#Literally ripping himself to pieces for others. Somehow in a comical way of course.

[blank-barrel]

Another Faust post (featuring color 3).

[docockbrainrot]

i think i want you (to leave)

Summary: We’re all running from something. Sometimes, metaphorically. Sometimes, literally. Literally running, from the very strangely hypnotizing supervillain that seems hellbent on ruining every bit of your life he can get all eight of his limbs on.

Pairing: Doc Ock X Reader/ Otto Octavius X Reader

Content: Slow Burn, NSFW eventually, 18+

AO3 link here.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5

anathema// former vandal

The next several days are an uneventful blur. You barely leave your apartment, except for brief dog walks and grabbing food from the bodega across the street.

It’s 9 pm on Saturday and you’re fresh out of the shower, tucked away in a very fuzzy robe, lounging on the couch and watching YouTube on your television. You almost miss the subtle taptaptaptap sound coming from your window, you're so engrossed in the cooking show you’ve been binging. Gotta fill the void somehow, right?

You can’t see anything outside from where you’re sitting. The lights are on and make it impossible to peer through the reflections on the glass. Maybe it’s a bird. Or a branch is caught on the fire escape. Either way, you certainly can’t be assed to check it out and you take another sip of your chamomile tea- you’ve been trying everything under the sun, just about short of literally snorting lines of melatonin, to try to sleep better at night. Nothing’s been working. But you have been making a very valiant effort.

A few moments go by and you forget all about the window disturbance until,

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP.

It’s jarring. It’s loud. Above all else, it’s annoying. Chekov spares you a look, like you’re the one making a racket. Effectively exasperated, you make an effort to set, not slam, down your mug, feeling decidedly not Calm and Relaxed as the tea promised. Suppose it’s not miracle shit though, is it? You would not be a good candidate for a horror movie because you fearlessly storm over to the window and throw it open (it wasn’t locked in the first place; you’re quite terrible at remembering to). You stick your head out and glower at whatever irritating mischief is happening out here, ready to rip the fire escape off the side of the brick building.

You’re greeted by something cold and hard (and indubiously metal, judging by how it felt against your sternum) shoving you back into your apartment, sending you sprawling unceremoniously to the hardwood floor. A string of profanities ready to leave your tongue, you sit up and adjust your robe in an attempt to preserve a modicum of your modesty. The rant dies in your throat as red eyed claws grip the threshold of your pre-war window and it’s almost comical the way He maneuvers himself in, far too large to be making these sorts of entrances. Standing up to his full height before you while you’re still sitting dumbfounded on the floor reminds you of just how impressively built he is. You manage to pick your jaw up, but your ass remains firmly planted on the wood.

“Uh… you could have just used the buzzer, dude. I have a front door, you know,” you sputter out, brain blitzing in pretty much every way possible. Your thoughts are racing and eventually they settle on the most important thing you can think to ask in that moment: “... Why aren’t you wearing a shirt.” You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to his broad chest, gaze lingering on the vast scarring that spills out from the metal contraption clamped around his midsection.

Otto very graciously closes the window behind himself. Or at least his little robot accomplices do it for him. You still aren’t sure what’s going on with that- the whole AI thing. Not even a blip on your radar of concerns at this point. “Didn’t want anyone to see me come in. Your building has a camera on the front, facing the street.”

“That’s why you’re shirtless?” You ask dumbly. Interesting method of camouflage. “What? No- what? It doesn’t matter- listen to me. I need you to do something for me. A small favor.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the compromised position he put you in. Typical. Gathering up your broken pride, you get up and tighten the tie of your robe a bit. It isn’t until then that he has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed and you hope you didn't just give him a free show on your way to getting to your feet. “You literally just broke into my apartment and now you’re asking for a favor? We barely know each other!”

“Less complicated when there's nothing personal involved yet, plus- you let me in,” he corrects you. You wish he would stop doing that. You wish he would stop meeting with you like this, under weird and mysterious circumstances. Even though it's only been like twice. You're already over it.

“You threw me across the room!”

“Touche.”

Otto does not apologize and you did not sincerely expect him to. The look on his face reads more like the cat that got the canary than regretful. You feel as though you’ve come to recognize that expression on his face and you also feel as though you don’t much like the fact that you’ve enough encounters with this man that you can recognize a damn thing about him. “What… could you possibly need me to do for you? I am not robbing a bank.” You just want to get that out into the open as soon as possible.

“I don’t need your help robbing a bank,” he snorts as if the idea is preposterous and you take a moment to feel insulted. Wow. Okay. You could totally rob a bank if you wanted to. Deciding to not comment on your wounded ego, you let him get to the point. Otto pulls something out of his inner coat pocket. It's some kind of rolled up paper and you think at first maybe it's a newspaper or magazine. He unfurls it onto the coffee table and holds it open with two metal claws on either side so it doesn't ravel itself back up.

You realize it's a blueprint. "This is… Oscorp," you point out stupidly, brow furrowing in confusion. There's levels to what's happening here. Layers upon layers, melding together with rot and decay and you can all but smell it. But there's something missing, something that would tie all of the wackjob shit that's been happening to you and around you together. It feels like when you have a very particular thought and then walking into another room makes it dissolve from your head. You're trying to grasp for it, to fit the puzzle pieces together, but it's just out of reach.

"Yes. It is. I have a small task I need you to do," Otto starts off, metal phalanges pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head as he looks over at you. For the first time, you can see his eyes in the light. The warm amber feels like a mockery- you have seen his cruelty in action.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" Of course he'd say that.

Your fingertips brush against the metaphorical wayward chain link. It's right there. You just have to grab it and pull it back to you, like the anchor of a ship before it can set sail.

He's talking. You aren't listening. He's tracing a finger over the schematics. You don't see it. Realization washes over you in a heart-dropping tsunami. The voicemail you got from Oscorp plays like a broken record in your mind. 'Hello, Y/N. We're calling in regards to your employment status here at Oscorp. Unfortunately, due to a breach of security, we are having to make staffing cuts and are going to have to let you go. We appreciate your time and effort and wish you the best of luck in your next endeavor.' It didn't make sense at the time. A lot of things didn't. You replay the scene of poor David, desperately pleading for his life at the hands of the man hunched over here, just in your living room. You mentally re-run it over and over like bad 80s sitcoms on late night television.

"Lab Coat Guy…"

You don't realize you whispered it out loud until Otto goes silent.

"What?"

You slowly look at him and take a single step backwards, shaking your head. The company embroidered on David's lab coat hadn't been clear to you in the moment- but it's crystal in hindsight. Oscorp. "You got me fired." Your tone is flat, until anger flashes through you, like a streak of lightning through a dark, moonless sky, illuminating all of things that didn’t make sense before.

"It doesn't matter. What I need you to do-" He's so nonchalant, so blasé that it only stokes the embers of frustration until there's a roaring blaze burning beneath your skin. It's all about him, what he needs, what he wants. He has the nerve, the audacity, to keep traipsing into your life, kicking you while you're down and then ask for favors? You want to say all of that to him but unfortunately for you, you're an angry crier. Your outburst of bravery at him the last time you saw each other had surprised even you- but now there's so much more emotion roiling around inside you.

"No. No, no. Fuck you. You got me fired! I can't- I can't not have a job, I have to pay rent! You could get me arrested for just talking to you!" Oscorp had you canned to tie up any potential loose ends before anymore Davids could slip through the cracks. You think about how scared the poor dude must have been, threatened into stealing blueprints from the biggest corporation in the city, for one of the most infamous criminals. You don't know how they found out you were even remotely involved and you don't want to know.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and once the floodgates have opened you're very familiar with how long it's going to take to close them again. After all you've been bottling this up since you found out, too disappointed to even tell any of your friends or family.

Otto appears taken aback, to say the least. He even looks like he's at a loss for words; that's a first. You know he could kill you where you stand in the blink of an eye, but in that moment you don’t even care. You’ve been trying so hard for so long to get on your feet, to do things for yourself and get away from the past. You moved across the country, you left everything behind, you got a damn dog. It seems like every time you manage to take a step forward in life, you’re knocked flat on your ass, apparently literally sometimes. It isn’t fair. Things don’t come easily to you, you’ve always had to work for them. You aren’t wealthy, you aren’t a supergenius, you’re just… you. The job at Oscorp was good money and you really felt like you were getting your shit together for a while.

“They’re not who you think they are,” he says finally, so calmly, with such carefulness about his words, that you sniffle pathetically and look up at him. He doesn’t look nearly as pleased with himself as you thought he might. And here you’ve been, under the impression that he gets off on hurting people. “Oscorp. I’m not… I’m not just doing this for me. You have to understand that.”

The schematics are furled up and tucked away. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Maybe it’s just the tears that blur your vision, but you swear you see a softness there before they’re hidden away again by his glasses.

He lingers at the window.

“I hope you’ll reconsider.” And then he was making his exit, even taking care to gently close the window on the way out. But he raps on the glass with his knuckles from where he stands on the fire escape and you know the look of confusion on your tear-streaked face speaks for itself. Otto points to the latches on the window. ‘Lock it.’ He mouths before he’s gone, presumably to wreak havoc and harass other unsuspecting young women that don’t want anything to do with him.

You thought everything had come together- but the more sense you make of it, the less you seem sure of the bigger picture. You aren't even sure exactly what he wanted you to do.

You’re left with an endless bounty of questions, and not enough answers to satisfy any of them.

[cakesunflower]

Outer Banks Series Rewrite/JJ Maybank Fic Series [5. Midsummers]

Disclaimer: None of the characters (except for Stella) or their dialogues (for the most part) are my own, and belong to the writers & creators of Outer Banks!

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read on AO3!

Here’s episode 5 “Midsummers”!

“Dude—Mom catches you out here, and you’re dead.” Stella peeked one eye open, catching sight of her sister standing over her, arms crossed over her chest and eyebrows raised. “You’re literally out in the open.”

Kie’s concern came from the pen Stella was currently twirling between her fingers as she lay on the ground in their backyard. Stella didn’t say anything, instead took another pull from the pen, letting the familiar smoke invade her lungs before blowing it out slowly. The act did its job in calming her down, and Kiara let out a sigh before shifting to sit down next to Stella, before going down on her back, too.

Stella could feel her sister’s gaze on her as Kie turned her head to look at her, but Stella kept her gaze up at the sky. It was sort of cloudy, but there wasn’t a threat for rain. If there had been, the celebration later tonight would’ve been rescheduled ages ago.

“Look, I know you’re worried about JJ—” Kie began, but Stella cut her off.

“He willingly let himself get arrested for something he didn’t do, and he has a drug-addict, abusive dad to go back home to. We haven’t heard from him yet.” Stella looked at Kie, then, jaw hard. “Of course I’m worried.”

Kie’s gaze was soft with sympathy, but Stella could see her own concern swimming, too. After all, Kie cared about JJ as well. Maybe not in the way Stella did, but just as good. “He’ll turn up,” Kie assured. “He always does.”

Despite Kie’s efforts, Stella wasn’t all that comforted. And maybe Kie saw the deep worry that had etched itself into Stella’s features, because Kie’s face softened even more, looking at her sister gently as she asked, “What’s going on?”

Stella’s throat worked as her heart drummed in her chest, forcing herself into a sitting position while Kie kept on her back, looking up at her. For a moment, Stella hesitantly chewed on her lower lip, wondering if now was the right time to indulge, but it was Kie. It was her sister, and if Stella couldn’t tell her, she couldn’t tell anyone.

“JJ and I kissed.” There. She said it. Now it was out in the open.

Kie blinked once before her eyes widened almost comically, shooting up in a sitting position opposite of Stella as she demanded, “What? When?”

“Yesterday,” Stella admitted, stomach flipping as memories of her and JJ’s actions played through her mind like her favorite movie. She couldn’t stop the small smile from playing on her lips. “We were at John B’s, before coming to the summer series.” She fiddled with the pen between her fingers. “It just—it kind of just happened.”

Kie scoffed with a shake of her head. “It didn’t kind of just happen,” she mocked. “This has been waiting to happen for so Goddamn long.” Stella tried not to laugh at the happiness shining in Kie’s eyes, which did a lot to relax Stella. She’d been worried Kie would ram on her for breaking one of their friend group rules, but Kie seemed anything but disappointed. Her eyes widened then, shoulders lifting. “Oh, shit, John B and Pope owe me twenty bucks!”

Stella blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

Kie snickered, looking all too delighted. “We kind of had a bet going on over how long it’d take for you and JJ to get together.” Stella’s eyes widened, jaw dropping in disbelief. “I bet it’d happen before Midsummers and would you look at that! You just made me forty bucks richer, sis.”

“Wha—” Stella cut herself off with a scoff, ripping up some grass before tossing it at Kie. She shrieked through a laugh, jerking back before brushing away the pieces of grass. “Are you kidding me?! You guys bet on us?”

“Of course we did,” Kie responded with a smirk, not at all looking apologetic. At Stella’s gaping expression, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Stel. You two have been dancing around each other for so fucking long. We were getting tired of waiting, so we thought we’d have some fun with it,” she finished with a shrug.

Stella couldn’t believe what she was hearing, cheeks heating up at the information. She wasn’t mad or upset that her sister and friends bet on when she and JJ would get together—she was just surprised, and a little bit amused. She wondered how long the bet had been going on for. But instead of asking that, she instead inquired, “So I’m guessing JJ and I are in the clear for breaking the no Pogue-on-Pogue macking rule?”

Kie waved her off, smile still in place. “You two are the exception to the rule,” she said confidently before crossing her legs and shooting Stella an expectant look. “So? Tell me how it was.” She quickly held a hand up. “But not too many details because it’s JJ and he’s like my brother and, ew, gross. But I still wanna know! How’d it happen?”

At that, the heat in Stella’s cheeks intensified into a fire as she recalled every single detail from yesterday—as if she could ever forget. “I was, uh, persuading him to come to the summer series with us.”

Kie’s eyebrows shot up. “Persuading, huh?” she repeated with an impish grin, prompting Stella to let out a giggle. “Well, looks like it worked. Not that I’m surprised. That boy is stupid for you.”

Stella pressed her lips together to keep her giddy smile from widening. “Stop.”

Kie snickered. “Man, you two are gonna be unbearable now, aren’t you? All over each other all of the time.”

“Dude, I don’t even know what we’re doing,” Stella instantly responded with a shake of her head. “All we did was kiss. We’re not suddenly together, Kie.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Only a matter of time.”

Stella’s heart fluttered in her chest. Of course she wanted to be with JJ—it was all she could think about for so long. After that kiss, it was closer to being a reality than she could ever imagine, but they needed to talk about it, first. “Maybe. But first he needs to let us know he’s okay and that his dad didn’t fucking kill him.”

Her words were tight in her throat as she said them, sending a new jolt of worry through her. JJ never really talked about it, but she knew the kind of man his dad was, knew what he was capable of. JJ getting arrested wasn’t going to go over well; it wouldn’t with any parent, but God only knew how Luke Maybank would react to it. So, yeah, Stella was sick with worry over JJ, and she just fucking wished he’d call or text her back.

Kie sighed. “Listen, maybe—”

Whatever Kie was about to say was interrupted by their mother’s voice shouting at them from the back porch. “Girls! Get in here! You need to start getting ready.” Simultaneously, both Stella and Kie threw their heads back and groaned, loudly—loud enough for Mrs. Carrera to hear them. “I don’t wanna hear it! Get your butts in here now!”

They stood up, and as Stella shoved her pen in the pocket of her shorts, Kie grumbled, “I hate everything.”

While every other soul on Figure Eight either was overjoyed to be attending Midsummers or envious that they couldn’t, Stella and Kiara were probably the only ones who hated the party. For Kie, it was more of a socialist thing that Stella respected her for, but she also knew that her sister’s disgust with Midsummers, ultimately, existed for the same reason as Stella’s: they hated the people they were surrounded by.

All of the Kooks would be gathered tonight for the party—this year a celebration for Ward Cameron, A.K.A the father of Sarah Cameron, Kie’s worst enemy. Stella didn’t care what the party was for—she despised it. The most Stella liked to dress up was in clothes of her choice, and sure that could sometimes include make-up and dresses, but not full on evening gowns with flowers in her hair. It often felt like she was getting dressed up as a lamb for a slaughter, being pushed into a crowd of Kooks who thought they were better than everyone else because of their overflowing pockets. The adults were bad enough—Stella did not want to even see the people her age.

Namely Rafe, Topper, Kelce, and anyone who was associated with them. Especially after what they did to JJ and Pope yesterday. Dicks.

But Midsummers, much to both Stella and Kie’s chagrin, was important to their parents, especially their mother. So as soon as the two girls returned inside the house, Mrs. Carrera was ushering them towards the bathrooms, like they were toddlers who needed supervised bath times.

“Hold on a second—” Mr. Carrera paused, and Stella and Kie exchanged looks when their mom sniffed the air around them. Her eyes then zeroed in on Stella, hands on her hips and eyes blazing as she demanded, “Did you just smoke, Stella?”

Knowing there was no point in lying, Stella huffed. “I needed something to take the edge off if I have to go to this stupid party.”

This wasn’t the first time their mom caught them smoking or smelling of weed, but it pissed her off just the same. While Kie tried to stifle a smile, Mrs. Carrera glared daggers at her Stella. “You’re not getting out of this, Stella. You better drown yourself in body wash and perfume when you get ready.”

Stella rolled her eyes behind her mom’s back, but listened all the same, albeit reluctantly. Kie was the first to hop into the shower in their shared bathroom, so Stella took the time to lay in her bed and unlock her phone, hoping to see a text or missed call from JJ. Her heart jumped when she saw just one text from him, chest tight as she read it quickly.

JJ: Don’t worry about me. I’m good. I’ll see u later.

That was it. Just ten words of reassurance and then nothing. Part of Stella was relieved to have received anything from him at all, but another part still felt worried and a little annoyed. She—all of them—had been worried sick over him after yesterday, and this was all he could say? Stella figured she shouldn’t be too surprised. It was typical JJ behavior. He got in a bind and somehow got himself out of it, and never really let his friends in on if anything was wrong. But the tough guy persona could only get him so far.

Chewing on her lower lip, Stella drafted a text, but not to JJ. Instead, she sent a message to John B.

Stella: You heard from JJ? Do you think he’s okay?

John B responded within moments.

John B: Yeah, it’s all good. I’m with him right now. We’ll see you guys tonight, alright? Keep an eye out.

Stella blinked at the cryptic message, wondering what the hell he was talking about. But if recent circumstances were any indicator, something was probably going down tonight. Stella’s stomach flipped in both apprehension and excitement. These boys might be the death of her.

Soon enough, Kie was out of the bathroom and it was Stella’s turn. She showered and brushed her teeth, stepping back into her room to catch sight of a satin slip dress with a halter neck waiting for her on her bed. It was a pretty golden color with a V-neck trimmed with lace, and a pair of white and gold sandals were waiting by the bed, too. Stella huffed, the towel wrapped tightly around her. She knew for a fact that her mother thought she needed to have everything out for her otherwise Stella would be useless in getting dressed for Midsummers. It was kind of insulting.

Stella expertly dried her hair, letting the natural curls come into place, before doing her makeup. She kept it light, as always, because not even Midsummers was going to make her slap on a face full of makeup, especially in the middle of summer. Some foundation, mascara, highlighter, and lipstick was as far as she went, with her jewelry consisting of a dainty diamond star necklace and the rings on her fingers.

“Oh, good, you’re dressed,” Mrs. Carrera said upon entering her room. “Come on, let me do your hair.”

Stella frowned but listened, sitting down in front of her dresser while her mom stood behind her. She worked quickly and efficiently, braiding back the two front locks of her hair and intertwining small yellow flowers in them that Stella tried not to wrinkle her nose at.

As her mom worked, Kie wandered into Stella’s room. Her slip dress was spaghetti strapped and a lavender color, a couple of layered necklaces around her neck, and her hair down in an updo with a crown of pink and purple flowers and locks of curly hair framing her face. She looked stunning, even with that scowl she wore as she stormed into the room.

“This is disgusting,” she announced without preamble.

Mrs. Carrera wove another flower into Stella’s braid, her voice dry above her as she responded, “I know. It’s just horrible. I’m asking you two to relax and go to a fun party.”

Kie scoffed, towering over their mom. They may be twins, but Kie somehow got the tall gene from their dad, standing at the elegant 5’8”, while Stella hadn’t grown past 5’5”. “We look like bourgeoisie pigs.”

Stella tried to keep the snort from escaping, covering it up with a cough as their mom finally patted down Stella’s hair, letting out a satisfied hum before stepping back. She shot Kie an exasperated look and said, “Will you please not worry about socioeconomic injustice for one night?”

Kie scowled and Stella’s face scrunched up. This was so much more than that. She twisted around in the seat and stood up, crossing her arms and siding with Kie, “Mom, people not three miles from here have no power, no running water—and we’re going to Midsummers.”

Kie nodded vigorously, gesturing to Stella. “That’s so tone deaf.”

Mrs. Carrera huffed, picking up the little pouch she’d dropped on the dressing table and pulling out the diamond earrings. As she put one in, she said, “Do you know how hard we had to work to get into the Island Club?”

Both Stella and Kie rolled their eyes, having heard this a hundred times before. “Yeah, Mom, how could we forget?” Stella sighed. “You had to grovel for, like, ten years—”

“Twelve,” Mrs. Carrera corrected, “and we also had to cough up a huge chunk of dough, and do you know why we did that?”

Kie wasn’t impressed. “To keep up with the Joneses?”

Mrs. Carrera’s hands were on her hips, looking at her daughter pointedly. “No. So you two could have the experiences that I had as a child. Sweethearts, do you know what the Island Club is?”

“A factory farm for debutantes,” Kie flatly said at the same time Stella said, “Where brain cells go to die.”

Kie gave her a subtle fist bump as their mother glared at them before smiling exasperatedly. She placed one hand on each of their cheeks, looking at both of them as she said, “It is a nice place, with nice people, where you can do fun stuff.”

Neither of them bought the company line. “With out of touch rich people,” Stella added.

Kie rightfully finished, “While the island sinks slowly into the ocean.”

Their mom dropped her hands from their cheeks, stepping back and shooting them a look. Clearly, she was done trying with her stubborn daughters. “Okay, I want you two to put on your party faces if you wanna live,” she said before walking out of the room.

Both Stella and Kie sighed, looking at each other in resigned defeat. Stella picked up her pen, offering a half hearted smile. “Wanna take a hit before we go?”

Kie scoffed, taking it from her. “Or maybe ten.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, the girls were at the Island Club with their parents, and instead of doing the polite thing and greeting the other party goers, Stella spotted a familiar face and grabbed Kie’s hand, jerking her chin to where Pope was working out on the lawn at the grill. She’d almost forgotten that he was working the party with his dad. Thank God for small miracles.

As they approached him, his back to the girls, Kie startled Stella by speaking in a terrible British accent, “Excuse me, sir. Do we have to shuck these ourselves?” Pope swiveled around as Kie grinned and Stella shook her head in bemusement. “’Cause it might mess up my costume.”

Pope chuckled. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” he asked and Stella stepped forward with a laugh, slapping her hand against his, front and back, before ending with a snap of her fingers. Their handshake. As he repeated the act with Kie, Pope added, “That accent was bad.”

Kie nodded. “It was. I was gonna let it go.”

Stella scoffed. “I wish you had,” she said as they came to stand next to Pope, arms folded across her chest. The three of them observed the scene before them, of all the guests gathered around in their fancy dresses and suits, drinking from flutes of champagne or drinks from the bar. “You ever seen this many Kooks in one place?”

“Yeah. Last year,” Pope answered.

Kie was squinting against the sun, but just like Stella’s, her brown skin glowed a pretty golden color against it. “We’re in the lion’s den.”

“Exactly.”

Pope glanced at the two of them, gaze lingering on Stella longer as he asked, “Have you heard from JJ?”

Kie shook her head. “No.”

“Just a text,” Stella answered, prompting Kie to look towards her, raising an eyebrow. Stella’s lips pursed. “He said he was okay and not to worry about him. But I won’t really believe it until I see him.”

“He’ll be all right,” Kie said, frowning to herself. “He’s got the survival instincts of a cockroach.”

Stella swallowed inaudibly. Kie wasn’t really wrong.

“It’s all my fault,” Pope said, the guilt thick in his tone as he frowned at nothing. He looked like he might be sick over everything that’s happened.

Stella frowned as Kie said, “Uh, you didn’t do this, Pope.”

“Yeah,” Stella chimed in firmly. “Topper almost killed you. Remember?”

He shot her a dry look. “Not something I can forget.”

Stella shot him a small smile. “JJ was just trying to do right by you. He—he knew what he was doing.” She stumbled over her words briefly because, well, she wasn’t entirely sure if she believed them. She believed that JJ thought he was doing the right thing, but getting arrested was no small thing. He was just adding onto his record, and this time for something he didn’t even do. JJ put loyalty above anything else, and it was one of her favorite things about him—until it landed him in trouble he might not be able to get out of.

Midsummers, as expected, was boring as usual. The adults drank and the teens snuck in their own alcohol in hidden flasks, dancing to the music from the live band while almost everyone kissed Ward Cameron’s ass. Stella stuck by Kie’s side, mostly because she didn’t care for anyone else there and because Kie kept glaring at Sarah Cameron, who looked like the perfect Kook princess. She was missing her not-so-Prince Charming, Topper, who seemed to be sticking by Rafe and Kelce’s sides than with Sarah. Hmm. Interesting.

At one point, Stella excused herself to go to the bathroom, walking inside the country club and down the hall. She did her business, ignoring the giggles of the few other girls inside as she washed her hands. Just as she stepped out of the bathroom, however, she let out a gasp and stumbled into the doorframe as a figure rushed off in front of her, her gaze instantly following.

She’d recognize those blonde locks anywhere.

Stella’s heart thundered, gripping the doorframe tightly as she called out, “JJ?”

*****

Despite the severity of needing to find a hiding spot or escape, the sound of Stella’s voice had JJ stopping in his tracks. He turned, catching sight of her down the hall, too far down the hall, looking every bit as breathtaking as he expected her to in a golden dress that hugged her so perfectly. And the way she was looking at him—the surprise and relief and tenderness he was sure she reserved just for him—had JJ’s heart pounding right out of his chest, and not just because he was trying to save himself at the moment.

“Stella—” JJ stopped, looking through the glass of the doors, seeing Rafe, Kelce, and three of their suited up buddies purposefully making their way over. “Shit.” His blue eyes met her concerned brown ones. “Sweetheart, I’ll explain everything later, but I gotta run right now. Just—I’ll see you in a little, okay?”

“Wait, JJ—”

But he didn’t stick around, as much as he wanted to, and instead turned and ran off just as he heard Rafe and his buddies walk in. They’d spotted him talking to Sarah because he’d needed to give her a letter from John B, after he’d spoken to and received a surprising hug from Pope, and now they were hot on his ass looking to throw more punches. JJ’d already received a beating from his dad—he didn’t need anymore, thank you very much.

Except he made his way into the men’s room, and Rafe and his buddies were pretty fast and managed to corner him no problem. Five against one—this was totally fair. Assholes.

Rafe pushed him and JJ grunted, struggling as Kelce came up behind him and locked an arm around the front of his neck, the other keeping his head in place as JJ grabbed at Kelce’s arm to loosen the grip. He struggled, heart pounding, as Rafe looked at his friends. “Hold him still. What—what do you think? A four iron, right?” He mimicked holding a golf club. “Keep his head still. I’m gonna line this up.”

JJ didn’t make it easy for Kelce to keep him still. “Very Rafe of you,” JJ said through gritted teeth. “Five on one?”

Rafe looked pristine in his stupid blue suit and bowtie. JJ hoped he’d choke on it. “If you could please stop talking? It’s very disrespectful. I’m trying to hit a ball.” Oh, fuck no. “Learn your etiquette, my friend.”

JJ kept grunting, struggling against Kelce, using his hands as much as he could to try and get away. JJ’s voice was hoarse against Kelce’s grip as he spat back, “I’m gonna kick your teeth in.” As much fire as there was in his voice, JJ wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to deliver on his promise. Not when the odds were stacked against him.

Rafe smirked sardonically, crouching to look up at JJ with a mocking sort of sympathy. “Your face looks really bad. Starting to look like your dad a lot more.”

The insult was grating, especially given that the bruises and cuts on his face were courtesy of his father. JJ couldn’t do much more than spit in Rafe’s face. He jerked back, wiping the saliva off his face as he grinned. “Oh, shit. Alright. It was—”

The lights began flickering. “Gentlemen!” Kelce roughly let go of JJ and pushed him off, prompting the blonde to struggle before he righted himself. The security guard approached them. “Is there a problem?”

“Oh! Pardon me, officer. No, there’s not an issue. I just—” JJ cut himself off, his breathing labored as he panted to catch his breath. He looked at the others and JJ ran his fingers through his hair before deciding on a different course of action. One he knew would likely get him out of this. “Actually, yes. No, there is an issue. Uh, we got a criminal trespass in progress here. Beep!” He waved a finger around. “Call it in, right?” The others looked at him, trying to appear casual and like they weren’t doing anything wrong. “Blatant disrespect for private property.”

Rafe clicked his tongue, scratching his ear. “Yeah.”

JJ turned to the guard. “I’m in violation of all kinds of shit, sir, but these young gentlemen—” He made a show of righting Kelce’s bowtie before he jerked him away.

“Don’t touch my shit,” Kelce said lowly.

JJ continued, “Uh, caught me, sir, and they’re about to take me away. And that’s what you should do.” He held his fists up like he was ready to be handcuffed. Again. “Escort me out of here. You got me.”

The guard grabbed his arm. JJ was relieved. “Come on.”

“All right.” JJ looked over his shoulder as the guard pulled him out, looking at the Kooks. “Fix that tie, son,” he said to Kelce before looking at Rafe. “You’re lookin’ spiffy, too. You Powerpuff Girls have fun,” he turned back around.

Rafe took a step forward, his voice smug. “Tell Stella she looks pretty hot for a scarred Pogue.”

Fire erupted in JJ’s veins at Rafe’s comment, a newfound anger rushing through him at the blatant insult from the son of a bitch. JJ didn’t care who they were—nobody talked about Stella like that. Not at all, not in front of him. JJ’s body moved at his own accord, a low growl escaping him as he jerked away from the guard and tried to launch himself at Rafe, consequences be damned of a five against one. The asshole insulted Stella. JJ couldn’t just let him get away with that.

He rushed towards Rafe, only for Kelce to jump in and push him away as the guard came to his back and pulled him away. “Hey! Stop it. Come here! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

But JJ struggled, the urge to bury his fist in Rafe’s face overwhelming after his words. “You think I’m afraid of you, bro?”

The guard pulled him back. “Come on.”

JJ turned and was guided out as Rafe’s voice followed him out of the locker room. “Hey, safe travels back to the cut!”

JJ shouted back, “This ain’t over!”

The guard didn’t let his grip on JJ go as he guided him down the halls and towards the doors, his grip tight as they burst through the doors out onto the patio. “Look, man, I can walk myself!” JJ exclaimed, earning gasps and looks from the guests at him being escorted out. “I got legs. Can you see that, brother?”

The guard didn’t seem to care. “Come on.”

“I really appreciate what you did back there. Let me just walk out by myself.” He struggled against the guard’s grip before spotting the older gentleman from earlier who had asked JJ for a drink. At this point, JJ didn’t care for the attention he was drawing on himself, stumbling over to where the man stood. “Mr. Dunleavy, I see you got your drink. Good, that’s really nice of you. I’m actually gonna down that,” he said quickly before grabbing the drink and downing the whiskey in one gulp.

The man gaped at him, the guard apologized before pulling JJ away. Everyone was watching, murmuring, and JJ never had mastered the art of subtlety, so he made a commotion as he was so kindly escorted out. Might as fucking well go out with a bang.

“Let go of him!” JJ turned at the sound of Stella’s voice, standing up on the patio with Kie by her side. Their parents were behind them, quietly telling Stella to stay quiet while her gaze met JJ’s. He stopped, kind of fucking mesmerized by the sight of her. “You can’t just boot him!”

The guard stopped, still holding onto JJ, who was still watching her. “Excuse me, ma’am?” the guard asked.

“I invited him here,” Stella continued, her voice loud and carrying over the newfound silence amongst the crowd. Everyone was looking at her, but she didn’t seem to give a shit, and JJ kind of fell in love with her all over again.

Next to her, JJ could hear her mom say, “Stella, stop it.”

“No, she’s right,” Kie spoke up, glaring at her parents and then at the guard. “We’re members of this club.”

“Girls, stop it,” Mr. Carrera seemed to be saying to them.

JJ took the opportunity of the guard being distracted to jerk out of his grip and push him, wincing as the man went stumbling into a waiter carrying a tray full of glasses that went shattering on the ground. “Sorry about that!” JJ said over the commotion before looking towards the girls. He pointed at them, blonde hair falling over his shoulders. “Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, ladies.” His gaze found Pope’s amidst the crowd’s. “Pope, you as well, all right? Rixon’s cove. Let’s roll.” He was walking backwards, people making their way for him as they all gaped at him in disbelief and annoyance. JJ looked back at the girls, holding his arm up. “All right, girls, come on.” He gripped his wrist. “Workers of the world unite. Throw off your chains!”

His gaze met Stella’s, who was watching him in, what he realized with relief, was amusement. He saw the looks she and Kie exchanged, a silent communication going on between the twins while their parents most definitely murmured warnings at them. And then, much to JJ’s relief, Stella and Kie broke away before running down the stairs.

JJ grinned widely, finally facing John B, who had been watching the whole thing with a grin. “Colonel.”

John B returned the salute JJ offered him. “Captain.”

JJ grinned. “Mission accomplished, sir.”

John B laughed as JJ shouted for the girls, watching as Pope pulled off his apron and handed it to his dad before running towards John B and JJ, all the while Mr. Heyward yelled, “Don’t do this! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

But Pope didn’t listen, instead high fived John B and JJ, before John B ran off ahead and the two of them faced the girls running over, as well. Kie and Pope ran side by side, laughing, and JJ opened his arms so Stella could run into his embrace, and he laughed into her neck as he lifted her off the ground with a spin before setting her down, grasping her hand in his, and following the others as they ran.

“Later, losers!” John B shouted over his shoulder towards the partygoers.

Stella was laughing, the sound brilliant and wonderful in JJ’s ears as Kie cheered while they ran. JJ couldn’t help but laugh as well. It may have been a shitty couple of days, but at least he had his friends.

*****

The fire crackled between them as Stella sat on a log next to JJ. The cicadas were chirping against the otherwise quiet of the night, and JJ had changed out of the waiter get up and was back in his signature hat, shirt, and shorts combo. The sight of the shark tooth necklace Stella had gifted him around his neck always made her chest tighten in the best way. She and Kie were still in their Midsummers dresses, but mosquitos and bugs never bothered Stella, so she sat comfortably as the fire warmed them.

She kept looking towards JJ, though—at the cuts and bruises on his face. The sight of him injured tightened her chest uncomfortably, made her stomach twist nauseatingly. No doubt his dad had done this to him, and it enraged her. She wished, with every fiber of her being, that she could get him as far away from his dad as possible. It hurt, so badly, to see JJ injured at the hands of his abusive father. JJ, despite what others may see as faults and flaws, was probably the best person she knew. He had such a big heart, a soul that deserved to be loved and protected instead of stepped on and beaten. She desperately wished she could protect him from the cruelty of others. He deserved someone to do that for him.

“Hey, guys. So, like, my dad’s already gonna kill me,” Pope said as he and John B dropped some sticks to feed the fire before sitting down. “So what’s this mandatory meeting about?”

Stella watched as John B looked at JJ, pointing at him as if he needed permission. JJ nodded. “Might as well tell him, man, before we’re gaffed.”

John B smiled like he held some kind of secret. “You ready for this?” he asked, looking at Kie and Stella.

The two girls nodded impatiently. “Yeah.”

The fire glowed against John B’s skin as he looked at all of them. “So, the gold never went down with the Royal Merchant.”

Stella blinked as Pope groaned. “Oh, my God. Here we go again with this.”

Next to her, JJ sat up, holding out a calming hand to Pope. “No, all right, wait. Hear him out, all right?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at Pope and the girls.

John B had a finger to his lips before continuing, “It’s been here this whole time.” He looked to Kie. “It’s on the island.”

Her expression was one of shocked disbelief. “Are you serious?” She looked at John B before laughing in astonishment. “Oh, my God.”

Pope held up a hand. “I’d like to voice my skepticism.”

Stella was still trying to wrap her head around what John B said as he stood up. “I’m sure you would, Pope, but can I please present you with my evidence, sir?”

Pope rolled his eyes. “Proceed.”

John B held up a piece of paper he pulled out from his bag, proceeding to tell them about a letter he had from Denmark Tanny, a slave who had survived the wreck of the Royal Merchant. He showed it to Pope and the girls, telling them that the slaves weren’t mentioned as crew members on the ship, but that his dad found the complete manifest—his big discovery. Stella listened attentively, mouth agape, looking towards JJ who nodded with a smile on his face. He knew all of this already, it seemed. It was probably why he and John B had been together earlier.

“So Tanny used the gold from the Merchant to buy his freedom,” John B was saying. “After that, he bought his farm. Drumroll, please, because that farm is,” he paused dramatically as the group of them slapped their knees with their hands. “Tannyhill Plantation.”

Kie stopped. “Tannyhill?”

John B nodded, standing like a professor giving a lecture. “Yeah. So, after that, he used his money to free even more slaves, and then he sold a shit-ton of rice, which pisses off all the white planters, and then they decide to lynch him. So on the day they were coming to get him, he writes a letter to his son as a farewell, and in the last line of that letter, he leaves a coded message about where to find the gold.”

John B had Stella’s attention as she hung onto his every word, shaking her head as she asked, “Where?”

John B grinned. “Harvest the wheat in parcel nine, near the water.” He held up a hand. “Except, there is no wheat. You see, wheat is code for gold. Check this out.” He walked over to Pope, pointing at something in the paper Pope was holding. Stella leaned over to look as well. “The gold is in parcel nine, near the water.”

Kie laughed in disbelief as Pope murmured, “Holy shit.”

John B slapped his arm. “All we need is an original survey map of the property and we’ve found the gold.”

He was grinning widely as JJ stood up. Pope slowly started, “Okay, so this might have a small chance of being actually true.”

Kie bounced excitedly where she sat. “Dude, it’s like King Tut!” she exclaimed, earning a laugh from Stella.

“I am a genius,” John B announced, just as JJ tackled him into a hug. “Hey, whoa!” They teetered slightly where they stood before JJ lifted John B up. “Hello! Fire! You’re near the fire. You’re gonna burn.”

JJ pulled away and Stella snickered as he said, “I’m so proud of you right now.”

John B nodded somberly. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”

With a shake of her head, Stella interrupted the moment by asking, “Okay, so, guys.” They all looked towards her. “What’s the plan?”

John B pointed at her as JJ made his way back. “Good question. Sarah Cameron’s coming tonight. She’ll bring the original survey map—”

JJ sat down next to Stella just as her eyes widened, gaping at John B before her gaze instantly shot to Kie, who was frowning. “Hold on,” she interrupted. “Sarah? Wh-why Sarah?”

Stella tensed, looking between a bewildered Kie and a hesitant John B. She and Pope exchanged glances, both of them suddenly aware of the tension building in the open space. “Um—” John B trailed off.

JJ took off his head, muttering, “This is gonna be good.”

Stella looked at him, catching the wince he shot her way. Silently, she frowned at him, but JJ shook his head before nodding towards John B, who stood with his fists on his hips. “Sarah, um, she. . . She got me into the archives in Chapel Hill yesterday, and there’s where I got the letter.”

Kie’s face scrunched up even more, looking a mix of pissed off and confused, while Stella gaped up at John B. “You were in Chapel Hill with Sarah Cameron?”

John B’s throat worked. “Yeah, um. . .”

Next to her, JJ announced, “He was mackin’ on her.”

Stella gasped as she stared at him, wide eyed, and JJ nodded somberly while Pope coughed uncomfortably into his fist. Across the fire, Kie was glaring up at John B, and Stella hated the betrayal she could already see melting into Kie’s eyes. John B shot JJ a glare. “I wasn’t macking.”

JJ lifted his chin, unrelenting. “You were totally macking Sarah Cameron.”

He wasn’t helping the situation, so Stella lightly flicked his arm, prompting JJ to immediately look at her, pressing his cut lips together to keep himself from smirking. She narrowed her eyes in warning, and all JJ did was link their arms together and pull her to his side.

“I wasn’t macking on her, okay?” John B spoke up, exasperated. “I was using her for access.”

JJ scoffed lightly. “There was access, alright.”

Stella pinched his side at that, despite the inappropriate laugh threatening to burst. Kie wouldn’t appreciate it, and Stella could tell her twin was seconds away from pushing John B into the fire. “Did you tell her about the treasure?” Kie demanded.

John B’s eyes widened. “I was trying to get into the archives.”

Kie’s voice grew loud with disbelief. “Is that a yes?”

“I. . . I left out key details,” John B said, looking to the others for help. Stella pressed her lips together, pressed up against JJ. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything, not with the current situation going on. Poor John B wasn’t going to get help on this.

“Yo, what?” Kie scoffed with a shake of her head. “You let a Kook in on our secret? What about Pogue Lyfe? What about the T-shirt company, bro?”

Suddenly, it was a battle between Kie and John B, and all Stella, JJ, and Pope could do was sit on the sidelines silently and watch. “I was just using her for information,” John B tried.

Kie shot him a wry look. “Why don’t I believe you?”

John B was growing exasperated already, shaking his head at the unhelpfulness of the others before looking back at Kie. “I’m trying to make us filthy rich here, okay, so that we can pay off a boat, or. . . or, uh. . .” He looked towards Pope, “send you to autopsy school to study bed bodies.” Stella’s face scrunched up as JJ suppressed a snort and Pope blinked owlishly. “Look, you guys know me. Do I look like the type of person to fall for Sarah Cameron?”

JJ blinked. “Uh—”

Stella tilted her head at John B. “Do you want us to answer that?” She could guarantee neither he nor Kie would appreciate the answer.

John B held up a hand at Stella. “Just—just stop.”

Kie shook her head, her jaw tight as she frowned deeply. “Look, you don’t know her yet. I do! You can’t trust her.”

Pope chimed in, “Her brother did hit me in the back with a golf club.”

John B looked to Pope. “Rafe and Sara are different human beings.”

JJ’s cheek was resting on top of Stella’s head as he asked Kie, “What did she do to you, exactly?”

Stella sighed. Oh, boy.

Kie held up two fingers and jabbed them forward. “She’s like a. . . a spitting cobra.” Everyone blinked, bewildered. “First she—she blinds you, and then—”

Stella was already shaking her head, sitting up straight as she said to her struggling sister, “This is a bad analogy.”

“Listen to me!” Kie exclaimed, clearly fed up with the situation. “Whatever we get, she’s gonna try to take.”

Her words were met by silence, other than the crackling fire and chirping cicadas. John B stood quietly, throat working, clearly unsure of what to say as JJ and Pope stayed in their own awkward silence, too. Stella suppressed a sigh. It seemed as though it was up to her to smooth things over, even if she did slightly side with Kie in all of this. She didn’t have a begrudging hate towards Sarah like Kie did, but they were sisters, and Stella needed to show solidarity. But she could also, in some way, see John B’s side of things. God, this was gonna be tense.

“Kie,” Stella spoke up carefully, prompting Kie’s gaze to connect with hers. “Whatever John B promised Sarah, that’s his issue. But if she’s the only way we can get the map, then we need to let it happen.”

Kie’s jaw was hard. “I don’t want her involved. I don’t want to deal with her.”

“We won’t,” Stella said, glancing quickly at John B before looking at Kie again. “Let John B deal with her.” When Kie didn’t look entirely convinced, Stella let out a huff. “This is bigger than your beef with Sarah. I know you know that.”

Silence fell upon them for a few moments as they all waited for Kie to respond. She sat quietly, hands gripping the log she sat on, mulling over Stella’s words. Stella, in turn, hoped she got through to her sister. They needed Kie to be on board with this, no matter her issues with Sarah. They’d already gotten this far in their treasure hunt—an old beef shouldn’t hinder them now.

Stella remained quiet, waiting for Kie to make a decision, although she silently enjoyed the sensation of JJ’s fingers ghosting up and down her arm, their arms still linked together. It was calming when others would argue JJ was anything but.

“Fine,” Kie finally gave in and everyone instantly sat up. She glared at John B. “As long as I don’t have to speak to her.” John B pressed his hands together and brought them to his mouth, his grin already forming. “I just hope you know what you’re getting us into.”

After John B profusely thanked Kie for agreeing, they killed the fire and got up before heading back to the van, since they had to drive to meet Sarah. The twigs and leaves crunched under their shoes as they went, but as Pope, Kie, and John B chatted while walking ahead, Stella lingered back and grasped JJ’s hand to slow his pace down.

He looked at her, eyebrows raising. “What’s up?”

Stella looked up at him, her fingers ghosting on his chin. Finally, she let the worry come out in full force as she asked, “Are you okay? Did—” she stopped, throat working to get rid of the lump that formed. “Did your dad do this?”

JJ’s jaw worked, blue eyes glimmering under the moonlight as he looked down at her. “Got a good chunk of money to pay in restitution,” he told her. “The old man’s not too happy about it.”

Despite herself, Stella felt the hot tears sting in her eyes. She preferred the pink in JJ’s cheeks when they were flushed when he was happy or even drunk—not the pink and harsh reds that surrounded the cuts and marked the bruises. Stella wasn’t sure she ever hated anyone as much as she hated JJ’s dad. Her throat was tight, unable to say anything except to croak out his name, “JJ—”

“Hey, hey,” he shushed her, hands coming up to cup Stella’s that had been ghosting along his sharp jaw. He held her hand in both of his before pressing a kiss to it, blue eyes locked in her brown. “I’m okay, Stel. They’ll heal. It’s no big deal.”

Stella scoffed, though her concern remained clear. “You can’t actually expect me to believe that.” The flutters in her stomach returned when JJ kissed her hand, when he looked at her with those baby blue eyes she loved so much. She let out a breath. “You’re sleeping over at John B’s, right?”

JJ offered her a small dimpled grin. “When am I not?”

Stella pinned him with a stare. They’d stopped walking and she knew they had to move soon, but she took a breath. “Whenever you can, either sleep at John’s or you sleep at mine. Okay?”

JJ raised his eyebrows, though she could see his gaze soften at her offer. But he kept the mood light as he teased, “You inviting me to your room, shark bait?”

Her heart jumped. “Wouldn’t be the first time we shared a bed,” Stella pointed out. It was the truth. They shared hammocks, chairs, couches, and beds countless times before.

“Yeah, but it’s different now, isn’t it?” JJ questioned.

She looked at their hands before meeting his gaze again. “Is it?” she returned, throat working in anticipation. This was it. This was Stella asking JJ if whatever was happening between them was real, if something more was going to come out of it than a few kisses shared.

JJ’s gaze was intense, deep in a way she wasn’t used to as it stole her breath. “It is.” Steady, resolute, firm. No room for arguments. Thank fuckinf God.

Stella felt her grin appear before she could help it, relief warming her, and JJ mirrored her smile before ducking his head and pressing his lips to hers. She returned the kiss slowly, gently, not wanting to hurt his cut lips. Her heart jumped excitedly as he kissed her, but it was cut short, unfortunately, when John B’s voice cut through the air.

“Oi! What happened to no macking?”

The two of them pulled apart, but John B was grinning, as were Pope and Kie as they looked at the two of them. Stella’s face flushed as JJ slung his arm around her shoulders before they began walking towards their friends. “I’m sure we can make an exception,” JJ said smoothly, cockily.

John B’s grin was wicked. “If it means you’ll finally stop whining about how much you looooove Stel, then yes we will.”

Stella laughed, cheeks flushing, while JJ spluttered. “I never whined!” he protested as they joined their friends.

Pope rolled his eyes. “That’s true. You just bottled it all up inside because you’re emotionally constipated.”

“Sounds about right. I’m the one who made the first move,” Stella said, grinning widely at JJ’s betrayed expression, laughing as he used his arm around her to push her away. Stella continued laughing, along with the others, as she stumbled away, but didn’t lose her balance because JJ instantly caught her hand and pulled her back to his side.

“Whatever. I like an assertive woman,” JJ said with a charming grin, pressing a kiss to Stella’s temple as they neared the van.

Pointing at Pope and John B as they climbed inside, Kie said, “You two owe me twenty bucks, by the way.”

“No, we don’t!” John B argued as he started the van. “It’s after Midsummers.”

Pope nodded in agreement as Kie grinned wickedly before meeting Stella’s gaze as she sat on the back bench. With a giggle, Stella confessed, “It was actually yesterday. Before the summer movie series.”

John B and Pope’s gazes swung to JJ, who leaned back with his arms propped on top of the back bench casually as he said, “It’s true, boys.” John B shook his head and began driving, and JJ added, “Can’t believe you three bet on us.”

Sitting on the floor opposite of them, Pope scoffed. “Can’t believe it took you two this long to get together.”

“Okay!” Stella spoke up loudly, clapping her hands together once and shooting all of her friends a look. “We’re done talking about this.”

They reached their destination soon after that, a spot off in the middle of the woods where a tower stood, the apparent meeting spot John B had set up at Kildare Hawk’s Nest. As soon as he parked the car, Pope slid open the back van door as JJ slapped his knees. “Hit it, boys! We’re goin’. Recon mission.”

But before any of them could even get up, John B turned to face them. “Yo, uh. . . So, uh, I think I’m gonna do this one by myself. . . Tonight.”

Thunder rumbled overhead as Kie rolled her eyes and Stella and JJ fell back in their seats. She raised her eyebrows as JJ drawled a knowing, “Really?”

John B frowned. “What?”

JJ took off his head. “Nothin’.”

John B sighed, fixing his own hat atop his head. “I don’t want to spook Sarah with the peanut gallery.”

Kie shrugged, voice sharp and annoyed as she looked at John B. “I just don’t understand why we’re involving her at all.”

Stella let out a sigh as she leaned back, JJ now sitting on the ground next to her, his head resting against her leg as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Kie, we’re not involving her, okay?” John B said, exasperated. “It’s—it’s just, uh, like a—a business meeting. . . Thing.” On the ground, JJ made a crude motion with the joint he held and made a gulping sound, prompting Pope to grin in amusement while Stella rolled her eyes at John B. He was not selling this well. “Look, once we get what we need, we cut her loose, all right? Plus, we need the map.”

Yeah, okay. Stella wasn’t quite sure how much she believed that.

Kie pursed her lips, leaning forward as she stared John B dead in the eye. “Promise me nothing’s happening between you two.”

John B widened his eyes, answering breathily, “Nothing is happening, Kie.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Okay!”

Kie was still frowning, as if she was trying to get John B to get the message through her glare. “This isn’t about you. This isn’t about us. This is about her.” Stella pressed her lips together as she watched them. Kie’s beef with Sarah was so damn deep, she wondered if they would be able to do with if she wasn’t on board with Sarah helping out just this once. Personally, Stella didn’t give a shit about Sarah Cameron; she just didn’t like her out of principle for the way the end of that friendship hurt Kie. Everything else was between Kie and Sarah. “Dude, she’s gonna get inside your head. Just promise me nothing’s happening between you guys.”

John B looked at her as lightning flashed outside and thunder rolled. “I promise.”

“That was really believable,” JJ piped up.

Pope nodded. “A hundred percent believable.”

Stella lightly knocked JJ with her knee while glaring at Pope, effectively shutting both of them up. John B didn’t dignify them with a response, instead saying, “Anyways, um, I’m gonna take care of business.”

JJ shook his head, playing with the joint. “You’re gonna take care of it so well.”

Stella waved John B off dismissively. “We’ll just sit here,” she said dryly. “In the hot-ass car.”

Pope added, “While it’s lightning.”

They left the back door of the van open as John B got out, backpack on as he walked off towards the tower. The wind rustled outside, thunder rumbling every now and then to accompany the flashes of lightning that warned of a storm rolling in. “Kiara, holding onto your grudge is like drinking poison and thinking Sarah will die,” Pope said once John B was gone.

“Exactly,” JJ nodded.

Kie shot the two of them a withering stare before looking at Stella. Her twin merely shrugged. “You know I’m on your side,” Stella said. “But you can’t really tell John B what he can or can’t do.”

“I’m not trying to tell him what to do,” Kie shot back. “I’m just warning him against the kind of person I know Sarah is. She’s gonna fuck us over.”

“Look, we just—we just gotta trust that John B knows what he’s doing,” Pope tried to placate, looking between Stella and Kie. “That he’s using his head.”

Kie scoffed, not really convinced. “I know what head he’s using, and it isn’t the one on his shoulders.”

“That’s a good one,” JJ mumbled quietly where he sat.

They were quiet for a few minutes, just listening to the rumble of thunder, before conversation started up again. Pope had asked about what happened at Midsummers, and JJ launched into the story that led up to the Kooks cornering him in the men’s room while they waited for John B to return with the map.

JJ was saying, “Rafe and Kelce followed me—”

Kie cut him off. “Wait, do you guys hear that?” Her eyebrows furrowed together. “Sh.”

Stella frowned. “What?”

And then, in the distance, over the sound of the wind howling and thunder rumbling, came a girl’s voice yelling, “Please, somebody, help!”

All of their eyes widened, instantly on their feet as JJ grunted, “Oh, wait, no, I hear that.”

“Shit,” Pope cursed as they all stumbled out.

“What the fuck?” Stella muttered, gripping the skirt of her dress so it didn’t get tangled in her feet as she ran.

The voice, Stella realized, belonged to Sarah, and her heart started pounding as they ran towards the Hawk’s Nest, throat already drying in worry. The first thought in her head was that something went terribly wrong, that John B was hurt, and when they all cleared a group of trees towards the base of the Nest, Stella’s fear came true as a gasp ripped through her at the sight of John B lying on the ground, Sarah crying as she cradled his head and begged for him to wake up and open his eyes.

“Sarah! What happened?” Pope asked as they came running over, skidding to a stop, their breathing labored.

Sarah was crying, and Stella’s heart clenched at the sight of John B, unconscious, fear drenching her veins in ice as she instantly gripped Kie’s hand. “I don’t know what to do,” Sarah sobbed. “He needs help. Topper shoved him.”

Anger heated Stella’s skin, momentarily taking over the terror trembling her body as JJ demanded, “Where the hell is he?”

But Sarah just cried, “Oh, please, please, please get help. I don’t care who. Just call someone.”

Stella pushed Pope away as she panted, “Go! Call 911! Go!”

Pope took off and Kie shouted after him, “Pope, hurry!”

They all stood, breathing labored and hearts pounding, unsure of what to do as their friend lay unconscious. Worry weighed heavily on them all, to the point where Stella couldn’t even stop to question the way Sarah was holding John B to her, crying for him, kissing him and begging for him to wake up. No, nothing else mattered other than their injured friend, the tears stinging in Stella’s eyes as she prayed to anyone who was listening that he would wake up. Soon. Now. Please.

[infini-tree]

FANFIC: against all odds - part 2

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Summary: One time they dwell on the thought of being caught, and the one time they were. It all works out, kind of. (Piqua Mystery Dungeon)

A/N: ‘i make no promises,’ i say, immediately writing the third fic for this au in one week? have I ever mentioned that the first thing I made fancontent of was the first pmd game?

Also, this really is just an opportunity to practice writing more scenes with the boys and figure out their tone.

_____________________________

George recalled a time when his dad called him precocious. 

What does that mean, he remembered saying. 

It means that you’re very smart for your age, his dad replied with a grin. You already get basic type matchups and dungeon theory better than most groups your mom’s mentoring in the guild she’s workin’ with!

The snivy had let out a laugh at the mental image of himself trouncing a bunch of grown-ups. Whoa, really?

Swear on the Lake Trio’s jewels, he said, putting up a hand to his chest, and he let out a little giggle as he lifted him up, up, up.

Experiencing the real thing was a bit of a-- well, maybe disappointment wasn’t the right word. Accurate, but not fitting. Tedious, maybe. The long stretches of nothing in-between took up more time than the actual dungeons themselves. He looked over to Harold, and he knew he felt the same.

The walk was silent and oppressive. George unfurled his vine-tie slightly and something fell out and onto his palm. It was a shiny half of a disc, but upon closer inspection its lustre had flaked away to reveal the clay underneath.

Sometimes he would turn the thing over in his hands, but if he had to be honest he had no idea why he kept the remains of the novelty hypno pendulum.

When the snivy first used it, he hadn’t expected anything to happen. He heard tales of the line being able to hypnotize its foes to sleep, and in the more outlandish stories suggest them to do something. Ultimately, it was a desperate act, and maybe that desperation was the thing that made it work.

It wouldn’t be the strangest thing that happened to them, but it had the distinction of being one of the first.

The latest strange thing was the quiet. Him and Harold knew Krupp-- knew how to get under his skin in record time, how to avoid him, the works. They knew how explosive his temper was-- even for an ice-type!

They also know that he was at its worst when he was quiet, so when the abomasnow didn’t react to the bombshell that was being Captain Underpants, it was... unnerving.

For the past few minutes, the boys were giving each other a Look, nudging the other into asking what was on both of their minds. Eventually, hesitance wore into mild frustration. George sighed, then pointed a glance Harold-wards that meant you owe me before breaking the silence with a long “Uuuuuuuh...”

“Yes?” Krupp cut in.

The snivy flipped the pendulum piece to his other hand. “Aren’t you mad?”

“About what?”

“About, you know-- hypnotizing you?” When no answer came, he prodded with, “Being Captain Underpants?”

The pine needles on his arm adjusted themselves in agitation. The snow on it sloughed off at the sudden motion and the boys had to step around the snow drift that was now on the middle of the road.

“You are mad!” Harold interjected.

The abomasnow’s tail slammed to the ground. “Of course I’m mad.”

“What he means is, we kind of expected, I dunno, yelling?” George explained. “Something about how we’re literally the worst-- anything!”

His pace slowed down. Krupp finally looked back at them for the first time since they explained the whole thing, but the expression was all wrong. His brow was more pinched in confusion than frustration. “What, you want me to yell at you?”

“No, but we’re kind of expecting it and would like to get it over with,” the snivy said with a shrug.

The temperature dropped several degrees. There was the frustration. Harold brought himself closer to George, and he leaned into the fluffy warmth.

“Get it over with--” Krupp spluttered. “We are literally being hunted down by every team this side of the region. Someone claiming to be one of my students from the future is spearheading that hunt and not only are pokemon listening to that, but he ripped my guildmaster title from me in what is essentially a forceful takeover.”

A thin layer of frost began forming on the path.

“I’m sorry I’m not dedicating every moment of my time being the World’s Worst Guildmaster, but some of us here have priorities. Like, say keeping himself and two children from not dying on his watch? From not getting caught?” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you know what they’re going to do to us if they catch us?

“I know those idiotic comics were a parody of the actual stories, but do you know what you’re parodying in the first place?” Puffs of frost breath punctuated each breath. “I know neither of you like applying yourselves, but you have to be at least a little aware.”

Harold had taken to picking at the ground with one of his front hooves. George traced a digit over the edge of the broken piece anxiously. Neither of them spoke up.

“Are you satisfied with that lecture?” And just like that, the frost started to melt. It slowly got warmer. “Because I’m not.”

(The boys never liked the quiet in general. Maybe that was why they were always so offput whenever he was.)

_____________________________

It wasn’t long before Krupp and Captain Underpants started talking. They kind of expected that. More often than not, they would wake up to scratching noises as one of them tried to write in the dirt with one of their pine needles.

What was more surprising was how quickly they had compromised on the whole switching thing.

“I’m good at fighting, and Guildmaster is good at planning travel stuff,” Captain explained as he floated them over to where the stairs were. “Neither of us are good at puzzles, but at least we haven’t encountered any!”

“Just like that?” Harold tilted his head.

The abomasnow ground his teeth in what was his attempt at a grimace. It looked weird on his face. “He said it was a matter of practicality, and working with what we’re good at makes sens-- ACH!”

His body tensed up in pain, and he instinctively held them closer to protect them. Harold began to struggle in his tight grip, eyes darting in every direction to figure out what had hit them.

“Captain? What’s wrong?” Panic began to creep into George’s tone.

“Hey, guys,” a familiar voice cut in.

George and Harold paled at the sight of Erica clambering up on the abomasnow’s shoulder. Even in the gloom of the dungeon, the violet crest around her neck glinted.

And Captain was going down, down, down. They braced for impact.

_____________________________

Erica, out of the boys’ circle of friends, was one of the ones who was more in-tune into their misadventures and ready to lend a helping hand. Erica was also the scariest guildmember-slash-student they’ve ever met; she had a cool head and popped up where you least expected. 

It was honestly no surprise that out of everyone, she was the first one who cornered them, and right between the stairs out of this place, too!

“What did you do to him?” Harold yelled, nudging the abomasnow to his feet. 

Captain looked, for a lack of a better word-- terrible. He looked like one more hit would do him in. While landing face-first would definitely leave a mark, they knew him long enough that it shouldn’t leave him straining.

And that’s when George finally noticed what was in the axew’s hands. In one hand was the three-pronged pounce wand that brought her up there with them, whining as the last vestiges of its power left it. In the other, the spiked two-edged wand also making a dying down noise-- it was most likely the thing that brought them down.

“Relax, I just didn’t want you guys to immediately fly off.”

Still, there were more pressing questions, like, “Why are you helping Melvinborg?” George made a face like the name was as bitter as the duosion’s personality.

“We all... kinda got no choice,” Erica replied with the nonchalance of listing off the day’s errands. The only thing that betrayed her was how she gripped the now-defunct wands in a vicegrip. Then, belatedly, “Sorry.”

“Wait, wait, wait, um-- uh--” Captain rushed forward in front of them, his arms spread out to protect them despite his fatigue. His face was scrunched up in the way he does when he was overthinking and none of them could tell whether it was because of the abomasnow’s fatigue or because he really didn’t know that he settled on, “Before you, uh-- take us in-- Plungerina can we talk, one human-turned-pokemon to another?”

To Erica’s credit, she was only tripped up for a moment before she steeled herself for a bit of improv. “Sure, right after I catch you.” She lunged forward and--

Tripped. Somehow. She poked her head up to look at the one entrance to the room, then seeing that no one was there, she opened her backpack and threw a box at their feet.

“Oh no, I am petrified,” she said, practically announced for all the floor to hear. Then, in a more regular speaking volume, “I hope they don’t take the care package I dropped that has supplies and letters from their friends and family.”

There was a moment of silence as the three of them processed what she said. And when they did, George put it in his satchel. “I... thanks, Erica.”

“You’re not welcome, because you stole from me, remember?” she said with a conspiratorial wink. She turned her attention to Captain. “You got one question before the rest catch up.”

“Do you know what they’re going to do to us once you turn us in?” The abomasnow was concerned, to put it mildly. But his tone reminded Harold of the same one he had when he asked long ago where dad went. Naïve, but you knew deep down.

Considering his talks with Krupp, he probably knows in some capacity.

“I figured you’ve been in tough scrapes like this, but I suppose maybe not?” His arms lowered. Harold looked at him worriedly; his pine needles were still shot up and pierced through his cape, despite the lull.

The axew appraised him for a moment, and she noticed the needles, too. “It’s weird to see you think this hard about anything.”

The boys grimaced at how blunt she was, but its definitely crossed their minds.

“It’s weird to think hard about anything!” Captain laughed.

“To answer your question, no, I don’t,” she frowned. “Knowing Melvin, and by extension Melvinborg, it’s probably something else than the, uh... standard. You know how he is with tinkering dungeon items to be more potent.”

And just like that, Captain’s cheery mood was back, even if it was a little more sedate than usual. The needles settled to its more natural position. “Okey-dokey, thanks Plungerina!”

All four of them tensed up at the sudden sound of shouting.

“Time’s up,” she gave a half-smirk half-smile. “Also, there’s a petrify orb in the package. Gotta make this look convincing, you know?”

“O-- oh!” George floundered for a moment before opening the box and taking it out. It let out a low hum.

“Don’t expect this to be a repeat thing,” she added, in the tone of voice that mean to definitely expect it. She stared at him, sensing his hesitance. “Relax, I’ll be fine-- the other teams are coming up and will bring me back first before getting to you. It’ll buy you a bit more time.”

The snivy was still a bit unsure about the whole prospect, but he held it high anyway. It flashed and it froze Erica in place before disappearing in a puff of smoke. And then they ran for the stairs.

(And then they continued to run.)

[salexectrian-heir]

the 2/2 time travel fic

happy 2/2! here is the first chapter of this fic idea i posted about a little while ago

First chapter below | ao3 link in notes

Akira had been dreading the conversation with Maruki.

Not because he was having second thoughts--no, Akira was steadfast in his resolve that this reality was a mistake. His resolution hadn’t come without a price, of course. His friends were being robbed of their dreams, their happiness no matter how false it was in nature...and Akira would have to bear the burden of knowing he was the one who ultimately was going to destroy it all. And even though the thieves and his rival were on board with its destruction, Akira knew that the decision had taken a piece of them with it. It had required a sacrifice from them all. And that ate Akira alive, knowing that they all had a taste of what could have--

No, Akira couldn't think like that. It would only make everything he had to do that much harder.

Somehow, out of all the betrayals he had experienced this year, Maruki’s was by far the most painful.

Maruki had held space for Akira when Akira had needed it most. Akira rarely entrusted others with his needs, having been burned too many times before this point to forge that kind of fragile, vulnerable, two-way connection with someone else. But Maruki had felt safe enough to confide in, and in turn made Akira feel seen, feel validated. Had respected Akira’s opinions and sought them out instead of admonishing him for sharing his perspective. Against his better judgement, Akira had opened his heart.

No adult in Akira’s life had ever done that for him before. So of course learning that Maruki had taken those secrets spoken in confidence, manipulated them, and thought he knew what would be best not only for him but the world…something snapped in Akira.

And now, sitting across from the former “counselor” turned Self-Appointed Savior, Akira battled his warring emotions into submission. Into the familiar blank mask he wore outside the Metaverse to hide his true disposition. The mask he thought he would never have had to wield against the one adult he thought he would have never needed to hide from.

From the only adult he thought he could finally trust.

The calling card tucked in the inner pocket of his jacket was burning a hole through its thin fabric. Each controlled breath Akira took as he listened to Maruki explain himself pressed the blistering deadweight a little closer to the skin of his chest. The frail, last line of defense he had that separated the world from that bleeding and bruised muscle.

And right now, if he didn’t get rid of the card within the next few seconds he was sure the scent of his burning flesh would suffocate them all.  

Maruki broke the lull that had settled between them first. His voice was gentle when he asked, “Are you sure you don't have any doubts, Kurusu-kun?”

Akira narrowed his eyes at the formality. They were past that. Way past that. “What do you mean, Maruki-sensei?” Akira responded sardonically.

The hand Maruki had wrapped around the mug of coffee Akira had made for him started a complicated beat against its porcelain surface as he studied Akira.  

“ Akira,” he amended and started again, his eyes softening into something almost sorrowful. “More accurately, I should really be be asking 'do you two gentlemen have any doubts',” Maurki paused and glanced over his shoulder towards the cafe entrance.

“You're there, aren't you Ake”--the door to Leblanc nearly shattered on its hinges with the force of which it was thrown open--“chi-kun!?” Maruki stuttered out, his face swiftly morphing from melancholic to bewildered in the span of a second as he openly gawked at the entryway.

Akira blinked once. Did a double take. Then blinked once more.

Because it wasn’t Akechi who had just stormed into Leblanc.

Or, it was but...

“You,” a man who looked like the splitting image of a twenty-something, utterly irate Goro Akechi spat, his face contorting into a feral grimace as he pointed directly at Maruki.

Akira had seen the younger version of Akechi make that exact expression only one time before in the bowels of Shido’s palace. It was not something anyone wanted to be on the receiving end of.

There was a beat of absolute silence.

And then chaos erupted.

This older version of Akechi with murderous intent seething in his eyes launched himself at Maruki, barreling full force into their booth like a bull after the counselor’s throat. Maruki made a very undignified squeak at the sudden assault and tried to put as much space between him and the rampaging Older Akechi by scrambling further into the seat. Kicking wildly at him to try and stop the halestorm of blows reigning down from the furious Akechi-lookalike. It did little to deter the older detective prince. If anything it made him even angrier.

Meanwhile Morgana, who had relocated from sitting next to Akira to perching behind him on top of the booth, was yowling at ear piercing decibels. His fur also was comically puffed up, making him appear two times his normal size as he whipped his head back and forth between the attempted murder happening before them and Akira.

Who was sitting there with his coffee mug halfway to his mouth, watching everything unfold in a sort of detached awe.

A moment later the door was ripped open a second time and everything got a whole lot weirder.

Because it still wasn’t Akechi.

Instead, a very frazzled looking twenty-something version of himself tumbled through the door. He was out of breath, as if he had sprinted all the way here from...where ever the fuck he had come from. This older version of himself took one panicked survey of the room and promptly leapt into the chaos, snagging the Older Akechi around the waist in an attempt to slow his assault.

This older version of Akechi was taller, and had a bit more mass than his older self, but his older doppelganger didn’t let that stop him. He braced one boot against the seat of the booth and dug his other heel in the floor, leveraging the angle and gravity, to yank the Older Akechi off of the therapist’s lower half.

At this point, Akira noted, Maruki had effectively shoved himself so far back that he was half on the table with his back pressed against the window, fingers clumsily looking for the latch that would open it. In his haste to avoid the older Akechi’s swiping gloved fists, he knocked over the potted plant on the window sill. Soil cascaded across the table along with the poor upended plant and broken fragments of its pot.

Sojiro was going to kill him.

I should really be more concerned about all of this, Akira idly thought, flicking away a tiny ceramic shard. But he found it was hard to feel anything right now, as what he was watching seemed so surreal. I wonder if this is what disassociating feels like.

For the third time that evening the door to Leblanc was forced open with an unforgiving smack that sounded off over the cries and screams from the fight. The wall was surely dented at this point from the abuse. Akira vaguely wondered if the door hinges were going to survive the night.

This time it was the Akechi he had been expecting. Eighteen year old Goro Akechi stood in the doorway, gaping in utter shock at the pandemonium unfolding before them. Akira could practically see the formulaic equations running through and swirling around Akechi’s head, as he processed what was happening.

The younger Akechi simply mouthed, “What the fuck.” And continued not to move.

Akira’s attention was drawn back to the weird three sided battle happening literally two feet in front of him when he heard a pained gasp.

“Goro--plea--,” the older version of Akira wheezed, collapsing onto the floor after a sharp elbow connected with his sternum, “p-please--stop.”

The older version of Goro Akechi did not, in fact, stop. He in fact, got worse.

“Get back here you PIECE OF SHIT,” he bellowed, successfully grabbing hold of Maruki’s leg just as the counselor had managed to get his head and shoulders out the window.

Another undignified squeak escaped Maruki as his body was forcefully pulled back into the booth with a very painful looking jerk.

“A-Akechi-ku--” Maruki started to plead, but his voice cut off in a gurgle when the older Akechi managed to get both of his gloved hands around his throat.

It was at that moment his older self resurfaced in the fight. Hooking his arms under the older Akechi’s armpits, he twisted Akechi’s arms back, breaking his hold around the counselor’s throat and heaved the detective off Maruki.

“No!” the pinned Akechi cried, scrambling for purchase on Maruki’s sweater as he was tipped backwards.

The sound of stitches ripping followed the men as they tumbled backwards out of the booth and into a couple of the barstools behind them, which crashed to the ground in their wake. Maruki braced himself with one hand on the table and his other on the back of the booth to prevent himself from tipping into the writhing body pile on the floor. His sweater was stretched out and torn, hanging loosely off his neck.

Akira’s phone, which had also been on the table, lit up and started to incessantly vibrate. A  stream of messages from Futaba were flooding in when Akira checked it. He elected to ignore those for now. Before flipping the screen down, Akira took note of the time.

23:58 PM.

Two more minutes until this shitshow of a day was over and the dawn of February Third would rise. Akira released a weary sigh and set his phone aside in favor of his now lukewarm coffee. God damn he wished he had something a little stronger than the Jamaican Blue Mountain brew he was sipping on to put up with all this bullshit.

Happy fucking Birthday to me, he thought as he raised his mug in mock cheers at the camera Futaba had installed in the corner of Leblanc’s seating area. Where he was one hundred percent certain she was watching in pure horror, given the messages he was still receiving making his phone vibrate and shimmy at his elbow.

Honestly after all this, Akira suspected nothing in this world could ever surprise him anymore.

“Aren’t you going to help?” Morgana’s voice cut through the static he hadn’t realized had been present in his ears.

From the floor, his older self was doing a much better job at dodging the older Akechi’s flying elbows with graceful dexterity, but Maruki somehow had strayed too close. He was now kneeling on the floor with his sweater once again in the older Akechi’s vice grip.

“He kind of deserves it,” Akira said flatly, setting down his mug.

Though Akira quickly changed his mind when Maruki started making gurgling noises again, which could only signify one thing.

The younger Akechi recovered from his stupefaction when he saw Akira move, and stepped in to assist. It required both Akira’s older self and the younger Akechi to hold back the raging older Akechi long enough for Akira to pull Maruki safely away. The older Akechi was then shoved against a wall, getting yelled at quite vehemently by his older self.

“Sorry about your sweater,” Akira said, after he turned away from the arguing dopplegangers.

Maurki plucked at the frayed neckline and chuckled a bit breathlessly. “It’s seen better days.”

Upon closer inspection, Maurki’s glasses were broken and sitting askew on his face. His lip also had been split at some point and was leaking a tiny trail of blood down his chin. Akira grabbed a bunch of napkins off the counter and held them out to Maruki, who accepted and thanked him with a slight bow of his head, pressing them to his mouth.

“Would someone kindly explain just what the fuck is going on,” the younger Akechi demanded in near hysterics (his Akechi, Akira’s mind unhelpfully supplied before Akira buried that thought deep down).

The older versions of themselves fell silent.

There was a deep sigh that sounded almost identical to the one Akira had made a few minutes ago.

“Let’s try this again,” Akira heard his voice say from across the room, “how about we all take a seat. Calmly.” There was a pregnant pause as his older self shot a pointed look at the Akechi who had been the source of the problems, and released him from the wall. “Like civil adults.”

“Fine,” the older Akechi said, adjusting the scarf around his neck and smoothing out the lapels of his rumpled grey peacoat before sliding into the booth, with his older self right behind.

Akira tugged on Maruki’s sleeve, gesturing to follow him into the seat across from their visitors. Akira went in first, sitting directly across from the older Akechi which left Maruki to sit opposite the other Akira.

It was probably safer for everyone this way.

The younger Akechi (his Akechi) elected to remain standing, leaning against the far counter with his arms crossed over his tan coat in an attempt to look imposing, but really he just looked uncomfortable in Akira’s opinion.

Once everyone had settled in, the older Akira turned to Maruki. A sad smile broke across his face as he said, softly, “Hello Takuto.”

Why hearing his voice say Maruki’s first name was the thing that finally made Akira realize just how absurd this whole situation was, that shocked Akira back into his body from the weird detached space he had been floating around in the past few minutes, Akira couldn’t tell you.

Panic clawed its way out of his chest and into his throat, making his breathing erratic and ragged. The calling card in his pocket now felt like molten metal encasing his chest. His mind was reeling, racing, splitting apart as it finally registered that the man sitting adjacent from him across the table looked Just. Like. Himself.

What the fuck? What the FUCK?? WHAT THE FUCK!?

Maruki looked between him and his older self. “Akira…can you please explain yourself?”

“Uhm, I have no idea what’s happening,” Akira managed to get out weakly, before realizing Maruki wasn’t speaking to him, but the older man sharing his face.

“I think it would make it easier if everyone referred to us by our surnames, and our younger selves by their given names, for clarity’s sake,” his older self said, glancing at Akira and then Goro standing by the counter. “Will that be a problem?”

“Yes,” Goro said testily.

“Get over it,” Akechi snapped at his younger self.

Goro’s eyes flared. “Why should I--”

“Because it's a trivial distinction and it doesn’t really matter,” Akechi spoke over him, flicking his eyes over to Maruki briefly, “not when we have more pressing issues to deal with. Stop being difficult.”

That’s kind of rich coming from you, Akira thought but did not say.

Goro huffed but didn’t push it any further, opting to glare balefully at himself. The tension rolling off of Goro was enough to make Akira squirm, even from the otherside of the room. Luckily Akechi remained unphased by the daggers being thrown in his direction.  

“To keep it simple and state the obvious, we are you. We travelled from the future of the reality this idiot,” Akechi gestured at Maruki, “ wants to impose upon the world. We’re here to make sure it never actualizes, as something evidently went very wrong when we attempted to do the same ten years ago.”

Morgana’s exclamation of “Ten years?!” overlapped with Akira’s yelp (Morgana had reflexively dug his claws into Akira) and Goro’s “What do you mean, ‘something went wrong’?”

“Yes ten years Mona, and I mean it exactly how it sounds,” Akechi said in a clipped tone, clearly not willing to explain himself further.

Akira sucked in a breath through his teeth as Morgana retracted the claws he embedded from his shoulder and mumbled an apology in his ear.

“Our memories of what happened on February Third are...not intact,” Kurusu offered, earning a scowl from Akechi. “The last thing I remember is entering the palace...then… waking up in the new reality. Same for him,” Kurusu nodded in the direction of his boothmate, whose scowl deepened.

Maruki cleared his throat. “How did you time tra--”

“We aren’t telling you shit, what we’ve said is all you needed to know,” Akechi snarled, “so shut up, read the damn calling card, and then get out.”

“If you lived in my reality for that long, surely you found it enjoyable Akechi-kun, you--”

“Don’t assume you know anything about me,” he growled, “and don’t make me repeat myself.”

“You are both aware of what will happen if this reality--your reality, is destroyed...,” Maruki said slowly, gaze switching between the older boys emphatically.

“It was never ours,” Akechi was quick to shoot back.

Kurusu nodded. “We are fully aware and...deemed travelling here to end it worth the consequence.”

“Kurusu…” Maruki said, a mortified expression dawning on his face. “I suspected Akechi-kun might have felt this way given the conditions of his existence...but you too?”

“Wait, I don’t follow,” Akira spoke up, unease settling heavily into his gut like lead stone as he watched the varying expressions on the faces before him. They all know something I don’t. “Conditions of his existence…?”

“He hasn’t told me yet,” Kurusu said, suddenly avoiding Akira’s eyes, instead turning to face Akechi. “That...complicates things.”

Both Akechi and Kurusu exchanged a look, then glanced at Goro.

“I take it you haven’t shared anything with Akira either,” Akechi asked Goro--who eyes darted over to Akira before shaking his ‘no’ . “I guess that answers our question if we landed in the right timeline,” Akechi muttered, then sat up straight, leveling a look directly at Akira.

Akira’s heart rate spiked under the weight of the familiar yet so foreign maroon tinted gaze, and he was struck once again by how breathtakingly beautiful Akechi Goro was. Taking the time to look at this older version of his rival, Akira noticed the years had been kind to him. His cheekbones had become more prominent, defining his face with sharper angles that his shorter hair style complimented. Even if it was still a little mussed from the earlier fight.

Akira swallowed thickly. Whatever Akechi was about to say, he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be good.

“What your esteemed counselor was most likely about to tell you before I”--he exhaled sharply--“lost my temper, was that in the true reality, we most likely died,” Akechi explained coolly, gesturing between himself and Goro on his right. “The only reason we’re here presumably is because it was your wish. And Maruki granted it.”

Something in Akira’s chest cracked painfully.

He desperately wanted Goro to meet his eyes, to look at him, to tell him it wasn’t true. That he escaped the night they fought in Shido’s palace . But he was still staring at his older self with an intensity that barred no distractions.

It couldn’t be true.

Akira had felt the warmth of Akechi’s body when they brushed shoulders on the subway, had watched as the clouds of his breath faded away into nothing in the cold January air when they loitered outside the Jazz Jin. Witnessed the blood rush to flush his face when Akira teased him over ridiculously sugary, overpriced drinks and soft music. Sensed the raw power in his presence when they would pull off a seamlessly synchronized attack in the metaverse together…

It couldn’t be… he couldn’t be...

Akira’s vision tunneled as he focused on his rival.

Goro brought his hand to his chin, falling into his typical thinking pose which Akira had always found endearing, but now was sending sharp pains through his chest. “I couldn’t find any conclusive evidence to support it, but given the gaps in my memory after my final fight with Akira, and Wakaba Isshiki and President Okumura’s suspicious reappearances…,” he trailed off with a shrug. “Occam’s razor.”

“The simplest explanation is often the correct one,” both Goro and Akechi said in tandem.

“Two of you.” Kurusu pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up into his fringe as he did, and muttered under his breath, “I have to deal with two of you for the next twenty-four hours.”

Akechi pinched Kurusu (who flinched) without breaking eye contact with Akira and continued on, “And then Maruki was going to bait you, Akira, into accepting his false paradise by dangling our life before you. Holding us hostage, essentially.”

“I wouldn’t have explained like that!” Maruki said defensively. “I was devastated when I learned what happened to you--err the two of you? That night in December.  I don’t mean to make it seem like I am holding you both hostage--”

“But you are, and you did. ”

“Will, this Maruki hasn’t done it yet,” Kurusu quietly corrected Akechi.

Akechi plowed on, ignoring Kurusu’s comment, voice raising with each word he spoke, “You stripped us of our agency, forced us to play pretend in a world where you erased and repurposed parts of ourselves to fit your mold of perfection!”

Maruki winced.

Akechi trembled, barely able to contain anger, “I’ve spent enough of my life being manipulated by the will of men who think they own me, own the world. I refuse to live a moment longer in a reality concocted by someone else. I refuse.” His gloved fist slammed down on the table, causing the half-full mugs of forgotten coffee to rattle and send little splatters of dark liquid onto its surface.

Kurusu was quick to place his left hand over Akechi’s fist, who recoiled under the touch.

Akira stiffened at the sight of a thin band of silver on Kurusu’s finger, glinting under the soft lights overhead.

He’s married... I’m married?

Akechi started to pull away but then stopped, exhaling sharply. Kurusu ran his thumb over Akechi’s knuckles and his gloved fingers finally relaxed under Kurusu’s palm, splaying onto the table. He let Kurusu pull their hands off and out of sight.

“And.. you agree with this Kurusu?” Maruki asked after a few seconds of silence.

Kurusu took a steadying breath, and answered. “I do. And I understand that it means that I will also cease to exist.” A small smirk played on his lips. “At least this version of me.”

Maruki slumped back in defeat, staring unblinkingly at the droplets of coffee on the table. He swallowed, his jaw working for a moment before he nodded to himself. “Well then, I must accept that those are your decisions.” He looked up. “However, you don’t speak fo--”

“I also refuse to accept this farce of a life,” Goro interrupted, as if he had been waiting for Maruki to call on him. He turned his glare fully onto the former counselor and lifted his chin defiantly, “I’ve made my decision, and nothing you or anyone else says will change my mind.”

“Akira?” Maruki’s voice sounded so small and so far away, despite being right next to him. Akira turned in his seat, meeting Maruki’s pleading eyes. “Do you feel the same?”

Akira’s heart twisted in on itself.

Did he feel the same?

Before he couldn’t feel anything but now… it was as if his body was making up for the lost time. He was feeling too many things all at once.

If he rejected the reality Maruki was offering...it would mean…condemning them all to death.

From the corner of his eye, Akira took in the strange trio’s expressions. They all were mirrors of each other, all displaying their own versions of unwavering resolve and grim determination that Akira had walked into this conversation with--before everything had fallen apart.

A gentle nudge against the back of his head coupled with soothing purrs grounded Akira enough to stop his mind from spiraling any further. It also reminded him that it wasn’t just these lives who had a say in the fate of reality.

“I do,” he echoed his older self, and reached into his jacket pocket. Fire licked at his fingers as he peeled off the calling card that had melded into his skin and tossed it onto the table in front of Maruki.

Finally free of its oppressive, burning weight Akira took his first full breath since he came down the stairs from his room. Its phantom pain lingered, the skin too hot and tender where the card had laid over his heart. Akira flexed his fingers over the spot, hoping the friction would ease the discomfort. It didn’t. So he shoved his hand into his pants pocket and focused on regulating his breathing.

“I thought out of all people, you would understand,” Maruki said in the same small voice. Gently, he picked up the card and turned it over. “I’ve heard your calling. I’ll be waiting in the palace, as promised.”

When he stood up no one moved to stop him.

He met each of their eyes one last time and said, “If you don’t show, I’ll take that to mean you’ve accepted my reality.”

“We’ll be there,” Kurusu said with a conviction Akira had never heard himself use before. “See you tomorrow.”

“Ah, today, actually,” Maruki said, checking his watch. A heartbreaking smile formed on his face. “It’s probably not my place to say it, but Happ--.”

“Don’t you dare. Get. Out,” Akechi hissed venomously.

When the door clicked shut and the chimes ceased their ringing from Maruki’s exit, a collective sigh of relief seemed to ripple through the group. Akira let himself fall back against the booth, and was low key amused when he watched his older self do almost the exact same thing. Akechi gingerly leaned back as well, tension bleeding out from his tense shoulders as he eased himself down aside Kurusu. Kurusu reached out a hand and hesitated before tucking a short lock of hair behind Akechi's ear.

Akechi turned to him and whispered, “I can’t believe...that it worked."

“Believe it,” Kurusu matched his volume, and suddenly Akira felt like he was intruding on a private moment as their gazes lingered a little too long on each other.

“Are you, we...” Akira began uncertainly, “...friends then? In the future?”

Akira watched himself blush in real time.

“Ah. About that,” Kurusu said, fiddling with a piece of fringe as his cheeks continued to darken.

Akechi lifted his left hand and started tugging off his glove, one finger at a time. “In a manner of speaking.”

Akira’s heart kicked into high gear. Oh my god.

On Akechi’s ring finger was a thin silver band. Identical to the one on Kurusu’s hand--that he was now holding up beside Akechi’s.

Goro was the first to react. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Oh get over yourself,” Akechi chided, “you can quit pretending like you never--ouch !”

A sudden violent exchange under the table had Akira heavily suspecting his older self had stomped on Akechi’s foot.

Akechi glared at Kurusu. Kurusu glared right back.

“Would it kill you to be nice to yourself?”

Akechi crossed his arms. “Yes.”

“Uh,” Akira croaked, drawing everyone’s attention, “can we talk about how this happened?”

“You both probably have lots of questions,” Kurusu said, “So let’s start at the beginning. Goro, you might want to sit down for this.”

[treeni]

Say My Name

Day 1 of Soulmate September

DRLAMP

Summary: When people turn 16, the name of their soulmate appears on their palms in black. When a person meets their soulmate and introduces themselves, the mark changes to a color reflecting that person. However, when Janus turned 16 all that appeared was a big black smudge.

Words:  5229

TW: swearing, mentions of traumatic childhood event, fire

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Taglist: @tsshipmonth2020

It was rude to ask, but that hardly ever stopped people from inquiring why Janus didn’t know the name of his soulmate. Everyone knew the name of their soulmates. When you reached the age of 16, it would literally appear across your palm. Janus remembered that year, all of his class mates, one by one coming in with names written across their palms, some in fancy script, some in large bubbly fonts, some in absolute chicken scratch. He remembered one person’s walked in with gloves on because it turned out the name was written in comic sans of all things. Yet, when he walked in with countless people waiting in anticipation for his big birthday reveal, all Janus had to show them was a large, seemingly meaningless black blob on his hand.

It seemed like no one around him had ever seen anything like it before. The doctors had said it might somehow be linked to his scars, the fire that he barely survived as a kid if not for his father’s near-suicidal rescue mission. They both made it out alive, but Janus was barely holding on. Weeks of hospitalization, monitoring, skin-grafts, and a lot of grief, left a child with scar tissue on the whole left side of his body. He wasn’t teased as much as you’d expect. When he finally returned to school a big, school-wide assembly was held about happened that left him being treated like some hero for some reason. Janus didn’t like the attention at the time, but it had its advantages in the long run. When he didn’t want to participate in gym, he could blame sensitivity and the other students were quick to defend him on it even against the teachers. When his work was late because he took a self-care day, he was never docked the extra time.

However, there were disadvantages too. The sensitivity was something he did deal with, especially against the cold or direct sunlight, the scar tissue didn’t handle the exposure well. It seemed that never knowing the identity of his soulmates, if he even had one, was one of them. Just another way he was different than everyone else.

Then again, the black spot might have been the universe sending another a big karmic “fuck you” his way for all of the times he used his scars to play innocent and garner sympathy. After all, it couldn’t have been Janus who pushed the bully jock down the stairs, not Janus. He was practically crippled after all!

That was how people treated him at least, even his parents. Especially his parents. It was a frustratingly fruitless endeavor to try and prove he wasn’t absolutely useless. So he let people think what they were going to think. If everyone wanted to believe he was a fragile snowflake that would fall apart at the slightest touch? Well, it just made easier to get away with things because general perception became his permanent alibi.

Still, when college rolled around, he took the first ticket out to the farthest, decent university that would take him and a distance he went. Between his high grades and essays he didn’t receive one rejection letter. Universities really ate up sob stories of grievances that had to be overcome and he certainly had a grievance. Still, he liked to think at least part of it was his own merit, even if it felt like a lie.

Though there were a lot of things he had already given up on in life by age 18, when he had first attended the university he had let himself be a little bit excited about it. It was a new place with new people, people who didn’t see the kid who almost burned in a house fire, the kid who would never find a soulmate. He had a chance to start over and be more than his circumstances.

Except, he quickly realized it was more of the same. He tried layering fabrics, covering up as much of his scars as possible so people wouldn’t notice as much. He already kept them mostly covered anyway to protect against sensitivity, so it wasn’t a huge change. He started wearing gloves, one to hide the scars and the other to hide the mockery of a soul mark. It seemed no matter what he tried though, it made no difference. He couldn’t hide the scars on his face.

So there he was, nearly finished his freshman year of college, sitting in the library by himself because he refused to repeat his past experiences. If people didn’t want to treat him like an actual person, then he resolved that he didn’t need them. He had settled on the path of becoming a lawyer and honestly it wasn’t like he needed anyone slowing him down anyway. Truly. Friends would just hold him back by taking up valuable studying time anyway.

Janus took a sip of bitter coffee to refocus himself as he stared blankly at the computer screen in front of him. He knew that his course load would most definitely keep him too busy for friends in the future, but the now was a bit of a struggle. He had actually... run out of assignments to complete and was nearly a month ahead. The professors had laid everything out in the syllabus so it was easy to just work his way through. Sure, when the library started to crowd with procrastinating students scrambling to make the grade, he’d be able to just relax because he’d all but finished his work for the semester. Still, it felt a little hollow. Nearly a month of... basically nothing to do, no one to see, just mindlessly attending classes to be assigned work he’d already completed.

It wasn’t the first time it happened either, Janus had been miserable toward the end of the previous semester as well after finishing early then too. The last few weeks were basically miserable stagnation that continued through the holidays because he refused to go home over the break. He only started to feel like himself again when the new term started and he had a whole new set of work to complete.

With a huff, he angrily clicked the e-learning program closed and was left unsatisfied by finality of it. He needed something, like an old school corded phone or maybe he’d just go key some poor sods car. The university’s president had a dedicated spot and he’d heard she was a real piece of work. He’d never met her himself, but he’d heard some stories that she was a real Jekyll and Hyde, except the Hyde was her default. Somehow her transition only seemed to magically take place when a camera was pointed in her direction. Speaking of cameras, if he redirected the security camera he could probably get away with it too. At least it’d be something to do. Plotting through how best to get away with it, he took a long sip of coffee. It was hot and burned his tongue, but taste-wise it as bitter as his current mood and felt appropriate somehow.

While contemplating if he should raid the library’s staff lounge for sugar (it’s not like they’d do anything about it anyway) a loud noise sounded from his left, immediately grabbing his attention. He realized the almost ‘harump’ like sound was a book hitting the floor. He didn’t think too much of it as he involuntarily looked in the direction of the sound’s source. Occasionally falling books were an inevitability in a place that housed so many. The person closest to the fallen book though caught his attention for more than just a passing glance.

He was tall, lean and muscular and Janus found himself immediately trying to swallow down the gay. It didn’t help that the guy wore low hanging cargo pants with ripped muscle shirt that showed off his midriff. His face was tucked in another book, but Janus could see an odd tuft of silver hair sticking out against a full head of soft dark curls. As he inspected further, he noticed the guy was covered in red splatters of some sort that he sincerely hoped was the ink of a red pen. He had a large smudge of whatever it was up his left bicep. He continued to flip through pages, seemingly at random before haplessly tossing the book onto the floor next to the first and pulling another off the shelf and doing the same.

Oh.

This guy was a bastard.

Well, at least that meant Janus’ guilt over staring immediately evaporated.

In fact, Janus just let himself lean back in his chair, coffee in hand and legs crossed as he openly watched the antics taking place in front of him. Other library patrons started to look toward the bastard as well as the sound of random books hitting the floor continued. Though, while Janus stared in amusement, the others mainly threw looks of annoyance. Not everyone had the leniency of being weeks ahead in their coursework he supposed. As the pile seemed to grow almost endlessly the sound seemed to pause as the bastard took longer with the current book in his hands, sifting through it slower than the others until he shut it with a reverberating ‘bang’ no quieter than any of the books falling to the ground and stuffed it into a backpack that was leaned against the shelves. Now without a blockade in front of the bastards face, Janus could see that he was unfortunately handsome. Even from his position a few feet away Janus could see the high cheekbones of an almost sculpted face. It was only ruined slightly by a nearly cartoonish mustache sitting atop a perfect cupids bow. It was almost as if a generic Greek artist carved the guy from straight marble and some teenager vandalized the statue with ratty clothes, an exploding pen, and god-awful facial hair. The lips he was focusing on stretched in a wide grin as Janus looked up to see the bastard wiggling his eyebrows at him. He scoffed in reply and pretended to gag, like he was uninterested.

You know, like a liar.

The bastard still had the audacity to stare his way with a big, wolfish grin and winked as he walked away... and straight into the banister separating the open concept from the lower floor. Tall, dark, and handsome fell across it, bending at the hips like a rag doll. He let out a yelp as the wind was knocked out of him from the railing pushing hard into his stomach and then he started to slide. Janus was running to his aid before he had even realized he had gotten up, his coffee a forgotten puddle on the floor as his cup was still rolling from the impact. The guy had managed to grab hold of the banister with one hand on his way down, but he was left dangling and it wasn’t clear how long he could hold himself there. Janus reached down and secured his grip by wrapping his forearms around the one gripping the banister. There was no way Janus would be able to pull him up on his own, but he could probably hold the position.

“Can you swing?” Janus asked, putting all of his focus and energy in his grip. Don’t let go, don’t let go, don’t let him slip, don’t let go.

Without answering, the guy did a small test swing that had Janus clenching his teeth and tightening his grip to make sure as hell this guy didn’t fall.

“Oh three then, one, two-” Janus counted and reached further down to lock their elbows straight to make sure this worked. “Three!”

With a strong swing of the hips the dangling stranger arched upward, with Janus using leverage principles from his position above to add the extra oomph needed for the guy to lock his foot underneath the rail and grab hold of the bars with his other hand. Janus let himself be used as a handhold as the stranger crawled over the banister and back onto solid ground. He was reminded of just how unfortunately attractive the guy was a strong hands gripped his shoulders and bright emerald eyes stared down at his own mismatched pair.

“My hero!” The guy yelled and then suddenly foreign lips were pressed against Janus’ own.

The kiss was over as soon as it began, but that didn’t stop Janus from noticing the tongue that had traced over his lips before he pulled away.

“Oh! Sorry! Pattoncake’s always reminding me to work on my boundaries. I’m supposta try askin’ before I start mackin’ ya know?”

Janus knew... some of those words. To be fair, he wasn’t even sure he was processing the ones he did know, still a little dazed between the guy in front of him nearly falling off the indoor balcony and then the sudden kiss. His first kiss.

“I’ve always wanted to do that though and it was just nice to be saved for once by someone who wasn’t Roman. No one wants to kiss that ugly mug anyway,” the stranger said before holding out a hand to him. “I’m Remus by the way!”

Janus was about to take his hand and shake it, the way normal people do. He really was. It’s just suddenly he felt something tingling against the skin of his right hand. It felt... intense, but didn’t hurt, like friction without the burn. Automatically glancing at his hand, he could see something glowing through the fabric of his glove. He immediately ripped it off without a second thought and stared down at the bright light carving out a name on his hand in big, electric green letters.

Remus.

Remus apparently found it appropriate to disregard the boundaries advice and stepped into Janus’ personal space, taking the green glowing hand in both of his own, staring down hard at the name that had appeared for a moment. Without warning Remus dropped the hand to move both of his own to Janus’ shoulders, squeezing.

“What’s your name?!” Remus demanded, his hands trembling as if he was holding back a deep will to shake the boy in his grip.

Janus didn’t answer immediately, he just stared back at the emerald eyes in shock while it felt like his stomach was trying to crawl out of his own throat. Taking a couple hurried breaths through his nose as he tried to push back the sheer panic that had overtaken him in this big what the fuck of a situation, he managed to whisper out in more breath than noise, “Janus.”

They both watched in equal astoundment as Remus’ own hand began to glow as a name that was previously scrawled out in inky black redesigned itself into a bright golden yellow. Janus could see that unlike his own hand that now had green letters against a large blob of black, Remus’ was a rainbow of letters in different colors overlapping each other.

Suddenly Remus’ strong hands had scooped him up into a twirl as he yelled, “It’s you!”

Some poor bastard with a cart at the edge of Janus’ vision had the audacity shush them and Janus flipped them the bird. If it were any other situation, he would have taken note of exactly who they were and plotted how best to ruin their lives in the most intricate way possible, but he was a little preoccupied at the moment. The fact that they were in the midst of picking up the pile of books Remus left behind didn’t buy them any mercy points either.

“Oh they’re going to love you!”

With that, they were off with Remus’ backpack bouncing with each long stride. Janus wrapped his arms tightly around Remus’ neck, holding on for dear life as the man ran like a bullet out of the library, artfully sidestepping anyone in his way. He was clearly practiced at being a general menace. Why not add kidnapping to the list? Not that Janus really minded the feeling of Remus’ chest pressed against his own.

His soulmate’s chest, Janus had to remind himself as he looked back down at the green letters branded against his hand. He felt tears well up in the corners of his eyes.

He had a soulmate.

Janus choked back a sudden sob, and gave into the absurdity of the situation by letting his head rest against Remus shoulder as he was carted off to who-the-fuck-knows-where. He was half certain this was some surreal dream.

He was half terrified that he would wake up.

Before Janus had really caught up with what was happening or even where he was, he found himself being deposited in a lap of someone who looked just as confused as he felt. At least it was comfortable as arms covered in the fabric of a plush hoodie caught him as Remus dropped him while announcing “Lo, I got your book!”

“What the fuck Rem?” voiced the person he was now being held by.

Janus looked up to survey the area. He began internally panicking to find five very attractive boys suddenly looking in his direction. This had to be a dream. He’d wake up and there would be no harem and definitely no soulmate mark beyond the black blob he’s known since he got the damn thing. The check he was pressed against let out a huff and Janus had to lean backwards a bit to see a scowl aimed in Remus’ direction. Scowl or no, he was beautiful. Dark eye shadow and long bangs that couldn’t quite obscure the stunning amethyst eyes.

“I see you checked out more than just a textbook from the library Remus,” said the one apparently called Lo. Even from his strange position Janus could tell that Lo was sat with straight posture, but somehow seemed relaxed. He had sharp, angular features, a pointy nose, and a strong jawline. Thick, black framed glasses did nothing to obscure the picturesque looks of a truly symmetrical face. Lo looked unphased by Janus’ sudden presance, especially compared to the others as he accepted the textbook Remus offered him without so much as a frown.

“Cute right?” He asked, tossing his arms around another boy in the group who was staring at Remus with a frown. He was in a cyan polo with extra floofy hair and a splattering of freckles across his nose and cheekbones. “He saved me from falling off the banister Patty!”

“Again Remus?” Groaned the last boy of the group and glancing in his direction left Janus wondering if he’d even be able to speak if he wanted to. He looked like Remus. He was a little less lanky, a little more top heavy with more defined arms and shoulders especially. There was no cartoonish mustache on this one.

Janus’ mouth had gone dry. There was too much attractive surrounding him.

He couldn’t swallow down the gay anymore.

The unnamed one who looked like Remus and apparently had the same lack of personal space suddenly took his hand and pulled him into a standing position before dropping to his knee and bowing deeply like a god damn fairy tale prince, without letting go of Janus’ gloveless hand.

“You have my deepest gratitude for saving my brother. I, Roman Royal, am in your debt.”

Janus was going to tell him to get the fuck off the groud and stop being so god damn cliche and charming and adorable because guys like that didn’t exist in the real world, but then both he and prince charming were left awestruck as they watched Janus’ hand start to glow again. Because of course it did.

“Whoops! Did I forget to mention my last soulmate mark changed?” Remus asked before cackling as he sprawled his legs across the lap that Janus had vacated.

“Wait, he’s-!” The hooded one exclaimed underneath Remus’ legs.

“Yep!” Remus said cheerfully, popping the ‘p’ sound.

Janus didn’t even realize he was crying until the goddamn prince charming, his soulmate Roman reached out and gently wiped the tears away with a softness that matched every fucking YA novel love interest ever.

His chin was titled up to stare into ruby eyes, only to find that Roman was crying too and how dare he still be so beautiful crying?! Who sanctioned this?

“-please, my dear, please, please, please tell me your name,” Roman whispered, cradling his cheeks on both sides as he wiped away Janus’ tears with his thumbs. Janus wasn’t sure how Roman could stand touching the scars on his face, but Roman didn’t seem phased at all. He didn’t hesitate in the slightest or treat the scarred skin any differently than the unmarred side.

“I’m... I’m Janus.”

Janus wasn’t sure where to look as four lights suddenly appeared, surrounding him from all directions. As the lights faded he found himself swept up for a second time, but now in Roman’s arms as he too twirled Janus in the opposite direction of his brother.

“It’s finally you!” He cried and kissed Janus on the top of the head before setting him down.

Janus swayed on his feet, dizzy from spinning and just very overwhelmed. This was a lot. This day was a lot.

“I’m so sorry!” Roman exclaimed, taking Janus’ hand in between both of his own and looking down at Janus with eyes full of remorse. “I should have asked before kissing you! Or even grabbing you at all, I was just so happy-”

“I-it’s okay... I’m just... this is just a lot,” Janus admitted, trying to push down his strong sense of panic. He had never had this much one on one social interaction... ever. Much less with his soulmates!

“Hey,” said the smooth voice of the one in the hood as he reached across Remus’ legs to grab ahold of Janus’ sleeve. “Breathe okay? In for four.”

Janus turned his attention to the soothing quiet voice, focusing on it and only it as it slowly grounded him. Lo pulled Remus’ legs away, as the hooded boy scooted forward in his seat, taking each of Janus’ hands in his own and rubbing soothing circles into both the bare skin of his right hand and the fabric of his still-gloved left hand.

“Hold it for seven,” he said, keeping strong and intent eye-contact. Janus wasn’t sure he could look away if he wanted to. He felt entranced. “Breathe out for eight. You’re doing great.”

“If it helps you feel any better Ro, I already macked on him without asking first too so-” Remus said with a big grin, like the cat that got the cream.

“That’s not something you should be proud of Rem!” Roman said and swatted his brother on the shoulder.

“Remus, what have we said about personal space?” The floofy that was called Patty said.

“Uggggh,” Remus groaned dramatically and let himself fall backwards. as if the two laps he occupied were a fainting couch. “Roman did it tooooo!”

“I didn’t try to make out with him without permission! Plus, I apologized!”

“So did I!”

Their conversation continued on from there. It was always so strange to be talked about, as if you weren’t there. Still, a deep gentle voice was guiding him away from their squabble, refocusing him on the moment, on hands within his own and the sound of exaggerated breathing that was demonstrated for him to match.

It took a few minutes, but he started to feel as if he was regaining his bearings. Janus looked down at their joined hands and saw colors peaking out at the edges of the palm holding his. More importantly, he saw yellow, the same yellow he saw appear on Remus’ hand with his own eyes.

He had to know.

He wanted to know.

“What’s your name?” Janus asked, tugging gently at the hand that had his name inscribed against it.

“We don’t have to do this now, we can do it later. It’s okay to wait, I promise.”

Janus was almost convinced, almost let it go, but he couldn’t. He had gone years believing he’d spend his life alone and now his own name apparently was written across the palms of five people.

Five soulmates.

He wanted to know.

“Please- I just... never expected this. I thought... I thought-”

“That you’d be alone,” the purple eyed stranger muttered sympathetically and in that moment he knew. They must have been like him, waking up one birthday expecting a name only to find an illegible smudge of ink instead. “I’m Virgil.”

His palm shined as bright purple letters defined themselves against against the black and it was finally enough to be able to decipher the remaining two names still in black.

He could read Patton and Logan.

“It’s so nice to meet you Virgil,” Janus said, squeezing the hand still holding his. “Before today I didn’t believe you were real.”

He heard various laughs around him as Virgil snorted. He even heard a “mood!” somewhere behind him.

Janus glanced back down at his own palm again. He was determined to never see black on it ever again. He squeezed Virgil’s hand once before relinquishing it and squared his shoulders, walking over to the last two he had yet to officially met. Roman scooped his brother out of their collective grasps and deposited him against the currently unoccupied metal bench to the side of the C shape the three formed.

“Hey!” Remus yelled as he was dropped.

“Stay still for once you absolute delinquent,” Roman said, and sat on his brothers back pretzel-style, effectively pinning him in place.

One sat stark still, his hands folded in his lap, but bowed his head slightly with the barest smile touching the corners of his mouth as Janus approached. The other was shaking his leg, drumming his fingers and chewing on his lip with big nervous eyes and he looked toward Janus, like he couldn’t’ sit still if he wanted to. Janus fell to his knees, cautiously putting one hand on each of their legs and looking up at two curious gazes.

“Before today I thought I would spend the rest of my life alone, that there was no one out there for me. I didn’t have a name and now-” Janus said, cutting himself off as his voice cracked.

“And now you have five,” said the one in the dark blue tie.

Janus could only nod in return, trying to will away the need to cry again. He was never this emotional, today was just... an extra bitch on the feelings meter.

“I need to know.”

The one who had been shaking’s hands flow up and covered his mouth as he cooed out an appreciative noise. Janus waited, trying to give him time to gather his bearings.

“Can I hug you?” he squeaked out and Janus couldn’t hold back the smile as he nodded.

Immediately, hands were thrown around his neck as the life was squeezed out of him. After a few seconds though, it relaxed and he was led into a rocking motion that was reminiscent of a boat, swaying listlessly against a gentle river. After hesitating, Janus’ own arms found their way to a waist and then around a back as he pulled the humming boy closer to himself.

They stayed like that for several minutes and Janus wasn’t sure if it was for the his own sake or for the sake of the boy in his arms. Maybe both.

“I’m Patton,” he finally whispered and Janus didn’t even bother to look down at the glow. He preferred to stay with his eyes closed, his ear leaning close enough to the pulse point of Patton’s neck to hear the beat of his heart. Still, as nimble fingers eventually tapped his shoulder, he looked up to find he still had one more person left to meet.

Before pulling away, Janus made sure to take a good look at the cyan that had found itself on his hand. Patton squeezed him tightly one last time before finally letting go of his grasp. Maybe it was revenge for the impromptu kisses he’s already received or maybe like the others he’d simply been lost in the moment but before pulling away completely, Janus leaned down and ghosted a kiss against Patton’s neck, causing the cute sky-eyed boy beneath him to shiver. It only made him more endearing.

Then he turned for he had one last person to meet. Standing up Janus found he was tall and sturdy looking. He wasn’t as broad shouldered as Roman, but he still looked strong and proportionally so. It was like every part of him was carefully curated.

This time, Janus knew his name.

Logan.

The only name left on his palm in perfect typed Arial.

“It is ironic that after struggling to read the names at all, the last of my soulmate’s names becomes more difficult to read upon its reveal,” Logan said, holding up his palm, yet it still took him a moment to understand.

Oh!

Oh.

His name would have been in black before and the yellow would most definitely be more difficult to read.

“Do not misunderstand. I am not displeased in the slightest, I just find it a bit humors. The black was always a glaring and ugly reminder of what I did not have.”

“Tell me about it,” Janus muttered in return.

Logan’s smile grew slightly as he reached down to take Janus’ hand within his own and gently held it up as he traced over the letters he recognized as his own still in black.

“Would you tell me your name?” Logan asked in a murmur before leaning down and leaving a kiss on Janus’ palm unapologetically.

Janus’s cheeks flushed at the care, but blinked as his mind went blank in confusion.

“But... you already...”

“You gave your name to Roman,” Logan whispered and tilted his head gently. “I want you to give it to me intentionally.”

Janus gulped, staring up at the sapphire eyes that were so intently focused on his own. “Janus. My name is Janus.”

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you Janus,” Logan said and bowed just slightly at the shoulders. “My name is Logan.”

The light shined between them as Logan still held Janus’ palm up and Janus watched the various streaks of blue in Logan’s eyes dance like light reflected through crystalline. With the deep blue lettering now situated on his hand, every trace of that ulgy black smudge was finally gone from his hands.

He had soulmates.

He wouldn’t be alone.

“Damn, Lolo’s got more game then you Ro,” Remus snarked despite being squished underneath Roman.

“Shut up Rem!” Roman declared with an indignant huff.

“No, he’s got a point Ro,” Virgil said, chin in palm and a blush across his cheeks as he watched Logan seduce the newest member of their unit.

“Awww, I think you’re Romantic Ro!” Patton declared reaching for Roman’s hand from his current place next to Virgil.

“Patton and Janus are currently my favorites and to hell with the rest of you,” Roman declared, as Remus cackled underneath him. Virgil stuck out his tongue and Logan just shot Roman a smug smirk.

Yeah.

Janus thought he was going to like it here but....

He would have the rest of his life to make absolutely sure.

[miracleboiz]

Hectic

Life is hectic. People need to run everywhere and be in different places, no one ever just sits down and relaxes anymore. Kenma knows life is hectic, and with two boyfriends it means his life is twice as crazy. It also means it’s twice as loving and Kenma doesn’t mind waiting a little bit for those moments.

Words: 8.5k

Chapters: 4

Relationships: Kurokenyaku

Warnings: None

Read below or on AO3, Don’t forget to reblog!

Mornings are hectic. There’s no nice way to put it, no matter how many times Kenma thought it over. There’s no peaceful awakenings like there had been when his boyfriends were in college. Sometimes, if he was lucky, one of them would have the day off and no morning plans and he could relax with them at least while the other ran off.

Already he could hear their voices from the kitchen. Mori was arguing with someone, probably over the phone. Tetsuro was calling out jovially, the barest hint of Sawamura’s voice drifting through the wall. Their two cats were calling angrily for their food bowl, the last one on Kenma’s back. Docosahexaenoic just curled up tighter when Kenma shifted, uncaring about the bright white hair she was shedding or the claws in his skin.

Kenma sighed, pulling the blankets further over his head. He could still feel the warmth of Mori’s spot behind him, could smell the rich scent of Tetsuro’s fruity shampoo, and his chest ached. He wanted them here, with him.

Sure, he knew they had their jobs and his was easier. He did what he loved every day, with only occasional meetings for his company and the rest was done over Skype or email. Yet he wanted nothing more than to just wake up with his clingy and snoring boyfriends and lay with them.

“Kenma~” Tetsuro’s voice came through with a crack of the door opening. “Hey, hon. Get up, you have a meeting today at three and you need to eat.”

“No.” Kenma pulled the blanket down just enough to stick his tongue out and covered himself back up.

“I can tell you’re a very mature and grown up adult.” Tetsuro said dryly and Kenma immediately rolled himself tighter into the blanket, more then well aware that Tetsuro would rip the blankets off otherwise.

“Make Sawamura go to my meeting. He’s mature and grown up.” Kenma grumbled. It was the new year, which meant it was payroll time which meant he was going to have to keep himself from firing everyone who wanted to give themselves raises without offering raises to anyone else.

“Sawamura~ has to keep people safe in Miyagi, he can’t come all the way up here because a certain Kitten doesn’t want to get out of bed before noon.” Tetsuro hummed, fingers poking around Kenma’s wrapped form, looking for a weakness in the blanket. The cat hissed before submitting herself to Tetsuro’s petting and jumping off the bed to join her siblings.

“It’s seven am, the meetings not till three.” Kenma complained.

“Yes but Morisuke won’t be back until late and might have to spend the night at work-“ Tetsuro started, pulling back as the blanket monster started to wriggle free.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Kenma sighed, slipping out of the blanket and reaching out for Tetsuro to take his arms and pull him the rest of the way from the bed.

“Why does that work? I have literally begged and pleaded and you’ve refused to get out of bed. I can’t believe this entire time Mori was your favorite.”

Kenma gave him the driest look he had in his arsenal. He didn’t stand even as Tetsuro had to shift his hold to keep him up at head height. Even five years out of highschool, Tetsuro’s bed head was still untamed and Kenma wondered if he’d be upset if they shaved his head in the middle of the night. Not too much, maybe an undercut… Or copying Yamamoto’s mohawk.

“I thought it was obvious from the beginning.” Kenma said, rolling his eyes at Tetsuro’s gasp of betrayal. Kenma finally pulled his legs under him, standing up and pulling away from his taller boyfriend and making his way to the dining room.

Morisuke had four papers in his hand, his phone pressed in his ear as he tapped away at his computer. His brow was creased in genuine annoyance as he growled out a response and tried to fight the cat food bag at the same time.

“I don’t care if I have the copies, you need to be more responsible with the paperwork or else it will be your ass I’ll be handing to Hanamaki Eiichi when he comes looking for someone to fire when we lose this case.” Mori glanced up at the sound of their footsteps. His gaze softened, lips twitching up into a gentle smile. He put the papers down and leaned up to press a kiss to Kenma’s forehead, arm moving up to lead the sleepy head onto his shoulder. He stroked through his long hair, tilting his head to kiss Tetsuro gently.

“Look. You take what I just emailed you. You print them. Get them signed and if you’re not done by the time I get there then I’d better not see you until you are.” Morisuke hung up without waiting, gently scratching at Kenma’s scalp. “I swear Sato-san lives to make my life hell. Go sit down Kenma, I’ll grab breakfast.”

Kenma groaned comically, lips twitching slightly at the chuckle he got from both of them. Tetsuro’s hands moved to his hips, leading him over to the table as Morisuke disappeared behind the wall. He returned a moment later, one plate held up where the curious cats couldn’t jump to try and eat it before Kenma could.

Tetsuro took the plate and slid it in front of Kenma before turning and tilting Morisuke’s chin up. Kenma leaned back against his chair, head on his hand as he watched, carefully feeding a piece of chicken to one of the cats. Kirby’s giant mouth reminded Kenma a bit of Lev, and he considered officially changing the Russian Blue’s name to Lev.

“I’ll bring dinner by later, ‘round seven. So let me know if you start craving anything. I gotta go already, school waits for no man.” Tetsuro hummed, kissing him lightly before Morisuke reached up and cupped his face. Mori didn’t let go, dragging out the kiss before finally letting him go, a smile on both of their lips.

“Bento is in the fridge, actually eat it this time. Don’t forget to text your dad and tell Bokuto we’ll see him next week and stop calling Sawamura just to harass him, he has enough shit to deal with.” Morisuke grumbled, straightening Tetsuro’s shirt. Tetsuro just laughed, kissing his head and moving closer to Kenma.

“Were you watching us kiss? You pervert.” Tetsuro gasped, snickering when Kenma swatted at his face. He caught his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm before leaning in and kissing him fully on the lips.

Kenma melted, kissing back and wanting the moment to last forever. Medical school was Tetsuro’s dream, well other than somehow making his own fungus that was a rainbow that he could name himself but Kenma wasn’t holding out on that dream coming true. He knew Tetsuro had to go, and yet... he kissed a little deeper, a little needier before Tetsu’s hands both folded over his own and he pulled away.

“I’ll see you later Kitten.” Tetsuro murmured, eyes gentle and warm as he leaned in to kiss his forehead once. He let go, looking like he didn’t want to leave anymore than Kenma wanted him to. Then he turned and disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of the fridge opening and closing before Kenma and Mori could hear him leaving. One cat watched him before turning back to her other humans, curious as to why they still weren’t being fed. Kenma didn’t really know how to explain that the other food bowls were filled it was just the one in the kitchen that was empty but he doubted they would care even if he could explain.

“You gotta go too?” Kenma asked, burying his chopsticks into his rice. Of course Mori did, but sometimes he’d stay at-least until Kenma was done with breakfast. Mori’s face dropped slightly, reaching out to cup Kenma’s face and gently cradle his cheek.

“Unfortunately. I’m sorry love. I’d stay home if I could, but this case is major. It took us two years to prove the cyber attacks came from our competitor and if we don’t get everything taken care of we’re going to be out who knows how much money and they’re just going to do it all over again. Once this case is over though, I am taking a vacation. Me and you, get to hang around and do absolutely nothing and mock Tetsuro for having to put effort into things.” Mori teased, thumb gently tracing his bottom lip before Mori leaned in and kissed him. It was shorter than Tetsuro’s, Morisuke actually had self control and wasn’t as easy to distract, but it was soft and Mori peppered three more across his cheeks and nose.

“I have to go, Kenma.” Mori murmured, fingers finally dropping off his face. He turned away, grabbing papers and closing his laptop.

He hesitated in the doorway and turned back to Kenma, looking at him affectionately. He tilted his head and smiled softly at him, a gentle one that had Kenma feeling like putty even in a chair. How long had they worked together for this? Mornings together and laced with love instead of heartbreak trying to stay apart from each other.

“I love you, Kenma. I’ll see you as soon as I can.” Mori said, then he was hurrying out the door, leaving Kenma alone with the cats. Two caterwauls rose up and Kenma sighed, burying his hand in the bag and pouring a small handful into the dish. Immediately all three of them rushed over... and then walked away.

Yes mornings were hectic. But he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Chapter 2

“Kenma~ Kenma~ Kenma~” Tetsu’s voice came through the house, getting louder and dripping with annoyance though Kenma could easily hear the smile on his face. The sound of the refrigerator closing echoed through the house and Kenma turned to face his probably smiling boyfriend. Sure enough, Tetsuro was grinning when he poked his head into Kenma’s computer room.

“Are you aware,” Kenma drawled, leaning back in his chair to look at his boyfriend, “that just because you get more annoying does not mean I’m more likely to pay attention?”

“Weird, because I’m pretty sure I annoyed you into being my boyfriend.” Tetsuro snickered, a hyena like cackle coming from him before he was stepping up behind Kenma. He tilted his head and planted a kiss on Kenna’s forehead, sticking out his tongue when Kenma glowered at him.

“Perhaps you did.” Kenma rolled his eyes, making sure to accent it to annoy his boyfriend. Tetsuro didn’t seem to care, however, simply stepping more to his side and leaning down to kiss him.

Kenma grabbed onto his arm, fingers sliding over the rough material of his sweater, and used him to swing the chair around. He wrapped his legs around Tetsuro’s waist, arms reaching up and around his neck and resting them there as their lips brushed.

Kenma relaxed after a moment, pulling Tetsuro as close as he could and burying his face in his neck. The sweet scent of cherries still lingered on his skin from his late night shower and Kenma couldn’t help but nuzzle closer. Tetsuro grunted and put out a hand against the chair to stop himself from falling, but he didn’t push away. Instead, Kenma felt his nose on his hair gently brushing against the bleached strands moments before a gentle kiss was being pressed there.

Kenma missed this, missed having one of his boyfriends just an arms length away. He ached for the days of walking through the apartment to cuddle against one of their sides when it got to be too much to be alone.

He didn’t mind being alone, in fact he loved it. Leave him alone with his games and some food and he’d be fine for hours, content with his own company and the occasional text from Shoyo or Tora. It was the day after day loneliness that got to him, when he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken out loud or heard someone call his name. When his boyfriends rose before him and returned after he was asleep and all he had for proof of their existence was bentos in the fridge and well fed cats. When his skin prickled from lack of touch, craving the heat from another person and the gentle stroke from hands in his hair.

“You okay, kitten?” Tetsuro murmured softly, his free hand moving to run soothingly up and down his arm. Gentle kisses, barely brushes of lips against his scalp, peppered themselves over his head everywhere Tetsuro could reach without dislodging him.

“I’ll be fine.” Kenma muttered back, tightening his hold for a moment. He would be. In a few minutes he’d be perfectly fine again, ready for another week of stolen moments between the hours of solitude and work.

“Not what I asked.” Tetsuro pulled back slightly, feeling Kenma’s hold lessen in response. He ignored the legs around his waist and straightened, both hands moving to cup Kenma’s face. He brushed a few strands of hair from his eyes and gently smiled at him.

“ Are you okay? Right now.” Kenma melted into the hold, letting his body relax until Tetsuro was holding his face up. He understood why the cats did this now, it was very nice.

“Yeah… I am now.” Kenma said, lips barely moving enough to get the words heard. Instantaneously, Tetsuro’s face blazed red to the tips of his ears. Kenma’s lips twitched in a smile nearly giving him away but he managed to squash it, wanting to tease him a little longer.

“Keeeenma.” He whined, dropping his head down until their foreheads were pressed against each other. “Why do you have to do this to me?”

Kenma let out a soft snort, twisting his wrist so he could gently stroke the hairs on the back of his head. Tetsuro hummed, pressing harder against his forehead to encourage it.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“ I’m ridiculous? You’re the one being… being…”

“Being?”

“Geh. Forget it. All that matters is… that I love you. Even if you’re a big bully-bully.” Tetsuro said, rubbing their noses together. He pushed gently, knocking their heads together like an over affectionate cat and Kenma loved him even more.

He kissed him, gently scratching through his hair. His chest warmed as Tetsuro kissed back, leaning back in the chair until Tetsuro was pinning him down again. Tetsuro’s breath was hot against his lips as he pulled back minutely, teeth tugging at Kenma’s bottom lip before he was kissing the smaller man harder. His tongue slipped into his mouth and Kenma let out a soft groan, pulling his legs in tighter until Tetsuro was flush against him.

Then Tetsuro pulled back, breaking free of his hold easily and kissed his forehead. He grinned, managing to kiss his nose before Kenma came back to himself and swatted him away.

“Sorry kitten, but as much as I would love to spend the day with you, you have a meeting.” Tetsu reminded him, making Kenma groan again this time with frustration. “It’s until seven and we need to leave in the next forty five minutes and you’re still in your pajamas ... actually I think those are actually Mori’s pajamas that started out as mine.”

Kenma glanced down. He was right.

“What’s your point?”

“.... I…. don’t have one, but get up and go put clothes on. I have a job shadowing that starts at three so I need to drop you off a little early to make it on time. I should be off by the time you’re finished.” Tetsuro patted the legs around his waist, chuckling when they slid off with an annoyed groan. “C’mon baby, you love starting discourse at work and you know it.”

Kenma glowered at him, allowing himself to be harassed out of his chair. Just because it was true didn’t mean Tetsuro had to point it out.

He made his way to the bedroom, eyeing the three cats splayed out on the bed who opened an eye at his entrance. He debated joining them, snuggling under the blankets and letting them drown him in fluffy affection especially after someone decided to leave him hanging.

“Don’t you dare lay with those cats.” Tetsuro called and Kenma flipped him off despite knowing Tetsuro couldn’t see him. “And put down that middle finger, there are children in the house.”

“The only child here is you,” Kenma called back, ignoring the fake gasp of offence. The cats settled back down as he stripped and pulled his clothes back on, well aware they wouldn’t get any attention during this routine.

Kenma tugged on his work shirt, finishing the last button when he heard steps behind him. Strong arms wrapped around his waist and tucked him against a muscled frame. He leaned into it, head tilting back against Tetsuro’s shoulder.

“I’m proud of you.” Tetsuro murmured softly, affectionately nuzzling his cheek. “I know it’s not much comfort, but this will only be a little while longer. Mori-kun is almost done with this case and then his hours will be more stable and he’ll have time off. I have a little longer but once my internships are over and I’m a full pediatrician I can settle in the hospital and have a set schedule and we can be together more.”

“... Tetsuro.” Kenma said softly, turning his head to run his nose on the underside of Tetsuro’s chin. “It’s the most comforting thing of all. Knowing we’ll all be happy and together.”

Kenma leaned his head comfortably against his shoulder, smiling softly up at him. It would take time, but he was patient. He waited three years to get both of them within reach, he could wait a while more for things to finish falling into place. He didn’t care how long it took, as long as they got there.

He turned and reached up to cup Tetsuro’s face, his chest warm and feeling soft at the dopey affectionate look on Tetsuro’s face. Tetsu was a nerd, a big giant, adorable nerd and Kenma didn’t want to live a moment without him. Kenma leaned up and brushed his lips against his cheek.

“We have to get to work, stop distracting me.” Kenma drawled, letting go of his boyfriend and escaping the room. Tetsuro spluttered behind him, calling Kenma’s name in a drawn out cry before Kenma heard him cooing at the cats. He rolled his eyes, wondering how he’d managed to get stuck with this doofus for all eternity.

He grabbed his laptop bag while waiting for Tetsuro to leave the cats alone, slipping into the game room to grab his phone and send a quick response to Shoyo. Apparently, he’d run into Oikawa again and Ushiwaka tried to arm wrestle both of them. If the photo was anything to go on, Atsumu had his hands full trying to hold Bokuto back while Shoyo was trying his best to get Kageyama to join in.

“Kenma?” Tetsuro asked, probably wondering if he ran off.

“Sorry, I’m coming…. Tell Bokuto to stop bullying Atsumu, I think his arms are going to fall off and if that happens Shoyo’s going to come bother me about it.”

“Shrimpcake is going to bother you either way. Is it even bothering when you prefer him to me?” Tetsuro hummed as if genuinely thinking it over as he tugged out his own phone and sent a message to Bokuto. Kenma just rolled his eyes at his words and tugged him out of his room, pushing him towards the door.

Kenma paused to dash into the kitchen and grab Tetsuro’s bento from the fridge where he’d put it after returning home. He pushed it into his chest with a half glare.

“You forgot to eat it again.” Kenma accused and Tetsuro’s cheeks flushed light pink.

“I was busy…” Tetsuro mumbled, looking partly ashamed of himself and Kenma sighed. Tetsuro had always been that way, no matter what he said about Kenma, when it came to being too distracted to eat Tetsu was a hundred times worse. If he got it into his head he had to finish a book or essay or quiz, he wouldn’t stop unless someone took away his pen and put chopsticks instead.

“I know, now eat. It’s only a twenty minute ride to my work and a ten minute walk to your hospital, so we have about ten minutes for you to eat. Less than that if you keep staring at me like a weirdo.”

“Kenma.” Tetsu breathed, hand moving over his heart. Kenma smacked it back down and shoved him towards the table. Tetsuro laughed and listened, unwrapping the bento and digging in with a hum.

Kenma leaned against him, waiting for the outcome of the impromptu arm wrestling match when a message came in from Kai. Kai was backstage with… Ushiwaka and Shoyo?

I think you should see this . Was Kai’s message, followed by another photo of a familiar taller man with dark skin and a buzzcut under a thick top of hair who was shaking hands with Bokuto. Atsumu was nowhere to be seen but Kageyama and Shoyo were both attempting to squeeze between Bokuto and the other guy.

I just wanted to see Silver Swan backstage, I wasn’t aware it was going to turn into a reunion. Kai sent another photo, this one a selfie with someone else Kenma recognized from Fukunaga’s posters. Semi Eita, lead vocals and song writer for Silver Swan and ex-volleyball player from Shiratorizawa.

I thought Hinata’s head was going to explode when he saw me and Oohira waiting back here for Semi-san. Apparently Oohira and Ushijima always come to visit Semi after a show, they’re quite sweet. I would say they remind me of you three, but no one’s tried to bite anyone yet (^-^)

Kenma rolled his eyes, removing his weight from Tetsuro as he finished his bento and went to lay the container in the sink.

You may act cute, but I know you’re evil Kai Nobuyuki . Kenma sent back, though he knew it didn’t mean anything. Kai was the sweetest person he knew, which was saying something because Kenma knew both Shoyo and Shibiyama.

If that’s how you want to think of it, I won’t argue. I have to go, I’ll try and keep Hinata out of trouble for you. Don’t tell Fukunaga, but I’m getting Semi to sign a bunch of merch for his birthday. I can say some of its from you if you’d like, I know you’re busy and the others have been working non-stop. Let me know if you have any free time this week or next, we can get lunch! (◠ω◠✿)

“If I didn’t love you and Mori,” Kenma said as Tetsuro looked up from tugging on his shoes, confusion clear, “I would marry Kai right now.”

“.... I mean, who wouldn’t? The guys like, an angel. And I know Shibiyama!” Tetsuro snorted, holding out his hand for Kenma to take as he shoved on his own shoes and let himself be led out the door.

Chapter 3

Kenma didn’t move as the house shook with the front door closing. His fingers slid over the controller, deftly moving his character behind a rock to avoid being seen. He glanced at the time, 3:18 a.m. The only one who would be moving around that early was-

“Kenma?” Mori’s voice whispered, scratchy with exhaustion before his head poked into the room. He glanced at the game on the screen, then Kenma curled up in his chair with one cat on his lap and the other on the top of the chair.

“No, I don’t see it.” Kenma said into his microphone as one of his co-op players called out to him. “Give me a second.”

Kenma flipped the switch on his head phones, turning to look at Mori better without losing sight of the game.

“Lev abandoned me for Kuro.” Kenma said, glancing forlornly at the spot the gray cat had vacated a few hours ago. Mori snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Stop calling him Lev, you’re going to confuse Tetsuro when the real Lev comes to visit.” Mori said, eyes moving from Kenma to the game curiously. “Midnight release? Mind if I sit in with you?”

Kenma shook his head. “Charity stream, making people pay to listen to screams.” He hummed, turning his eyes over to the couch as he flipped his microphone back on.

“Kodzuken? Are you playing with your cats while I’m dying? I’m deducting this from your pay.” Sandixie called into his ear, echoed by ArcadeFox.

“No I am not being distracted by my cats… You don’t even pay me… You don’t pay me either! None of you pay me, go away or I’m leaving you all to die.” Kenma winced as three screams echoed in his head set as his team members found themselves being chased. “That’s why you don’t fuck with me… dammit now I have to bleep that out… I hate editing streams, you all suck.”

Morisuke laughed softly, careful to keep his voice too low to be picked up by the microphones. He made his way towards the couch, scooping up the orange tabby from the back of Kenma’s chair. Carolina Reaper meowed pitifully before Morisuke sat down and lowered him into his lap. Immediately the cat snuggled up, purring loudly at the presence of her favorite human.

Kenma glanced back at him, watching Mori’s eyes droop and sink before flashing open again. After a moment Mori noticed his gaze and stuck out his tongue, fingers buried in Reaper’s fur.

Kenma hummed, turning back to the game and heading away from the stalking Mike. He turned behind a house, pausing his movement to look up at his struggling companion, Zebstrikah. Through the headset he could hear complaints and the other two players laughing.

“Now, next time you want to harass me remember, I can and will leave you to die.” Kenma purred, then tapped the button to help the character down to his feet. “I’ll distract him, he’s about to hit stage three and I’m the only one of you who hasn’t been hooked yet…”

Screams erupted from his headset as Mike appeared behind them, scaring the rescued Zebstrikah. Kenma sighed, shaking his head and running his character towards the killer just as the music hit. Like he thought, the other player took the bait and downed him, quickly hanging him on the nearest hook and letting the other player go free.

“The things I do for you people.” He grumbled, gently flicking Docosahexaenoic off his lap. The white cat hissed as she landed, flicking her black tipped tail and strutting out of the room to join a less moving human. Sighing and keeping his eye on the screen so he could see who was coming to save him, Kenma stood up and moved the chair away from him and made his way to the couch.

He was free a second after making himself comfortable and quickly turned to run in the other direction, hiding away in a dark corner and healing himself before making a beeline towards the last generator they needed to get done. From the sounds of it, Zeb was getting hooked again, but it was his third time. No use saving a dead man. Morisuke shifted until he was leaning against him, easily falling into place as the screen lit up with the finished generator, two orange lights in the distance showing where both exits were.

“I should have played Monster Hunter,” Kenma sighed, listening to the frustrated shout of “Oh come on! A Mori?! Really?!” as one of his companions died, Sandixie if his cursory glance at the bottom left of the screen was any indication, though he was more focused on opening the exit door. “Then I would be able to play in peace .”

“You don’t talk enough as it is Kodzuken, your fans would fall asleep if you played alone.” ArcadeFox chirped into the microphone, loud enough for Mori to hear and nod in agreement despite Kenma’s glower of annoyance.

“I talk enough… Also Mike’s here at my gate, hope you know where the hatch is.” Kenma’s voice was almost sing-song as he crossed the border to freedom.

“SON OF A-” ArcadeFox cut himself off with a yelp as he ran straight into the killer on his way to the exit Kenma had opened, the game quickly ending with Kenma as the only survivor.

“Oops.” Kenma snickered, stretching. “I can’t believe we still have two more hours of this stream.”

“Let’s do it for charity,” Zebstrikah mocked, “It’ll be fun Zeb, so much fun. No one bothered to mention it’s the most terrifying game ever!”

“It is not, you’re just a baby.” Sandixie snorted and Kenma let out a snort.

“He’s not wrong, you are the biggest baby.” Kenma said into the microphone, flipping the switch to turn it off while waiting for the game to find another killer for their group. He turned to Morisuke, nuzzling his temple.

“You sure you don’t want to crawl into bed with Tetsu? He has Doco and Kirby.” Kenma murmured softly, one arm moving to slide small fingers through Mori’s hair. “And he won’t be talking like I will.”

“No, I want to hear you talk. I miss your voice.” Morisuke said softly, eyes already closed at the gentle stroking of his hair. Kenma’s chest bloomed with warmth as his face turned red and he was suddenly grateful he didn’t have a camera on him right then.

“Why don’t you lay on my lap then, c’mon, you can rest while I play.” Kenma scooted further down the couch and carefully directed Morisuke’s head to his lap and waited until his feet were comfortably on the couch before returning to the game. Still another thirty seconds. He flipped on his microphone.

“Hey, do you think people would pay more to watch Zeb’s face when he gets attacked?”

Kenma slid out from under Moriske to turn off the system as the charity stream finally came to an end, humming softly as ArcadeFox chattered in his ear.

“You’re really ending the game already? Usually you’re the one streaming for another few hours, you feelin’ okay?”

“Yeah, my boyfriend got home from an eighteen hour day and I have to make sure he takes care of himself. Otherwise he’ll drag himself into work again and work himself to death.”  Kenma sighed, looking fondly over at the passed out lawyer.

“Uh… Kodzuken… we’re still live.” Zebstrikah coughed into his ear. Kenma’s face warmed as he realized he’d just accidentally outed himself to the entire internet. Well…

“This is my last stream, goodbye forever, all of you.” Kenma groaned, face palming. That was great. Actually, he supposed it didn’t matter, he doubted he would actually lose many viewers and would probably gain some by being out and even if he did, he made enough money from his company to be perfectly fine.

“Don’t worry Kodzuken, we still love you, forever and ever.” Sandixie laughed as Kenma hovered his hand over the exit button.

“It’s still embarrassing… I’ll see you guys later, bye.” Kenma mumbled into the microphone before turning it off completely. He sighed and leaned back, letting his spine crack as he tried to work through what just happened. After a moment he shoved the thoughts away, well aware he couldn’t do anything about it now.

He let his gaze travel over the room, sliding over Morisuke’s frame as the shorter man curled around Reaper and Kirby started to climb his way onto Morisuke’s hip and lay as spread out as he could. Kenma stepped closer until he could kneel beside the couch and gently stroke through Morisuke’s hair, leaning in to press a kiss onto his forehead.

It had taken Kenma a while to admit it, but he couldn’t help but be more physical with Morisuke. With Tetsuro it was different, they knew each other so well  that Kenma could show his love in smiles or actions or even in calling him out on his nerdiness. But Morisuke… Being so close to losing him not too long ago just made Kenma want to hold onto him until Morisuke knew beyond a doubt that Kenma loved him, would continue to love him, wanted him around.

Kenma and Tetsuro were a rhythm written for each other, crafted to complement and support. Morisuke was a later addition to their rhythm and Kenma knew Morisuke felt that bridge was sometimes too big a gap but Kenma could never go back to just him and Tetsuro. Morisuke was the heartbeat to Tetsuro’s spine and Kenma’s brain, an integral part of who they had become.

“Kitten?” Morisuke mumbled, breath ghosting along Kenma’s neck. His eyes still weren’t open as he mumbled the nickname again and Kenma kissed his forehead again.

“Keep sleeping, I’ll be right back.” Kenma murmured, watching Morisuke’s shoulders go lax as he fell asleep again.

Kenma straightened and moved back to his feet, slipping into the kitchen and flipping on the rice cooker. If he was up, he might as well make breakfast for once.

He debated on waking Morisuke up, happy to see him sleep peacefully for once instead of tossing and turning and searching for a few minutes of restfulness. Kenma sighed, leaning down to push Morisuke’s shoulders gently. Morisuke hadn’t eaten, Kenma had to make sure he did, after all his boyfriends both went out of their way to make sure he had eaten all the time.

“Mori? I have breakfast ready.” Kenma said, laughing when Mori tried to swat him off but couldn’t move his arm far enough. “I made bacon.”

“...Not fish?” Mori hummed, cracking open an eye. Kenma wrapped his arms around Kirby, letting the cat shift until he was hugging Kenma’s neck in a move Kenma still wasn’t sure how Tetsuro had taught him.

“No fish, if Tetsu wants to cook himself fish he can but I won’t do that.” Even Kenma knew Tetsuro ate way too much fish and it was probably his way of pushing his agenda that fish is better than meat.

“Thanks Kenma.” Morisuke mumbled, hand dropping onto the carpet and eyes sliding shut.

“Should I bring it in here?” Kenma asked after a minute passed, curious if Morisuke was even still awake.

“Am.. I not moving?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Son of a…” Mori sighed, sucking in a breathe before opening his eyes and sitting up. Reaper jumped off, pouting up at them before flicking her tail and walking out of the room, probably to stare at the food bowl and hope someone gave her a treat.

Kenma held out one of his hands, the other cradling Kirby, and took Morisuke’s and twined their fingers together as he pulled him up. Mori’s face pinkened when he realized Kenma wasn’t letting go but he just gave him a fond smile and allowed himself to be led to the kitchen and sat at the kotatsu.

“You’re being clingy.” Morisuke commented, not an admonishment, if he thought it was bad he would have told Kenma to stop doing it. It was a comment, especially when Kenma pouted at having to release Morisuke’s hand in order to hold the chopsticks. Kenma waited until he was nearly finished eating before answering.

“Well, I just outed myself to the entire internet as gay, and also you’re like a heater and my hands are cold.” Kenma said, finally letting Kirby go free in order to shove both hands under Mori’s shirt. Morisuke jolted in surprise, the bacon slipping from his grip.

“Outed yourself- are you okay?” Mori put the chopsticks down but Kenma just shrugged. He shifted until his feet were sticking out from under him instead of sitting properly on the cushion and could heat up quickly. He snuggled against Mori’s steady side, pulling the blanket a little higher up so they could both be comfortable and give Kenma time to think of a response.

“I’ll be fine. I just forgot the stream was still live and mentioned my boyfriend, you. It was a surprise and I’m… trying not to worry about it. I mean, logically I know that I probably won’t lose viewers and will actually probably get more and that I have more than enough money if I get suspended… But I never really ever meant to come out and I just hope no one figures out I mean you or Tetsu, I don’t want to put your jobs at risk.”

Morisuke’s arm wrapped around him a moment later, his free hand moving to tilt Kenma’s head up. Morisuke’s hands were warm as his brown eyes searched Kenma’s for any sign of upset or panic.

Strangely enough, there wasn’t any. Thinking on it, Kenma knew his highschool self would have cancelled his account and hid under his blanket until Tora or Tetsu came to drag him out. It’d been a long while since then and part of Kenma still wanted to hide himself but a stronger part, the side that had grabbed both Tetsurou and Morisuke and held them together, refused to let himself be shamed for what he was. He wasn’t a child afraid of rejection anymore, he was an adult with his own house, friends who didn’t care about his sexuality, two boyfriends who were amazing in so many different dorky ways, and more than enough money to live his life without any homophobic viewers.

Kenma tilted his head, bumping their noses together as Morisuke’s face softened and he tugged Kenma into his lap. Morisuke nuzzled against his back, pressing a kiss down and trailing a few more over his neck and jaw before finally resting his chin on his shoulder. Kenma shivered slightly as the breath rolled over his ear before wiggling to get more comfortable.

“Kenma, don’t worry about us. Hanamaki-san wouldn’t fire me for being gay, he already knows Sakusa-kun and Issei-kun are and he doesn’t care. As for Tetsuro, I highly doubt he hasn’t already told multiple people because he loves talking about you and he would rather be out then struggling with a homophobic boss. He’ll probably just have to be careful not to let the patients’ parents know and he’ll be fine… Then again… He loves talking about you.” Morisuke hummed, nuzzling Kenma’s cheek obnoxiously as Kenma groaned. He’d definitely been living with Tetsuro too long.

“Don’t remind me. I’m starting to think he might be in love with me.” Kenma sighed, fluttering his eyes purposely at Morisuke as he picked up the chopsticks and snagged a piece of rice to feed him. “What are we going to do if he confesses?”

“Mm… I suppose we could always kick him out.. Maybe give him a chance? He is attractive…” Morisuke hummed, taking the bite and kissing Kenma a moment later. Kenma smiled softly, the corners of his mouth just barely lifting as he kissed back, leaving a teasing nip on his lip as he pulled back.

‘Yeah but all those cat puns… Are they worth it?”

“Oh that is true… and his bedhead is the worst… If we kick him out, then at least Doco will go with him and stop being a bitch-”

“I cannot believe you just said that about my princess.” Tetsuro gasped, said cat curled in his arms with her usual grumpy scowl on her face. He was only half hidden but easily seen in the doorway from the reflection on the TV.

“I can’t believe you just sat there watching us, you pervert.” Kenma said, not even bothering to look back as he picked up another bite and fed it to Morisuke.

“I can’t believe he was more offended about the cat than his bedhead.” Morisuke said, leaning on Kenma again and nuzzling him affectionately.

“No I can, we all know he fails the mirror test.”

“Oh true, failed the one test Lev can actually pass.”

“You two are the worst boyfriends, Bokuto wouldn’t do this to me.” Tetsuro whined, making his way into the dinning room and taking a seat on the other end of the kotatsu.

“Keiji would.” Kenma said, reaching over to grab the bowl of bacon before Tetsurou could.

“Keiji would.” Morisuke agreed, taking a piece as Tetsu groaned.

“You two are the meanest people ever… Are you leaving me already?” He pouted when Mori finished the rest of his bowl. Kenma and Morisuke both stuck out their tongues, grabbing the dishes and making their way to the sink. Kenma returned a moment later as Mori washed them out.

“Mori just got home a few hours ago, and I was doing that charity stream. I’m keeping him at home today.” Kenma said, leaning down to kiss Tetsuro’s pouting face and pat his head teasingly.

“You two need to sleep more, doctor’s orders.” Tetsuro said, poking Kenma’s side and snorting when he got slapped away from the ticklish area. He grabbed Kenma’s hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, leaning backwards to snag Morisuke as he tried to sneak past. He tugged the shorter man closer until Morisuke gave in and kissed him.

“Sure thing, Dr. Bed Head.” Kenma sighed, grabbing Morisuke’s hand and tangling their fingers together.

“Do you know what the word respect means Kenma?” Tetsuro asked good naturedly, watching them head to the bedroom. Breakfast would be quiet this morning, but at least he would know they were getting enough rest. He glanced down as his lap got heavier, Kirby’s mouth already hanging open and ready to yowl, it wouldn’t be quiet after all.

“Nope.” Kenma called, holding out his middle finger before Morisuke pulled him down the hall with a laugh.

“You can be such a brat.” Mori laughed, face bright even with the dark lines under his eyes. Kenma fell back on the messy bed and pulled him over. He smiled up at the amused face and leaned in to kiss him.

“You love it.”

“That’s not the point.” Mori pointed out, smiling softly and kissing him sweetly. Kenma melted before finally pulling away and sliding under the blankets, moving to the middle so Morisuke could move in behind him.

Strong arms wrapped around him, Morisuke’s face tucking itself behind his back as they got comfortable. Kenma tugged the blankets up further, listening to Morisuke’s breathing until it finally smoothed out and he knew his boyfriend was asleep. Then he finally relaxed, drifting off.

Chapter 4

Kenma woke up alone. The blanket behind him was cold, though Kirby was doing his best to warm up Kenma’s head as he licked at his hair.

Kenma shifted, leaning up to glance at the clock against Kirby’s mewled wishes. Six in the afternoon blinked on the alarm clock, he’d slept for nearly twelve hours.

He sat up more, reaching up to scratch the tangles out of his hair. Hopefully Mori had probably managed to get four or five hours of sleep before waking up, he was never able to sleep in. He looked around the room, wondering if Tetsuro was passed out on the floor somewhere when a voice came from the kitchen followed by a laugh. Kenma slipped out of the bed, padding towards the kitchen curiously.

Tetsuro was standing against the fridge, holding a bag of sugar above his head despite Morisuke’s growled orders. The med student just laughed and leaned down, making kissing noises and Mori let out a groan.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous.” Mori snapped but his glare softened as he grabbed Tetsuro’s shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. Immediately both of them melted against each other, laughing softly as they broke apart and Tetsuro bumped their foreheads together. Tetsuro tilted his head, stealing another kiss as Mori managed to get the sugar. Twice more, Morisuke kissed back before he finally turned away towards a bowl filled with peeled apples.

Kenma’s heart warmed at the sight, the gentle look in Mori’s eyes and the glee in Tetsuro’s. They way they leaned into each other without hesitance, moving around each other on instinct. Something that would have been impossible three years ago, but now was becoming an everyday occurrence.

“Hey Mori, try the stir-fry.” Tetsuro hummed, snagging a knife as he switched places with Morisuke to grab the cutting board. He pressed play on the speaker above the fridge and music filtered in, making Tetsuro wiggle as Morisuke laughed at him.

“Needs more flavor, tastes bland.” Morisuke said, gasping when Tetsuro stuck his finger in the apple pie filling.

“Needs more flavor, tastes bland.” Tetsuro mocked back, easily moving out of range of Morisuke’s kick before making his way back to his side to slice the meat. “What’s wrong with my sauce?”

“It’s sweet.”

“Oh so you mean it tastes good.”

“I mean it tastes absolutely terrible, who taught you to cook? Bokuto?” Morisuke laughed, bright and clear at Tetsuro’s mock gasp of insult. They leaned in together naturally, kissing before going back to slicing.

“How was school?” Mori hummed, easily dicing the apples and popping one into his mouth.

“Ugh, I was a practicum all day, which normally I love but it was Nishimoto-sensei today and that guy could put even Kai to sleep. I’m not even sure what we talked about, it’s just a fuzzy gray memory.” Tetsuro groaned, slicing through the beef before tossing it in the simmering pan.

“Oh that’s not worrying at all, I hope you’re not trying to become a doctor.” Morisuke laughed, shaking his head as Tetsuro stuck his tongue out at him again. He held up an apple bite and Tetsuro leaned in, snagging it with his teeth and chomping down on it noisily.

“Why must you bully me, why must you harass and demean and be supercilious and-”

“I love you,” Morisuke hummed without looking up from mixing the filing with the apples. A yelp slipped out from him as Tetsuro wrapped his arms around him and spun him around.

Tetsuro dropped him back on the ground and turned him so he could pick him up again and kiss him in the air. Morisuke’s fake anger rant was cut off and he laughed softly, reaching down to cradle Tetsuro’s cheeks. Both of them ignored the sugar on Morisuke’s hands as the smaller man wrapped his legs around Tetsuro’s waist and leaned down to kiss him, teasingly squishing Tetsuro’s cheeks together.

“I love you too.” Tetsuro said, tongue flicking out and catching a bit of sugar on his lip. “Oh, have you thought of adding salted caramel?”

“Hm? Oh no I haven’t… That does sound really good, I don’t think I’d need to change the recipe much for that… Craving caramel?”

“Oh, am I that obvious?” Tetsuro gasped and grinned when Morisuke kissed him again. “Cravin’ you too, Mori-kun.”

“Don’t be perverse Kuroo,” Morisuke admonished but his eyes softened as he rubbed their noses together. Another gentle peck landed on Tetsuro’s lips, slowly morphing deeper and slower as Tetsuro lowered him back to the ground. Morisuke’s fingers finally moved from Tetsuro’s face, leaving handprints of sugar that Morisuke couldn’t help but laugh at as he flipped on the water and grabbed a towel.

Tetsuro watched him, lips turned up in a soft smile as Morisuke cleaned his hands and turned back to him. The med student bowed down as Morisuke approached, letting Mori gently brush off the mess. Morisuke paused, gently stroking Tetsuro’s cheek.

“I missed you too, Tetsu.” He murmured, smiling at the dramatic gasp that broke from Tetsuro. “You’re a brat. Of course I missed you, I miss you even when you’re only away for a few minutes. I miss waking up with you when Kenma crawled into bed at four in the morning and we’d hug him until he whined and settled down to sleep. I miss going to the zoo with you to take pictures of owls to fuck with Bokuto. I miss coming home and watching tv together or brushing Reaper, or reading. I miss you Tetsuro, I love you.”

“Mori...” Tetsuro said, voice barely above a whisper before he leaned down and pressed a kiss against Morisuke’s temple.

“Mm, we should finish cooking before Kenma wakes up, he’ll be hungry.” Morisuke said softly, smiling up at him before finally slipping free and moving to grab the caramel in the fridge.

Tetsuro stepped behind him, humming along to the music as he leaned down. One hand moved to his waist before brushing along the edge of Morisuke’s hair and dropping a featherlight kiss against his skin. Morisuke shivered before his shoulders relaxed and he tilted his head, inviting more.

Tetsuro gave him what he wanted, kissing his neck again and again, pulling him closer as Morisuke put the caramel on the counter. He sucked lightly, just enough to make Morisuke gasp and groan his name softly.

“You’re a terrible influence, we have to cook.” Morisuke said, but he didn’t step away even when Tetsuro’s teeth scraped over his neck. He moaned softly, turning to wrap his arms around his neck when he caught sight of a blur.

“Tetsu! Cat!” He yelped and Tetusro spun, grabbing Docosahexaenoic as the cat landed on the counter and was already trying to eat the raw beef.

“No! Bad! Raw meat is bad for you, princess. I’m sorry baby.” Tetsuro cooed, dropping the cat back on the floor. Instantly the white cat spun and hissed, tail fluffing out before strutting over to Kenma and curling around his legs.

Kenma was doing his best to hide his laughter but it broke out when he caught sight of Tetsuro’s pouting face. Tetsu just let out a low whine, pointing at Kenma when Morisuke just rolled his eyes at the two of them.

“You’re cute.” Kenma purred, a slow smirk growing on his face when Tetsuro’s cheeks flared red and his tongue stuck out.

“Why does Kenma make you blush, but when I say I love you you just get handsy?” Morisuke snorted, raising an eyebrow at Tetsuro’s whine as he turned to look at his other boyfriend.

“I’m being harassed, it hasn’t even been a few minutes and you two are already double teaming me.” Tetsuro complained and both of his boyfriends rolled their eyes together. Morisuke grabbed the caramel and turned back to the pie filling, lifting the lid from the cooking vegetables.

“Might want to throw that meat in soon, otherwise they’re going to go soggy and be even grosser than your sweet recipe.”

“ You’re grosser than the sweet recipe.” Tetsuro mocked, spinning back to the meat and picking up the knife again. “Kenma, watch the cats.”

“Yes sir, captain, sir.” Kenma said sarcastically, bending down to stroke Doco’s fur as the cat purred loudly. After a few moments she finally relaxed and turned to walk down the hall away from the cooking.

A few steps further and Kenma stepped between them to the sink, flipping on the water and grabbing the brush. He started scrubbing at the dishes already used, grabbing the cutting board as Tetsuro finished and the mixing bowl as Morisuke did.

A hand descended on his hip moments before lips pressed against his cheek and the mixing spoon joined his dishes. A moment later his other side grew warm as Tetsuro leaned against him and nuzzled his forehead, knife being passed over with a kiss.

The kitchen was warm between the three of them, cats scared off with flicks of water from Kenma’s hands. They nestled together as the music rambled in the background, effortlessly switching between jobs and letting Tetsuro drag them into more than one dance. Laughter and sweet kisses filled Kenma’s awareness and he smiled to himself as he pulled the pie out of the oven, listening to Mori and Tetsu tease each other over movies.

Mornings were hectic and so were nights, but Kenma wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[yoon-kooks]

Witch Hazel- Pt.2

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You’re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 3.6k

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

A/N: yikes i haven’t updated this in super long aaaaaaaaa also happy birthday to the nuttiest kid in all the land, jeon jungkook :-) 

“Hey have you read Witch Hazel yet?”

“Of course I have… Who hasn’t?”

“True, it really went viral after Snow made that tweet, huh.”

“I can’t believe how much power that bitch has…”

“Yeah but that jk.seagull boy is super talented regardless.”

“It’s just a shame he wastes his talent on Snow of all people.”

“Right? Like, can you imagine if he wrote something about Park Jimin?? It’d be even more popular than Witch Hazel will ever b-”

The gossip dissipates as you walk into the art room, as if your classmates know you’re the idol they’ve been shit talking. But of course, that isn’t the case. It’s simply your chilling aura that halts any conversation for a brief moment.

You set your guitar case down and take your usual seat at the same table as the only two people who don’t seem to mind your presence.

“Y/N, did you hear? Jungkook became an overnight sensation,” Taehyung whispers to you as he points at the black mass that’s slumped over the table.

“Are you trying to tell me he’s the one who wrote the infamous Witch Hazel?” you yawn, unamused. But out of curiosity you look over to the boy who’s all bundled up under his hood with his head resting against the table, trying to catch up on as much sleep as possible before class begins. There’s no way he could write a fanfic comic about you.

“What? No! No, no, no, no,” Taehyung laughs and pulls out his phone to show you the same tabloid you’d seen the other day—the one that claimed Snow and Jimin were secretly dating. He points to the ominous hooded figure in the background of the photos. “Someone pointed him out in the midst of the whole Snow-Jimin chaos and now he’s a Twitter meme.”

“What kind of meme…?” You only ask because Jungkook does give off major meme vibes. Maybe it’s the way he pairs his round Harry Potter glasses and baggy hoodie with the tiny silver gauges in his ear and the ripped jeans that hug his thighs. He’s like some weeby hipster fusion, and you aren’t quite sure how to feel about that.

You don’t know what you were actually expecting, but it does feel a little shitty when you find out the meme in question features Jungkook as a shocked grim reaper who accidentally kills Snow’s career. Suddenly, you remember why you had chosen to stay away from social media.

“Funny, right?” Taehyung pats his sleeping friend’s broad back to wake him up. “But what’s even funnier is the fact that the cold-hearted Y/N reads fanfic, too??” Jungkook’s head pops up and tilts when he spots you sitting at their table. Oh no. The weeb thinks you’re one of them.

“I don't really read fanfic, okay? It’s just that Witch Hazel happened to be all over the internet, so I was curious.” You wave your hands in defense, praying they don’t get the wrong idea.

“Did you like it?” It’s literally the first fucking time you recall Jungkook ever speaking to you. His voice is much softer towards you than when he chatters with Taehyung, and there’s a genuine curiosity and innocence in his eyes.

“It was fine.” It’s not like you can just say no to those big doe eyes. “I just can’t believe there are people out there who really see Snow as their muse…” And what a relief it is to know.

Jungkook nods, although it seems like he’d say more if he wasn’t so shy. You watch as he pulls out two pages from his sketchbook, one with a realistic sketch of Taehyung’s face, and the other a comic version of a nerdy Jungkook.

“Thanks, friend.” Taehyung slides the beautiful portrait of himself over to the desk space in front of him and angles it towards you. “Stunning, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, too bad you didn't draw it yourself, you snake,” you shake your head. Despite all the hardwork Jungkook put into the portrait, you can’t help but feel bothered by the fact that his friend almost fucked him over with their little deal.

“Aww, don’t be so bitter, Y/N. I’m sure Jungkook would be willing to draw you too if you gave him something in return~” Taehyung winks at you, and as much as you’d love to tell him off, you can’t.

“Shut up, Tae-”

“I don't need his help,” you cut Jungkook off, pulling out your own self-portrait. Somehow it looks a lot uglier now than when you had first finished it. But whatever. At least it’s your own work, your own art. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Both Taehyung and Jungkook stare at your art, not really knowing what to say. The more you look at it yourself, the more you see that it doesn’t resemble you.

“Hey it kind of looks like Sn-”

“Alright everyone, it’s time for class to begin.” You’re thankful that your professor cut Taehyung off before his loud mouth said too much. You can’t believe your idiot self accidentally drew your portrait as a glammed-up Snow with her beautiful blue eyes rather than as a bland college kid Y/N with no shits to give. “Let’s start by taking a look at all of our self-portraits.”

You watch as your classmates take out their drawings, some better than others, but none quite as terrible as your own. You suppose you shouldn’t feel bad, considering you didn’t enter a school of the arts with the intentions of becoming an artist with paints and a sketchbook like most of your drawing class did. You entered school with the intentions of becoming an artist with your guitar and notebook. And the only reason why you made the decision to include this unrelated class on your schedule was to escape your failures as the musician you wished to be.

“Taehyung, since you love to talk, why don’t you start us off by introducing your piece? And then we’ll just go around the classroom one-by-one.” Your professor gestures to Jungkook’s drawing of Taehyung’s face. Great. The last thing you want to do is show off your ugly Snow portrait to an entire room of people you don’t really feel close to. If any of them find out you’re an idol, you’ll have to quit school. That was the agreement you made with Seokjin after he encouraged you to give school a chance.

“Well, I’d like to think my portrait is pretty straightforward. My approach was to be as realistic as possible while accentuating my most defining features such as my long eyelashes and beauty marks. And I did this by…” Taehyung goes on and on in such detail about the portrait that he didn’t even draw. It’s actually quite impressive. You envy his ability to speak with such confidence and charisma in a way that makes everyone believe his shitty art skills could produce something so beautiful. He knows how to make everyone his friend.

“Can you believe Taehyung’s that talented at drawing despite being a photography major?” You hear two girls whispering amongst themselves. “He’s incredible.”

Next is Jungkook. You snicker a bit at his drawing because it’s not exactly what you’d expect from the art genius of the class. While he had made Taehyung’s portrait super realistic, his own portrait looks like a bespectacled nerd that came straight out of a manga. Weeb. The thing that stands out most is his big nose. But you find it kind of cute.

“I just drew myself in comic form because that’s what I was most comfortable with,” he says, staring down at his sketch. You can tell he kind of trolled by overemphasizing with some dynamic lines for a more dramatic effect on his meme face.

“Amazing job as always, Jungkook,” your professor gives the boy a thumbs up in approval and elaborates further on the refined techniques he incorporated into the assignment. Jungkook only nods in response to the nice feedback. You appreciate how humble he is despite the professional level of his art. In the corner of your eye, however, you swear you see the same pair of Taehyung fangirls roll their eyes.

Finally it’s your turn. It’s unfortunate that you have to show your shitty artwork right after Jungkook’s two masterpieces, but it could be worse. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time your artistic ability has been criticized and compared with others. As an idol, you deal with that all the time.

“My self-portrait doesn’t look like me because it’s like a mask that superheroes wear to conceal their identities. So people don’t know what’s really hiding beneath the surface.” You don’t mean to darken the mood, but that’s the best way to put it without explicitly saying you have another identity as Snow. No one in your class makes a comment, but you suppose that’s expected. They wouldn't understand.

“And the blue eyes?” You wish your professor wouldn’t prompt you with more questions. Why couldn't she just say you did a good job and move on like she did with everyone else? You feel singled-out.

“I think they’re prettier than my real eyes.” You don’t want to tell everyone you’re a cold-hearted ice queen, but you aren’t completely lying either. Back when you first entered Polar Entertainment, you remember thinking it’d be cute to wear those icy blue contacts for your audition. And you suppose it paid off because you were told you were beautiful with a beautiful voice, perfectly suited to be an idol. But an idol was never what you wanted to be. Beauty wasn’t what you wanted to be remembered by, but that seems to be the only thing people ever praise Snow for.

“So your portrait is more of a reflection of who you’d like to be?” Wrong. Absolutely wrong.

“Yeah,” you say, in hopes that your professor will move on to pestering the next person. Thankfully, she does.

After wasting the majority of class on showcasing everyone’s artwork, your professor announces that there’s a “phase two” in the portrait unit. The new assignment is basically to draw yourself again, “but with the interpretation and direction from two of your classmates.” Your professor also notes that this group project requires a lot of work and interaction outside of class, and that you should get to know your groupmates really well in order to succeed in this assignment. Fantastic. You hate group projects.

You remember the horror stories from high school of being that one kid who couldn’t find a group, or having incompetent groupmates who let you down. You’d much prefer to do the work all on your own. Especially when you know your class has some pretty incompetent students of its own, namely Kim Taehyung. You’d hate to be stuck with that guy.

“Psst, Jungkook, Y/N. Wanna be in a group together?” No, you do not want to be in a group with Taehyung. However, you’re in no position to turn down his offer. Because you’re sure everyone else in your class wouldn’t appreciate having you on their team. That's just the way things are.

“Sure,” you say. Jungkook nods after you. Perhaps working with Jungkook will outweigh being dragged down by a slacker like Taehyung.

“Great, should we hangout after class today? Today’s like the one time I don’t have a date planned.” Taehyung flips through the filled calendar on his phone before handing his phone over for you to give him your number. After doing so, you check your own phone for a text from the boy with his number, but instead you find a message from your boss.

2:46PM monster lady👹 “Snow-- Seokjin informed me that you’ve requested to take time off from work. In light of this and the current situation regarding Park Jimin, please drop by my office today so we can have an open discussion about the best option for you moving forward.”

“I can’t, I have somewhere to go after class. Sorry guys.” You only feel bad because you’re the one holding them back.

“Where do you have to go? Is it a date?” Taehyung asks. Why does this guy only ever think about dates?

“No…” you answer, praying he’ll stop being so nosy.

“Then what-”

“Actually, I’m busy today too,” Jungkook adds before the other boy can say anything else. “I have to do a bunch of drawings for my animation class.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Taehyung shakes his head at you and Jungkook, as if he’s the responsible one in the group. “How did I get stuck with the two most antisocial people in the class?”

“You’re the one who asked us,” is what you want to say, but Jungkook says it for you.

“Fine, fine,” the other boy gives in because he knows he’ll fail the class without his buddy. “I’ll go get laid tonight, I guess.”

You nod, packing your things into bag and picking up your guitar. Before you leave, you realize you forgot something.

“Can I get your number too?” You point your guitar case in Jungkook’s direction. Flustered, he feels around his entire hoodie for his phone, only to remember it’s in the ass pocket of those tight jeans. He looks a bit hesitant about swapping phones with you, and you think it’s probably because he’s never gotten a girl’s number before.

But of course, it’s actually because he’s embarrassed by his lockscreen, a bright photo of Snow with a soft yellow sundress and her guitar. You remember you’d been excited for that photoshoot because you didn’t have to do any of the usual pin-up modeling that your company loves to milk out of you. But it’ll forever leave a bitter taste in your mouth because of the guitar. It was merely a prop, and nothing more.

You don’t say anything as you input your number into his phone, but you’ll never understand his infatuation with an idol as one-dimensional as Snow. Especially when he hasn’t even met her.

-

As you walk down the halls of your company’s building, you try not to get your hopes up. Sure, your boss might’ve sent you a friendly little text about having an “open discussion” with you, but you know she probably already has her mind made up on whatever’ll be best for herself and her company.

Knock. “Come in,” an authoritative voice calls out from the other side of the door. A middle-aged lady with round reading glasses and an edgy A-line bob sits at her desk, hands clasped together, when you step into her office. Yang Sooyoung, CEO of Polar Entertainment, the woman you’ve despised for the majority of your idol career, gestures for you to take the seat in front of her. “How are you today, Snow?”

“Good,” you lie. She doesn’t really give a shit about your well-being anyway, so why bother humoring her.

“That’s good,” she nods. “Were you busy earlier?” You know she’s only asking you this because she’s ticked off that you didn’t come sooner.

“I was just running some errands on my day off.” She isn’t aware that you attend school, and you’d like to keep it that way.

“Oh, I see. But please do try to make this your priority, just as we make you ours.”

“Of course.”

“That being said, we believe it’s best for you to apologize for the recent incident with Park Jimin. After we release a statement, you’ll be able to enjoy your time away from idol work, free of stress.”

“What exactly do you want me to apologize for?” You try your best not to come off sounding too annoyed, but you were never good at acting. Or being fake.

“For being too friendly with the boy, and as a result, causing a misunderstanding.” For being too friendly with a boy? All you recall doing was talking to Jimin for five minutes max.

“I need to apologize for that?”

“Yes,” she nods, completely serious. “I know you shouldn’t have to apologize, but it’s the most efficient way of handling the situation. I spoke to a representative from Bloom Entertainment, and they’ve already dealt with Jimin’s side.”

“I’ll clarify what happened in order to clear up any misunderstanding,” you say. “But I’m still not going to say sorry when I did nothing wrong.”

Your boss raises her pointy eyebrows and shakes her head. “Snow, for the sake of damage control, please just apologize. It doesn’t matter if it’s genuine or not. We just need to handle things professionally here.”

It doesn’t matter if you’re genuine. Just hearing those words infuriates you. “I can’t pretend like I’m obligated to apologize all the time just because I’m an idol with flaws. I don’t owe society anything.”

“But you do owe me and my company something, don’t you think? Who gave you the opportunity to become an idol in the first place? Me. So if you can’t suck it up and apologize to preserve my company’s reputation, then don’t call yourself an idol.”

What you want to do is quit and let your shitty boss rot with her company. The only reason her company has prospered is because of you—not the other way around. Ever since becoming an idol, you’ve felt more dead than alive. Snow, the fabricated idol, may be prospering. But Y/N, the actual girl behind Snow’s mask, is fading.

At the same time, you know you can’t quit. Not for the sake of the company, nor for the sake of money and fame, but for the sake of becoming someone’s hero, anyone’s hero. If you could achieve that goal through other means, you would. But at this rate, being the idol you hate is all you can do to make people happy. At least for now.

So you make your apology and let PR handle the rest. In exchange, you’re given a maximum of half a year to get your shit together before your contract expires.

-

That night, you lay sprawled out on your bed in your pink penguin pajamas. Rather than filling your mind with the toxicity you’ve been dealing with for the past few days, you try to let it go for now. Despite the frustrating talk you had with your boss, reality is sinking in that you have a nice long break ahead. You can’t remember the last time you’ve felt so relieved. Free.

You even made a promise to yourself that you’d steer far, far away from anything Snow or idol-related for the next few weeks. And there are only two exceptions you’ll make.

The first exception is your manager. As your one and only friend, you do rely on Seokjin more than you’d like to admit. Because not only does he keep you from doing irrational things as an idol, he also keeps you company on your days off from work and school. The two of you get along quite well, and he’s the only person you can be yourself around. He’s like your life boat—without him, you surely would’ve sunk long ago.

The second exception is Witch Hazel. And as soon as you curl up into your bed, you go to the jk.seagull blog, now bookmarked on your phone’s browser. He has several short posts added to his blog since the last time you checked.

“asdfghjkl;;;;”

“sHE!!!”

“i cant believe snow saw witch hazel?? and even tweeted about it??”

“guys this makes me so happy :((((”

“brb crying”

“ok im back but holy fuck wow”

“anyway thank you guys so much for showing this comic a lot of love and support :(((”

“ill try my best to make pt.2 even better! i might be a little busy with art school, but please anticipate another update soon!”

He’s an art student like you. He’s enthusiastic about sharing his art with others, like the way you feel when releasing a new album. He’s genuinely grateful for the support from his audience, like the way you feel at the end of every concert. But he does it all behind a mask, just like you.

Just as you’re about to close your browser and text Seokjin about spending the night, a new post pops up on jk.seagull’s blog.

“lmao heres a sneak peek of pt.2 that no one asked for~”

Beneath the caption is a sketch of little Snow trying to make friends with a bunny boy character, but she fails because she’s too much of a stubborn tsundere. You assume this new bunny character must be a fellow superhero of some sort, a possible ally or maybe even a romantic interest. Either way, you find it both cute and hilarious. Snow could never have a romantic interest in real life, but you suppose it’s nice to dream. At the same time, you laugh because it’s true that you struggle with being too stubborn and closed off to make friends. Somehow, this jk.seagull guy knows you too well.

With that, you close your browser and open the messaging app on your phone. But rather than texting Seokjin like you had originally planned, you start a new chat.

9:37PM Y/N “Taehyung, Jungkook, let’s meet up tomorrow morning if you guys are free to work on the project”

9:38PM Y/N “💃💃💃”

You aren’t sure why you felt the need to include a stream of dancing girl emojis, but maybe it’s the least you can do in an effort to be more friendly.

9:40PM Taehyung “Yeah I’m not free lol”

9:40PM Jungkook “im free💃💃💃”

You’re so distracted by the fact that Jungkook reciprocated the same dancing girl emojis that you skim right over Taehyung’s message.

9:41PM Y/N “Good. Let’s meet at the mall tomorrow at 10?”

A/N: next time on dragon ball z, y/n and jungkook will legit interact, i swear💋

[krakenator]

Chapter 17 aka “Dune”

SPOILERS are sprinkled around extremely liberally for The Property of Hate

Masterpost here

RGB: oh fuck

That’s… that’s actually really neat. We get confirmation soon that everything in this world has color as blood, not just RGB. So, you can actually see it in this tree stump- idk if that’s how sap actually works but it’s a cool as hell visual

That’s a neat way to highlight how FUCKING UNNERVED AND AFRAID RGB IS SEEING THIS BULLSHIT

Oh fuck. Oh that is really not good. Oh no. oh god it’s a domino effect. No trees means nothing is holding up the sea which means the darkness can’t do anything on its own. This is gonna ripple back to the market isn’t it. Oh god

With the sea collapsing like this, Click may get released from his watery grave quicker than imagined…

YIKES

Ok, at least it stopped and stabilized. For now. buuuut that particular exit is completely unusable now

HEY WAIT A MINUTE *rewinds a few pages* YEAH REMEMBER THAT HUGE SCHISM CRACK FROM REALIZING RGB’S MURDERED MANY HEROES AND BEING TOLD TO SHOOT HIM? Yeah that shits GONE now

How the fuck? That hasn’t happened before. Hero’s had to sleep to heal her schism in the past.

AND ITS COMING BACK? One page after they’re out of the darkness and that schism is starting to think about making a reappearance. WHY THO

CONSIDER THIS: darkness ALSO has healing properties? Whereas total Light will burn, scorch, and white you out from existence, total Dark will hide, conceal, and heal you.

Then again, Hero’s schism didn’t heal on her first journey through darkness to get to the Market

So... more likely it was something to do with their bonding in the last chapter, or- or even though the Nightmare gave her a bad scare, it is still technically a DREAM, and dreams whether they are nice or scary will still heal you up a bit? Interesting if true. Alternatively, the sheer proximity to that literal blockade of dreams was just so, many and potent that Hero didnt even need to be asleep for them to work a little magic on her

I still think I’m onto something about Darkness also having healing effects, however! Consider the evidence:

RGB was fucking WRECKED right before Negative come out to play way back in chapter 6. Just utterly destroyed. He was COVERED IN BURNS from being PUNCHED ACROSS A FIELD and then his circuits got ELECTROCUTED. But Negative doesn’t have any of those injuries, and neither does RGB once Negative has finished his job. Negative, confirmed to be Made of Darkness, heals RGB from whatever dumb-fuck nonsense he’s gotten into to make Negative have to step in

EVIDENCE #2: that black residue Hero leaves from being impaled on the sick tree. Just because RGB believes nothing they did contributed to the tree’s revival doesn’t mean that’s entirely true. If Hero somehow left behind a lil bit o’ Darkness in the tree, then maybe it might have thawed a little/slower on its own even without the Butterfly also melting away the [—–]

One last, slightly off-topic thing before we get back to continuing the actual chapter, people produce soft lights and flowers when they sleep, right? and those flowers fade away once they wake up. RGB’s never done that, but Negative spawns blue roses that break apart when he’s done his business. My point being... RGB doesn’t dream. If he only ever actually asleep when Negative is awake?

RGB’s overabundance of color comes into play once again

“this sand is stained by the blood of dead trees” wow I did not remember this section of comic being as metal as it is

Wait the fuck a minute. Hold on. Hold- hold on

RGB IS A FUCKING COLOR BLEED PUN

RGB’s explanation is great for why this place is littered with husks of vehicles, but let’s think about what else probably ends up here, all those objects of sentimental affection and names- laptops, favorite pens. stuffed animals! The Sands are like a junk yard. and things occasionally get washed into the Sea, or the Sea washes them up here... just a cool cycle overall

SPECTACULAR TEAMWORK LOVELIES KEEP IT UP

back on the schism- its definitely much better than when they left the Market, but worse for having exited the Darkness. its more of an impression of a dip that a gaping wound right now

OH. So, yeah the sun piece will probably run into its brother whilst in the ocean, but RGB’s right- it probably went there in order to be hidden over other reasons

BUSTED

RGB: you did WHAT? You SOLD your FINGERS? Without TELLING ME? What made you think you could go and do that, I would’ve handled it!!

Hero, remembering that time she saw RGB rip his whole hand off and give it to an owl he met 2 seconds ago: I mean…

Yo can we… talk about RGB’s entire train of thought (LMAO) here? That he’s upset about Hero trading away parts of herself but doesn’t really give a fig about doing the same to himself? He’ll sell off buttons or an entire hand, but Hero gives away two fingers for a friend and he’s upset that she didn’t let him know, because he’d have handled it? On one hand it’s very “adults being horrified at children having to take on responsibilities and experiences they shouldn’t have to” which I am always about, yet on the other hand I’m getting a “RGB really doesn’t value himself much at all does he” vibe and yikes my heart

Like, between the self-worth issues touched on here and “maintain illusion of control and confidence by saying big words smartly”- same fucking hat. RGB needs to stop being relatable

“saying HUGE words, just INCOMPREHENSIBLE LETTERS when angry” is also. Yup. That’s uh. That’s me. goddammit

...... for me, this is what i would personally call the Nightmare Scenario

YOWCH that looks like it hurt. At least the good news is RGB will be able to recolor himself over a bit of time. Not sure if he’s also able to regenerate indelible lineart, so… better just not have to find out

also; that’s literally a train of thought. Why’s it colored like Negative, though? Is this a train made of Darkness?

YUP it’s a Darkness-cloaked train- how fucking weird must this look on Hate’s side?

Fdhafjk I forgot, they have NO IDEA what happened to Click. Amazing

what.... in the fresh hell is going on in this panel

BUT, super interesting implication that Hate can’t LEAVE this place, and that without Dial to get audio, or him/the Butterfly to go out and interact with things, Hate is very hands-off

but honestly wtf is the slanted speechbox? “this side of the script”??? i love it but what does this mean

RGB points out that charging through the sands like this should be destroying it, yet it remains perfectly intact throughout all of this, even when BURROWING INTO THE LITERAL ERASING SANDS. Interesting implication that Darkness can’t be erased. Interesting implication that Negative would be entirely unaffected by sand as well

IS DIAL EATING POPCORN? HOW

Who wants to bet this is gonna be an inkwell

AND DIAL IS LET OUT OF HIS CAGE!

Who the fuck would be the third party that’s sent this hell-train out to scoop up and deliver our heroes to them? 

The idea that the kidnapper has at least once before been a kidnapee is just so funny to me. HOW DOES IT FEEL RGB??

(war flashbacks to THIS MORNING when RGB: broke into song, rocketed himself across the market via explosion and a slingshot, and wouldn’t stop making puns the entire time) my man is a ball of stress but damn if he isn’t able to react in the moment

The good news is RGB’s color regen process is pretty slick- his back’s already back to normal

Your humansona’s a real Jackie Chan madman isn’t he RGB. a real Tom Cruise motherfucker. Some Buster Keaton level shit.

I SHOULD SINCERELY HOPE SO, you’re wearing like TWO lucky objects on your person currently. If that can’t give you even a smidgen of stat-boosting...

now CHECK THIS OUT: it seems like RGB starts running into weirdness BEFORE he charges directly into the dream-infested car. A film-reel overlay effect, and lookit his hat-  negative stripes of shadow

Chiaroscuro: “the effect of contrasted light and shadow” created by light shining in weird ways and directions. interesting chapter title to use, uncle mod, on a chapter which has got the pure whites of the erased desert/Hate’s realm directly contrasted with tree stumps and this weird, darkness train

Don’t you hate it when you run directly into a gas cloud of dreams

So we got a jewel (a box?), white and black hands, the iron again, a teardrop shape, what might be RGB’s Mystery Button, all with film reels

And speaking of that iron, we also get the fiery sharp shapes again… which morph into S’s. it’s a sound. a SSSSSSSSSSS

I just had to go look up what an iron actually sounds like and… yeah. It makes an SSSS sound

Human RGB is… unfairly handsome. Of course he is. AND I SEE THAT TV IN ON THE LEFT MOD

Hey wait a minute

That’s not my bastard man

NOBODY in this comic has spoken in ANYTHING other than black or white colored text. and now here is this ancient MEMORY MAN speaking in ORANGE?

well actually the ‘co-worker’ is speaking in like really dark maroon? BUT STILL

“we split” has returned, 15 chapters later

The duality of these two title pages is really something- past and present getting whacked awake, the similar position present RGB has fallen to mirror past-human-guy, going from the Light of the memory to the Darkness of the train

ACTUALLY, RGB didn’t even LAND like that. he fall on the floor like THIS. he’s SHIFTED to reflect the decayed, old, deteriotated and fragile memory currently playing out in his head

AND CHECK OUT THOSE NEGATIVE-STRIPE GLITCHES! WOWIE! Lots and lots of foreshadowing to the upcoming Neggy appearance coming very soon to a screen near you!

[ramblesandmumblesofanerd]

Occasional Mumble: Transformers: The Last Knight Review

Warning: Lengthy Post Which Includes Spoilers

Transformers certainly has come a long way since the mid-1980’s. Not only is the original cartoon series hailed as one of the many staples of the era, but several cartoons and comics have been created to keep the franchise fresh and alive ever since, for better or worse. I’ve gone into excruciating detail about one of the good pieces of the franchise, More Than Meets The Eye, in some of my earliest posts, but now it is time to talk about the ever present mediocre portion of the franchise; the live action films, or more specifically the most recent addition: Transformers: The Last Knight.

The “basic” plot of the film is as follows: Optimus Prime has left Earth to find his creator, who hired a bounty hunter to apprehend the Autobot leader and kill anyone else who stood in his way. He eventually meets the being known as Quintessa, the “Prime of Life”, who has turned the ravaged, war torn planet of Cybertron into a vessel currently on a collision course with Earth. Quintessa, enraged by Optimus’s participation in Cybertron’s destruction, brainwashes him into thinking that the only way to revive his home world is to drain Earth of it’s energy, which will subsequently kill the oldest enemy of Transformer kind: Unicron.

Meanwhile, Transformers have been declared public enemy number one by all but the Cuban governments, and are now being hunted down. Cade Yeager (the protagonist from the previous film played by Mark Walberg) is considered the highest on the list due to aiding and abetting the Autobots, and has now discovered a talisman from a dying Cybertronian that may be the key to stopping Quintessa from destroying the Earth.

Now that the basics have been addressed, let’s talk about pros versus cons. Believe it or not, in spite of most reviews, there are actually some points of merit in this film (at least from my perspective). Firstly, this film does attempt to have continuity with the previous films by showing locations and Easter Eggs from said films, though this is executed in an admittedly sub-par manner. Secondly, and more surprisingly, the film is written in a way that allows the Transformers, good and bad, to have more screen-time in comparison to their human allies/enemies. This has been an issue in previous films, as audiences were more interested in the title characters than the persistently lukewarm human characters. While it is necessary to have human characters for the audience to relate to, if they have more screen-time and speaking lines than the giant robots who are supposed to be the starring characters, there is a problem. Speaking of the robots, some of the characters were actually written in a way that made them tolerable. John Goodman’s Hound is as much in top form as he was in Age of Extinction, being both amusing and actually competent on the battlefield. Another robot I enjoyed was the “Headmaster” Cogman (you’ll see why I put quotations around that later). Played by Jim Carter, this four foot tall clockwork robot butler acts as a supporting, slightly comedic character with psychopathic tendencies. He had some genuinely funny moments and lines which made him probably the most enjoyable character out of the roster.

Now, no more beating around the bush. This is a Michael Bay Transformers film, so there are plenty of cons to talk about, and not the ones from Cybertron. First and foremost, there are plenty of aspects in this film that are not addressed or explained. As seen in the trailers, Bumblebee has this miraculous new ability to literally pull himself back together after being broken. I thought for sure this would be explained as Cade using his technological skills to make some sort of magnetic deus-ex-machina device, but no. Also, certain fangasm inducing aspects appear in the film, but are never utilized to the fullest extent, like Cogman’s Headmaster ability, which allows a small robot like him to become the head of a larger body.  There were even some rumors spreading prior to the movie’s release about Cogman ripping the head off one of the Decepticons and taking the body as his own. But, unfortunately these rumors were either false, or the concept was scrapped. Another example is this submarine used to find a sunken Cybertronian vessel in the ocean. The submarine was declared a Transformer by the human characters, but not once did it transform into what could have been a massive robot, nor was it ever given a name. It might as well have been just a normal submarine. There are also other various unnamed/unmentioned Transformers scattered around the movie with no real purpose. If they had never been in the film at all, nothing would be different.

Also, the Decepticons are barely given any presence in the film, in spite of my previous statement about the robots getting more screentime. True, there was a moment when Megatron (yes, Megatron, not Galvatron) introduced his “crew” of the day, and his minions were given more character and actual voices rather than standard growls and snarls, but most of them are killed off in mere moments. Some of their names are absolutely silly as well, such as Mohawk, Nitro Zeus and Dreadbot. Not to mention one of them, poorly named Berserker, is not even allowed to join his Decepticon brethren on the battlefield, resulting in him being completely pointless in spite of having a toy out in stores before the film was even released. But none of this even matters anyway, as most of the Decepticons are killed mere moments after being introduced.

Speaking of villains with minimal explanation or presence, Quintessa was the most underwhelming antagonist right next to The Fallen from Revenge of The Fallen. She did absolutely nothing but provide exposition, act like a Tesla coil when she tries to drain the Earth, get shot by Bumblebee of all bots, and have a “surprise” appearance in a mid-credit scene to build up another sequel. If she had been replaced with a cinematic version of the Quintessons, the five-faced creators of the classic Transformers, I think the character would have had at least some impact on an Easter Egg level at least.

Even some aspects of the plot itself are absolutely ridiculous if not plain stupid. The magical MacGuffin in this film is a staff that was passed down from ancient Transformers to one human. That human was…(wait for it)...Merlin. Yes, Merlin the Wizard. The very same wizard who helped King Arthur claim the throne. Merlin is an actual character in this film, or at least in the beginning. And it gets worse from there, as Merlin has a family tree that has continued into the modern era, resulting in the second protagonist of the film (played by Laura Haddock) being a direct descendant of Merlin. If you just heard a small popping sound in your head, that was the sound of a few brain cells suddenly exploding from the absurdity of this set-up.

Finally, the Bay-isms. Good lord, the Bay-isms. These films persist in having poorly written characters, immature humor which never makes me laugh, nonsensical plot points and character motivations, and yet somehow gets away with it. Yes, the blame rests upon the shoulders of the audience and myself for watching these films in the first place, but the blame also rests upon the numerous writers for never providing audience members with something beyond this monotonous cycle. Many critics, both professional and amateur, have complained about the repetition of these elements, and yet neither the director, nor the writers have ever done anything to change or improve the formula since the first ever film back in 2007. While I am known to enjoy these films as what is classified as a guilty pleasure, even I have grown tired of the Bay-isms. However, maybe there is light at the end of the tunnel, as numerous sources say that Michael Bay may be leaving the studio, allowing future films in the franchise to hopefully be made under a more competent director.

In the end, Transformers The Last Knight is not a good film. I know, “shocker”. The story is both ludicrous and silly, and not even in the fun way, most of the characters are underdeveloped, poorly written or absolutely pointless and the “humor” is horrendously dull, never once receiving a laugh from me. There were points that intrigued me, but they were not enough to distract me from the glaringly terrible elements which loomed over the film like the planet Cybertron over Earth, except there was no hero to save this film from its collision with it’s own mediocrity. Hopefully the rumors of Michael Bay’s departure from the franchise are true in spite of Mark Wahlberg's insistence to the contrary, because there may be hope for future films if that is the case.

But in the meantime, never stop rambling, TM

[noddytheornithopod]

I was tagged by @fryferbfringefan44. Now, I have to post 10 characters from 10 fandoms. I’m gonna take some liberties here and bend the rules by not necessarily picking top faves, but faves nonetheless and characters I want to talk about that I don’t really get to in other memes. Be ready, I’m gonna use this to let off some steam. :V

1. Isabella Garcia-Shapiro (Phineas and Ferb): I can’t help but feel controversial here because while I’d hardly call her unpopular, I always get the feeling that most people either don’t care about her much or that the main reason they like her is because they ship her with Phineas (or Ferb, or some other character even). Meanwhile I’m sitting here cringing at my old Phinabella days, and am in that odd sliver that seems to really like her but don’t really focus too much on the Phineas aspect, even if I still have some dreaded Phinabella inside me I’m trying to suppress? I mean, I didn’t even realise she had a crush on Phineas until a year after I discovered the show (yep, I didn’t see crush episodes like how Linda never sees Phineas and Ferb’s inventions). So anyway, I just think she’s really damn cool. She’s hypercompetent like the rest of her peers, she cares about things that matter (in particular the Fireside Girls) as well as her friends, she’s not afraid to speak her mind (well, besides one thing), plus she’s funny, cute and while probably being the most “normal” out of Phineas and Ferb’s group of friends can still have her moments of quirkiness (just watch Return Policy or Face Your Fear, lol). I also find some of her flaws quite interesting, like a lot of her friends we actually see she cares enough about the Fireside Girls to the point where it has given her anxiety over potential failure, and sometimes she has a need for attention (I really like the episode where she’s competing with Candace over attention for Melissa the young Fireside Girl because of this). Granted her central character arc still revolves around Phineas and I understand why some don’t really care for that, but admittedly I like that kind of stuff too (in b4 “problematic fave” comments from people). On one hand I feel like we focused only on her crush at specific times and not nearly as much as some people make it out to be, but on the other hand her crush on Phineas is just super adorable? I think it might actually be because I kind of relate to her (I often remind myself of her at times admittedly, even if there’s other characters I’m more like XD), like there’s loads of characters that exist as love interests but Isabella actually managed to engage me probably because we actually followed her and her feelings instead of her just being some random girl for Phineas to try and impress (I guess I’m saying she was at least active in her own romance storyline, before then I had only really seen boys chasing after girls)? IDK if I’m making sense, but I guess I’m saying even if I think she’s able to stand on her own with her other attributes and is admirable in that regard I can’t help but really relate to the crush stuff too, which is maybe why I like her more than some people (and again, still not in the super shippy wants-her-to-be-with-Phineas-at-all-costs way). But yeah, as you can see I think Isabella is awesome and she’ll always have a special spot as a fave.

2. Jasper (Steven Universe): I choose Jasper because I feel like some people are being somewhat unfair on her? Like, I feel like some people are underestimating how complex she is and that she’s not going to be the “true villain.” Steven Universe never works that way, not even with characters like the Diamonds, you can even ask the writers and they’ll say they don’t do actual villains. Plus, lots of people have gone “true villain” on characters like Peridot when she first appeared, and now look at where she is! Anyway, Jasper’s story is honestly really gripping and also quite tragic. Sure, she works as a great antagonist against the Crystal Gems, but when we piece together where she came from we really get to see why she is the way she is, and she’s actually quite sympathetic. I mean, in her last appearance in Earthlings, I was on the verge of tears. She’s not just some thug, she has things she cares about and has experienced real hurt, and has become quite messed up as a result. Oh, and I can’t wait for her to come back. She’s gotta be back eventually.

3. CT-5555, aka “Fives” (Star Wars): I always enjoyed the clone troopers, but one of my favourites was always Fives. I was always invested in the Domino Squad storyline, and how they rose through the ranks and eventually became ARC Troopers. However, when things got really interesting for me was the Umbara story arc. Here, we not only saw Fives’ capabilities as a soldier, but with Pong Krell taking control of the 501st Legion he actually started to show more colours to his personality. In particular, we got to see that he cared more about what he thought was right than simply following orders without question. Unfortunately, even if that saved him and his fellow clones on Umbara, it would doom him when he learned about Order 66. Fives may have done the right thing, but when the entire Republic is against you for trying to reveal what they perceive as some conspiracy theory, you’re not going to go out well (especially if you have the Sith involved). I just really liked seeing a clone grow rebellious and then renegade but still cared about his duty because it’s either all loyalty or fuck the army, it was a nice balance. It was just committing the crime of asking questions that doomed him (and gosh his death is so sad). At least Rex seemed to listen to his warning though. :’)

4. Bradley Nicholson (Milo Murphy’s Law): IDK if I’ve talked about Bradley much, but he’s just such a blast to watch. Of course there’s the added bonus of Vincent Martella voicing a character radically different from Phineas, but even then he’s just really funny, the voice acting just enhances that. He’s also quite interesting, given that he’s jealous of Milo and the attention he gets, plus he seems kind of lonely. I really want to see him interact with Milo in the future and see whether he changes his opinion on him, or if he somehow grows even more envious while he grows on the others.

5. Makuta Teridax (Bionicle): Yeah, Teridax here is a pretty standard villain with standard villain traits. Selfish, arrogant, wants power, views his subordinates as nothing but tools, associated with darkness, etc. The reason he has left a mark on me is because he’s not only good at what he does, he’s epic at it. They could’ve just had him be some typical dark lord type, but he ended up developing into a character that is able to plan things out to a ridiculous extent. As a result, he would always find ways to be steps ahead of the heroes, and he would even go as far as letting himself be severely defeated and letting them win if it meant achieving his ultimate endgame. Everyone was being played like a puppet, he was powerful but his manipulation and planning is what made him so competent. Oh yeah, and he ended up winning. It literally took a moon to the head to finally take him down, but even then he had already unleashed so much terror on the world that was now his.

6. Keith (Voltron: Legendary Defender): I’m pretty new to VLD so I might not really be as in-depth here now, but Keith is definitely one of my favourite characters in the show. For starters, he’s just really badass. Seriously, he might be reckless at times, but at least he’s not to the point of being foolish, he’s really good at what he does. Also the whole storyline with him being Galra was really interesting, The Blade of Marmora is probably one of my favourite episodes of the show so far. I was already invested in his need for answers, but there he was willing to go to dangerous lengths to get what he wanted. At least the hell he went through was worth it.

7. Alister Azimuth (Ratchet and Clank): Most of the final bosses in Ratchet and Clank games are villains, but here it was literally the mentor character for Ratchet. Granted I’ve never been too savvy with video games, but this twist here when I first saw A Crack in Time blew me away. He’s one of the last of his entire species and has lost everyone who was ever close to him, but when he sees the chance to go back in time, he can’t help but take it. Problem is that he will rip apart time if he actually tries that. It’s actually really dramatic to fight him at the end because throughout the entire game Azimuth had been helping out Ratchet despite stuff from his past slipping into the open (oh yeah, he also feels personally responsible for unwitting helping the one to get rid of the Lombaxes), but when Ratchet and Clank tell him using The Great Clock to alter time would be dangerous, he decides to stop playing nice. He’s rough throughout the entire game, but now he’s not taking anything from anyone. He needed to go back and undo the mistakes of the past, but he had to end up fighting someone who is the son of his once best friend to do it. Granted he’s brought to his senses by the end, but he does end up dying to reverse the time travel process.

8. Connor Temple (Primeval): I don’t remember much of Primeval, but I always liked Connor. Sure, a lot of the time he was there to be goofy and provide comic relief, but he was also really intelligent and knew his stuff. It’s also cool seeing him grow more important with each series, even if in the end his technological skills almost fuck up the Earth since he was being played by the antagonists. Just a fun and cool character.

9. Max Jerry Horowitz (Mary and Max): Mary and Max isn’t a film for the faint of heart (...like me), but Max has always meant a lot to me. He was the first time I had ever seen an Autistic character that felt real, and not just some stereotype or gag. We get to know him and all of the stuff he’s been through, and you can’t help but feel for the guy. He also wasn’t afraid to be himself despite how much hell the world put him through, which is really great to see. Also yay for a character that actually supports neurodiversity in some shape or form!

10. Donna Noble (Doctor Who): Donna was the first companion I got to know on Doctor Who, and she’s still my favourite. I enjoyed seeing someone with a relationship with the Doctor that was platonic but still strong and obviously meant as much as any other kind of relationship, and she was a lot of fun. I understand some found her annoying at first, but if she didn’t start there she wouldn’t have had such great character growth, learning to grow more confident in herself and overcome her insecurities. She was really funny as well, not to mention unafraid to speak up about things. The way she left the show was absolutely heartbreaking though...

I’m not tagging anyone, but if you’re reading this an interested feel free to do this.