if it were a demand.

True to form, Red only shrugged. “never left last night.”

He bypassed the guest chairs, coming around the side of the desk and when he took Edge’s chin in two sharp fingers, forcibly turning his head, Edge didn’t protest. Using his injury as an excuse to manhandle him was getting to be a habit of the people around him, anyway; his own brother at least should be allowed.

Unlike any of the others, Red only studied the bruises impassively. “got you good, didn’t i. coulda given you a matching crack.”

No apologies and Edge did not expect one. Instead, he pulled away from his brother’s grip with a scoff, saying dismissively, “Not a single one of your attacks came close to the force necessary to break bone.”

“no?” Red wandered back around to flop into one of the chairs with enough force to send skittering back an inch. “might hafta try harder next time.”

It was incredibly difficult to keep from smiling at that. He shouldn’t be as darkly amused as he was; every other person he’d met today was upset by the bruise, including his husband who was likely still fuming at home. But his brother whom Edge knew loved him, who had sacrificed a great deal for him over the years in so many ways, his Underfell brother, only suggested that perhaps he should try to up the damage.

He really did love Red.

But thinking of his husband— “Where is Stretch?”

“hm?” Red’s bland confusion at the question was one of the worst lies he’d ever told. “you askin’ me about your liability? dunno, probably at your place.” His grin widened even as one sharp fingertip scraped over the wooden arm of his chair. Edge stifled a wince as he silently mourned the loss, watching curls of wood shavings fall to the floor. But demanding Red stop might tempt him into dangling answers rather than being direct, if only to be aggravating. “see, that’s a good question because it’s been a helluva morning. first, the honey bun shows up on my porch and when he sees i ain’t there, i start getting these interestin’ texts. dusting off some old threats, if you get my meaning.”

He did, all too well. Edge could have done without knowing Stretch already tried to see Red before Edge secured a promise from him and that sheer chance prevented it. Ah, the barriers against peril this morning were conspicuously thin, weren’t they.

“Let me see them.”

He didn’t hold out much hope on that and it was no surprise that Red only grinned wickedly. “nah. s’between me and him.” Red shifted to lay sideways in the chair, his feet dangling over the newly shredded arm. “your liability has a hell of a mouth on him,” Red said, contemplatively. “or fingers, i guess. does pretty good with those languages, think i learned a coupla new things. his science needs a brush up, though. some of the shit he suggested ain’t physically possible, there’s no way in hell my skull is gonna fit where he wants to shove it.”

And there was a field of landmines to tread carefully over. “He was only worried about me.”

Red slanted a glance his way, his eye lights brightening. "you think i’m mad at him?" He laughed, raucous and loud, pounding his fist on the cushioned seat as if Edge had told a joke filled with offensive references to bodily functions. “for trying to protect you? nah. he’s like a tall version of one of them little weenie dogs who thinks they're a rottweiler. thinks he can do some damage. ‘course they can still give you a hell of an ankle bite. bet your pretty little liability would give it a good ol’ try.”

There was something boastful in that, a sort of pride, Edge realized. Red was terribly smug that Stretch would try to threaten him over his own brother.

Of course he was. He was probably patting himself on the back for ‘helping’ Edge secure such a perfect spouse, the little shit.

Some of Red’s humor faded. “you, now. you might’ve stayed home.” It was mildly said but Edge knew a rebuke when he heard one. “and not just 'cause you look like a walking ad for a new fight club. he’s awful wound up about lizard lady’s tests.”

“I know,” Edge sighed. “I’m not sure why. I’m worried myself, but he’s had lower HP.” And if those thoughts were keeping Edge awake at night, a memory of the last time Stretch had been down to a base of four HP, well, he wasn’t about to bring it up.

Red sucked on his teeth loudly. “wanna know what i think?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“i think that it ain't about the tests. it’s that he thinks all this shit’s his fault.”

Edge stilled. He blinked once, slowly, breathing in against the sudden raw magic thickening in his throat.

“he’s thinkin’ about how stupid he was to use their little machine alone,” Red went on, and each word stung, “and now he’s let you down, let his bro down, let the whole world down. he’s been stewing about it for a while, i’m bettin’. he gets out of the hospital again, starts doing better, then finds out his hp’s dropped. every time he just gets that little voice in his head to shut up, here it pops up again, like some kinda nasty yo-yo remindin’ him how he fucked up.”

“and then we’ve got you here,” Red waved a careless hand at Edge’s face, “lookin’ like i belted you, and his brain latched on to that shit. this's his chance, right? all ready to protect you from your mean ol' big brother, that'll make it up to you, for sure."

"That's ridiculous, he has nothing to make up for."

Red shrugged. "didn’t say it made sense. honey bun has issues, you knew that before you ever saw what he keeps in his pants."

"I'll thank you to not talk about his pants in any capacity." But Red was wrong about one thing; it made an upsetting amount of sense. Stretch had been trying to avoid telling him about his HP from the beginning because of Edge’s reaction at the hospital. Frightening as it was, he’d kept this to himself, even dragging Red and Sans along to keep quiet about it, though that probably hadn’t taken much persuasion. All because he was afraid of making Edge angry. If this was anyone’s fault, it was Edge’s; in trying to protect Stretch from his temper, he’d hurt him deeper than he’d realized and the memory of Stretch begging him not to leave was still painfully sharp.

Enough. Assigning blame wasn’t going to help anything, but now he needed to think about what would. Point blank was not going to be effective for Stretch, that much he knew.

Red was still lying in the chair, his hands folded over his chest as he contemplated the ceiling with unnecessary interest, and the urge to needle that blatantly rude calm was nigh on irresistible. “If only you were as apt at dissecting your own issues as you are others.”

His brother only snorted loudly. “oh, i got myself all dissected, don’t you worry about me, little brother. diagnosis: complete fuck up.”

Edge shook his head, reluctantly amused. “I stand corrected. Have you seen Jeff yet today?”

The chair squeaked as Red turned his skull towards Edge, his sockets narrowed, but he accepted Edge’s reorientation, “not yet.”

“It’s his first day. He was very nervous when we drove in this morning. He’s been through a lot lately. I don’t want him worrying that if he’s a little overwhelmed, his job will be in jeopardy.”

“like you’re gonna fire him?” Red laughed with more honest amusement, “after all the work you put in gettin’ him here?”

Edge allowed a reluctant smile. “Exactly.”

“your side liability is doin’ fine—”

“Don’t call him that!”

“—they’ve had him reviewing press releases all morning, makin’ sure they sound right to a human audience. shit gets lost in the translation, sometimes. he’s not bad, got a decent eye for detail.”

“Good.” Jeff would likely discuss his first day with Stretch later, hopefully with excitement, but it was good to confirm he wasn’t struggling.

“welp, can’t say i enjoyed the chat,” Red sagged out of the chair to his feet, already fumbling into his jacket for a cigar. “fuck me, you all are exhausting.” He paused, the slender cigar clenched unlit in his teeth as he dug around for matches. “paps? you need another workout, you call me.” It was not a question and Red waited until Edge nodded. “i’ll try and avoid that pretty face next time. oh, and maybe check your phone.”

“Brother, don’t you dare…!” Edge started, irritated, as Red lit a match with a flick of his thumb, holding it to the cigar. The first foul curl of odor filled the room even as he shortcutted out, lingering behind him.

“Asshole,” Edge sighed to no one at all. That pointed little reminder would be hanging out for hours. He started to reach for another folder and paused. His phone was sitting where he’d dropped it, dark and inconspicuous, and he picked it up, unlocking the screen. The last text wasn’t from Red as he’d assumed.

i’m sorry

Edge exhaled slowly. That had been over two hours ago, and he could easily picture Stretch curled up miserably on the sofa, waiting for a reply.

His fingers hesitated over the screen, ready to type out an answer. Instead, he opened the phone app to repeat his last call. The line picked up, but there were no words, only a damp, shuddery breath. He’d been crying and Edge closed his sockets, pained.

“You don’t have to say anything, love,” Edge told him quietly. “I’m sorry, too. I know you’re worried about, well, a great deal right now. Listen to me, no matter what Alphys has to say, we’ll handle it together. I love you. We can talk about everything else later, anything you want, and I won’t try to lie about any of it. That’s a promise.”

There was no reply, and Edge considered disconnecting, giving Stretch some time to gather himself. But before he could came a single word, “wait.” Small and soft, almost too low to hear. He did, patiently, listening to hitching breaths and sniffles that ached in his soul, until finally there was a faint, “i love you, too.”

It was enough for now. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“okay.” Still too quiet, too subdued, but this time Edge disconnected the call. He held his phone a moment longer until he could force his fingers to uncurl before he broke the glass. The temptation to go directly home was difficult to resist, but he did it anyway. He needed a little time to think, to settle his thoughts and his soul. Stretch might well still be miserable and worried, but going in without a strategy was only going to make things worse.

And strategy was his strength.

His door suddenly opening caught him off-guard, halfway to forming an attack before he saw it was only Antwan, likely taking advantage of Janice getting coffee to sneak in. “Hey, can we talk a min…what the fuck happened to you!?”

Edge groaned.

~~*~~

tbc

[kariachi]

Levinstar wedding planning fic! Which I have spent the last like, six hours on.

Love it or perish.

~~

He’d never expected Mike to propose. Why should he have? Someone like Gwen, yes, eventually they were going to legally latch themselves onto somebody, but Mike? He’d never seemed the type. He had been, as far as Kevin could tell, perfectly happy to be in a position where getting tired of the way things were wouldn’t mean dragging in lawyers or anything to change course. And Kevin had been fine with that. If he hadn’t then he wouldn’t have bothered keeping up the relationship. It was cool.

But he had.

Which had been so fucking confusing.

Literally Mike’d sat there for ten minutes getting more and more aggravated at not getting an answer while Kevin had been shifting his worldview enough to acknowledge the question.

Really, they were probably the only couple in Bellwood who could get into a yelling match over a welcomed marriage proposal.

It should’ve been considered a sign.

~~

“Mike, babe, what the fuck?”

There was not a square inch of flat surface free in the Morningstar livingroom that wasn’t floor. Everywhere was calendars and books and papers and a stack of pizza boxes Kevin was very tempted to set on fire just to make a point. Domino’s, really, as if he couldn’t make him better asleep and half-dead.

“I’m trying to figure out a date for the wedding.” Mike didn’t even bother to look up, instead glowering at a list of dates like it had personally offended him. Kevin just shook his head, leaning over the back of the couch and draping his arms over his shoulders.

“Without me?”

“I was going to give you final pick when I find the best days.”

“Of course you were.” Rolling his eyes, Kevin plopped his chin onto Mike’s hair and began scanning the list. It looked to be covering the next few years, for all that there weren’t that many dates on it. “Just how long were you intending us to stay engaged, by the way?” Mike shrugged.

“I’d prefer to the married within the year, but the Miramonte is more heavily booked than I’d like for the next few. We could probably get Ocean Bleu though, which isn’t quite what I’d like but your mother’s family could get there easier. Or there’s the Cedar Lakes Estate, but that’s so… rustic.” That last word was said in about the same tone Gwen had used when she found out they were dating in the first place. This did not stop Kevin from glancing at the relevant booklets Mike gestured to and crinkling his nose.

“You realize we could just have the whole thing at Kay’s place, or at the farmhouse.” Mike turned to him with a look like he’d suggested getting married in a sewer, which he might out of spite.

“I am not getting married on a farm.”

“Why not? They’re perfectly good farms, pretty, got plenty of space, and we don’t need to worry about when venues will be available.”

“I am worth 237 million dollars,” Mike said haughtily, “you’re worth the cost of a small planet, we are not getting married on a farm. What next, do you want a cow to officiate?” Kevin punched him in the shoulder. “We’re getting married in all the finery you deserve.”

For a brief, shining moment Kevin wasn’t aggravated. What he deserved, specifically. He loved these instances where Mike’s attitude, all pride and vanity and narcissism, slipped just enough to show how he held him in high regard as well. It was sweet. It was romantic. It did not mean he was giving in.

“Consider- I don’t want chandeliers and crystal and shit. It’s a waste of money for what’s gonna take up a weekend at best.” Mike leaned forward and turned to face him.

“Consider- suck it up, you’re getting it anyway.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Kevin glowered at Mike. Mike glowered right back. Neither backed down. Really, fancy venues, they didn’t even know enough people to fill one of these venues, and it’d probably be a bitch to get the catering crews to do the amount of food they’d need.

“Look, we’ll get married at one of the mansions-”

“No, then people will think we couldn’t rent a place.” Oh good fuck. Biting back a growl, Kevin took a deep breathe and turned his attention back to the list of dates. That couldn’t be nearly as aggravating as this. It couldn’t.

“Why isn’t the Winter Solstice on there,” he asked, “that’s a good day for weddings.” It was the day for weddings, among Osmosians. Still, Mike shook his head.

“We celebrate your birthday on the solstice, whether it is or not-” Another Osmosian thing “-and it’s bad luck to get married on your birthday.” Kevin blinked.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okaaay,” he took a deep breath, “and since when were you the superstitious sort?”

“Since now.”

There just, there were no words.

~~

In the end they settled on a Wednesday in August, which Mike swore backwards and forth was the best possible combination. More specifically one a few years in the coming.

Kevin had a grim suspicion that they’d need the time.

~~

“I’m sorry, let me rephrase, we will not, under any circumstances, be having a potluck wedding reception.” He was impossible, Kevin swore it.

“And why not?”

“It isn’t done.”

“It is by my family.”

“Your family can’t afford catering, or else it wouldn’t be.” Which wasn’t entirely wrong, but he would eat his own tongue before he admitted it.

“You don’t even like other people’s food,” he replied instead. “You can’t even taste it most of the time, half the pack has adjusted their recipes for you!” Mike just kept that easy ‘I’m right and you aren’t smart enough to know it’ look he got from time to time up on his face.

“So we’ll take that into account when we choose our caterer,” he said. “Maybe Indian food or something.

“Why though, when we can just as easily get family and friends to handle the whole thing, and not have to pay out the ass?” Heaving a sigh, Mike looked up at the kitchen ceiling like Kevin was the one being unreasonable.

“Because we can pay for someone else to do it and not have to worry ourselves and our guests. Plus, the food will look better.” It would’ve been very easy for Kevin to argue that nothing looked as good as Casey’s mutton ribs, except maybe the man across from him, but he didn’t. There were more important factors.

“And what about diet shit?” That got Mike to stop, gently setting his spoon back in his bowl. “Argit, Ken, and Pierce can’t have chocolate, Ben can’t be in the same room as peanuts, I can’t have anything that’s been in contact with strawberry and neither can a decent number of my relatives. If family’s doing the cooking I know I don’t have to worry about any of that, but all it takes is one person with only half a brain cell to fuck that up with outsiders.”

Mike went quiet, lips sinking into a frown and brow furrowing like maybe, just maybe, Kevin had a point. It was guaranteed the very thought would have him sulking until dessert. He closed his eyes and took, then released, a deep breath.

“I’d still rather get catering,” he said, quietly, “but if it would make you happy, then we’ll see about getting somebody we can pay enough to not pitch a fit if your family brings in food too.” Victory. A small victory, but still. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Kevin leaned over the table to plant a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, babe. Sounds like a plan.”

~~

They had three more arguments about venues before finally settling on one. Mike wanted elegant and upscale, someplace people would talk about. Kevin wanted homey and down-to-earth (and preferably cheap). In the end they’d settled on a middle ground, moving the wedding out of the county and to the Morningstar’s household in Italy.

Apparently, upon bringing his new wife and son over to the states, Greggory Morningstar had noted how she missed their homeland and had the house built for her so she could pick up and visit whenever she wished. He also apparently bought her a plane, and Kevin thought the whole thing as ridiculous as it was romantic. Michael just seemed too damn proud of his grandfather’s actions.

Proud enough he started a whole new argument by asking if Kevin wanted him to build him a house.

~~

“Why am I marrying into money, this is a horrible idea.”

“Because you’re a golddigger until the bitter end.”

“Fuck, you’re right.”

“Also I’m pretty.”

“That too.”

~~

Helen and Elena had wisely left the room fifteen minutes ago, and were probably continuing in their quest to help throw this wedding together so Mike didn’t drive himself mad and Kevin didn’t kill him.

Back in the dining room though, both men were on their feet, teeth bared and chins lowered, all but growling at each other.

They had been in this position for, you guessed it, fifteen minutes.

It turned out their ideas of décor, which had seemed to meld so well before when they were just leaving their marks on each other’s homes, were not surviving the wedding process. Again, Mike wanted flashy and elegant (tacky, he wanted tacky, why couldn’t he stop throwing money around for five minutes-) while Kevin wanted earthy and simple (cheap, neither of them were on the streets anymore they could afford to indulge in nice things-).

“Okay boys,” Helen said as she strode back in, ignoring the tension- she’d known these two since she was quite literally born, she was used to it- and dropping a small stack of books on the table between them, “Elena and I have figured something out. First off, we’ve decided on greys, golds, and blues for your colors. Shut up.” Both men closed their mouths before even getting the chance to speak. “They’re what look best on you both and you’d argue about it just to argue. Anyway, we’ve got a plan, we’re gonna handle it, we just need you boys to pick some flowers that’ll work.” She patted the stack, which a quick glance proved to be on the topic.

“We don’t care if you do them together or apart, just get us at least four to work off and don’t kill each other. I’ve already got a dress bought and I’m not wasting it because you’re stupid.” Neither of them answered, but when she rolled her eyes and left Kevin stuck his tongue out at her back.

If nothing else it made Mike bite back a laugh.

~~

They split the job. Mike chose daffodils and false indigo, which meant Kevin had to scrap his plan to choose daffodils. (He should’ve known anyway, given how fond Mike was of them.) Instead he went with irises and tulips, and if it was because the idea of tulips for a later summer wedding seemed so very Michael to him, well, it wasn’t like anyone was going to ask.

Thankfully, they all really worked surprisingly well together.

~~

“So,” Kevin asked one evening while they hung out on his couch, “what are we doing with your uncle?”

“What do you mean?” Mike didn’t take his eyes off his game, but his shoulders tensed under Kevin’s arm. He pulled it back enough to be able to massage one.

“Are we inviting him or- I mean I know you guys’ relationship is… weird, right now but…” ‘But everyone on the list so far is either a mutual friend or someone there for me.’ Mike was quiet for a moment, then paused his game.

“Do you think we should?” Kevin shrugged.

“I think I’d have to start shaming the Tennysons into not flipping their shit tomorrow if we do,” he said. “I mean their history with him is as bad as it is with me, possibly worse given I never tried to kill either of their moms.” Mike groaned under his breath. “But he’s your uncle, and if you want him there…” He shrugged again, but threw up a grin and nudged Mike’s shoulder.

“If you want him there, I’ll drag him to Italy myself if I have to.” Quietly chuckling, Mike leaned against him.

“I think,” he said slowly, like he was rolling the idea in his head, “I’m more likely to regret not inviting him someday than I am to regret inviting him. Besides, if anyone is going to go all out to celebrate my wedding, it’ll be him.” Kevin chuckled.

“Given he tried to kidnap you when we were three because he loved you so much, I’m not surprised.”

“Excuse me,” Mike replied, smiling, “he did not try to kidnap me. He succeeded in kidnapping me. And given how my stepmother turned out I don’t think he can be blamed.” There was no way Kevin could really argue there.

“Still, I’m glad our dads tracked you down. He really doesn’t sound like the type who should be raising children.”

“Oh fuck no,” Mike said. “Maybe he can come babysit on occasion, but we’re definitely not leaving our kids to him or anything.” Not that they’d ever really agreed to have kids (they’d agreed it seemed likely to happen at some point, given how Kevin’s family was, but not to have them specifically) but Kevin still nodded. It wasn’t a discussion for now.

“Oh no, we leave them to Argit.”

~~

After another four arguments Mike got permission to build Kevin a house up in New England, closer to his mother’s relatives. In return, two other Morningstar properties were being converted into a foster care center and housing for families traveling in pursuit of healthcare for mutant children.

Mike accepted the terms as soon as he got them.

~~

“Cookies, pie, or something else?”

“What?” Rolling out from under his car, Kevin looked up to see Mike standing there with one of the notepads he seemed to have an endless supply of lately.

“I assume you don’t want us to have a cake, so what do you think we should have instead? I want to say cookies but that seems…”

“Inelegant.” Kevin had been at this long enough at this point to hear that word ringing in his dreams anymore. Still, he smiled at Mike’s remembering how he felt about cake and sat up, crossing his arms over his legs. “You want pie then?”

“Unless you can think of something else. Croquembouche maybe. It would be traditional, but given how many children are likely to be at this I’d worry about it being damaged.”

“And pies won’t suffer from that,” Kevin chuckled.

“They’re not likely to topple over at any point.”

“They will if we stack them high enough.” His bright smile was met with a glower, which was really the goal with that one. Sometimes getting a rise out of Mike was fun.

“Don’t start, Kevin. I just want to know what you think.” Kevin took a minute the think it over, rising to his feet with a long stretch and stepping over to rest his head against Mike’s, ignoring the resultant complaints about mussing his hair.

“Order your pastry tower,” he said, “I’ll ask the fam to make pies and tarts and we’ll just, form a protective ring of them.” With a snorting laugh, Mike shook his head.

“Alright, sure.” He raised an eyebrow at Kevin in a way that might have been stern if he wasn’t smiling. “If this thing gets knocked over though-”

“You can skin me alive, I’ll deserve it.” Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, Kevin backed up. “Was that all you needed, babe?” Purring, Mike nodded.

“I think so, for now at least. Thank you, Daffodil.”

~~

“What do you mean ‘no’?! You’ve spent the past year and a half insisting this be the most posh, elegant wedding ever on the planet Earth and now you don’t want me in fucking formalwear?!” He was gonna kill him, right here in a tailor shop he was going to kill him.

“You look awkward,” Mike snapped by way of explanation, “and weird dressed like that, like someone put jeans on a swan! Just-” He stepped forward and began wrestling Kevin out of his outfit. “-take off the jacket- There! That looks right!” He didn’t look in the mirror. He refused. Over a year of fighting him, and losing half the time, on the topic of how elegant this whole affair should be and now, now Mike decided there was a line.

He was gonna kill him.

Even if it felt nice to lose the extra fabric around his neck.

“And what, pray tell, are you going to wear then?”

“The full suit, obviously.” Yep gonna kill him. “I look good in it and you…” Reaching out, Mike adjusted his collar and tie. Smoothed out the fabric over his chest and arms. “You look better like this.”

“Do I now?” Some old bit of Kevin’s brain swore that if this was some attempt to make him look unkempt, out of place, at his own damn wedding just to make his bastard shine more he would- Mike leaned in and kissed him.

“You look like you,” he said when he pulled away, then gave the outfit a critical eye. “We’ll just have to make up for the jacket with the jewelry.”

~~

Kevin stared into the velvet-lined box in his hands. There was just, everything in there. Earrings, noserings, cufflinks, if it was a piece of jewelry he could physically wear it was there. And white sapphires, the lot of it. (“I know how you feel about the diamond industry, Levin.”) He just, didn’t know what to say. He’d never legally held this many gemstones in his hands before. Forget hundreds, there had to be thousands of dollars’ worth of jewels there.

“Mike, I-”

“Kevin Ethan Levin-Jones, I swear if I get to the altar and you aren’t fucking sparkling with all this I am going to turn around and come right the fuck back home.” Oh. Well then. He chuckled and grinned up at him.

“Whatever you want, babe.”

~~

The coffeetable was littered with papers containing every possible combination of their first and last names. And relatives’ last names. And Mike’s clan name which it turned out didn’t work with anything. Because apparently the fates hated them.

“I’m telling you, ‘Kevin Morningstar’ works the best out of the lot.”

“Yeah but do I want to be associated with that level of wealth?” Mike looked at him askance.

“It’s not like we’re the fucking Bezos family.”

“Still.”

“Besides, you could get rid of that stupid pun. Honestly, I’m still pissed you didn’t get rid of it when you changed your name. Kevin E Levin, really, only you would make your name worse.”

“What can I say, I’m my father��s child.”

“You’re not making puns out of my children, you know.”

“We’ll see about that.” Shifting some papers, Kevin chewed the inside of his cheek. “‘Michael Levin-Jones’ doesn’t sound bad.” Mike groaned beside him.

“No, but it doesn’t sound as good as ‘Michael Morningstar’ does.”

“That’s just because of the alliteration. Besides, that way Argit wouldn’t have to kill me for changing my name after he legally snatched it up.”

“He can deal.” Kevin shook his head with a heavy sigh, dropping it onto Mike’s shoulder.

“We are going to be here forever,” he said, which only seemed to aggravate his fiancé.

“No, we are going to figure something out if I have to pull a name from a goddamn hat.”

~~

In the end, somehow, probably thanks to the girls, it turned out to be a nice wedding.

The house was lovely, large enough that family could take over the kitchens but not huge, with nice landscaping and a lovely view of the Mediterranean that they’d used as a backdrop for the ceremony and pictures. Kevin did feel more comfortable without the jacket and found himself unable to argue about clothing choices when Mike showed up in full formalwear, mostly because he was too busy alternating between staring and trying to discreetly swat Ben and Argit for laughing at him. The traitors.

The ceremony was as lovely as was to be expected given Kevin had puppy-eyed Zak into officiating and Mike had written half the damn thing. Multiple people had cried, including Kevin himself. The rings had been revealed, homemade by Kevin, at which point everything seemed to hit Mike and he nearly cried. They had to do the whole ‘you may kiss the groom’ thing twice, purely because Kevin couldn’t resist being a shit and littering Mike’s face with the kisses the first time, but they were both smiling after and Manny fell down laughing so nobody could really argue against it.

Besides, any embarrassment it may have caused Mike’s poor battered pride was overshadowed at the reception, when Mr Zomboni decided to make a toast and speech detailing some of the embarrassing things they both did as toddlers before bursting into tears again as how grown up his dear nephew was.

Was a lovely reception though, Helen and Elena outdid themselves. Everything in crystal and flowers, steel, gold, and chains. Elegant enough that Mike could bear to attend (cue eye roll) and mellow enough Kevin didn’t feel out of place at his own damn wedding. And the food was spectacular, even- Kevin hated to admit- the catered stuff, though he happily noted, aloud, that Mike ate more of the home cooking on offer.

After his bitching he was never living it down.

All in all it was, good.

Right.

Perfect.

~~

“Ya know,” Kevin said, quietly because they were both suffering from monster hangovers post-reception, “I’m just amazed we survived this long. I was sure we were going to kill each other.” With a tiny huff, Mike burrowed further into his side, face slotted against his collarbone.

“Couldn’t kill you,” he mumbled, “spent too much on that damn engagement ring to waste it.” Kevin snorted a quick laugh, flinching when his headache didn’t agree with it.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, pressing a kiss to his hair, “love you too, Sparkles.” Mike huffed louder this time, throwing one arm over his face and around Kevin’s head as he mumbled something into his skin.

It sounded suspiciously similar to ‘love you more’.

[ranxiaolong]

A Silver Thread

Summary: (Y/N) finds herself distracted by a thin chain attached to the Doctor’s earring, mind adrift, wondering about a small, silver string.

Pairing: The Doctor (13) x fem!reader

Warning: so much fluff, a suggestive comment by Yaz

A/n: My first fanfic for Doctor Who! (for this account! I’m not telling you what I used to write under! Don’t be a creep! jk, love you!) SO… I hope you enjoy my fluffy 13 x reader floof ヾ(´｡• ∀ •｡`)

As the Doctor’s hands waved about in her explanation of some space-y swirly whatchamajigger (which made little sense and caused you to zone out of her excited rambling quite some time ago), you noticed it again, glinting in the light. Your eyes focused on the small earring in the doctor’s ear. It was simple, silver and gold. The Doctor’s arms wildly waving about caused the thin, silver chain connected to it to swing back and forth. Your eyes followed the chain on its upward path to where it ended. A small cuff. Nothing extraordinarily fancy, considering. A few stars that wrapped around her ear. So why did it draw your gaze?

The Doctor turned towards you and your eyes snapped up to hers, feigning attention.

——————————————————

The TARDIS door had just slammed shut behind you, the inhabitants of the planet angrily banging on the blue box. Yaz had halted beside you, using your shoulder as exaggerated support. The Doctor continued her sprint to the control panel, nearly skidding straight past it, to push on various levers and buttons, the TARDIS making her usual whooshing noise signaling her departure from the hostile planet.

Once the Doctor had finished fiddling with the control panel she spun around to face you, the silver chain on her earring catching the light.

Your eyes linger on the metallic gleam.

I wonder how it would feel—

“(Y/N), are you okay?” The Doctor tilted her head slightly with her question, worry tinting her voice.

God that’s adorable.

You shook your head. “Just a bit out of it from running across half of what was apparently a hostile military base,” you teased lightly. Yaz let loose something halfway between a gasp for air and a snort before wandering off to the kitchen to fix a kettle of tea, Ryan and Gram in tow.

——————————————————

You were sitting and playing cards with Yaz and Ryan, Gram taking the momentary quiet to read a book he had found in the library. Some novel printed in the year 5 billion. (Though it looked oddly familiar, with a giant wasp on the cover. You couldn’t quite place it)

Looking at the cards in your hand you gave a frown.

“(Y/N), you have the worst poker face,” Ryan laughed.

Yaz just raised an eyebrow as a smirk edged up on her face.

Ryan pushed all of his salt, sugar, and pepper packets (a quickly thrown together replacement for betting chips) with a smug grin.

You looked over at Yaz, who seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, holding her hands up in mock surrender. You pushed your own haphazard stack in the middle of the table. Ryan raised his eyebrow.

“You sure you want to do that?”

“Yup,” popping the ‘p’ and leaning back in your chair, “besides, Yaz beat me the last four times, thought you deserved a chance.”

Ryan snorted and rolled his eyes, “suit yourself.” Ryan looked over at Yaz, waiting to see what she would do.

Yaz smiled as she placed her cards face down on the table, “I fold.”

Ryan grinned and turned his hand over, displaying a full house of three aces and a pair of jacks. “What’ve you got?”

A full on smirk broke out across your face as you tossed your cards face up onto the table. “Royal. Straight. Flush.” A small accentuating pause was placed between each word.

Ryan looked incredulously at your ten through ace of hearts staring back at him. “I thought you were bad at five card!”

“I am,” you grinned, “but I hate preparing dinner for you people even more.”

Yaz cackled.

Ryan let out a huff before sticking his hand out for a handshake. “Well, I lost fair and square.”

You took his hand and shook it, the grin never leaving your lips. “Aww, don’t feel too bad. I got Yaz pretty good last time, I wasn’t sure if she was going to speak to me for the rest of the day.”

Yaz mumbled “‘mercy killing’” with mild resentment under her breath before looking at you. “Liar, you’re good at this game, you just don’t play well until you’ve got us hook, line, and sinker.”

You stuck out your tongue in protest.

Ryan stood up from the table, “Well, I’m gonna go ask what me grandad wants. I suppose you two still want the same?”

A unified “yup” left both you and Yaz.

Ryan nodded and left the room in search of the library.

“It’s nice that Ryan and Gram are getting on,” you smile at the door where Ryan had exited.

Yaz glanced towards you.

“You like her.”

“What?”

Yaz repeated herself, “You like the Doctor.”

Your eyebrows came together as a confused frown graced your lips, “Of course I like her, she’s my friend. I wouldn’t be traveling with you guys if I didn’t like her.”

Yaz rolled her eyes, “I meant romantically, you moron.”

A flush took to your cheeks, you refused to meet Yaz’s eyes, “She’s just a friend, Yaz. I don’t like her like that.”

Yaz snorted.

“What!”

“You’ve been giving her those googly eyes and have been staring at her non-stop. If you’re trying to be subtle, you’re doing a horrid job of it. I’m surprised she hasn’t caught on by now.”

“I haven’t been giving her googly eyes,” you huffed out, “It’s her stupid earring.”

Yaz’s eyebrows scrunched together, “Huh?”

“The Doctor’s earring,” you clarified, “It’s weird.”

Yaz was no less confused. “I wear earrings, are mine weird?”

You shook your head, “No, it’s just that cuff and chain. It’s really distracting. I don’t really know what it is about it, it just keeps catching my attention. It’s so odd, every time I notice it I can’t seem to ignore it. I keep on thinking about how it might feel, or how the light keeps catching on it or something bothersome like that and I can’t just look away.” You concluded with a noise somewhere between a huff and a growl of aggravation.

Yaz’s mouth dropped open as her eyebrows rose in shock before her cheeks settled in a grin. “Oh my god, (Y/N), you have an earring cuff kink!”

Your cheeks flared scarlet, “No, I do not! It’s just distracting! That’s all!”

——————————————————

The Doctor had taken team TARDIS back to Sheffield, everyone had wanted to get something from home. Mostly clothes that were clean and not covered in smelly alien goo.

(Y/N) had gone to and from her flat rather quickly, and was therefore first back in the TARDIS. After you had finished putting your clothes away in your room, you wandered into the console room, the Doctor nowhere in sight.

You had sighed and turned around quickly, nearly smacking straight into the chest of the excitable Time Lord that was right behind you.

“Oh good grief, Doc, Sorry!”

The Doctor had chuckled softly, “Ah, no worries.” She pushed some hair behind her ear, “Shoulda given more warning.”

You gulped.

“So,” the blonde alien rocked on the balls of her feet, the small chain attached to her ear swaying loosely, “any ideas on where you’d like to go next?”

Your brain only processed half of the words that were just spoken to you. “I’m-I’m sorry, what?”

“Where would you like to go? We’ve got the whole universe, all of space and time! Except some places… can’t go some places, very bad there, can’t cross time streams… but other than that all of space and time at your fingertips. Just say the word and I can take you there. There’s some great planets out there. How about Barcelona? Not the city Barcelona, the planet Barcelona—”

The Doctor continued on her rambling as you zoned out once again, only half hearing something about dogs with no noses, all your attention on the shiny metal clasped onto the Doctor’s ear.

The Doctor stopped suddenly, “(Y/N)?”

What was it about a stupid piece of metal that was so intriguing?

“(Y/N)?”

I mean, sure, earrings, in general, drew attention on themselves, it’s what they were supposed to do.

“(Y/N), are you all right?”

But why were you paying so much attention to it?

“Can you hear me?”

Especially that chain and cuff, for some reason looking at it made your stomach start to feel warm.

“(Y/N—).”

Seriously, what was up with you? When you saw that small piece of metal wrapped around her ear, all you could think about was how it might feel. How she might react if you touched it, ran your fingers over the clasp, lightly placed your lips over—

“(Y/N)!”

You were jolted out of your thoughts, the Doctor right in front of your face.

“Wha-What?”

The Doctor looked at you with worry. “(Y/N), are you alright? You’ve been spacing out a lot recently. Have you caught something?” She took out her sonic screwdriver and quickly scanned you. She brought it to her face to see the reading, but frowned when nothing was recorded as wrong.

“I’m fine, Doctor. I’m probably just a bit tired, ‘s all right.” You sighed, shaking your head dismissively.

“No, it’s not,” a frown still decorated the Doctor's face and her eyebrows creased, “This isn’t the first time this has happened. It’s hardly the second time, even. Is there something you’re not telling me?” She bends down slightly to be eye level with you.

You swallowed thickly.

“I’m fine.”

That seemed to only make the Doctor more stressed. “(Y/N), I need you to tell me what’s going on. If there’s anything I can do, I’ll do it.” The Doctor’s eyes flicked across your face in search of an answer before her body went stiff and her jaw tensed shut. Some sort of thought or realization going through her head.

Ah, shit.

You were about to open your mouth when the Doctor’s quiet (and strangely vulnerable sounding) voice broke through the silence, “Do you want to leave?”

You looked up in alarm.

“No!”

The Doctor startled by your sudden exclamation recoiled back a step.

“I don’t want to stop traveling with you!” You continued, eager to say anything to stay, “I love being able to see all of the wonderful things you show us, all the excitement.” Your voice became more meak.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. So you don’t want to leave,” in your panic of wondering if you were being asked to leave, you didn’t notice the Doctor’s sigh of relief or her mood become lighter. “If that’s not it, then why have you been so distracted lately?” The Time Lord tilted her head slightly to look into your eyes, the silver chain reflecting the light within the TARDIS.

“‘S your stupid earring,” you mumbled.

“Sorry, couldn’t quite hear that, what?” Confusion flickered across the Doctor’s face as she leaned in closer to hear you properly.

“It’s your earring!”

You didn’t mean to shout.

The Doctor reeled back from the sudden outburst, eyes wide.

Unable to stop the words from spilling from your mouth, cheeks heating up from embarrassment and refusing to make eye contact, you continued, “It’s been driving me insane. Every time I look at you and I can see it, I can’t look away for some reason. It’s like it keeps nagging away at my brain.”

The Doctor’s nose scrunched in confusion, “Is there something wrong with it?”

Your face was starting to burn, “No, nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just…” you trailed off.

“Just…?” the Doctor prompted.

You looked straight into her eyes, red painting your face completely, “I really want to touch it!”

Silence.

Oh God, you just screwed everything up, didn’t you? Now the Doctor would think you were weird for wanting to touch her earring, of all things. She would think you were weird and then become uncomfortable having you around, but she would be too polite to show it. Then after a few weeks, maybe days, she would ask you to leave because she wasn’t comfortable around you anymore because of your stupid outburst. Why did you have to say that? You should have just kept your mouth sh—

“Okay.”

What.

“I said, Okay,” the Doctor responded gently to the word you didn’t realize was said out loud. “You can touch my earring if you like.”

You paused before nodding slowly and the Doctor bent down slightly for you to touch the metal accessory.

You raised your hand up to her ear, hesitating before softly touching the piece in her earlobe.

You notice neither the Doctor closing her eyes nor the shaky breath she releases at your touch.

Your fingers trace along the shape of the silver adornment, your fingers momentarily brushing along the Doctor’s ear.

The Doctor inhales sharply.

You continue running your fingers along the trail of the Doctor’s earring, your fingertips tracing along the chain, all of your senses focused on the captivating piece of jewelry.

As the tips of your forefingers reached the end of the chain, you hesitated slightly before running them around the cuff. You swipe your thumb softly over the front, taking in all the smooth bumps and edges along the line of stars.

The Time Lord hoped you couldn’t hear her hearts hammering away in her chest. (Of course you probably couldn’t, you were human. Human hearing wasn’t fine enough to be able to hear the pulse of another creature from so far away. It was just a figure of speech.) Having you so close, your scent completely surrounded her, and it was not doing good things for her self restraint. She was already having trouble with you living on the TARDIS. Constantly distracted. Wasn’t good really. Even now, all she could think about was how would it feel? Your soft hair, your smooth skin, your plush lips—

You eventually pull your hand away, a bit regretfully, and slowly bring your hand to your chest, clutching it within your other unconsciously.

The Doctor took an extra second to savor the memory of your fingers so soft upon her skin. She finally opened her eyes slowly, pulling away, her ear still tingling from your touch.

The Doctor’s eyes focused themselves on your face and swallowed, conflicting thoughts racing through her mind. Hesitating, leaning a few centimeters closer, hesitating, withdrawing, repeat.

You bite your lip looking at the Time Lord distracted by her own thoughts before in an instance of bravery—or possible stupidity—you took a  few paces forward, rocked yourself onto your toes and pressed your lips right on the side of the Doctor’s face, breath tickling her ear.

“Thanks, Doc.”

You scurried away quickly back to your room before she could see the red taking over your face. You may still be distracted by it later, but at least you pulled together the courage to get closer, you would take your silver linings wherever you could get them.

The Doctor stood there in a moment of stunned silence before she touched her cheek, her finger then playing absentmindedly with the silver thread.

She refused to answer the rest of Team TARDIS’s questions on why she seemed more happy than usual nor why there was a grin wider than normal seaming to be plastered to her face the rest of the day.

[neshabeingchildish]

10. Swellview Stats

So, I decided to do a little more Charlotte’s inner thoughts in this chapter. I know I did a touch here and there last chapter, but more in this one. It’s in Italics. Edit: You may have missed Ch. 9, because its an audio post instead of a text post. So, you’ll have to read that one before this one. It don’t look like the other ones.

Swellview Stats

Swellview might as well be a Utopia for simple minded individuals and intellects who gave up being competitive in the wide world. We have some of the safest neighborhoods, because of a couple of reasons. One of them is the Man Team. The other is the fact that our villains are stupid. Honestly, our townsfolk are stupid, too. There's probably a handful of brain cells in Swellview that get lent around for convenience, and a select few absolute geniuses who just got stuck here because they were born here and staying was too easy. I can't be one of those geniuses. The last time there was a murder in Swellview was like 35 years ago and it was accidental. There are often injuries as a result of chaotic driving or Captain Man goofing up a rescue, but statically, Swellview is a safe and comfortable place. Do I love safety? Yes. Do I love comfort? More than anyone I know! Can I settle for being the best in my field when my counterparts would never even rank in the country? Why would I? 

I'm Charlotte Page. I aspire to be Dr. Charlotte Page, a Renaissance woman who specializes in every letter of STEAM, focusing on biomedical engineering… she looked at her boyfriend, shoving oversized eggs into his mouth while the rest of the guys counted, "8,9.." she got up, shaking her head and left the table.

She already had a dozen acceptance letters for colleges, was already taking some courses and had finished a couple of programs via Swellview University while she was in school. She had all of her graduation credits last year. She was going to graduate early, but decided to just get additional high school transcripts dings, and start college low-key, to transition a little better afterwards. 

Besides, her work in the Man Cave was excellent practice for the work that she would be doing in her near future. She was thinking by 21, she'd have her first degree and probably be able to design electrical circuits, software to run medical equipment, or computer simulations to test new drug therapies. She'd want to try out a tech position at a renowned lab, but might have to settle for something more subtle because she'd still be working on her education, too.

By 23, she should be able to finally make a move towards the lab of her choice with the previous lab work experience and her highest degree completed."Hey, Charlotte! Jasper just stuffed 12 eggs into his mouth!" Henry bragged and stuck his tongue out laughing. "Then he swallowed them whole!"

"What?" She asked turning to the table again.

"Just gulped 'em down his gullet!" Ray cheered.

"Jasper?" Charlotte fussed. "You KNOW that eating that many boiled eggs will give you painful gas!"

Jasper said to the guys at the table, "Hey. How many farts you guys think I'll make when these eggs give me gas?" They started giving out numbers.

Charlotte folded her arms and glared at him, shaking her head. Henry was grateful HE wasn't the one getting the look this time. In fact, those looks seemed to be reserved for her boyfriend these past few weeks. She definitely loved him. Henry knew she did, because why else on Earth would that match even take place. But, he also realized that she had buttons. Buttons that Jasper pushed with childlike wonder, with enthusiasm that seemed to ask, "What does this one do?" Henry offered some intervention in saying, "Charlotte, you are dating a legend. A Man Cave legend. Nobody makes stats like Jasp does in this place."

"And what are these stats good for?" She asked Henry.

Ray intercepted, "Allow me." He grabbed a remote control and pressed a button, which revealed a chart of really stupid things (like how many punches in the belly you can take), and a points system. Jasper was in the lead. She was in last place..  in a contest that she didn't even know could happen, with points mainly for dodging certain death during Ray's irresponsible tantrums or something. "Yes, stare in awe," Ray told her.

"Awe is definitely a word," she said. She sighed, shook her head and said, "I'm going up into the store, before the gas and fart counting begins…" She heard a loud noise and saw Henry's distorted face.

Ray cheered, "Too late." And she was gone. Up the tube gone. She wasn't even gonna stay at work if this is what they were doing with their time. 

Jasper was really sweet. Whenever it was the two of them, she was the only person in the world. Whenever they were with their friends, he was still sweet, but… they brought out the oaf in him. Now… as a friend of all of these people, she couldn't be too judgy. And nobody MADE her say yes to Jasper. She just wished that his best round of friends weren't.. this.

She was thinking about the upcoming college years and he was literally making a game out of his flatulence. The most frustrating thing about that was that Jasper isn't even a fart humor type person! He finds that gross and childish!! But, whenever it's the guys, he's onboard for childish shenanigans. Unless he's pretending to be more mature when he's with her. Then, that's false advertising, and she'd feel bamboozled. BUT then, if THAT was the case..  she would have to admit to being outsmarted by JASPER! Charlotte let out an aggravated squeal and frightened a lady and her dog walking by. They went to the other side of the street and she kept going, feeling awkward. 

Piper was home, so she stopped by. "Hey… I wanted to vent to someone about Jasper…"

Piper raised her palm and said, "Let me give you a little disclaimer. Whatever it is that you have to say, my perpetual thought will be, "What did you expect when you started going out with Jasper?"

"Fair enough. Can I begin?" Piper sat down and Charlotte joined her on the couch. "So.. I know that Jasper's a little bit offbeat."

"What an understatement."

"He's honestly not as stupid as people think. He's very good at listening. He is insightful when it comes to interpersonal relationships. He gives excellent pep talks and sometimes pretty good advice, if he understands all of the details. He's an honest, loyal, and caring friend and has been a very thoughtful boyfriend."

"So, this is gushing and not venting? Balls." Piper flopped back, prepared to listen to Jasper praise that she didn't ask for.

"No. That was the good stuff that I have to get out of the way before I complain to him about what I can't stand, unless I want to see him cry!"

"You.. say all of that before you get to your point? And he listens?"

"Jasper feeds off of compliments. They open him up fully and then you can slide in the complaints. Only thing is that I knew he was the guy that he is and it's not fair to expect him to change, but.. Shouldn't he want to? Wouldn't you rather do anything else in the world than count farts with your friends, when you have an awesome girlfriend who's also around?"

"I would rather do anything else if I was as lonely as an old lady in a house thought to be haunted. But, I'm not Jasper. And like you said, you knew he was an idiot from the moment he first opened his mouth. We all did. I knew he was an idiot from the moment my memory formed as a toddler and he was at our house in all his stupid glory."

"But he's not stupid! That's the problem. He's ignorant about a lot. He's naive. He doesn't always think things through. But… have you ever seen him plan something out for a date? Or heard him talk to a little kid? Jasper is definitely unique, but I think he could do anything he puts his mind to. I just wish he'd put his mind to things that matter."

"Do you ever suggest these things?"

"Yeah, but I can't control him!"

Piper laughed, "Oh, Charlotte. I keep forgetting that this is your first boyfriend. Of course you can control him. Jasper is… what's a word that you won't refute?... Impressionable. Make better impressions. Lemme see your phone."

Charlotte reluctantly handed it over and Piper read out loud as she typed, "Shame that you didn't want to hang with me today. Gonna have to pick out new undies by myself. Sad face emoji."

"What?"

"Send."

"WHAT?"

Piper held a hand up to her, then pointed to the phone to show her Jasper was typing. "I would chop off the entire bottom half of my body to be included in that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Too late. But, hope that the fart counting went well. Maybe, if you're more considerate later, I'll text you pix of my choices."

"Don't send that!"

"Send."

Charlotte snatched her phone from Piper, but Piper bent over her to see Jasper's next response, "Okay… I didn't mean to be inconsiderate? Next time, I'll check to see if you need anything from me before being stupid with the guys all day." Charlotte shook her head and said, "That's unfair to play him like that."

"Are you mad at me, Babe?" Jasper wondered.

Charlotte: No. That was Piper. I let her see my phone.

Jasper: Ok… but… did you tell her that stuff about me?

Charlotte: I said some things, but…He called. She groaned and answered, "Hey. Sorry about that…"

"Hey… if I'm doing something wrong, you can just tell me. You don't have to go to Piper."

"I came here just to vent."

"About me?"

"A little."

"Vent to me. Tell me what's wrong." She began to give out her list of compliments, but he cut her off, "Charlotte. I said tell me what's wrong. I know that you like and respect me. There's no other reason that you'd date me. What's your beef, though? What did you have to vent about?"

She sighed and laid on the couch as she talked. Piper hung around, listening to the end of the chat as she used her own cell phone. "I just feel like you would rather be doing senseless things with the guys at work than anything with me."

"I feel like I do a lot with you and that I've hardly hung out with them in the past few weeks, but I'll try to be more mindful about things. I don't want you having to vent about me."

"I… shouldn't have said anything."

"How else could I know? I'm not intuitive." She frowned. "Hey, pretty girl. Smile. Don't stress about it. You didn't say yes to a caveman. I just like to relax with my bros sometimes and that can't change. You smiling?"

"Yeah," she lied.

"No you're not. That's not your smiling voice."

Now, she was smiling, "Thought you said you weren't intuitive."

"There it is!" He cheered. "I'm not intuitive. I just really know you. Not enough to read your mind, but enough to hear that smile."

She smiled even wider and said, "You irritate me."

"Maybe. But not right now. Otherwise, you wouldn't be smiling so much." They both held the phone a while and Jasper asked in a low, soft voice, "You love me, right?"

"I've never said that," she said.

"That wasn't a no!" He said and she could swear… she could swear that she could hear him smiling. "I love you too." He hung up the phone and she nudged Piper with her foot.

"You're welcome," Piper said.

.

Swellview is not so much "Home Sweet Home" as it is, a safe place with sweet people that you could get used to. Crime rates are fairly high, but the crimes are pretty safe. The news is hilarious. You can just walk right into a friend's home and their door is probably open, and their family probably treats you like you're a part of theirs. It's a good place to meet the love of your life, even. Maybe not so much to stay there with them, though. I don't know how to ask Jasper what's going to happen when we graduate. I don't know how to even suggest that he come with me. I have no idea if he'll even want something more than Swellview. I have no idea if he thinks that I'm something more than Swellview.

[thebestdressedrebelinhistory]

Zarlie 2

zarlie 2: things you said through your teeth

“Would you just pull the bloody stick out of your arse for two seconds and listen to me? I’m trying to tell you something important.”

Charlie’s jaw is clenched, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. She is looking increasingly frantic, increasingly like a caged animal. Something about the expression on her face makes Zari’s insides twist. It’s the same look Charlie gave her when she was actually trapped. When she had accused Zari of keeping people in cages. Of doing to her, what Argus had done to Zari. To her family. To everyone else like her.

It made her sick then, and it makes her sick now.

And as much as Charlie gets on her very last nerve – as much as Zari desperately wants to say I doubt that, or try being a little nicer about it, or anything else that would be completely deserved but incredibly hypocritical, coming from her – she can’t quite bring herself to respond in kind.

Because it’s not like the has the most stellar track record when it comes to winning people over, either.

Instead, Zari drums her fingers impatiently against her bicep and says, “You haven’t told me anything, yet.”

Charlie is glaring harder than ever, but Zari sees the ripple of insecurity beneath the carefully curated scowl. An unfortunate side-effect of Sara constantly relegating her to the B-team is that she has gotten weirdly good at reading the minutiae of Charlie’s mannerisms.

“Well, it’s a tiny bit personal, and when I asked if I could come into your room so I can say it in private, you just stared at me like I asked you to eat your own foot.”

“To be fair, you’ve been directly complicit in me being turned into a cat – and left that way – not once, but twice. You’re pretty low on my list of trustworthy people.”

Still, Zari steps aside, and motions for Charlie to enter.

Charlie closes the door behind her with a good deal more force than Zari thinks is necessary. When Zari turns around to look at her, Charlie is fidgeting again, tapping the toe of one studded combat boot against the floor and pursing her lips. But she also looks a little like she’s about to throw up.

Zari resists the urge to tell her to please not puke in her room, but just barely.

Kindness never was her strong suit.

“Okay, out with it. You’re being weird and it’s wigging me out.” It’s the wrong thing to say, and Zari knows it, but finding the right thing to say – and then actually saying it – isn’t her strong suit, either.

And suddenly, Charlie looks like the words have been sucked right out of her. Her mouth opens, but all Zari hears is a strangled sort of “Yeah…” as she looks at the floor, the walls, Zari’s bedside table. Anywhere but actually at Zari.

Zari feels a pang of something she’s pretty sure is sympathy, and she tries, for a moment, to think of what the right thing to do in this situation is. Of what a better, nicer person would do.

Of what Amaya would do.

Reaching out slowly, tentatively, Zari places one hand awkwardly on Charlie’s shoulder, watching for any sign that this might be helpful. Or that it might not, which is much more likely. Charlie’s eyes shoot up, meeting hers with an intensity Zari wasn’t expecting. But there’s no hostility there, no anger, no spark. Just surprise and something Zari is pretty sure is vulnerability.

“Or, we can sit down, first?” It’s pretty much the dumbest suggestion Zari can make, since she doesn’t actually have any chairs in her room. But Charlie goes along with it anyway, walking over to Zari’s bed and flopping down on it dramatically.

By the time Zari sits down gingerly beside her, Charlie is back to staring at her intently.

It’s still unnerving, but Zari doesn’t say it this time.

“Okay, seriously. I’m probably not going to bite your head off, so you might as well just say whatever it is that has you so…” Zari pauses, thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “You know.”

Charlie lets out a sharp bark of laughter. “Yeah I do, love. It’s just been a while since a pretty girl got me all tongue tied.”

Oh.

Oh.

Zari’s eyes widen. She can feel the heat rushing entirely too fast to her cheeks, and she kind of wants to bury her face in her sweater, or her pillow, or anything else, to hide it. Or maybe she wants to run away. Not that running away from her own bedroom would do her much good. Instead, she just sits there, stupidly, frozen in place.

Charlie shrugs Zari’s hand away, and her expression becomes unreadable. “Anyway, just thought I’d let you know. In the interest of honesty and all that bullshit. And now that you do, and I’ve made a right idiot of myself, I’m going to go get plastered enough to forget that it happened.”

Charlie is already halfway to the door when Zari finally finds her voice.

“You’re really fucking dramatic, you know that?” She winces as she says it, and lets out an aggravated groan at her own uselessness where feelings are concerned.

But Charlie stops, and turns around, and Zari thinks it’s possible that she sees the hint of a smile on her lips. This, at least, is more familiar territory for them both.

“I might’ve been told that before.” Zari still can’t quite figure out what Charlie is actually thinking, but at least she’s stopped actively moving away for the time being.

Not that she’ll stay that way if Zari fucks it up again.

“You never gave me a chance to actually respond, you know,” Zari says, and it comes out a little more waspish, a little more impatient, than she means for it to. But Charlie just keeps staring at her. “And you also didn’t actually tell me anything,” she says. Because there is some serious clarification needed before she can even begin to figure out where to go from here.

Before she can figure out how she feels.

Charlie frowns, and the mask cracks. “What more do you want to know?”

Zari swallows, and she moves so she is curled up in a ball, her hands pressed between her knees. At least this way, Charlie won’t see her picking at her fingernails. “All you told me was that… was that you think I’m pretty,” she says, at last. “And I think there’s more, maybe, but I’m not a damn mind reader, and I can’t understand emotions for shit, so that’s not much for me to go on.”

“For fuck’s sake, are you seriously asking me to tell you that I have a bloody crush on you?” The outburst explodes into the air between them, and Charlie at least has the good grace to look somewhat abashed afterward. She walks back over to Zari’s bed, standing uncomfortably over her.

“Well, do you?”

Charlie sighs and throws herself dramatically onto the bed. Zari’s legs fly out, unprepared for the sudden percussive force tossing her about.

“Where does it leave us if I say yes?” Charlie asks, as though that doesn’t answer the question.

“I guess it leaves me needing to figure a few things out,” Zari says heavily, and she can actually see Charlie tense.

“What kind of things? Because if I read this totally wrong and–”

Zari cuts her off. “I don’t exactly date much. I spent most of my life running from ARGUS and trying not to be… well, put in a cage. And my options are pretty limited here. At least, they are since I don’t have Sara’s charisma and raw sexual appeal.” Her laugh is a little harsher than she necessarily intends for it to be, a little more bitter, even though she hasn’t actually been interested in anyone, really.

Except, maybe, Charlie.

Which she hadn’t thought about until right now.

But no one ever accused Zari of being self-aware.

Charlie purses her lips. “Well, no pressure. I mean, like, obviously one day I’d like an answer. But if you’re not into it right now, or at all, I can take rejection. I’m a big girl.”

Zari doesn’t roll her eyes, and she’s honestly kind of proud of herself. This is probably the wrong time to be quite as much herself as she would like. But she does frown at Charlie’s theatrics. “Can I just have like, two minutes to think about this?”

“Is that my cue to leave?”

This time, Zari does roll her eyes. “No, it’s your cue to shut up for two minutes so my brain can catch up.”

Charlie nods, and to Zari’s immense relief, she averts her eyes, staring up at the ceiling as she taps one index finger against her thigh impatiently. She’s giving Zari the time she asked for, but not graciously.

And Zari can’t help thinking about the unintentional grace with which Charlie does everything, no matter how obnoxious. About the little twinkle in her eyes when she gives Zari a hard time, that always makes her stomach flop a little unpleasantly. About the fact that she has Amaya’s face and Amaya’s voice, but she never, ever wanted to touch Amaya like this, and…

Oh, fuck.

“Yeah, I suck at this,” Zari says at last, and it’s not her best opening line, but it’s definitely not her worst, either.

Charlie looks back down at her, but doesn’t say anything.

“The whole feelings thing,” Zari clarifies. “Specifically, realizing that… I might have them. For you.”

She thinks this is what teenagers must feel like with their first crush. Except she was never that kind of teenager. So apparently she gets to get it all out of her system in her late twenties, instead, which is really just awesome.

But Charlie lights up immediately. Zari wouldn’t say the look on her face is excited, per se, but it definitely looks like Charlie is trying pretty hard to keep it that way.

“So, is that a yes?”

She’s going to make Zari say it. Of course she’s going to make Zari say it. With a great sigh, Zari reaches out and places her hand over the one still tapping out an uneven rhythm. She feels a little awkward doing it, but Charlie’s hand is warmer and softer in hers than Zari expected it to be. She doesn’t pull away, so Zari supposes she can’t be too far off track here.

“Yes,” she says. “That’s a yes. At least for now. But no promises. This is still… I think a lot newer to me than it is to you.”

The shit-eating grin that always, always prefaces some infuriating remark comes back, and Charlie nudges Zari with her shoulder. “Wait, does this mean you’re a virgin?”

“For fuck’s sake, Charlie, do not make me regret this already.”

But Zari is smiling, and she can’t seem to make herself stop, which is kind of mortifying, but also, she thinks, kind of nice.

[svucarisiaddict]

Is there a p. 2 to protected by sonny? I’ve been catching up on some stories and that ending... omg!!!!

//so I wrote and posted this a while back but I didn’t add it to the master list! I procrastinate a lot when it comes to updating. Anyway, here it is. Promise you won’t hate me after you read it!//

“You okay in there?” Sonny’s muffled voice came through the closed bathroom door. “Been in there awhile.”

“I’m fine, Sonny,” you responded exasperatedly. “I’ll be out in a second.” Sonny was standing outside the door when you swung it open. You rolled your eyes and brushed past him.

“I made you a cup of tea. Want to watch a movie?” Sonny suggested as he started to follow you into the bedroom.

“Nope,” you answered.

“You okay? You're being extra cranky today.”

You spun around short of the bedroom threshold. “I don’t want to watch a movie or a damn cup of tea. And yeah I’m cranky. I'm six months pregnant and for the last month, I’ve had either you or Liv or some other cop up my ass. I need five fucking minutes to myself, Sonny!” For a second you felt bad when you saw the pained expression on Sonny’s face as you closed the bedroom door.

“You want space? You got it doll.” The sound of Sonny’s footsteps echoed down the hall. You pushed yourself away from the door.

“Nice, Y/N,” you muttered to yourself. The bed was still unmade from earlier that morning, it crossed your mind to make it but decided to crawl in bed a wrap up in the comforter instead.

When you opened your eyes, the bedroom was mostly dark except for a sliver of light coming under the door. “I’m hungry too little man,” you patted your belly. “Let’s see what we got in the fridge.”

The apartment was quiet and still. No Sonny. No Gus. Sonny left a note for you on the table. I made chicken and noodle soup. Taking Gus for a walk. I’m sorry I’ve been crowding you. I’ll be back later. Love you both.

“Okay. Looks like it’s just me and you kid.” After eating, you curled up on the couch and flicked through the channels before deciding on some reality show. It was a mind-numbing show which was what you needed. “I am such a jerk,” you murmured as you thought about your earlier exchange with Sonny.

Just as you were about to text him, there was a knock at the door. Sonny must have forgotten his key. You pushed yourself up from the couch and shuffled toward the door. “You forget your-”

“Hello again, honey,” Joseph sneered. Immediately you tried to close the door, but he forced it open pushing you off balance causing you to fall.

Your head made a sickening thud as it hit the hardwood floor. The pain shot through your head, instantly making you nauseous and making your ears ring. You screwed your eyes closed and put a hand to your head then your belly.  The last thing you remember was Joseph leaning down, saying something you couldn’t hear, then a vile grin spread across his face.

The apartment was full of cops, CSU and the squad. Sonny was standing, staring at the spot where your head hit the floor and left a small amount of blood.

Liv placed a hand on his shoulder. “Carisi.”

He dashed away tears with the back of his hand. “We had an argument this evenin’. She uh, she was tired of me coddling her. So, I took Gus for a walk to give her some space, ya know. She was sleeping. Thought I’d be back before she even woke up.”

“This was not your fault Sonny. He shot the cop we had posted outside. He planned this-”

“Like hell, this isn’t my fault,” Sonny spat out. “I’m her husband. I promised I’d protect her. That Joseph would never hurt her again. I left…” Tears spilled down his face.

“Oh, Sonny.” Liv gathered Sonny in her arms. “We'll find her. I promise you.”

“Time to wake up,” Joseph's voice broke through your foggy brain. He clapped his hands.

“Ahhh..” you groaned. Your head felt like it weighed a ton and had a dull ache made want to keep your eyes screwed closed. Your other arm was wrapped protectively around your abdomen.

You were in a small, dark one-room apartment with nicotine stained walls. There was sparse furniture randomly placed around the room, including the stained, odorous couch you were lying on. Stale smoke and a pungent, stinging odor invaded your nostrils. The combination made you nauseous.

Joseph roughly sat you up, grabbed your wrists bound them with rope along with your ankles. “Ow,” you croaked. “Why are you doing this?” You turned your eyes up to Joseph and was met with cold, empty eyes.

He leaned in close, his breath hot in your ear. Cheap whiskey and cigarettes on his breath made your stomach roll. “Why?”, he questioned quietly. “Because you put me in prison you stuck up bitch!” He yelled in your ear.

“Yeah. And you know why,” you shot back. A glimpse of his hand in your peripheral vision was all you saw before he made contact with your cheek. It felt like your cheek and eye were going to explode.

“Now. Maybe you’ll be a little more amenable. Why don’t we call that husband of yours? I’m sure he’s been waiting to hear from us.”

“It’s been three hours.” Sonny ran his hand through his already tousled hair. I can’t sit here and do nothin’,” Sonny grabbed his coat from the chair and headed for the door.

“Carisi. No. Not a good idea,” Amanda asserted. “If you get a call, or they try to contact you-”

Fin approached the group. “We got Joseph on security cam carrying Y/N out of the building-”

“Carrying her?” Sonny’s phone rang, He furrowed his brow at the unknown number. “Carisi.”

“Well hello, there Detective. How ya been?” Joseph’s voice came down the line. Sonny signaled who it was and a trace was started.

“You son of a bitch. Let her go. If you hurt her-”

“You are not really in a place to tell me what to do. So here’s the deal. You get me some things I want, then we’ll talk,” Joseph remarked.

“I want to hear her voice,” Sonny stated.

“I’ll do ya one better.”

Sonny’s phone dinged. When Sonny opened the text he covered his mouth. Your face was red, and your eye swollen and your hands and feet were bound. “What do you want, Joseph?” Sonny inquired, doing his best to keep his voice steady. “I’ll get you whatever you want. Just don’t hurt her.”

“I’ll call you back in an hour with my demands. You better answer.” The line went dead.

The tech signaled that the call was traced. “Let’s move. Get ESU, and call Tucker. We’re going to need a negotiator,” Liv ordered.

“What do we know?” Ed asked as he walked with Liv into the command center.

“Perp name is Joseph Andres. Got released two months ago after serving three years of a ten-year sentence for aggravated assault.”

“Detective Carisi’s wife?”

“Yeah. We’ve been trying to catch him for weeks. He killed an officer then kidnapped Y/N,” Liv informed him. “She’s six months pregnant.”

“Jesus. Made any demands?”

“No. He should be calling Carisi back soon.”

Tucker nodded his head. “He’s here? How is he holding up?”

“Not good,” Liv replied.

Joseph pushed the curtain open slightly with the barrel of his gun. “Shit. Fucking cops everywhere.” He paced the floor between you and the window. You held your breath anytime he got close to you.

“Just let me go,” you pleaded, “and they’ll all leave. You can still get out of-”

“Shut. Up. God, you never knew when to shut up,” he cut in. “I’m getting something for my troubles.” He picked his phone up and dialed.

Sonny sat in the mobile command center staring at his phone, willing it to ring. His mind started to wonder. His life before you had been good. He loved his job, his family and had some good friends. But something was missing. It wasn’t until he met you that he figured out what that was. He was smitten that second you walked into the room. Sonny smiled. It took a bit longer to convince you.  Sonny jumped when his phone started ringing. “Joseph what do you-”

“Let me talk to someone out there who knows what they’re doing,” Joseph snapped.

Sonny handed the phone to Tucker. “Joseph. This is Captain Tucker. Before we get started, I need a sign of good faith Y/N is okay.”

“Sonny?” Your panicked voice made Sonny squeeze his eyes closed.

“I’m here doll. I lo-”

“That’s quite enough of that. Here’s what I want.” Joseph had a laundry list of items. “You have two hours.”

“That’s going to be tight, Joseph.”

“Not my problem, now is it? Oh and Detective Carisi the cash personally.” He snarled into the phone then hung up.

“Okay, Sonny.” Fin started. “Get in there, get your girl then get the hell out.”

Sonny nodded. “Got it Sarg.”

“If anything goes wrong, we can be in there in there less than 10 seconds,” Liv said reassuringly and squeezed his shoulder.

Sonny grabbed the straps of the duffel bag, slung it over his shoulder and started to the door of the abandoned building. He took a deep breath. ‘What if he couldn’t pull this off and you got hurt or the baby got hurt. It was just recently revealed that you were having a boy. Sonny had been thrilled to learn he was going to have a son although he would have been just as happy to have a daughter.

“Okay, Joseph. Detective Carisi is on his way up with the money. He’s unarmed,” Tucker informed Joseph as Sonny entered the building.

“Did you hear that? He’s coming to rescue you. A knight in shining armor.” Joseph gave you a malicious grin.

Sonny. The one person that could make this all go away. Make it all better.  You squeezed your eyes shut. Sonny was your person. He was your world. He had brought so much good into your life. He taught you to trust again, love again. And how could someone not love Sonny? A faint smile crossed your lips.

“Snap out of it, bitch-”

“Call my wife another name or lay another finger on her and that’s going to be the last thing you do,” Sonny said confidently.

Joseph’s flashed with fear for a second before he recovered. He leveled his gun to your abdomen. “I think I’m holding all the cards, Detective.”

Sonny dropped the bag beside him on the stained carpet. “Don’t do this Joseph. You shot her, you’re going away forever this time. Take the money and go.”

“Joseph, please.” You begged for the life of your unborn baby, your life, Sonny’s life. It was a simple plea. One that you hope would reach whatever little amount of humanity he may have left in him.

Joseph lowered the gun tucking into the band of his pants letting you breathe a sigh of relief. He pulled a knife from a holder on his side and leaned over you. He put the knife to the side of your face. “You owe me one,” he whispered lowly. Then leaned over and cut the ties on your hands and ankles.  You gingerly massaged your wrists and move them around. All you wanted to do was run to Sonny’s arms. Feel the safety they provided. He turned to Sonny. “Give me the vest,” he demanded of Sonny gesturing to his flak jacket.

“Okay. You got it. All yours.” Sonny slowly slid the vest off and laid it on the bag backing away.

Joseph kept his gun on Sonny while making his way over and putting the jacket on. He grabbed the bag and started to walk out the door. “Oh, Y/N. Remember when I said if I can’t be happy, neither could you?”

The gunshot rang out in the small room and then another. Time stood still. You screamed you know you did. “No! No!” Rushing over to where Sonny was on the floor you went to your knees beside him. “Sonny? Babe.” You pushed your hand to his abdomen where the bullet entered.

“Doll?” He said in a rough voice. “Oww,” he hissed through his teeth. “I love you. Have since the first day I laid eyes on you.”

“I love you too Sonny. So much. I’m sorry for snapping earlier, I-” you choked back a sob.

“Hey. Stop. It’s-ahh- it’s okay. ” He put a hand to your stomach. “I love you too little man.”

ESU, Liv, Fin, officers flooded the room. “We need medics in here now!” Liv called out.

“Joseph is gone. Self-inflicted gunshot the head. He knew he wasn’t gettin’ out of here alive,” Fin stated.

“It’s gonna be okay, doll,” Sonny whispered and was able to give you a weak smile as you held him in your arms pushing the hair from his face.

“I know it will be.” You smiled then kissed his lips.

                                   //three months later//

Matteo Sonny Carisi was born two days before his Dad’s birthday. You sat in the nursery, slowly rocking your newborn son. He was sated having just finished nursing. Just like his Daddy, always happy after having a good meal. A smile crossed your lips.  You ran a finger down his nose and across his chubby cheek.

“I’m going to tell you a story about your Daddy. His name was Sonny too. He was so excited to be a Daddy and loved your from the second we knew you existed. Your Daddy was the epitome of good. He was the most caring, loving and trustworthy person I have ever met. And I was one of the lucky ones to be loved by him. And I loved him, still love him. So much. He protected people. He protected us with his own life.” You laid Matteo down in his crib and continued to watch him for a few more minutes. “Goodnight sweet boy. Tomorrow I’ll tell you more about your Daddy.