#and they were like “do you... want a refill?” and I blubbered something about just needing to know that I CAN get a refill if/when I need t

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

Didn't even make it til 10AM without sobbing at my desk this time.

[vinomino]

Right?

The best way to get back at a cheating boyfriend is to fuck his dad, right?

Featuring: Umemiya Hajime x F!Reader

Contents: mdni 18+, dilf!Umemiya, single dad!Ume, slight yandere!Ume, age gap, dubcon (consent is never specified), light ddlg, fingering, mention of cunnilingus, unprotected sex

WC: 1.5k

Sniffling at your boyfriend’s front door steps, you ring the bell. A few moments ago, you received some photos from one of your friends. The sight of your boyfriend at a club, with another girl on his lap kissing him. It sent you into a spiral. Dialing and texting his phone nonstop to no avail, in a fit of rage you drove to his house. How could he do this to you?

Is he even home? You’re ringing the doorbell repeatedly, but no one is answering. Furrowing your brows, you turn to leave, when the door finally opens. But it isn’t your boyfriend, rather his dad. You’ve regularly been invited to restaurants with your boyfriend and his dad, but other than that you haven’t talked that much. “Is he home…?” Trying to calm your trembling voice.

“He’s not right now, are you looking for him?” He notes how red and puffy your eyes are. You’ve been crying.

“Oh, um, it’s okay, I’ll leave…” But you’re stopped when two big hands grasp your shoulders from behind.

“You’re in no condition to drive. I’ll make you some tea.” Shuffling you into the house.

The warm cup in your hands, the shiny promise ring settles against the ceramic. Your boyfriend’s father, who is staring at you. Staring at the cheap ring.

“Um, thank you Umemiya…”

“Just call me Hajime.” He smiles at you, “So…has my son done something to upset you?”

Hajime’s alarmed when you start tearing up, “I—I saw him— hic— cheating on me…sorry…I’m just—“ Rubbing at your wet eyes, the older man knelt in front of you, clasping your hand.

“Shhh, I’m the one who should be apologizing…” Hajime deeply furrows his brows. He’s annoyed, you were the sweetest and kindest girl his son introduced. His warm palms caress your arms, soothing you as you sobbed.

Wiping your nose with a tissue, “Sorry for showing you such a sight…”

He dismisses it with a wave of his hand, “No no, it’s a normal reaction.”

Hajime refilled your tea, “I’ll talk to him when he gets home, it’s such a shame…” You tilt your head a bit confused, but he just chuckles. You didn’t question it though, mind fatigued from crying. It was a bit embarrassing to do so in-front of your boyfriend’s father of all people. Gulping the rest of the liquid down, “I should be going now—“

“Like I said, you’re in no position to drive.” Hajime slides into the seat next to you. He dwarfs you at 188cm. “I don’t want you getting into an accident, you get what I’m saying right?” You slowly nod, understanding his concern.

So how did it get to this? The water rains down on you, turning the knob to cease it. Hajime provided you with clothing you left behind from the numerous night stays with your boyfriend. Did he also wash your underwear? The familiar garment sitting on the folded shirt and shorts. He was just being nice, pushing all other thoughts aside as you got dressed. Stepping out of the bathroom, you find Hajime sitting on the couch, reading a book, glasses sitting at the tip of his nose.

“Er…Hajime…sir…?” Hearing you call for his attention he sets the book down.

“Oh you’re finished.” Smiling fondly at you, looking so cute fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Uhm, I think I should be heading home now…” He frowns, “I just received a text from him, he won’t be coming home tonight if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You don’t know whether to be depressed or relieved that your boyfriend isn’t coming. Too lost in thought, you don’t notice Hajime standing ahead of you, “Are you okay?” He speaks slowly, tilting your chin up.

“Oh…um…” You blubber, shy from how close he was. Hajime’s towering over you, he notes how small your head was. His hand could engulf the entirety of it. You were prey waiting to be hunted, it’s just too bad his son missed.

“H-Hajime…?” You grip at his wrist, or try to, your hand far too small to wrap around it. Hajime hums, thumbing at your plush bottom lip. The way you look up at him with that flushed expression and doe eyes, makes him throb.

It doesn’t take much for him to have you against the wall, hands fondling all over your body. The little squeaks you let you were so endearing. Hiking you up with his hands on your ass to kiss you, forcing you to grab onto his broad shoulder to not fall. His tongue practically fills up your mouth, the sloppy slurping sounds filling your ears. His glasses clack when they fit the ground.

“W-wha—Haji—!” You squeal when he nudges your shorts and panties out of the way, his way. Thick fingers prodding at your cunt, already soaking from just a little make out session. When he thought you couldn’t get any cuter, you somehow manage to do so.

“That’s it…good girl..relax.” A single digit stretching you out, your poor pussy is struggling to fit even two of his fingers. Making it known to him that he needs to properly prep you, if he wants to sink his cock into you.

The squelching of your cunt is music to his ears as he finger fucks you against the wall. Your legs are cramping up, mindlessly blabbering about how it’s too much. A few more strokes and you’re squirting all over yourself, clawing against his shoulders trying to escape. Tears slipping down your cheeks, he’s lapping them up, hot tongue swiping the skin of your face. “S’cute…darling pussy gushing all over daddy.” You can faintly see him grinning.

Not even being able to register that the surroundings changed until he’s laying you down on a bed. It smells familiar, like your boyfriend’s room. It probably was, but you don’t really care not when Hajime’s above you.

“Hajime…” For some reason you can sense he wants you to call him something else, “Daddy…?” He let out a laugh, petting your head, “Good girl.” He’s so proud of you, it makes you feel funny inside.

It’s wrong for him to eat you out on your boyfriend’s bed, having you soaking the sheets. Having you sob that you can’t cum anymore, forcing you to do so anyways. But oh well, it is his house.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” He pauses at the anxious look on you.

“Will it fit?” Hajime’s way bigger, longer, and girthy than your boyfriend. The fat head prodding at your tight hole. You don’t know if you can take it.

“Daddy will make it fit.” He spits, the glob landing on his length, he fists it all over himself. Abs flexing in the process.

The stretch hurts, you feel like you’re being split in half. “Shhh, it’s okay baby…deep breaths. Shit…s’fucking tight. That’s it…just like that.” You’re trembling, body trying to fit all of him.

“There we go…you did so good baby, fit all of daddy.” He praises you. You feel so stuffed up, the bulge on your stomach makes him dizzy. He locks his lips with yours, kissing you gently before backing away. Hajime grips your hand, bringing it to his eyes, before tugging the promise ring off and throwing it at a corner. “Baby, I’ll buy you a better one, yeah?” He promises, you’d look much prettier with a diamond ring sitting on that little finger.

Grabbing the fat of your hips as he fucks into you, hard. You’re practically screaming, the sensation overwhelming you. “Yeah, go on—scream my name pet.” He remarks darkly.

You’re going to break, his cock is going to kill you. Hitting that sweet spot with every thrust, you can feel him in your throat. You're delirious. Daddy, daddy, daddy is all you can sound out. Legs struggling to wrap around his waist due to his size, you can’t even remember your boyfriend anymore. Long forgotten, you can only focus on the way Hajime’s destroying your guts and he doesn’t look that far gone than you.

The way you're crying over his dick, completely fucked out. The way your gripping him, gummy walls clinging, sucking his cock in like it doesn’t want to let go. He wants to ruin you, mess you up. Make it so only he can satisfy you. Groping at your bouncing tits, he wonders how big they would get when you're pregnant. Now that doesn’t sound so bad, make you his wife, an Umemiya.

The pleasure is mind blowing, “Daddy—Haji—can’t— no more!” Rasping out of your dry throat, trying to pull your hips away to just be pinned down. “Don’t fuckin run away.” He growls. You can feel the familiar coil about to burst, you’re going to burst. Fat tears rolling down when you cream on his cock again.

It makes him tilt his head back when your walls flutter around him, trying to milk him. You're certain your cunt remembers the shape of his dick now.

“S’fucking good…best pussy in the whole world. Ain’t that right pet?” He’s smiling, pearly teeth gleaming at you pathetically writhing against the sheets, at your weak attempt of pushing him away.

He had his eyes on you from the moment you two first met. A fresh naive college student. He should thank his son for fucking up, letting such a pretty thing fall into his grasp, show you what you really deserve.

He’ll treat you well, you need a real man to take care of you.

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Shocker

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 8.1k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: angst, lots of feelings, but a lot of those are fluffy, happy feelings lol

a/n: there’s not much left so say except for thank you. I hope you enjoy, I tried my best!

Shocker (finale)

series masterlist

“Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.” -George Orwell ‘1984’

Sunday, 3:12 am – immediately following the events of date #7

           The fact that the lights are still on isn’t surprising in the least. It’s been like this after every date. Yoongi is no exception, apparently.

           He pauses outside the door, resting his hand gently against the doorknob. It’s nearly silent, but he can hear familiar voices speaking in hushed tones on the other side of the door. He stares at the dark door, unable to shake the memory of your tear-stained cheeks and swollen ankle from his mind. You had sounded so worried, so afraid of what comes next.

           You’d mumbled out his name when you made it to your bed, the exhaustion on your face momentarily replaced with a look he could only interpret as blind fear. And the way you’d looked at him, wide eyed with a quivering lip…he doesn’t think you noticed, but he nearly caved. He almost laid down beside you and taken you into his arms, deeming the time on the beach not enough.

           With you, it was never enough. Slivers of time and longing looks you never noticed; it would never be enough.

           If the botched date wasn’t evidence enough, it was then, when you gazed up at him and mumbled out his name, Yoongi knew.

           Tonight…it wasn’t enough.

           So he just leaned forward and watched how your eyes fluttered shut as he pecked your nose.

           “I know.”

          Jungkook straightens up from where he was slumped on the couch beside Jin the second the door opens and Yoongi walks in. The scattered conversation that they had all been using as a distraction fades out as each boy focuses in on the newcomer.

           Hobi is practically invisible beneath the huge sweatshirt he wears, his face barely visible as he speaks. “How was it?”

           For some reason or another, there’s always been a postdate analysis of sorts. It’s usually just like this: all of the boys gathered up in the living room in various states of consciousness. Jimin was the only one to slide by without an impromptu meeting after his date, partially because he was too exhausted to see straight and also because everyone knew he’d tell them all the details at breakfast the next morning. He did, and Taehyung actually managed to break a bowl when he lost it over the story of how you and Jimin got kicked out of the basilica.

           Namjoon, on the other hand, had been pretty grim when he realized that Jimin had been teasing you endlessly about your little kiss.

           Now, Yoongi shuffles inside and plops down unceremoniously beside Namjoon, who looks a little worried at the silence. Dropping his heads in his hands, Yoongi rubs at his face before leaning back against the couch.

           “It was fine, if you don’t count the twisted ankle.”

           “What?” Jimin sputter out, suddenly wide awake. “She got hurt?”

           “What happened?” Hobi follows up, leaning forward until he’s nearly slipping off of the couch. “Is she alright?”

           Yoongi is quick to explain your little accident, omitting your tears from the storytelling. He doesn’t want to embarrass you or make the others feel bad. The others listen with rapt attention, Jungkook’s mouth in a little ‘o’ all throughout.

           Jin remains silent on the couch, as he usually does during these little meetings. He’ll occasionally comment on something or voice a question, but he tends to remain fairly quiet. Drinking in the information, eyes clear despite the late hour.

           It’s unnerving.

           “So…it’s not a bad injury?” Namjoon asks, crossing his arms.

           “No, she’s fine,” Yoongi reassures. “Just tired. She went straight to bed after I dropped her off.”

           Taehyung grins knowingly. “Adorable.”

           Everyone is silent as everyone turns to their thoughts, the same thing on everyone’s mind. It’s Hobi again that breaks the silence, stretching and yawning as he gets to his feet.

           “Well, that’s that. It’s over. Gentlemen,” he eyes everyone around the room, shuffling toward the hallway where the warmth of his bed calls to him. “It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

           “Wait!” Jungkook also hops to his feet, much more alert than the older boy. “What happens now?”

           There are a few non-committal answers from around the room, but two people remain silent. Meeting eyes from across the space, Jin and Yoongi share a silent agreement.

           Jin clears his throat, and it’s only then that the boys realize that it’s been hours since he last spoke. With a soft smile he utters, “We let her choose. Whatever she wants, if she wants to go back to normal or decides to date someone.” His eyes return to Yoongi, and suddenly the memory of two years prior is laid out before them. “Then…we let her go.”

           “I’m just saying, if he didn’t want you to find it, he would’ve hidden it in his underwear drawer. Sock drawer is a stupid way to go.”

           You sip at the horchata Gina brought over for you, huffing out a laugh. “You’re so weird.”

           Gina shrugs. “Just saying. So what did you get up to yesterday?”

           Yesterday. You had woken up with red eyes and puffy cheeks from all the crying you had done the night before. Slightly embarrassed but more feeling miserable for yourself, you had crawled to the shower and tried to get your thoughts straight.

           When you emerged, you had a couple of texts to welcome you. They were from Jimin and Taehyung, welcoming you back to the groupchat. There were plenty of happy emojis and balloons taking up the messages, enough to make you crack a smile. You shot back a thank you text, letting out a sigh of relief.

           It was good to be back.

           When Namjoon texted and tentatively asked about the state of your ankle and if you were open to them popping over, you took nearly an hour to decide. Nervous about seeing all of them, cautious because you had no idea what would happen if you were in the same room.

           Who would you radiate toward, without even realizing?

           It was then, when that question popped up, that you realized that you had known the answer all along.

           It was startling, how the answer had been there all along. So simple, yet so unattainable.  

           “The boys wanted to check in on me,” you sigh, glaring down at your ankle. It’s still sore, but much better today. Although it’s safe to say you won’t be flying kites anytime soon.

           “But…?”

           “The thought of all seven of them in my little apartment at the same time was overwhelming,” you admit. “I needed a minute. To think. And I know I’ve had weeks to think about it, but yesterday was the first time I felt like I could see the full picture…if that makes sense.”

           Gina nods thoughtfully, reaching over to refill your glass of horchata. The sun is steadily making its way to the horizon, another day wrapping up. “It does. You’ve been going out with someone different each week, you’re probably suffering from information overload after all of those dates and the confession on the pact…how are you not exhausted?”

           “I was yesterday. I was torn – Gina, I want to go back to normal so bad. Just the way it was.”

           “Ignorance is bliss.”

           You set your glass down, pushing back from the table and crossing your arms. “Wouldn’t that be better?” You muse. “That way, nobody gets hurt.”

           Gina tilts her head to one side, eyes flashing. A smirk forms on her face. “You wouldn’t be saying this if you hadn’t already decided on someone.” She leans forward in her seat, staring into your soul. “Who?”

           You school your features into a neutral position. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

           “No, no. You don’t get to shut me out. You have feelings for someone, don’t you!” Gina points an accusing finger at you, letting out a startled laugh. “You totally do! What went on in your head, yesterday? Or maybe you’ve loved them for a while, and this is what it took to realize it-”

           “I can’t do it, Gina.” Your eyes are wide as you plead more with yourself than her. “I can’t do that to the others.”

           “And what, you plan to just let him go?”

           Dropping your head into your hands, you squeeze your eyes shut. “Do I have another choice?”

           The scrape of the chair against the floor alerts you to Gina rising from her seat, and you expect her to leave. She has every right to, you’re frustrated with yourself as well. However, a second later she’s rubbing your back, urging you to look up. Once you do, she offers you a small smile.

           “You always have a choice.”

           Gina stays for a couple more hours, offering her support as you blubber on about how worried you are. While your heart is urging you to throw caution to the wind and go after what you’ve wanted for longer than you ever realized before, your mind does a great job of conjuring up different reactions from the others.

           All of them are depressing. Every time you close your eyes you’re met with the crestfallen expressions of your best friends. Scenarios play out in your head, where you’re blissfully happy for a few seconds before everything comes tumbling down.

           “You’ve gotta get out of your head,” Gina chides as she eases off the couch. “You’re miserable.”

           You sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s just…I can’t do anything. I can’t. That’s horrible of me.”

           “They’re grown boys; they knew what they were getting themselves into with this. Just…tell me something before I head out.”

           “…ok.”

           Gina pauses before the door, hands on her hips. “Why him? Because from where I’m sitting, they all love you.”

           The question takes you by surprise, but the answer is rolling off your tongue in an instant. “I want to be loved, yes. But more than that…I want to be understood.” You stare at a framed photo on the wall, solemn. “He understands me.”

           You don’t hear when Gina leaves, the thoughts in your head too loud. Instead you stay seated on the couch, chewing on your lip. Wondering.

           Remembering.

           All the times he’d been there – he was always there for you, how could you never notice? – never drawing attention to himself. Just there. Just in case you needed him.

           What’s stopping you?

           A knock on the door stops your train of thought, and you hobble up to your feet. Swinging the door open you say, “Did you forget something?”

           Jin stands on your porch, clutching a garment bag to his chest. His ears are bright red, set aflame by the setting sun. He’s wearing his glasses, which he pushes up on his nose. “I…no?”

           “Oh!” You step back, wincing a little from your ankle. “I thought you were Gina! I…hey.”

           “Hey.” Shuffling on his feet, Jin looks down at the bag he’s holding, seeming to remember why he was here in the first place. “Oh, here. I know it’s a little late, but I got your dress dry cleaned and…well, yeah. Here you go.”

           His hands tremble a bit, but you don’t comment as you take the bag from him. “Thank you. Your sweater is actually hanging up in my room…why don’t you come in while I grab it?”

           “Can I?” Jin looks down at your doorstep, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want to intrude…”

           “Just come in!” You call over your shoulder, already heading down the hallway. “This will only take a second. Besides, it’s cold outside.”

           The door clicks shut, Jin stepping inside and shoving his hands in his pockets. You rush inside your room, throwing your dress on a hanger in the closet and scanning your clothes for Jin’s blue sweater. When you find it – grinning at the whale on the front – you pause. Holding it in your hands, you take a deep breath.

           “Hey,” Jin’s voice rings out down the hallway. You catch a slight tremble in his tone, which is mirrored by your shaking hands. “I a-actually wanted to talk to you for a second. If that’s ok…?”

           Clearing your voice of the emotion that’s riding you, you respond. “Just come down here.”

           A second later Jin is tentatively peeking inside your room, giving you a nervous smile. His eyes then land on your dresser, widening a bit.

           “So you did steal my copy!”

           Gasping, you toss Jin’s sweater at him and lunge for the dresser. There’s the pact, out in the open for anyone to see. “I- I was gonna give it back-”

           “I can’t believe you’d steal from me.”

           “It was for a good cause!”

           Jin rolls his eyes, laughing as he snatches the pact from you and holds it up in the air. “Nuh-uh, I’m taking this home with me. You’ve had it for long enough.” He makes a point of folding it up and sticking it in his back pocket, staring down at you with an amused expression.

           Suddenly you’re transported to his living room, dancing in his arms. Staring up at him like he put the stars in the sky while he looks at you like you’re the forbidden fruit.

           Is that why he’s here, now? To finally give in to the temptation?

           From the way the smile slides off his lips, you can tell that he’s remembering the same moment. His mouth opens a bit, looking as though he’s about to speak. After a moment, it shuts. Then he slowly reaches out, arms encircling you as he studies your expression. Waiting for any moment of discomfort.

           The second Jin pulls you into his embrace and you rest your head against his chest, his shoulders deflate and he lets out a long sigh.

           It’s not a sigh of relief.

           “Do you remember the first time we hung out together? Jimin wanted to bring you to the Spring Day set, and it was freezing. We were all complaining about our toes falling off and yelling at Namjoon for writing about such a cold song.”

           You chuckle, nodding. Jin’s voice rumbles through his chest as he continues. “I thought that it was so embarrassing, too. We were complaining like kids in front of Jimin’s pretty friend. I figured that you’d never want to hang out with us again. I’ll never forget how angry Jimin was with us after, saying that we were probably making you uncomfortable. Obviously, we all said that it was stupid of him to bring you to a freezing music video set for our first meeting.”

           Jin tightens his grip, laying his cheek atop your head and swaying gently back and forth. You’re not sure if he even realizes that he does it, but you don’t ask. Not as he’s walking down memory lane. It feels like it’s been centuries since you first met.

           “You know what I remember the most about you from that day?”

           You hum, nuzzling in a little closer. Hanging on for just a moment longer.

           “You never complained. Like, at all.” Jin cups your chin, making you look up at him. He smiles softly, but his eyes are sad. “I thought it was a superpower or something, seriously. You just smiled and joked around with Jungkook and Tae. If you were cold or uncomfortable or even weirded out by us, you didn’t say anything.”

           You roll your eyes, latching your hands behind Jin’s back. “I was definitely weirded out, but I didn’t want Jimin to feel bad. He was so excited for me to meet you guys.”

           Jin chuckles, the sound momentarily warming you up. “But the point is, you didn’t complain. You’ve always been like that. Even now, being dragged on seven dates and having to deal with us figuring out our own feelings, you never once complained. You never backed away.”

           The sadness that lingers in Jin’s eyes has you tightening your hold, wondering how to get rid of that sorrow. Your train of thought is interrupted when Jin brushes back a strand of hair, softly tucking it behind your ear.

           “You are beautiful and a wonder. You will always be important to me, no matter where life takes us. You will always be that person that I’ll drop everything for, ok?” Jin takes another long, adoring look at you before reaching behind him and gathering your hands in his. He slowly pulls away from you, staring down at where he holds your hands. “I might be an idiot at times, but I can tell when I’m in the way.”

           As he takes a step back, you watch as he drops your hands. “Jin, wait,” you reach out, grasping his arm as he moves to turn away. “Jin- Seokjin, what’s going on-”

           “You and Yoongi have that in common, did you know that?” Jin offers you a close-lipped smile, placing his hand on yours where you cling to his jacket. His thumb swipes over your knuckles once – twice – before he’s stepping back yet again. “Neither of you are complainers. I mean sure, there’s the funny complaints that everyone makes. But he has a penchant for suffering silently. I’d say he’s a bit of a masochist, but that’d be a lie. He just cares.”

           Jin has made it to your doorway now, where he pauses and leans against the doorframe. He crosses his arms, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought, a faraway look in his eyes. “I think he doesn’t know what to do with it, all those feelings. He just cares so much, about everyone. For you.”

           “Jin,” you gasp out, “what are you doing?”

           One corner of his lips pull up in a smirk. “Me?” He shifts his weight to his other leg. “Letting go.”

           “What are you even talking about?”

           “Don’t get me wrong, I intend to complain. You’ll get an official complaint in the mail soon enough, just give it three to five business days to get here. But I realized something a little while ago: complainers always find some new to complain about. And while that sucks, it also means that they move on. They find something new, no matter how long it takes.”

           He keeps looking at you with that sad smile, and it’s ripping the ground out from under you. You want to scream, throw something, or perhaps dissolve into tears. But nothing happens. You just keep breathing.

           In.

           Then out.

           And Jin keeps speaking. He’s rambling now, something he does when he’s nervous. His brows are still furrowed, and you wonder if he’s making this up as he goes. If the only thing he knew what that he had to find a way in, only to find a way out.

           “As twisted as my logic sounds, I think it gives me hope. Eventually, I’ll be ok. Probably be complaining about the weather or maybe even a girl in no time. Just give me some time, and I’ll bounce back.”

           “Jin,” you croak out. “…you don’t complain, not about these things. Why are you doing this? S-stop doing this.”

           “But it’s like I said: Yoongi doesn’t complain. Jagiya, I know him. Better than you do.” Jin closes his eyes, pinching them shut before opening them again. “He’ll never get over you. I mean it. And if my logic holds true…that means that you’ll never move past him, either.”

           Folding his sweater over his arm, Jin steps back into the hallway. You step forward, your stomach churning.

           “Seokjin!”

           He hesitates for a single heartbeat, almost looking like he’ll turn back around and declare it all some twisted joke. Like he’ll pull you back into his arms and admit that he’s been inside his memories for the past two weeks, replaying “La Vie en Rose” as he lies awake at night.

           But he doesn’t. He refuses to look at you as he marches down the hallway. As he walks, he continues to speak.

           “I was angry that night, when you called him instead of me. When you accidentally deleted your essay. He left, and I was stuck at home, pining after you like some teenage boy. I think even then, I knew that it wouldn’t be me in the end. But I’d die trying.” He laughs, joking but it doesn’t come off very funny.

           It’s when he’s reached the door and goes to pull it open that you call out to him again, sounding like you’re on the verge of tears. “But it was you, wasn’t it?” You run a hand through your hair. “You wrote the note, o-on the back of the pact.”

           With his hand on the doorknob, Jin glances back at you over his shoulder. Now you understand why he couldn’t stand to look at you a moment earlier. Those are tears glistening in his eyes.

           He looks at you for a long moment, eyes so clear and bare that you can see the very moment he lays down his weapons and admits defeat. “Would it change anything?”

           He’s already twisting the doorknob, but just before he opens the door, he hesitates. Waiting for an answer, you realize. Some small part of him still pulses with hope, even after all he’s said.

           You can’t give that hope.

           “There’s a difference, you know,” Jin mumbles, eyes dropping. “Just because I loved you first doesn’t mean I can love you the best. I think sometimes the world forgets that.”

           And then he’s gone.

           In.

           Out.

           Perhaps the most shocking development has been the fact that you’re still breathing. When Jin leaves your apartment, the sky doesn’t fall. Your heart, while aching, doesn’t shatter into a million little pieces. The quiet hum of your dishwasher continues on, oblivious to all that’s transpired.

           A few tears slip down your cheeks, which you quickly wipe away. When your dishwasher buzzes, you drift over to it as though in a daze. Wiping your hands on your dishtowel, you move to open the dishwasher.

           But it’s that dishtowel with stitched stars that Yoongi gifted you forever ago. Stars.

           You are the stars I’ve been reaching for ever since that night.

           Snatching the towel from where it hands off your oven, you fumble for your phone. Dishes long forgotten, you bring the phone up to your ear and nervously tap your foot. “C’mon, c’mon…”

           “Jagiya?”

           “Hobi!”

           “Hey, what’s up? How’s your ankle?”

           You chew on your lip, struggling to regain composure. “I- yeah. The ankle’s fine. Look, I need to cash in my question now.”

           Hobi chuckles on the other side of the phone. “That’s what I was afraid of. Wanna come over to the studio?”

           “Be there soon.”

           It’s dark outside, countless stars winking down at you as you hurry inside the Hybe building. You throw a glare up at them, wondering if they were in on it the entire time. If the stars have always been aware that Min Yoongi had no interest in them, much preferring your company to the twinkling lights in the heavens.

It’s your first time in here, the boys having recently moved into the new building. As such, you’re instantly disoriented. At a loss for where to go, you call Hobi.

“Hey, where…?”

“Turn around!”

You whirl around to see the elevator doors sliding open, Hobi hopping out. “Hey, you made it!” He instantly pulls you in for a hug, which you gratefully receive. “Everything ok, jagi?”

It’s then that you realize how you must look. Tear-stained cheeks and tired eyes don’t make for the best combination. “Oh…yeah. I’m alright.”

Hobi doesn’t believe you at all, but he doesn’t push it. Not here, out in the open lobby. Instead he pulls you into the elevator, punching one of the buttons. “Long day?”

You laugh quietly, leaning up against the wall of the elevator. “A little, yeah. What about you? What are you up to?”

“Oh, we’re recording a new Japanese OST. Wanna listen to it once we get up there?”

“Is that even a question?”

It feels unbelievably good to be here with Hobi, falling into an easy conversation despite the nervousness coursing through your veins. Once you reach the eighth floor, Hobi leads you down the hallway toward a closed door.

“What’s that?” He asks, pointing to where you still hold the dishtowel in your hands.

You blink, not even realizing that you brought it in with you. “Oh…um…part of my question, I think?”

Hobi chuckles, pausing outside of the door. “I was wondering when you were gonna use that question.”

At the end of your date with Hobi two months ago, he’d allowed you two questions about whatever you wanted to know. You only asked one, wanting to keep the other for a future time. You never thought it would lead to this.

“Ok, let’s head inside.”

Your eyes widen, but Hobi doesn’t notice as he pushes the door open and strides inside. The sight that greets you makes you want to sink through the floor.

Namjoon and Jungkook sit in front of the recording equipment, while Taehyung and Jimin lounge on the couches at the back of the room. Yoongi is busy on the other side of the glass, eyes closed as he raps into the mic. His dark hair is straight, kissing his brows while he clenches his fists at his sides,

You’re frozen in place as suddenly you’re surrounded by his voice. It’s lilting, more like singing than rapping. The words coming from his mouth stop your heart.

“Don't have to be right, just wanted you to stay the way you are, kindhearted, always smiling, but-”

“Hey!” Taehyung jumps up from his seat, alerting everyone to your presence. “You’re here!”

Jungkook swivels around in his chair, wide eyes crinkling as he grins. Namjoon quietly greets you, cheeks pink as he struggles to focus on the task at hand.

It’s Jimin that notices how lost you look. “Everything alright?” He ambles over to you, bending his knees a bit to look at you. He grabs your shoulder, eyes scanning your face. “Jagiya? Want to sit down?”

But you’re still clinging to Hobi, one hand wrapped up in the fabric of his jacket. “I…actually, Hobi, weren’t you gonna show me your new studio?”

You look back at Hobi, aware that everyone in the room is now staring at him as well with confused looks. You give Hobi a pleading look, but not before you see someone on the other side of the glass.

Yoongi stands before the microphone, frowning as he looks at you. As you lock eyes, he tilts his head to one side and mouths a single word.

Jin?

“I…uh, yeah. Yeah, let’s go look at it first and then come right back, right?” Hobi says, the confusion clear in his voice. Thankfully, he doesn’t question you and instead steps back through the door. “Be right back, guys.”

Just before you walk away, you turn back to try to communicate to Yoongi that you’re here for him, not Jin. But he’s gone, the side door to the studio still swinging from where he walked out.

           Your head is still spinning by the time Hobi heads into his own studio, hardly pausing to admire it before he’s whipping around to face you. The second he closes the door, he’s crossing his arms and giving you a worried look.

           “What was that all about?” He asks. “What’s going on?”

           “Hobi,” you croak out. “Hobi, I need help. I need answers.”

           Plopping down on his cushiony swivel chair, you squint at him. You can feel a headache coming on.

           “I can’t give you the answers if you don’t ask the questions, jagi,” Hobi chides, pulling up another chair to sit in front of you. His gaze catches on your wrist. “You still wear the bracelet I made you?”

           You pause, glancing down at the bracelet. “Of course. Everyday.”

           Hobi smiles softly to himself before leaning back and letting out a long sigh. “Ok. Tell me what’s going on.” He eyes the star-spangled dishtowel still in your hands. “I assume this is about Yoongi?”

           “I…how did you know?”

           He nods to the towel, chuckling softly. “He came to me asking if I knew how to embroider. I didn’t, but I got him a little embroidery kit to practice with on tour. It cracked me up when he ended up buying plain white dishtowels and would spend his time backstage embroidering little stars on them. I didn’t know he was planning on giving them to you at the time…do you guys have some sort of inside jokes with stars or something?”

           You stare at Hobi like he’s just grown a second head. “He what?”

           “What?” Hobi blinks. “Did you not know that he stitched them?”

           Of course not. When Yoongi had gifted you the dishtowels, you’d thought it was sweet, if a bit odd. You even remember joking with him about it, saying that he’d paid off the neighborhood grandma to do it for him.

           “No! I never knew that! Why would I…why would he…”

           “So…you don’t have an inside joke about stars?”

           You sigh, throwing a hand over your eyes. “How could I be so blind?” Slumping down in the chair you ask miserably, “I mean, it makes sense, I guess…he’s done so many things-”

           At this, Hobi stops you. “Like what?”

           There is a long, long list of things that Yoongi did for you that he never told the boys.

           “Or there’s that time he passed up on his Laker’s tickets because I had that end-of-year project due, and I was worried that nobody would show up to my presentation.”

           You remember that with a jolt. You had to give a twenty minute presentation on the effects of addiction, something that hardly seemed like a riveting topic. The general public was invited to the lecture hall, but despite your valiant efforts handing out fliers and sending e-vites, you were convinced that it was going to be a flop.

           It was. There were about seventeen people scattered about the hall that typically seated three hundred. Your hands were shaking and you thought you might burst into tears on stage because you felt like an utter failure, but then movement caught your eyes.

           Sneaking in and taking a seat on the very back row, sat Yoongi. His bucket hat was pulled low across his eyes and a couple of body guards tried (and failed) to looked inconspicuous as they took seats near him. When you stuttered, he help up a thumbs up and quietly encouraged you to go on.

           Jin’s words from earlier come back to you. I think he doesn’t know what to do with it, all those feelings. He just cares so much, about everyone. For you.

           By this point, you’re exhausted with all of the things Yoongi has done over the years. How blind you’ve been to his unadulterated kindness. Hobi senses it, seeing your shoulders droop. He falls silent, allowing you to sort out your thoughts before you speak.

           “Does he still want me?”

           Looking up at Hobi, you allow yourself to feel the question at you repeat it. “How could he still want me? After how blind I’ve been to my own feelings?”

           Hobi smiles softly, leaning forward to take your hand in his. He gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Jagi…I don’t think Yoongi completely understood his own feelings most of the time.”

           “But he’s done so much-”

           “That he has. But when you love someone, you don’t do those kinds of things for gain. He didn’t do those things to make you fall in love with him.” Hobi laughs to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “He did it because you’re the right person. And when you’re with the right person, it’s simple. Does he still want you? Simple.” He shrugs. “Yes.”

           Yoongi is gone, Jungkook tells you when the boys eventually come knocking at Hobi’s studio. They sit in a semi-circle, pondering all that they’ve learned. Hobi had quickly explained the situation to them, and despite your worry, nothing happened.

           Nobody yelled, nobody banished you from their life.

           Instead, Jimin had laughed. Laughed.

           “Pay up, loser,” he’d commanded as he elbowed Taehyung. Taehyung whined and said that he’d Venmo him in a second.

           “Wait, you made a bet?” You shriek. “About who I’d go for?!”

           The boys all laugh nervously, Namjoon slowly edging toward the door. You snap your fingers at him, glaring. “You don’t get to leave, Kim. Were you a part of this?”

           “I…yeah…”

           “But Yoongi’s gone,” Jungkook repeats. “Aren’t you gonna tell him?”

           You sigh. “How am I supposed to tell him? Just march up to him and throw myself at him?”

           Namjoon shrugs. “I mean, that’d work for me.”

           “Yeah,” Jungkook chuckles darkly. “Just go for that.”

           Hobi rolls his eyes, leaning forward in his seat. “Just do whatever you feel comfortable with, jagiya. But do it soon. You’ll psych yourself out if you wait much longer.”

           It feels like you’ve time-traveled back to middle school, gossiping around the lunch table about your crush. Somehow, that’s comforting. While there’s a bit of awkwardness in the air, you can’t help but feel like you’re back.

           “Oh,” Taehyung snaps his fingers, mouth open in a little ‘o’, “but whatever you do, make sure there’s cookies. Or some sort of dessert.”

           “What?”

           “You know, to celebrate if he accepts your confession, or to make you feel better if he rejects you.”

           Gasping, you jump up to your feet. You point an accusing finger at Hobi. “But you said that he’d still want me!”

           “He does! Taehyung, take that back right now.”

           Tae stands up, his grin softening as he steps forward. That’s when you see how much they’ve been hiding behind their playful demeanors. For you. To help you.

           Wrapping you up in a hug, Taehyung squeezes you tight. “It’ll be fine. Don’t you worry.” And then, quieter so no one else can hear, “We’ll be fine.”

           You’ve never considered yourself to be a nervous baker, but here you are. Sliding another cookie sheet into the oven while two batches are cooling on your kitchen table.

           By the time you made it home last night, you could hardly keep your eyes open. While sleep did come to you relatively quickly, you were wide awake the second the sun crested the horizon. Wide awake, and a nervous wreck.

           Is this how the boys felt when they came to take you out? If so, they deserve a medal of bravery. You’re still within the comfort of your own home, but you can hardly breathe properly.

           Perhaps that has something to do with the fact that Yoongi just sent you a text that he’s on his way. Bouncing on your feet, you run your hands under the cold water in an effort to rid yourself of clammy palms. Drying your hands on the infamous dishtowel, you smile softly.

           Everything is going to be ok.

           Yoongi doesn’t get there for a long time. It’s long enough that you’re worried, and you pick up your phone to call him. A second later, you hear another phone ringing just outside your door. Hardly believing it, you rush toward the front door only to pause.

           “Here we go.”

           Swinging the door open, you come face to face with a guilty looking Yoongi. He’s halfway back down the stairs, but freezes in his steps as he hears the door open.

           “Yoongi?” You’re absolutely bewildered. “Where are you going?”

           Letting out a breathy laugh, Yoongi slowly begins trekking back up the stairs. “Oh…um…I thought I left something in the car.”

           “That’s a lie, isn’t it?”

           “What, are we not lying to each other today?”

           Smiling softly, you shake your head and open the door a little wider. “No. Not today, I’m afraid.”

           Something akin to fear flashes in Yoongi’s eyes at your words, but a second later he’s back to normal. “Smells great. Are you baking cookies?”

           “I’ve baked about a thousand, yeah. Can’t stop. It’s a condition.” You ramble as you turn and head into the kitchen, hoping that he’s following. The sound of his footsteps confirms that he is. “Want some?”

           When he doesn’t answer, you turn around to see what’s going on.

           Yoongi stands beside your table, fists clenched in the sleeves of his cardigan. He’s practically staring holes into the sweet treats, brows furrowed as he takes a deep breath. When he exhales, it’s shaky.

           “I’m fine, you know,” he grinds out, not looking at you. “You didn’t need to bake me cookies. I’m not…I’m not mad.”

           “Mad? What?”

           “Isn’t this why you brought me over? To let me down easy?” His voice is quiet, yet every word is like a bullet. “That’s why you were at the studio last night, wasn’t it? You were talking to the others about Jin.”

           Your heart stops.

           Is that why he disappeared last night? He thought that you’d made your decision, and it wasn’t him?

           “Yoongi, that’s not-”

           He’s already stepping back, refusing to look at you. His eyes are trained on the floor as he stumbles back toward the entryway, looking like he’s doing his best not to full out sprint. “I’m fine, jagiya. I know you’re worried sick about us, but don’t worry. I already told you not to worry, don’t you remember? I shouldn’t have said all of those stupid things on the beach…is that why you brought me over? You felt like I needed some sort of special treatment?”

           You take off after him, unable to believe what you’re hearing. “Yoongi, listen to me. This is for you. It’s all for you.”

           But he doesn’t hear you, he’s busy fumbling with his shoes that he slipped off beside the door. His hands are shaking, but he still refuses to look at you. “I’m so sorry for worrying you,” he says earnestly. His black hair is falling in his eyes, but it doesn’t shield his pink cheeks from your eyes. “I…wow, this is humiliating, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come-“

           “I invited you-”

           “-but I didn’t want to worry you even more, so I came over – why can’t I get these shoes on?!” He collapses to his knees, dropping his head into his hands as he finally gives up on his shoes. “Even that was a stupid mistake,” he whispers, never one to raise his voice. “I bought these for our date but then I realized that they would be stupid to wear to the beach.” He laughs at himself, no humor in the sound.

           You take a look at the dark shoes, which appear to be made of leather. They lace up, but it’s obvious that they’re not broken in yet. Crouching down beside Yoongi, who keeps his face hidden in his hands, you struggle to find words.

           “They look nice,” you mumble, voice raw. Have you been screaming? Or perhaps it’s the emotional exhaustion, finally setting in. “Very pretty.”

           “I wanted to wear them for you. Just once.” Taking a deep breath, Yoongi sits back and brings his knees up to his chest. He back presses against the back of your couch.

           And you’re here. Sitting beside him in the entryway to your small apartment. So far away from where you thought you’d be.

           As Yoongi glares at his shoes, you notice just how bloodshot his eyes are. Like he hasn’t slept in days.

           “Isn’t it odd?” He muses, tired eyes dragging over to meet yours. You’re unable to breathe as he stares at you without the barriers he usually puts up for himself. For the first time you can ever remember, Yoongi looks at you and lets you see everything. Perhaps he’s too tired to mask the longing anymore.

           Your voice comes out as nothing more than a whisper. “What’s odd?”

           He inhales sharply before breathing out slowly. “After everything, I’m still trying to impress you.”

           The small confession strikes you like a bolt of lightning, and you screw your eyes shut. Once the feeling passes and you’ve composed yourself, you open your eyes again to find Yoongi’s again on his shoes. He nibbles on his bottom lip as he reaches out and eases his shoe from your hands. Then, he slips it on his foot.

           As he begins to tie the laces, you open your mouth to say all of the things you should have a long time ago.

           “I see you everywhere I go.” Your eyes are trained on his deft fingers as he pauses for a moment before continuing to lace up his shoe. “For a long time, I didn’t know what to do about it. I just brushed it off as a side effect of our friendship. In my mind, it was better to ignore it than to face it, because then what? I could never have you.”

           His hands are trembling again as he finishes his right shoe and reaches for the left.

           “You’ve always been so good. There whenever I needed you, there just in the off-chance I called. On stand-by, like my own personal assistant.” You chuckle, perhaps a little insane by this point. “And I convinced myself that whatever that was between us, it was enough. It was just gonna be me and my seven best friends for the rest of my life. But then…things started to change. You guys challenged me to view you as something more.”

           He’s nearly finished tying his shoe now, your time is nearly out. But he fumbles, unable to quite finish.

           “That night you guys came up with the dating idea, I knew I was walking into a trap. I wasn’t worried about anyone crossing any boundaries, I was worried about me making the biggest mistake of my life. Sitting there I think I was starting to realize I had feelings for you, and I was one slip-up away from hurting everyone else.”  Now he stops breathing. But his fingers are still slowly working at the laces. “I cared for you then, but I loved you when you showed up at my door seven dates later.”

           He’s just managed to finish tying his shoe when you stop speaking. He doesn’t speak, only staring down at those laces with wide eyes as he processes what you just said. You take his silence in stride, still talking. Still confessing.

           “I didn’t know how to tell you that I was torn between the what-if’s and the what-is. That I was drowning in the possibilities everyone was offering me, but that when I was with you I was finally able to see the world for what it is. But you just said, ‘I know’ and I thought that you did. I figured you knew, because you’re you, how could you not know what I was thinking? You always do.”

           Yoongi stops nibbling on his lip long enough to voice a question, his voice hoarse. “The world for what it is…what is it?”

           You take courage in his curiosity, deeming this a good development. “It’s only tolerable because you’re in it.”

           He falls silent again, deep in his thoughts.

           “Yoongi,” you call softly, heart hammering against you ribs. “Could you look at me for a second?”

           He does, eyes wide with confusion.

           Those eyes, the ones you see everywhere you go. Crinkled up in laughter, joking with you over something stupid. Proudly watching you from the back row as you present to a small crowd. Filled with adventure as you sneak your hand into his pocket at the haunted house, inviting you to dive inside.

           It was those eyes that you saw looking back at you that night with Jungkook, out of breath and lost as suddenly it wasn’t Jungkook kissing you, but Yoongi. That forbidden dream become real as you squeezed your eyes shut and allowed yourself to pretend for a moment longer before pulling away.

           It’s now, looking into Yoongi’s dark eyes that hold so much promise, that you find it easier than ever to say what you should have said that night when he showed up to help you with your essay. Looking frazzled but ready to swim the entire ocean if it would help you. Instead, you had just given him a lingering hug before excusing yourself to go to your room and sleep.

           Sleep hadn’t found you that night, because you had been awake and asking your ceiling why a man like Min Yoongi would do anything for you.

           “Yoongi,” you whisper. “I love you.”

           He doesn’t move, but just blinks. Once. Twice. You see the doubt swirling in his eyes, so when you reach out to pull at his shoelace, you repeat it.

           “I love you.”

           One shoe at a time, you untie the laces. You undo the pain you’ve caused him, break down the barriers he put up.

           “I love you.”

           You continue to repeat the words, focusing on his shoes and not daring to look up at him just yet. Not until you get his shoes off, because then you feel like he can’t run away.

           So you undo the knots and repeat those words with a shaking voice. “I love you, Yoongs.” When you go to slip the shoes from his feet, he helps you, kicking them off and reaching forward to place his hand under your chin and make you look at him.

           Yoongi is crying when you look at him, the tears falling silently. A part of you wonders if he even realizes that he’s crying.

           “You…” he swallows, those eyes so wide. “…love me?”

           It’s simple.

           “Yes.”

           Yoongi furrows his brows again, trying to understand everything that’s happening. “But…Jin.”

           There will be time to explain everything. For now, you answer the question Jin asked you yesterday, standing before this very door. “The pact, the note. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change how I feel. He came over yesterday to ‘let go’, he said.”

           Something like recognition flashes across Yoongi’s face at those two words, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he nods slowly, trying to follow what you’re saying. “And you feel…”

           “I feel very in love with you, yes.”

           What happens next is burned into your memory for the rest of your life.

           Yoongi sits up, reaching across to you in a flash, pulling you until you’re falling forward. He lets out a shaky breath, pulling you into his lap just like he did on the beach. And as he holds you, he laughs. He’s still laughing as he plants a soft kiss to your forehead. He’s grinning as he presses his lips to your cheeks.

           Tears are still falling down his cheeks as he brushes his lips against your own. Hesitantly, as though worried you might pull away and tell him it was all a joke.

You return the kiss fervently, speaking in a language only you two can understand. He pulls away, staring down at you as though surprised to find that you’re really here and not just a figment of his imagination.

“I love you,” he whispers. And then he’s kissing you in earnest.

Breathlessly, desperately, and with a touch of insanity that only comes after spending two nights wide awake and heartbroken. As he holds you tight and kisses you harder, you know that he’s healing himself with each touch.

           One kiss, one shattered fragment of his heart sliding back into place.

           Your hands wrap around his neck and wind into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as he gasps and whispers those three words again. “I love you.”

           When the smell of burnt cookies pulls you apart several minutes later, Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist and sticks to you like glue. He rests his chin on your shoulder, planting a few lazy kisses along your jaw that sets your skin aflame. “Mm, I love you,” he mumbles between kisses.

           Placing the burnt cooking atop the stove, you chuckle. “I know.”

           “Agh,” Yoongi groans, burying his head in your shoulder. “I thought you meant something different, ok?”

           “I know.”

           “Yah! I was trying to be understanding of your feelings I thought you had for Jin!”

           Reaching to turn off the oven, you grin. “I’m never letting you live that down.”

           As Yoongi feigns annoyance while shoveling cookies into his mouth, you marvel at all it took to get to this point. Yoongi notices your attention, puffy cheeks turning pink. But he doesn’t shy away, instead he silently offers you a cookie.

           “So…” he begins, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ve been thinking.”

           “Dangerous.”

           “Well, I know how much you like bad boys.”

           “Mm, true.”

           Yoongi laughs along with you before continuing. His eyes sparkle like the night sky, drawing you in. “Are you free this Saturday?”

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[that-blue-vault-dweller]

That was depressing. :'( Maybe a fixer-upper? Companions react to Sole coming back? Maybe they apologize to their friends and wanna try again?

Here is some healing and a peace offering for you guys 💙💛 After that last post, I think we all needed it, lol. I hope you enjoy!

Cait - Hardly believes her eyes when F!Sole comes heading down the stairs of the Third Rail. She almost thinks that it's some twist of cruel fate and F!Sole is just back to yell at her and kick her more for something that she already berates and destroys herself for every day. But when F!Sole softly cups the side of her face, questioning softly and heartbrokenly about what had happened to Cait, the redhead launches herself out of her stupor and snatches F!Sole in one of those infamous bone-crushing hugs that she's so well-known for. Even though she is drunk off of her rear end, she knows that this is real. It feels, smells, and sounds too much like F!Sole not to be. She is blubbering all manners of apologies and explanations and anything she can think of to make F!Sole stay. It takes her a considerable amount of time to realize that F!Sole has guided them both to the back room on a couch and is carefully yet firmly explaining that Cait has nothing to be sorry for and that it is entirely F!Sole's own fault. For a while after that, she takes deep, shaking breaths as she just squeezes the woman as tightly as she can in an attempt to assure herself that she's still there with her. Eventually she falls asleep against F!Sole, finding herself the most comfortable she has been in days.

Piper - Almost can't believe the sight before her. When she answers the door, she most certainly did not expect to come face to face with the last person who wanted to see her. There was a deep regret and sadness shining in F!Sole's eyes, but before she could speak, Piper had launched herself onto her, clinging tightly and whispering constant apologies amidst lots of tears. When F!Sole wraps her arms around her, replying in that smooth, calming tone that all was forgiven and not to worry and that she should be the one apologizing instead, Piper only cries harder. She squeezes the life out of her Blue, vowing never to let her go again. In fact, she drags her into her house and forces her to just sit on the couch with her for a long time and they just hold each other until Piper calms down enough to talk.

Curie - When she sees F!Sole, she feels her heart clench and she almost cannot even move as she completely collapses into tears, and F!Sole has to head over to her and hold the poor, sniveling girl in her arms as she just cries it all out, pitifully sobbing about how sorry she is for whatever she said or did, and F!Sole just whispers comforting words, apologizing for breaking her promise and leaving Curie all alone in the world. Curie eventually gets ahold of herself well enough to control her arms again and wrap them around F!Sole's waist tightly. She is so, so thankful to have Madame back with her again, and she already feels so much safer and happier. F!Sole is crying a little, too, and Curie feels her heart squeezing again as she readjusts and holds on even tighter.

MacCready - Almost falls off of his chair when he sees her approach his house in the Capital Wasteland. She is standing there with a group of Minutemen behind her who obviously helped escort her there. She tells them something and they all take a moment to have a break. She then heads over to MacCready. He takes a look around, seeing that Duncan is playing in the yard at a safe enough distance away for the two of them to talk privately. As soon as she has stepped up on his front porch, he stands up and apologizes to her somewhat awkwardly. F!Sole explains that she is sorry instead and they spend a lot of time discussing things. He eventually introduces her to Duncan and they begin to make plans to head back to the Commonwealth together. Only two days later, they head home with Duncan in tow.

Deacon - Is very, very surprised when she approaches him when he is undercover spying on her. Those kind eyes are filled with love and care, and he is honestly not sure whether he is slightly skeptical or if he is just endlessly grateful for the fact that she is not yelling and angry still. She sits next to him and he tries to keep up the act in whatever role he has taken up. That is, until she snatches off the phony wig or hat and the sunglasses, dropping them on his lap as she looks into his eyes. He sighs deeply and apologizes for acting the way he did and upsetting her so horribly. She shakes her head, expressing that he is not the one that needs to apologize. In the end, she hugs him tightly, despite his uncomfortableness, but this time, it actually feels a lot nicer than usual. If it means she's back and won't leave again, he can suffer through as many hugs as he has to.

Codsworth - As he lives and breathes, he cannot believe that he is actually looking at F!Sole. He wastes no time in hovering over to her as fast as he can. She gently places her hands on his metal sides and steadies him as he begins to stumble over himself as quickly as he can, apologizing for his awful behavior. She just shakes her head, looking into one of his eyes and explaining that she was the one with the awful behavior. She wastes no time in hugging him the best she can considering all of his many appendages. He happily sighs and pats her back gently with a pincer. He is so relieved to have his mistress back and to finally have the one person that cares about him back into his life.

Hancock - Thinks he must be on either the best or worst trip of his life as F!Sole walks in through the door of his office, those beautiful eyes staring him down with none of the fire that they held in them when he last saw her. He raises up a bit from his place on the couch, but she comes to him, taking a hand and sweeping away all of the remainders of jet, psycho, whatever other chems he has been stuffing himself with. He immediately feels a great amount of guilt about not only the situation between them but also the fact that he has so unashamedly let himself fall apart like this. F!Sole, however, does not judge, and she simply starts to apologize for getting mad and leaving. He shakes his head and tries to apologize instead, but she stops him, insisting that it is she who should be sorry. After a moment of looking at her, he opens his arms and she happily falls into them, hugging him tightly. He just holds her for a long time, and they wait for his most recent high to disappear so he can truly converse with her for the first time in what feels like forever.

Danse - Is completely shocked when he hears her voice behind him. He carefully stands up, staring at her and he swallows hard, looking down at the ground and anywhere but her face. She comes closer to him, and he apologizes to her quickly. She shakes her head and negates his apology instead uttering her own as she stands just before him, trying to catch his gaze. Finally, she gently touches his chin and he immediately looks into her eyes. She stares at him for a long time, and he knows that she sees all of his pain, guilt, and sadness. He is not even trying to hide them at this point. However, she just shakes her head after a moment and embraces him carefully. He freezes for only a moment before slouching down to her level, allowing her to hold some of his weight as he presses his forehead to her shoulder. He just breathes her in carefully as she gently runs her fingers through his hair and reassures him quietly. He soon realizes that he is crying as a few tears slide down his cheeks silently. He just hugs her gently yet firmly, and they stand there for a long time, just hugging it out as she whispers how much he means to her and refills him with his lost sense of self-worth.

Preston - Is so thankful and shocked to see her that he almost does not know what to do. However, he quickly makes his way over to her as Minutemen are greeting their true general. He asks her if they can speak somewhere more privately. When they are alone, he proceeds to apologize for his actions and explain how inexcusable they were and how he should not have ever done it. She places a hand on his, and shakes her head, explaining how she is truly at fault. He just sighs and shakes his head before hugging her carefully. When he finally pulls away, he removes the general hat he has started wearing and he offers it to her, asking if she will be the general of the Minutemen once again. When she agrees, he feels all of the weight lifting from his chest and he feels happier than he has in weeks.

Valentine - Is just sitting in his agency when she walks through the door. As soon as she does, he drops his pen, looking at her as if she had sprouted two extra heads. She quietly asks if the seat in front of him is taken, and he gestures to it easily, encouraging her to sit. Ellie wastes no time in excusing herself to allow them to speak. After a few beats of silence, they both start to apologize at the same time. They both chuckle at that, and F!Sole explains how she is the one in the wrong. He shakes his head wordlessly, knowing the truth, and she reaches across the table, taking his hands and squeezing them before standing up and heading over to hug him. He feels all of the pieces mending themselves as he holds her in his arms, just enjoying her closeness. He will never mess this up again.

X6-88 - Is exceedingly surprised to see her as she teleports into the Institute just before he reports his failure to maintain her trust. She greets him somewhat breathlessly and apologizes to him before he has a chance to express his own regret. He blinks and stares at her before proceeding to apologize anyway despite her protests. She gently places her hands on his shoulders, and he felt something strange bubble in his stomach as she looked at him with such affection and kindness. He found that he liked this feeling much better than the one he got while thinking of that same face contorted with anger.

Dogmeat - Raises his head up, looking at the sunrise. He looks a bit harder, staring intently since he is sure he saw something moving on the horizon. Sure enough, he starts to make out the form of a person running. His ears perk up and he sniffs the air. Before she even gets to him, he smells that comforting scent. He wiggles a bit in place, but he is scared to hope. What if she gets mad at him again and yells at him some more? However, when she finally reaches the truck stop, she pauses, looking at him carefully. He wags his tail reluctantly but hopefully, not coming to her just yet. After a moment, she hesitantly and carefully approaches him, holding out her hand gently. He wants to sniff it and lick it so badly, but he waits. He does not shy away from it, though, when it gently meets the side of his head. After only a moment, she is stroking him with both hands and crying for some reason, saying the same two words over and over. She does not smell angry, and he actually smells shame and love coming off of her in waves. So he happily forgives his favorite person in the world, licking her tears away and snuggling into her grasp as he always did before.

Strong - As soon as he sees her, he starts to try to attack. However, she quickly raises her arms up in a placating gesture and apologizes repeatedly, trying to get him to listen. He pauses, but he is still angry. He finally decides not to smash her. However, he does not forgive her until she hands him a specially-modified board with razor wire, barbed wire, and nails coating the end. He then begrudgingly forgives her, and it does not take him long to return to his usual self around her.

[chadillacboseman]

Could I possibly get an Axe Woves being the regular at a cantina you work at and a patron gets too handsy? Idk if that makes sense!!!

Who sent this!!! I demand to know who gave me such an incredible prompt!!!

This got away from me. What’s new.

WARNING: The bar patron in this fic grabs the reader without consent and is very creepy. Nothing worse than that, but it may be triggering to some.

---

The cantina was mercifully slow tonight, something that rarely happened at the end of the week. Just a few local scrappers and of course-

Him.

The hulking Mandalorian in blue and grey armor, perched on his usual stool at the far end of the bar and nursing a glass of Corellian whiskey. You knew his name was Axe- something he had told you on another dead night like this while you tried to make small talk. Other patrons in the bar typically afforded him a wide berth as if terrified he might decide to start a gunfight.

But you knew better.

Axe gave off the vibe of a ruthless mercenary, but when he spoke to you, his voice was even and almost soft. You weren’t exactly accustomed to barstool drinkers who didn’t badger you or want to make small talk; it had taken countless nights of gentle prying and lighthearted jokes to get the Mandalorian to open up to you even a little.

Axe absolutely fascinated you. He was handsome, of course, but the way he spoke and the scars you could glimpse on his ungloved hands made you desperate to learn more about him. You’d bring him his whiskey and, like a dance, you’d pry information from him. In return he’d ask something of you- first it was your name, then where you were from. Once, he had gently grabbed your wrist to examine a scar on your arm, and you prayed he hadn’t noticed the heat as it crept into your face.

You knew there were at least two others like Axe, but they were off-planet on a mission that he refused to speak on. Occasionally he would let little things slip- like his home city or the name of a family member. You had come to be fond of the nights when he sat in his usual spot, and often found yourself aching for his stubbled smile when he wasn’t.

But tonight he was there. Perched on the stool and examining his empty glass intently. You brushed the dust from your shirt and apron and prepared to bring him a refill, anxiously awaiting what small bit of information you’d be able to weasel from him tonight.

Your course was cut short by a clamor at the cantina entrance- a crew of five men entered, decked in podracing gear. A low groan escaped you as you focused on the logo on their jackets. Kel Nash, a local racing prodigy and a well-established moron.

And sure enough, he was heading the pack, apparently fresh off the track and ready to make sure every patron knew it. To your dismay, they sauntered to the bar and took their seats, slamming their goggles and gloves down on the countertop as if to signal to you that they needed drinks. You shot Axe an annoyed look and he gave you an amused half-smile in return.

“What can I get you boys?” you had to raise your voice to be heard over the buzz of their conversation amongst themselves.

Kel spoke up first, his ruddy face plastered with a smug grin, “What’s the most expensive thing you’ve got?”

You stifled a snort and produced a long, amber-colored tube from the shelf behind you. “Merenzane Gold. 150 credits a bottle.”

Kel’s eyes glistened as he considered it. “What do we think, boys?” They erupted in yells of agreement and he slapped his credit chip onto the bar. “Keep the tab open, babe, we’ll be here for a while!”

“Wonderful,” you did your best to bury the sarcasm as you set their glasses gently on the bar, “enjoy your drinks.”

You hurried to the end of the bar with a fresh whiskey and set it in front of Axe, “Sorry for the delay,” you jerked your head toward the commotion behind you, “Fun crowd.”

Axe grinned and you felt your heart jump into your throat, “Not every customer can be as charming as me, I suppose.”

A joke? Had you really just gotten a joke out of the broody boy in blue? You felt your face crack into a smile just as Kel’s voice rang across the cantina.

“Hey, bartender! Come here.”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment before turning to the group and steeling yourself for another interaction. Behind you, you thought you heard a faint chuckle.

“Something else I can get you?” you tried to bury the exasperation in your tone.

One of Kel’s posse elbowed him and snickered, prompting him to lean back in his chair and take you in, “Yeah, tell me your name, beautiful.”

Wonderful. You put on your best fake smile, “I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.”

Kel leaned forward on his seat, moving closer to you from across the bar, “Come on, don’t be like that.”

As if on cue, a Quarren customer from across the cantina raised his glass and called for another drink. You poured a tall glass of Vlizz-Kick, remembering not to inhale its pungent scent, and moved to his table. As you set it down, he gave you a knowing look and placed a hearty tip in your palm with a gentle pat.

You passed Kel’s group as quickly as you could when you felt it- a hand clapped, hard, against your rear, followed by an eruption of laughter. Your face heated as you spun on your heel, the blood boiling in your ears.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you cried, and the bar fell silent.

Kel was grinning, the offending hand still hanging in midair as if to taunt you. “What? A guy can’t touch? Maybe don’t parade it in front of me like that.”His words were slurred, and you noticed that the bottle of Merenzane was almost empty.

‘Come on, baby, have you ever been with a podracing champ?” he reached out to grab your waist and you recoiled in fear. To your surprise, your back butted against something cold and hard. Something armored.

You turned your head to find Axe standing behind you. He stepped around your shaking frame to stand between you and Kel, his face a mask of quiet anger. “You five need to leave,” his voice was low and filled with malice.

“And what if we don’t, bucket head?” Kel rose from his seat, as did the rest of his posse. The few other patrons in the cantina were silent, watching intently as the events unfolded.

You watched with bated breath as Axe flexed his gloved hands at his sides. "I wasn't asking you. Leave."

Kel took a step forward and planted his palm against Axe's chest plate, moving to shove him. Axe grabbed a hold of his wrist and twisted, forcing him to the floor with a cry of pain. There was a thick cracking noise and Kel crumpled in a blubbering heap.

One of his posse, a stocky Besalisk, drew a knife and leapt forward, slashing at Axe's exposed face. Axe raised his gauntlets and deflected the blade with a small shower of sparks before sending his armored knee into the Besalisk's gut. He stumbled back with a grunt, but recovered quickly and lunged forward once again, his second pair of arms reaching for Axe's blaster.

Axe took a step back and raised his arm. You had barely a moment to wonder what he was doing, before a blast of flame erupted from his gauntlet with a rush. The Besalisk let out a cry of surprise and retreated out of the flamethrower's range, pausing only to drag Kel out of the line of fire.

The rest of the posse dove out of their chairs with a clamor and headed for the door, dragging their leader in towe. Axe disengaged his flamethrower and turned, breathless, to face you.

You stared into his eyes, deep brown and unrelenting. He ripped the glove from one of his hands and raised it to your face. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he turned your face to examine it.

"I'm fine. He barely touched me." Your voice shook as you spoke.

"And he won't ever touch you again." The conviction in Axe's voice surprised you. "Even if I have to be here for every shift."

You stared at him in disbelief. "Axe you don't have to-" he cut you off with a hand on your shoulder.

"Yes. I do. Let me walk you home."

--

Tags as usual:

@sheriffalissa @lestrange2703 @jango-fettish

[topsytervy]

New Years with Rafe

Just a little post about Rafe and you on New Years that I whipped up cause my lonely ass will be sat on the couch with a pizza next to my dog as I rewatch JackSepticEyes Little Nightmares playthrough instead of cuddled on the couch with a gentlemen non-canon Rafe.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, swearing, poorly edited so probably spelling errors, if you haven't watched All Dogs Go To Heaven small spoiler for it but not big enough to spoil the entire movie I think, and I think thats it.

Word Count: 1,089

Blurb: you spend New Years Eve with Rafe instead of going out and partying cause you two want to keep people safe. No shade. Just facts.

~~~~~

You and Rafe Cameron had been best friends for as long as you could remember. You were only a year younger than him and just graduated high school, heading off to college a couple months later before COVID and Rafe ended up moving with you.

"I don't know, Y/N. You living in an apartment alone or in a dorm with a stranger just doesn't sit right with me." He told you honestly as you packed your things.

"What? You wanna move with me and away from all your loyal subjects?" You joked, adding a little bow to it. 

"Yeah. Why not? Besides New Years will be boring if you're not here to almost flash everyone at a party and I stop you just in time." He grinned.

You smacked him. "It was once and it was windy, Cameron." He laughed, grabbing a pillow to act as a shield. "But if you're so worried about me, I wouldn't mind a familiar face around 24/7 even if it's an annoying one." 

Rafe stood up and clapped his hands. "Then it's settled."

However, New Years parties were on hold (well, supposed to be on hold but you know how some people are) due to COVID. 

"You were right about New Years being boring." You mustered through a yawn as you sat on the couch, curled up under a blanket as you and Rafe watched TV. A wine cooler sat between you two and you reached for the bottle, refilling your glass before refilling Rafes. "I think I'm going to turn in early. 2020 doesn't deserve a nice send off. It deserves a fuck you, get out, and never come back or I'll get a restraining order against you." You went to stand up but Rafe grabbed your hand.

Rafe checked the watch on his wrist. "Five more minutes. Just five. You made it this far, Y/N/N. What's five more?"

You blinked at him and he stuck out his bottom lip, pouting at you.

You rested your head on his shoulder and sighed. "Fine. But if I fall asleep, you have to carry me to bed." 

"Fine by me. Wouldn't be the first or the last time I do."

It was so much easier to stay awake when you were away from your bed and surrounded by strangers and loud music.  You and Rafe decided on a childhood movie marathon to help keep you two awake but it wasn't really helping. Rafe wanted to watch All Dogs Go To Heaven despite it always making you cry. And crying would only fuel the sleepiness.

"I really don't wanna go into the New Year crying." You mumbled as he put the disc in. 

"I have so much confidence that this is the time that you won't let tears fall." Rafe reassured you.

"Yeah. Wait until we get towards the end then my heart will crack and the tears will fall."

Now here you were watching Anne-Marie hearing everything Charlie was saying that would lead to her running out and getting kidnapped. 

"The tears are coming." You whispered, feeling your throat tighten as you held back sobs.

Rafe wrapped and arm around you. "She just got taken and they're about to tell everyone. This isn't even the saddest bit."

"It's just the sense of all the dogs, even Itchie who was pretty cold to Anne-Marie, are all spreading the word and willing to do anything to protect this little girl that half of them didn't even meet." The tears began to fall as you spoke.

"Okay, okay. I see your point. Maybe this was a bad movie to watch." Rafe rubbed your arm. 

"It hurts so much worse when you lose a pet cause it's like 'wow, my pet was exactly like that with me. Willing to do anything to protect me', ya know. It just fucking hurts man." You blubbered.

"Want me to turn it off?"

"No."

"Alright. I'll pause it when we hit 15 seconds to midnight. Sound good?"

You nodded, sniffling as you tried to calm yourself down. Rafe reached for the box of tissues on the end table and grabbed some for you.

"Thank you, bub."

"You're welcome, Y/N/N."

The time came a couple of minutes later to pause the movie and begin the countdown, you had composed yourself for the countdown and Rafe nodded.

"10...9...8…"

You brought the blanket closer around yourself as you two counted down.

"3...2...1… Happy New Year!" You two cheered. Rafe reached onto the floor and grabbed the bottle of champagne he had purchased, opening it and pouring some for you both.

You two linked your arms and brought the glasses to your mouth, chugging the beverage before unlinking your arms from each other. 

"To getting through 2020 together." You grinned.

"And to going into 2021 together but in a different way." Rafe added before grabbing your face and bringing his lips to yours.

You paused for a second before wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing back, pulling him impossibly closer.

Rafe pulled away first, grabbing the champagne and refilling your glasses. You kept an arm around his neck, a hand playing with his hair as you held your glass in the other.

"How'd you know, Cameron? I thought I was pretty good at keeping my crush on you secret." You asked, taking a sip from your glass.

"Oh yeah. If I wouldn't have found your journal and read it while I was waiting for you to get home one day after you graduated, I wouldn't have known at all about your little crush. You really don't flirt much, huh?"

You smacked him, mouth agape. "You read my journal?"

"Okay, underneath random books on your desk is a shit hiding place for a journal. Hide it in your underwear drawer or something. Literally anywhere else is a better hiding place than where you had it." He laughed.

You rolled your eyes. "Just unpause the movie so we can finish it and go to sleep, Rafe."

"As long as I get to sleep with you in your room tonight."

"Your room is warmer. I wanna sleep in there."

"Then we'll sleep in my room." Rafe grinned as he kissed the top of your head and resuming the movie.

"Now I have an excuse to crawl into your bed at 2 AM when I can't sleep and want your body heat."

"You never needed an excuse to come cuddle with me, sunshine. You just didn’t know it." 

~~~~~~~

[rhinkthreeways]

“Don’t Cry.” (Smutty Version)

Rhett imagined their reunion a thousand times. Now the moment was here, it wasn’t going anything like he’d envisioned.

In his daydreams, they’d locked eyes and were drawn to one another, like opposite magnets, into a slow-motion embrace. Smiles tearing their faces into blissful halves in their giddiness at being reunited.

But there was nothing giddy or blissful in Link’s demeanor, now Rhett had eyes on him. And it was hard to lock eyes with someone that wouldn’t lift their gaze after parking his car outside the creative house.

Rhett had had the silly notion that they should film their first meeting post-quarantine. It was the content the two-man vlogs were made for! Now, he was glad he’d kept that misguided idea to himself. Link looked like a wounded puppy as he approached Rhett.

“Hey,” Rhett offered tenuously. Rhett’s eyes worked him over. He looked… thinner, weaker? Tired. His man looked exhausted. He knew Link had been under a lot of stress, but the magnitude hadn’t sunk in until now. Link looked like he was about to detonate into an explosion, or implode and simply cave into himself.

“C’mere, bo.” Rhett extended his long arms, and Link folded into them numbly. It wasn’t the slow-motion, happy-teared embrace that Rhett had dreamed of, but it felt good to hold him again. “You okay?” It was a stupid question. But it was all he had.

Link nodded into Rhett’s chest, but his shoulders betrayed him as they began to shake.

“Let’s just… get you inside?” Rhett felt like an asshole for looking around as he guided Link inside. What was he checking for? To see if anyone was going to witness his best friend, a grown-ass man crying; or catch Rhett comforting Link like a child? Rhett scolded himself for focusing on the wrong things, re-centering his intentions on Link.

“What can I get you? What do you need?”

Link shook his head; his trembling intensified until his body was wracked with sobs. Rhett held him tightly and soothed, “Shhhh, shhhhh. Don’t cry.”

He wasn’t good at this. Never had been. But he remembered something Jessie had told him when their kids were younger and more prone to breaking down into tears.

You don’t urge them to stop crying for their sake.

You do it out of your own discomfort.

Let them cry when they need to.

Let them get it out.

“Actually, Link. Go ahead and break down. I got you.”

Link looked up at him, puzzled.

“It’s okay... I got you, go on and cry.”

Rhett took Link’s flushed and swollen face into his hands, and wiped the tears with his thumbs.

“You’ve been under so much stress. And holding it together for everyone you love. For everyone but yourself. You don’t have to be strong for me. Just… let it all fall apart.”

Suddenly Link was grabbing onto Rhett’s shirt, forcefully pulling him down onto the sofa, bringing Rhett’s face to his tear-tracked one.

Rhett’s heart hammered as he kissed Link back in earnest. He wasn’t trying to take advantage of the vulnerable state he was in - but god, if this hadn’t been the physical outcome he’d been secretly hoping for. The real reason he hadn’t mentioned filming. He’d wanted this moment for them. Alone.

“Link, I don’t know if you’re thinkin’ clearly right now…” If Link stopped now, Rhett would be simultaneously the most proud and regretful of this level of restraint.

“Rhett. I need this. I need you.”

“Need me to—?”

“Please, Rhett. Don’t. Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Rhett nodded. Of course, he knew.

Rhett could feel it as he held Link tightly, the tension easing from his body and he became softer, more pliant. He followed the lead of Link’s body. With lips, tongue, and hands. Trying to be everywhere Link needed him. Absorbing all of Link’s stress and anxiety into himself.

He was a big man.

He could take it.

Link undid Rhett’s belt and opened his jeans. He pulled out Rhett’s hardened cock, and gave it a couple slow strokes that made Rhett feel like he might leave his body and this whole earthly plane behind. Link then started to buck his hips to momentarily push Rhett off of him as he slid his own pants down and off.

Rhett looked at Link and began to speak, but Link cut him off.

“Don’t ask me again. Just fuck me.”

Rhett kissed him, and meant it with his entire being. He gripped Link’s straining hips, prepared their bodies best he could with tears and spit before roughly bringing them together.

He pressed until his hips were flush with Link’s. He could barely catch his breath with how cathartic this felt after being apart for so long. Seemingly taking his breath away as Link started to come alive.

He worked himself inside of Link he, worshipping the man beneath him with hands and eyes. He began to see what he’d been yearning for: Bliss. Elation. Absolute love.

Link was finally breathing easy. Deeply. Moaning sweetly for him.

It wasn’t long before he was emptying himself into Link, and refilling his soul with what had subconsciously become foreign. Hope. Safety. He was complete again.

Link was still trembling, but he wasn’t sobbing; his huge grin must’ve been agony for his face muscles.

“Holy shit….” Link sighed, catching his breath, and wiping sweat and tears from his face. “Crying like that… that… release. And the endorphins from that incredible orgasm piggybacking on the already wide open… feels?! Goodness, Rhett. I don’t reckon I’ll be able to come like that ever again without blubbering like a baby? I think you’ve both healed and ruint me!”

Rhett shook his head as they both laughed, lying together hand-in-hand, boneless and blissed out.

The psychological and physiological confirmation that they weren’t meant to be apart was nearly worth the experience of having been so for so long.

“The new normal…?” Link said.

Rhett smirked. “I’m looking forward to it already.”

[ja-baby]

Oooo, drabble about baby Klav/childhood? 👀 (super late don’t mind me RIP)

"What are you doing?" 

Klavier startles, the bottle in his hand slipping from his grasp. It crashes onto the floor with a loud shatter, shards sliding across the tiles as if it were ice. He steps in front of it shakily, hoping to hide the evidence with hands behind his back. Futile, of course, when said evidence is scattered everywhere. Like this, he looks like a child caught in the cookie jar. Which isn't too far off. He is a kid, after all. It just wasn't cookies he was messing with. 

The previously hand shaped nail polish now sits in pieces. With its demise comes a deafening silence, only broken by Klavier's nervous breathing. He's too scared to look up. Too terrified to face the scolding he knows he'll get for this transgression. He knows he has to though, so cautiously, he raises his gaze from his shoes to his brother. 

Even in youth, Kristoph has an intimidating air about him. That aura only grows in situations like this. When Klavier is caught doing something he shouldn't. He just wishes this was one of the things he'd gotten away with. He isn't sure whether or not he should be grateful that Kristoph isn't looking at him. However, when Gavin realizes that his eyes are on the transparent pieces, he decides he's unlucky. 

Kristoph's gaze travels from the shards, to Klavier's hidden hands, then finally to his bedroom desk -- where his spot for his nail polish is decidedly empty. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened. As it dawns on him, Klavier can see the start of anger tense his shoulders and glint his glasses. 

"You...! What have you-...!"

Klavier flinches. The sentence is cut short, yet it still holds frothing fury. Enough to set Klavier's heart into a tempo too fast to be healthy. He can hear Kristoph inhale. See the bob of his adam's apple as he reels in his annoyance. He's restraining himself. He always is. He has to when the pressure of being the golden child is on his shoulders. 

Approaching steps add to the broken symphony of Gavin's hitched inhales, eventually stopping right in front of him. Kristoph doesn't say a word as he puts a hand on the five year old's shoulder, moving him aside with a grip that's fighting to be gentle, but too tight to be pleasant. That alone has Klavier's breaths dissolving into whimpers. 

He watches anxiously as Kristoph looks at the scene before him. Polish is dying the floor and threatening his desk rug. Even if Klavier had somehow managed to hide all these pieces behind his little form, he'd never be able to get rid of this incriminating evidence. However, Kristoph didn't stop there. Because his brother is someone who made sure to collect all the proof to back his case. It's one of the things Klavier admired him for. Right now though, he disliked that part of him. He isn't surprised when Kristoph crouches in front of him, grasping Gavin's hands and coaxing them from their hiding place. 

Neither of them were shocked to see gloss on Klavier's fingers. 

"....You touched my nail polish...."

A statement. Not a question. 

Klavier immediately bursts into tears. 

His hands tremble in Kristoph's grip as he wails. One hand pulls away to rub at puffing eyes, words a blubbering mess as he tries to explain himself. 

"I-It was an a-accident!!", A hiccup. His breaths keep hitching, unable to obtain the oxygen he desires in between cries and wobbly sentences. "I d-didn’t mean to! I didn't mean to break it! I...I just wanted to...I-I wanted to be...!!"

'Like you' goes unsaid. He can't get much else out. The knot in his throat saw to that. So he sobs instead, shoulders shaking from the force of it all. Kristoph scans his growingly wet face with dimming anger. His eyes lose their fire, his shoulders loosen, and eventually...he heaves a sigh. Cautiously, so Klavier doesn't assume the worst, he pulls the younger to him. In this position, his face is pressed into Kristoph's chest. One arm is loosely wrapped around him while the other sits on his head. He can feel his brother softly pat his hair, fingers threading through yellow strands.

"It was an accident. It's not your fault, so stop crying", Kristoph sounds exasperated, sure, but not mad. There doesn't seem to be any malice hidden within his tones. 

Despite this, Klavier's guilt isn't eased. He knows how much his brother adored that bottle. Ever since their parents had gifted it to him, he held it quite close. Not even when the polish ran out did he throw it away. Klavier knew, because he'd always peak in and see him cleaning the inside, before carefully refilling it with whatever color he desired. Their parents had said it was a good luck charm. Klavier had wondered, in his childlike curiosity, if this was one of the many secrets to his brother's coolness. So pretty soon he'd done what kids do, and snuck in to sloppily put some on his own nails. Maybe then some of that luck would brush off on him and he'd be just like Kristoph. Apparently not. Kristoph certainly wouldn't be foolish enough to drop such a fragile bottle. 

He tries to voice the argument that this was, in fact, his fault. If he'd never been messing with Kristoph's stuff, this would have never happened. Yet the words can't find their way out, except for maybe some strange mewls and unrecognizable vowels. The older simply rubs circles in his back in response. 

They sit like that for a while, with Klavier boohooing and Kristoph muttering the occasional reassurance. He's snotting up his brother's nice outfit, he knows. The pretty one that he wears when he practices piano. Nevertheless, he can't bring himself to stop. So he continues, wetting the warmth of his chest with mucus and tears. Eventually though, like all things, his cries come to an end. He quiets into worn out breaths, clutching Kristoph like his life depended on it. 

"Sorry....m'sorry...."

He feels arms curl under him in a silent answer. Gently, he's shuffled into slim arms, relocated onto Kristoph's lap. The 13 year old has chosen to give his previously crouched and currently numbing legs a break, sitting at his desk where it all happened. There's still glass beneath them, glistening side by side with heavy scented polish. In spite of its danger, it's ignored in favor of tending to little Klav. Kristoph pulls a tissue from his box and holds it to the youngster's nose. 

"Blow", he says simply, and Klavier does. 

Only when his boogers are removed and his face is cleaned does Kristoph get up. Klavier is left to sit as his brother cleans up his mess. Shards are carefully swept, and liquid mopped. By the time he's done, it's almost as if the incident never happened. Except for maybe the new stain on his rug, and the lack of a bottle. When Kristoph returns, Klavier is lifted back onto his lap. One arm wraps around to keep him in place, while the other pushes into his desk drawer. With a little digging, he manages to pull out a different bottle. It isn't nearly as fancy as the hand shaped one, plainly round and wide. But nail polish is nail polish, that thought only confirmed when his nose is met with the familiar scent of solvent. Klavier looks up at his sibling with questions in his eyes. Kristoph just dips the brush in liquid purple. 

"Put your hands on the table, and stay still"

Klavier's gaze shines bright with excitement. 

So there they sit, Kristoph painting small nails with ease. Klavier watches delightedly all the while, completely engrossed with the simple motion of small strokes. The sight and quiet is relaxing. So steadily, as each finger is given color, his eyes grow heavy. The exhaustion of a good cry finally weighs down on him. Kristoph can sense it, too. In the way his breathing slows, and how his body leans on the pianist. He doesn't stop painting, even when he feels the preschooler's head lull back onto his chest. Soft snores are his new companion as he finishes the job. 

And once the less impressive bottle is put away, and Klavier's nails are dry enough to be moved -- Kristoph places a small kiss onto his brother's head and carries him to bed.

______

Send me something to drabble about

[bluebellhairpin]

Killer Queen (2)

Bruce Wayne X Single Mother!Reader

Part One || Part Two

A/N: Some people wanted a part two, and I’d originally planned for this to have a part two to begin with, so here it is! (LMAO it’s another long one!) - Nemo

Summary: After the gala you were at with your adopted son was crashed by the Joker and his clan, you were taken in among the hostages. After everything is settled, none other than Bruce Wayne decides to take you under his wing for the night.

Masterlist  

Harley Quinn was smiling at you, with the Joker looming behind her on the venues stage, her words took a few moments to process. 

"I found one!" she'd said, and in a moment you were worried she'd take Maven away from you. But in your confused processing daze, she grabbed your arm, pulling you with her towards the stage to be placed with the others that had been collected. 

Maven screamed out your name, but before you could tell him to stop, to not run after you, a woman nearby gathered him into her arms. You saw a set of twins cowering behind her now crouched form; she was a mother too, and must've known you wouldn't want him following you.

You decided, if you lived, you'd thank her, and you'd become very good friends. 

As you finally reached the stage, the others were all being tied up, arms behind their backs and all that. Typical hostage situation. Casting a glance behind you, you suddenly had a horrible feeling that the pool of water behind you was no longer just for show.

"Now that we have the prettiest and most precious doves of the flock-" "It's called a dule." the youngest Wayne boy muttered, having been the last aside from you being picked, he was therefore at the end of the line up next to you. You sent him a glare, wordlessly catching his eyes and telling him that now really wasn't the best time for being a smart-mouth.

"-I have a proposition to make." Joker said as he stopped pacing to face you, "Ever heard of 'The Hunger Games'?"

You didn't say a thing, only swallowing hard as the feeling that you were staring into the eyes of real monster settled into your belly. 

"Well, for those that haven't, I'll explain. Mind you, this is a little different to the Hunger Games you might know." Joker started, now turning to speak to the crowd as if hosting a games show. "One of our precious, delicate little doves, will serve as a tribute. The tribute will  come with Harley, the others... Will die!" he finished with a cackle.

An uproar started in the line up. The woman from before along with another model-looking woman instantly started blubbering out reasons why they should be 'tribute', while the man in the line up said to take the mayors daughter as 'tribute'. 

The mayors daughter, who you think you remember name was something like Jean, just stood in silence, the only give away to her feelings were her teary eyes and quivering chin. 

Next to you, Damian was stone-faced and completely un-readable. In fact, he almost looked bored. Why wasn't he worried? 

"Oh, quit your bickering. Darling Harley already picked our tribute to come along for a fun little ride." Joker said, smiling widely at you, the act sending shivers down your back. You shook your head.

"No, I won't! I'd rather die." you said, stepping out of line slightly, only to have Harley roughly pull you back to your spot. 

"You don't have a choice!" Joker laughed, "But they all do! You've given me a wonderful idea!" he said, sweeping his arm over the crowd. "They can bid on who else can live! That way you won't be so lonely in your cage." 

"We're not for sale!" you said, turning the Joker back on you. His eyes turned wild, and in an instant he had you pulled out of Harley's hold and closer to him, a knife right up to your neck.

"Speak again and I'll make your dream of death come true." he hissed. "You kill because you're a coward," you started quietly, partly from fear, and partly because of the sharp slice of instant death being held right on your throat. "You crave chaos when it belongs to you, but fear order when it's against you. You're scared of the people of Gotham rebelling against you, and that's what makes you a coward." With your words came a flash of almost sanity, but it didn't last long. But before he could speak, you spoke instead. 

"That's why you fear the Batman." Instead of killing you for your accusation, Joker laughed.

"If I fear Batman, why am I here? He's in this room, I know he is." Beside you, Damian stiffened, only slightly, and only enough for you to notice.

"If you know who he is, why haven't you gone for him instead?"

"Because going after people slightly closer to him is more fun." Joker said, smiling as if you were just a child learning the ways of the word. He smiled as if that was the obvious answer. "Now enough of your stalling, onto the bidding! Who'll it be first?"

"Twenty-five million for everyone." Bruce Wayne said, stepping forward through the crowd. You expected his other sons to follow, but they didn't. In fact, searching the crowd, you couldn't see them at all. Something was going on.

"Ah now Brucie, did I say that was how it works? I don't think I said that. That's not how it works!" Joker said, jumping off the stage to come face to face with Bruce. You felt Harley's grip return to your arm, and you knew if you did what you were planning to, you needed to do it quickly and in a way that she wouldn't notice. 

While Bruce and Joker had their testosterone-fest, you tried to get your bracelet over towards the lock that had been put over the chains they'd tied you up with. The bracelet had some more pointed and sharper edges, and you figured that it's serve as a half-decent make-shift lock-pick. 

Over time you'd faced a fair few kidnappings and locked doors. This lock wasn't a new one, in fact it was almost comical how easy it'd be to pick, but then again, you were being held hostage by clowns.  With the lock undone, you rested it in your hands to stop it clattering to the floor. You shifted on your feet, your body movement rocking the chains masking your fingers taking the lock away from the chains. You had to stop the proud smile reaching your face. 

Next to you, you saw Damian had done something similar, only with his cuff-links and not a bracelet. 

You'd expect being a Wayne he'd have to deal with being kidnapped from time-to-time too. But now how would you get away? 

"You really aren't getting it, are you Mr. CEO?" Joker said, standing with his hands on his hips before  turning and throwing his hands in the air. "It doesn't even matter anymore, I hate the bidding idea now. Just kill them!" 

But before Joker even finished his sentence, smoke bombs fell through the windows from above, covering the stage and everywhere with Jokers goons with a thick haze of grey. 

You took the chance, freezing your hands completely and turning, taking Harley by surprise and landing a right hook right on her temple, knocking her right to the ground. You looked down at your hand, seeing it already a little red, and aching from the blow. You hadn't had to punch someone like that in a long time.

Beside you Damian had made quick work of his capture, and had already started on setting others free as their captures disappeared into the smoke. You decided that was a  good idea, but then it stuck you. In the chaos Maven could get lost. 

Back from when you first met him he was the one who wanted to go get help when his real parents needed it, even though it was dangerous, and since the last he saw of you was you needing help, he might’ve gotten away from the woman and come to  find you. 

By now the smoke was clearing. From you point on the edge of the stage you saw the doors had been unlocked, so only very few of the crowd remained. The GCPD had arrived, and made it inside, officers now starting to drag away the remaining of Jokers knocked-out goons. You turned to see Harley had gotten away, the punch you served seemingly only really causing you pain rather than stopping her from doing anything useless to you. 

“Mamma!” Maven yelled, running to you from through the doors. The woman must’ve taken him outside when she could, but got away when he could. You jumped off stage, being mindful of your dress, and surged forwards to scoop the boy in your arms. “You were so brave Ma!”

“So were you, I’m so proud of you.” you said quietly, setting him to the ground and kneeling to give him a once-over. He smiled at you, getting through the ordeal  without a scratch, before his smiled was then directed to something, or someone, behind you. 

You stood and came face-to-face with Bruce Wayne. Maven slipped his hand into yours as Bruce started speaking.

“Are you okay? You came pretty close to both Joker and Harley.” he asked, and you nodded, looking down at Maven with a gentle smile. “Good.” he said, and Damian came up behind him after managing to get away from the other captives. 

“You should come back to the Manor to get looked over by our Butler. He’s dealt with post-hostage situations before.” Damian said without skipping a beat as he walked past your small group to the door. Maven gaped a little before bouncing on his heels.

“Oh Ma, can we?”

“Mavey, I don’t think-”

“No, (y/n), please,” Bruce said, “Damian is right, and it’d be a good chance to catch up.” 

You eventually agreed to join Bruce and Damian back to Wayne Manor. When you asked where his other boys went, he said they went back in another car. You figured that was understandable. 

When you reached the Manor, you went to one of the Wayne’s lounge rooms. Maven had run off under the supervision of Dick and Jason, Bruce assured you he’d be fine, and you believed that, but Damian kept muttering things under his breath about the insufferable-ness of the two, and you had to stop yourself from telling him off. 

Eventually Damian wandered off too and since you hadn’t seen Bruce’s other son or Alfred, the Butler, since you first came, you were left alone with Bruce. 

“Need a refill?” Bruce asked, eyeing your almost-empty whiskey tumbler. You shook your head with a lazy smile. 

“At least not anything this strong.” he nodded, swallowing the rest of his drink before setting the glass on the table between the two lounges you were on, but made  no move to get up. The room lulled into silence, the occasional crackle of the fire or distant footsteps of the others being the only noise, until Bruce spoke again. 

“What you said, to the Joker, that could've killed you.” he said, looking at you with an uncharacteristic softness. You stared right back at him.

“Truth needs to be told, doesn't matter the cost.” 

“And Maven? If Joker had killed you he’d be there and would’ve seen another parental figure dead.” Bruce said, leaning forwards to lean his elbows on his knees. 

“When I first met Maven, he was running to get help for his parents. He told me days later that when they were killed he wasn’t watching. He closed his eyes. He said he figured it’d hurt less.” you said, pulling your legs underneath you and the pile of red fabric that was your dress. “I guess he’d do the same if it was with me.” 

“He’s a brave kid.” Bruce said, watching you with a light intensity. “He’s lucky to have found you. All my boys had the misfortune of having me after their parents disappeared.” 

“I’d think Damian would suffer the most, he’s the only one actually related to you.” you joked, cracking an almost hearty laugh from the billionaire.

“I think the others would agree.” he said, then looked at you with some seriousness. “I think we should meet again. There was too much time between our last meeting and tonight.”

“Well, in the world of business you can just call my assistant-”

“No, (y/n). I meant like, casually.” you let out an ‘oh’, cheeks heating from your own ignorance and Bruce’s lack of subtlety. 

“I don’t see why not.”

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E7; Chapter Seven, The Lost Sister - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

In their search for answers, psychic visions draw Eleven and Y/n to a band of violent outcasts and an angry girl with a shadowy past.

↬ previously ↫

"Mama? It's me. Jane. I'm home."

"No."

"RUN!"

"Breathe."

"RUN!"

"Three to the right, four to the left."

"Breathe."

"Sunflower."

"Rainbow."

"Three the right."

"RUN!"

"Four fifty."

"RUN!"

"Rainbow."

"Three to the right."

"RUN!"

El rips the blindfold off her eyes in panic, her breathing heavy and uneven. As she is brought back to reality she looks up at her mother in her rocking chair. There are tears in her eyes and she is sadly uttering the same words.

"Run. Breathe. Sunflower. Rainbow. Three to the right. Four to the left."

El feels a pair of arms wrap gently around her and she can feel her own shaking, her shoulders rising and falling rapidly. She feels a hand grab hers and she knows it's Y/n. She squeezes her hand for comfort and Y/n gently runs her thumb over the back of her hand, showing her support.

No one says anything for a while, and apart from her mother's mumbling, she sits in silence embracing the support given to her as she tries to calm her racing heart.

||3rd Person POV||

"And it just kept repeating?" Becky asks.

The three had returned to the kitchen, Becky and El sitting across one another while Y/n stood leaning against the counter behind El, a glass of water in hand. El frowned at the foreign word.

"Repeat?"

"Like a circle?" Becky answered. "Just showing you the same image over and over?"

El thought bout this, and her eyes glanced in Y/n's direction without moving her head.

"She kept showing the woman, and the girl in the room."

"The rainbow room?"

El nodded, flinching ever so slightly at the invasion of a flashback. A memory that wasn't hers, trapped in her mind.

Becky thought about this, her fingers drummed lightly against the back of her hand lost in thought. She shrugged, her hand waving slightly before falling back onto the table.

"I guess that makes sense, Terry always believed you weren't the only..." Becky trailed off, her eyes fixed on the other young girl in her kitchen.

Y/n had her eyes fixed on the tile floor, her glass of water she had been refilling from the kitchen sink gripped tightly in hand though it hung lazily against her chest. She seemed to be lost in thought, though she must have only been listening. Her e/c eyes left the floor when she noticed Becky had stopped talking and she looked between her and El, curiously as if she had missed something.

But then she noted that Becky's eyes bad fallen to her glass and Y/n's eyes followed. The water had begun to bubble only slightly, but it was all too visible through the crystal glass. Y/n's eyes widened, quickly she set the cup down on the counter and the bubbles disappeared within seconds. She cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the attention and her eyes fell to the floor once more. Save for a few glances at Becky, who eyed her curiously.

Becky spoke finally, in response to El, although her eyes were still drawn to Y/n.

"The woman she kept showing you, what did she look like?"

In the time between El departure from her mother's mind, and their current discussion at the table, El had briefly filled them in on each image she was shown to the best of her ability. And while they had gotten the picture, it was still out of focus, details were fuzzy and hard to identify.

That was, until now.

El thought about the question, she had only seen it played out normally once, and the woman was at a great distance. But this didn't stop her from trying. She spoke slowly with a frown on her face as she reached farther and farther into her memory.

"She was pretty." She began, smiling sadly. "She had [h/l] [h/t] [h/c] hair. And [s/c] skin. She was [y/h]."

El met her aunt's gaze and nodded, confirming her suspicions.

"I think..." she turned to her best friend, who watched with teary eyes. "It was your mom."

"My- My mom, she showed you my mom?"

El nodded sadly. Y/n looked between Becky and El shifted on her feet, wringing her hands nervously.

"So, my mom, she's...?" Y/n took a deep breath and attempted to swallow the lump in her throat.

El nodded, and for a moment studied the body language of her friend. El didn't quite have a read on body language, but she knew enough to know her best friend was in great distress. Tentatively, she reached out her arm over the back of the wooden chair and extended her hand, offering what Y/n had offered her countless times in their friendship. Support and understanding.

Y/n graciously took her hand and sniffled. Though it proved fruitless and she stepped forward, and grabbed a napkin from the center of the table and blew her nose before sitting down between Becky and El. She wiped her nose and looked to El.

"Why did they take her? Why did they, you know... What did she do?"

El's gaze fell to the table and she thought about it.

"I'm not sure. She said Mama could still make it. That she knew where to go."

Becky sighed, capturing the two girls' attention and she planted her face in her hands. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and swept her hands across her face before addressing Y/n and El.

"You two have to realize, I only did what I thought was best for Terry. I really thought all those things, that happened to her, that it had affected her. That's why I didn't believe her."

They looked at her curiously, having already understood this. She anxiously met their eye before looking away again.

"But another thing she told me, something she insisted before she," Becky faltered, and gestured to her sister in the other room. "Terry thought she could have gotten you out. Terry thought she could have gotten you out because someone else did."

"For the longest time, she was telling me about [y/m/n]. I didn't really believe her, but according to her another woman had a baby," Becky paused, looking at Y/n briefly who was listening intently. "A special baby. Like you, El. And they wanted her, but according to Terry, and I guess, what you saw, she really did get her baby out."

Something clicked in Y/n's mind, and she focused carefully on the intricate patterns of the wooden table as her mind brought the pieces into place.

"I was found." She muttered.

El and Becky shared a look before returning their attention to her.

"My mom and Dustin - my brother, he was no bigger than I was at the time," she added last minute to Becky. "was in town, visiting family. And mom said they found me."

She shook her head and scoffed lightly in disbelief. Tears streaming freely down her S/C cheeks.

"On a walk. She said she stepped out to get some air, and she heard me crying... the neighborhood, I guess, was on the edge of the woods or something," Y/n blubbered, she wiped her nose with her napkin once more and took several deep breaths. "All I had was a thin blanket, I hadn't even been properly cleaned. Mom always said it was a miracle I didn't freeze to death out there,"

El tilted her head, clearly confused. "Miracle?"

"A very very good thing that isn't usual, or expected."

Becky explained.

"Anyway," Y/n sniffled, cracking the smallest of smiles. "I guess that answers that question, I kept myself warm."

A weak chuckle escaped her and El smiled weakly. Becky didn't understand but Y/n quickly explained.

"It wasn't until last year I found out I had... powers."

After all this time, Y/n still felt a little silly saying it. It didn't help that she almost never spoke it aloud but she guess in this instance she could.

"To be perfectly honest I'm still finding things I didn't know I could do."

"That doesn't really surprise me," Becky piped. "Then again, it's getting kinda hard to surprise me at the moment. Terry went on about you a lot. She said they were after [y/m/n]'s daughter because she- you were supposed to have-"

Becky stopped, the same words from last year popping back into her mind. The same words she told that Byers woman and the chief.

"Supposedly had some 'untapped potential for the greater good.' Some real pseudoscience shit."

She bit her lip before she could say the words and Y/n's frown hardened. She leaned forward, urgently.

"What?"

Becky looked at the kid before her, her eyes were pleading and she already felt guilty. But she also couldn't dump such a heavy load on a child, especially after she had learned what she just learned.

Becky sighed and looked at the girl.

"Potential. Apparently, whoever was after you had plenty of reasons to believe that you can do a whole lot more than boil some water. Let's just leave it at that."

She said, gesturing with her eyes to the forgotten glass of water sitting on the counter. Y/n gave her an incredulous look.

"What do you-? That can't be right. I mean, sure my mom must have been, well you know experimented on when she was pregnant with me, but I didn't grow up in a lab like El. I wasn't trained, or-"

She stopped, choosing her words carefully.

"I never learned how to use my powers. How could I have any more potential than El?"

Becky shrugged her shoulders and looked between the girls.

"I really don't know sweetie, to be honest, I'm still getting used to the fact that all this stuff is real."

A defeated sigh escaped her chest and her chin came to rest on her hand, propped up by her arms resting on the surface of the coffee table. There was a brief silence apart from the mumbles of the television and El allowed herself to dwell on the loop of borrowed memories playing over in her head.

"The girl," She reminds, tentative. "She also kept showing me the girl."

Y/n turned to her, quizzically, the gears turning in her head.

"What about her, El?"

"I think Mama wants us to find her."

A frown found it's way onto Y/n's face but she allowed her friend the benefit of the doubt. She was unsure about all of this, but unlike El's aunt, she was still in the process of swallowing all of this new information herself. The girl looked at Becky and she nodded in thought, before rising from the table. El and Y/n followed curiously as she led them into the next room, the small office space adjoining the living room. Becky bent over and pulled open a drawer from a steel filing cabinet, it was filled with several manilla folders.

"When Terry was looking for you," Becky began, her fingers riffling through the dozens of file folders. "She kept these files of other missing kids. Kids she thought were like you."

Without glancing back at them, Becky grabbed a small handful of files and dropped on the floor near Y/n and El's feet while she kept searching. Immediately, the pair of friends knelt down to the ground and began pouring over the folders.

"Maybe that girl is in here somewhere." Becky finished, grabbing the last of the folders before joining the girls on the carpet.

Y/n and El had each taken a folder, and anytime Y/n had happened across a photo she would show to El. But she would only shake her head. Y/n did keep an eye put for any possible leads as to her possible birth mother. She had a first name and a description. But that something. And something she could certainly keep an eye out for.

"Does anyone look familiar?" Becky asked hopefully.

She was met with silence as El continued to riffle through her folder. El had nearly reached the end when she unexpectedly froze, grabbing the attention of the other two in her company. Before either her friend or her aunt could attempt to sneak a glimpse of the photo, El grabbed the photocopy and closed the folder. It was another newspaper article, featuring a photo of a very young girl with braids. The caption read, "VANISHED! Indian Girl Missing in London".

"Is that her?" Becky asked softly.

El looked up, her heart racing, and nodded.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

El found herself in the void for the third time that day. Her toes sinking into the imaginary water, and she was greeted by the usual chill. Like a visible mantra, she repeats the image of the girl her mother had shown her, not the picture she held in her hands. The girl in the rainbow room, the girl playing with blocks, and before she knows it El can hear a small crackling behind her.

She turns and much to her relief, her hopeful heart spiking, she sees a figure standing in the distance. The figure had their back turned to El and they were standing over a large metal barrel with fire bubbling over the top. It was a very strange sight to El, but in a way, it was quite rewarding. El had finally found some luck, this being the first sign of the girl she had found since her first attempt.

After finding the article, she had set out to search for the girl with no such luck. Night had fallen by now and Y/n had thanked her past self for packing an extra set of clothes. Y/n was wary of staying the night but ultimately agreed they needed more information. Becky was more than accommodating, she had pulled out a futon for the girls to share where they now lay. Few words were exchanged, given the tremendous load, the friends had been through. Though they still managed to crack a smile when El had learned from Y/n what the term sleepover meant.

"Thanks for bringing me along El," Y/n mumbled, wrapped under their shared blanket, head sinking into her pillow.

El had turned her head to look at her friend and nodded simply. Between themselves, Y/n was slightly better at holding a conversation, but it was nice. Y/n never pressured her to talk.

"I'm sorry it wasn't under better circumstances, but, at least we get to have our first sleepover," she whispered sleepily.

Y/n quickly noted the confusion on her friend's face, and smiled weakly, fighting the weight of her heavy eyelids.

"A sleepover is something best friends do. Stay at each other's houses, usually, they watch a movie or play a game or something but, "Y/n trailed off, a yawn escaping her. "Well, you know. But you get to talk after dark, and even see each other in the morning. The point is, it's nice that we get to spend some time together."

El found herself smiling at the words and her spirits perked for the first time since their arrival. It gave El a spark of hope. Hope that, when all of this was figured out, and everything had smoothed over. That maybe she could have a normal life. A normal life with her aunt and she could have a real chance at seeing Mike, and having sleepovers with Y/n, and playing outside and just being a kid. But that was on the back burner. She needed to find this girl, she had done what she had set out to do, she found her mother and she couldn't help but feel like her mother was telling her something. To seek out this girl.

And that's just what she had to do.

It wasn't long until Y/n had turned over on her side, mumbling a soft goodnight before she was fast asleep. But El was still wide awake. Her mother's memories were still plaguing her and she felt restless. El picked up the picture of the girl from the newspaper, she had kept it in her pocket and she decided to herself that another attempt wouldn't hurt.

So here she was, creeping cautiously towards her fate with bated breath. Guardedly, she calls out to figure, smoke flocking into the air from where the makeshift firepit stands before it.

"Hello?"

She approaches the figure and as she gets closer and closer her suspicions are quickly confirmed when she recognizes the figure. The girl, as she was in her mother's memories, she was a few years older than herself. And she was dressed in dark shabby clothing, and her hair looks, purple? El isn't sure, but her heart is hammering much too hard in her chest to worry and before she has time to glance at her face she is gasping for breathing, back in reality.

Excitedly, she turns to Y/n, but she is lost in sleep and she allows her friend a few more minutes. Like herself, she had been through a great deal and it seemed to have taken a toll on her. But she would tell her aunt. She practically jumps from the mattress, and bursts into the hallway, running for stairs. Fighting the urge to shout, she calls out to her aunt when she reaches the top of the stairs.

"Becky! Becky, I found her!"

When she reaches the kitchen, she looks around excitedly for the woman, surely she would know what to do next. Only seconds pass until she tubes into her aunt's voice carrying from the other room.

"I just-- I didn't know who to call."

El steps further into the kitchen, her head peeking around the corner to find her aunt Becky, phone to her ear. She was talking anxiously into the phone as she paced across her back porch, the door ajar as she glanced at a slip of paper.

"He gave me this number, and he came here looking for her. I thought maybe he could help me."

El felt a sick feeling bubble up in her stomach, and a dark and heavy weight settle onto her heart as she watched the all too familiar exchange. It reminded her of the nice man that took her in when she first escaped. But she desperately attempts to put that memory from her mind.

"Yeah, Jim Hopper, he came here with some woman named Joyce Byers?"

El watches disgusted and hurt as her only remaining family turns her in. Their own private conversation from before plays mockingly over in her head. Of when she was invited to stay. In the lovely, and comforting room that was supposed to be hers. And although her mom wasn't the same, she could still be with her. And just as soon as it had come, the dream life she had conjured for herself just minutes ago, evaporated into thin air. A normal life with no rules, where she could go outside, or at the very least, look out of a single window.

Visits with Mike, sleepovers with Y/n. A normal life. Gone. Just like that.

"Well," sighed Becky, her figure temporarily stepping out of view. "that's a little hard to explain. Uh..."

El shifted uneasily, the dark sludge in her stomach only multiplying in volume at what Becky mentioned next.

"There's another girl, two actually, uh, she came here with a friend of hers? I don't know much, but it sounds like the kid comes from the same side of the tracks as the other but as far as I know, she's got a family. Said she was adopted... No, I did not, I did not catch a last name but she goes by Y/n. Look, I don't if she's a runaway, or what, but she showed up at my doorstep with the other and I just put them to bed... No, mam, it's just those two, but I think another one is missing. I just, I just didn't know who to call... Thank you, thank you. And you are?"

"Florence," Becky repeated, though she paused when she heard the distant sound of the front door opening.

"I'm gonna have to call you back." She mumbled nervously into the phone, though she is already steadily on her way to the kitchen counter.

Discarding the phone and the slip of paper, she looks on in disbelief as she finds the contents of her purse spilling out across the counter. And in the center, wide open and empty, her leather wallet.

Picking up her speed she races through the front room and towards the front door, it remains wide open and the cold autumn wind seeping in hits her like the brisk reality she faces.

And like the dreams El had conjured, the girls were gone as easily as they came.

+++

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[shinneth]

SUF as a whole just left me with an empty feeling.

I feel you there, anon. In Dreams aside, I could take or leave the rest of this series (and in most cases, leaning well towards the latter sentiment). 

But I guess that’s to be expected when 90% of SUF focused squarely on Steven’s PTSD and need for therapy and the many, many red flags shown as early on as the beginning that signaled his eventual breakdown to where he ended up in the climax.

Especially with the fanbase itself constantly screeching that Steven needs therapy, Steven has PTSD, Steven’s gonna corrupt, et cetera… like, it was all laid on far too thick. So when we got to Growing Pains, it really didn’t move me like it did so many others because it came off as such a “No shit, Sherlock” moment for me when Priyanka finally addressed the underlying issues the show itself really didn’t even bother trying to be subtle about.

Don’t get me wrong; a lot of people who have suffered (or are presently suffering) from the same problems as Steven irl have been helped a lot by these kinds of episodes, and I do appreciate that.

But from my personal standpoint, yeah… I knew from the start that Steven’s underlying issues alone were not gonna be enough to sustain a full series, and sure enough, it wasn’t. We got to see some bits here and there with the other characters, but we also had a few choice characters be really shitty people in season 5 that never got properly addressed before it concluded, and with the timeskip in SUF, all of that just got handwaved off as “dealt with offscreen”, which is the laziest BS ever. 

And worst of all, at the end, they really didn’t stick the landing well at all. I’ll at least say SUF’s resolution wasn’t the mega levels of offensively terrible as Change Your Mind - but then again, it’s hard to out-do giving totalitarian space dictators with countless lives lost under their watch a fucking FACE-TURN out of nowhere. 

Like, really, the Diamonds’ presence (White especially) in SUF actively made my viewing experience even worse towards the end. Yes, I should be glad they’re establishing that the Diamonds are at least starting to use their powers for good and rebuild some of the lives they ruined.

But, y’know… doesn’t change the fact that they’re all responsible for multiple counts of global genocide. Like, any living creatures native to their colony planets? They’re still fucking gone. And the Diamonds themselves just come off VERY unnatural as “nice” guys - and in many cases, they’re even creepier now than they were as villains. Good god, White’s blubbering in the climax was fucking insufferable, though. 

Partially I think this comes from SU being a “kids show” so there’s this pressing need to end things as cleanly as possible. I’m more miffed that in the end, Steven still got pretty much everything he wanted.

They had some admittedly good set-ups to Steven’s growth, like having him accept that people grow up, change, and move on with their lives. We see the clear evidence that Steven’s got an unhealthy clinginess towards his human friends - and Connie’s no exception. 

And considering they took the time to establish that:

Connie has friends other than Steven. She gets along with them just fine, so it’s not like she’s totally lonely or isolated without him.

Connie is ambitious with many goals and aspirations when it comes to her education and potential career paths. She’s shown to have put a lot of thought into her options and at no point comes off as feeling pressured by her parents or friends into this.

Connie knows she has to work hard and often to achieve her dreams, and despite that rigid lifestyle, it doesn’t seem to bother her in the least. That would imply she really wants to reach these goals she set for herself, whether or not Steven’s in the picture at all.

Connie and Steven’s dynamic is a far cry from how it was when they started out in the original series. You can tell Steven has no clue what Connie’s talking about when it comes to her goals and just plays along, pretending he understands anything coming out of her mouth.

Connie, despite what her speech would lead you to believe, has been every bit as insufferably dense as the gems in SUF when it comes to Steven’s issues. In Bismuth Casual, Steven’s very specifically-worded concerns were misconstrued as a fear of skating (or his inability to, whatever) - and in the end, they just became Stevonnie rather than properly talked things through. You know, something PERIDOT 100% did in the prior episode.

Connie is very firm about wanting to live her life as herself. She’s not against being Stevonnie from time to time, but like hell does she want to be Stevonnie for the long term. 

Connie knows marrying in general at her age is a stupid-stupid-stupid idea, even if it is Steven. And considering her well-established commitment to her studies and reaching her lofty goals, Connie - at least at the time - seemed to know a relationship with anyone just wasn’t in the cards for her at this point in her life. There’s no need to rush that shit, and she won’t compromise her life just to give her needy friend this thing he wants that he doesn’t even fully understand truly is. 

Or, you know… just have Connie backpedal hard on a good chunk of that and date Steven so that he won’t become a monster again. I’m mostly kidding with that - but by kissing his monstrous self and that triggering his restoration, then soon later we see that even though Steven and Connie can only have a long-distance relationship at best, she’s dating him right now anyway even though this needlessly makes her life way more complicated than it needed to be - like seriously, how can I not take that as Canon Connverse being founded on the condition of “Okay, if it’ll keep you from losing your shit, going pink, and turning into a monster, I’ll date you”?!

And in the end it yet again gives Steven more-or-less exactly what he wants, even if it isn’t something he really needs. 

I’m glad Rebecca clarified that Steven would still visit Beach City often, because I had a very hard time buying him just traveling by himself on the road. And maybe it would have worked better if he was just doing it short-term to “find himself” or something along those lines, but nope! They’re basically saying this is what Steven wants to do.

And honestly, even that is dampened with his clearly-stated intention of visiting Connie way more than he intends to visit the gems. Even though Connie’s gonna be busy. With college.

This just… wasn’t a good ending. It had plenty of good moments - his goodbye to Bismuth, Lapis, and Peridot especially was very well-executed and the closest this finale came to drawing out any real emotion out of me. I loved the scene of Steven giving Greg his room; that was adorable. The last meeting with Tsundere Jasper was amusing.

But everything else… ehhh.

I mean, what can we really take from this season that I haven’t already outlined? The biggest takeaways were the plot points everyone saw coming a mile away that weren’t even executed all that well. 

In Dreams, as great at is was, might as well have not even happened - because what really carried over from that episode through to the end? Even though Peridot was the only one who got through to Steven, legitimately comforted him and addressed his fears, and the episode for once ended with Steven being happy with no underlying concerns about his problems - immediately he’s back to being awkward and depressed and frustrated by Bismuth Casual.

And I get that shit like trauma shouldn’t be resolved so easily, but for what In Dreams accomplished, I expected there to at least be a semblance of progress. Steven’s known since that episode he can hang out with Peridot and talk to her about whatever without needing a reason to do it, but he never ever takes her up on that again. 

So again, what was the point? 

You really get the impression that the quality of writing took a backseat just to emphasize the symbolism of an issue people commonly have, but SUF’s execution stretched my suspension of disbelief far beyond its limits. 

And nothing stretched that farther than Connie’s insufferable fucking speech in I Am My Monster; that pretty much completely made In Dreams feel like it never really happened in SUF’s continuity. 

In some ways, I just prefer to believe In Dreams was just a dream itself. An AU offshoot in SUF itself. Considering it’s so ridiculously good compared to the other nineteen episodes and by far the most pure and wholesome, maybe that’s the best way to see it. 

In Dreams was too good for its own series. That’s literally the only thing I personally took from SUF as a whole (at least in terms of lasting impact). 

So yeah, I guess for only one episode of twenty to really hit me in the feels, “empty” is an apt way to describe the series, anon. 

Seriously, if I didn’t have my own massive SU-AU to mess around in and do things properly, this probably would have upset me more. 

Instead, I just chuckle at Rebecca’s Monster Steven and raise her to what I’m putting my version of Steven through in my current story. Where I’m pulling all the stops to make other characters matter even though the stars are undoubtedly Peridot and Steven. 

And I’m actually making actions yield serious, lasting consequences.

(yeah, part of me wishes Jasper wasn’t revived - or alternatively, have Steven accidentally shatter White Diamond instead of Jasper since he came awfully close in canon

or even better, shatter Jasper and revive her, then accidentally shatter White and not be able to revive her since Steven used up ALL that diamond essence on Jasper…

yeah I’m kind of a monster)

Your pain is mutually felt, anon. So I’ll prescribe you endless refills of better-written and better-executed SU fanon to heal the emptiness SUF left inside you.

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Another self-indulgent fan-fic, this time with Blob and Pyro drinking, fighting, talking, and bonding over bullying a teenager.

This was an attempt to give Blob a little more depth beyond just the crass asshole of the Brotherhood, and show that he’s got some feelings, too.  I also wanted to deal with some stuff with Pyro that Marauders hasn’t really gotten into, especially his death and relationship with the rest of the Brotherhood.  There’s also some discussion of Pyro/Avalanche.  I will forever headcanon original Pyro as a closeted gay man, who had a kind of undefined friends with benefits thing going on with Avalanche (I don’t care how many fantasy Jean Greys he kisses in Marauders), and who still feels uncomfortable being open about it, even if attitudes have changed somewhat. 

Warnings for - Very nasty language, some body-shaming from Pyro, some discussion of homophobia.  Blob says some things that maybe aren’t quite homophobic, but kind of insensitive.  Behind a read-more, because it wound up being long.

Pyro was absolutely not nervous when he knocked on the door of the small habitat building nestled just at the edge of the Krakoan jungle.  It was a nice spot, with one window offering a view of the beach, but the trees providing a bit of protection from tropical storms.  There was a little garden plot to one side, so neatly and delicately arranged that he wondered if the man he was there to see had a tidier room-mate.

He wasn’t nervous.  And he hadn’t been putting this off, he’d just been busy. He’d fallen in with a whole new team, after all, who had accepted him with a surprising amount of tolerance, and he was spending most of his time having high-seas adventures.  Not much time on Krakoa itself, to drop in on an old….friend? Acquaintance?  Former team-mate who could snap his spine in half if he happened to be in a foul mood?  Pyro wasn’t sure exactly where he stood with any of them now.  But he wasn’t nervous.  Sod that.

The door swung open, the view inside immediately blocked by the massive fleshy mountain that was Frederick J. Dukes, the immovable object.

“Hey Fred.  I brought booze.”  Pyro held up the wine bottle like a peace offering between them.  It was entirely possible he was about to get his face bashed in, or possibly smother to death under Blob’s sizable buttocks.  And sure, he’d get resurrected, but he wasn’t keen to go through all that unpleasantness.

“Aww, hey matchstick!  Get in here!”  Blob grinned and swung an arm around him, practically clobbering him forward into the living room.  “Where ya been?”

“Um….dead, mostly.  Yah know,” Pyro quipped, not willing to admit to the relief that was flooding into his chest.  Because he hadn’t been nervous.  He had just been…curious….to see where he stood with the mutants who had been his team-mates for years.  Just wanted to catch up and see how they were.

(To see if they all hated him.)

“Haw, haw, yeah, don’t I know it. You shoulda seen Avalanche cryin’ into his beer over that,” Blob guffawed, pulling him in close and hugging him against his side.  Pyro could smell body odor and coconut oil.

“He cried, huh?”  He murmured, his mouth muffled against pillowy flesh.

“Blubbered like a damn baby.” Fred released him so that he could step back and gasp air.  

“What’d you do to your face, man? You going emo on me, now?  C’mon, buck up.  You only died the one time.  Not like those X-Men, they got a whole revolving door thing going.”

“It’s not emo,” Pyro protested, running his hand over the skull tattoo covering most of his face.  “It’s ‘cause I’m a pirate.  I’m runnin’ round with the Marauders.  We’re wrecking ships and stealing supplies, it’s a blast.”

Blob scoffed.  “You’re running around with X-Men, matchstick.  You’re basically an X-Man, now.”

“The hell I am!”  Now Pyro really felt insulted.  “I’m not wearing an X anywhere.  We’re the Marauders, not the X-Marauders or whatever.  We’re pirates, doin’ pirate things!  Like fighting the military and helping mutant kids get to Krakoa – “ Except that wasn’t exactly what pirates did, was it?  That was more of a hero-type deal.  “-and sinking ships –“ and delivering medicine to people that needed it around that globe, but Pyro wasn’t going to mention that.  Even if it did give him a bit of a warm glow in his chest to be helping the sick and desperate.  He knew what it was like to be sick and desperate.

“Everyone on that ship is a goody-two shoes X-Man!” Blob sneered.  “Storm, that phasing girl, Ice-nerd.”

“Bishop’s pretty cool,” Pyro felt the need to interject.  The man could fight, and he respected that.  He was also extremely good looking, something Pyro tried to not notice.  

“Still an X-Man.  You’re one a them now.  I shoulda expected it after the way you died.”  Blob stepped back from him, shaking his head.  And oh, there it was.  

It didn’t seem quite fair.  Pyro couldn’t even remember what he’d done. What he’d been thinking at the time.

“I mean….does it really matter?” He tried.  “We’re all one big happy mutant family on Krakoa now.  Xavier and Magneto getting all chummy.  Seems like the X-Men and the Brotherhood don’t even exist anymore.”

“Seems ta me like there’s a bunch of X-Teams and no Brotherhood.  They split up all us nasty “bad” mutants and stuck them on teams with the wussy good guys ta keep us in line.  Except when they need their dirty work done, then they’ll send out those of us with criminal records.  I dunno who’s really running the show on Krakoa, but it ain’t the Brotherhood.” Blob slumped down on his sofa, but gestured to Pyro to sit in one of the chairs.  At least he wasn’t being thrown out.  

“Guess you might be right there,” he mused, tossing himself down sideways across the chair, both legs hanging over one arm.  The X-Men were in an awful lot of positions of power, even with the attempts to balance the Council.  And they seemed to dominate most of the island’s strike teams.

“I guess there are more of them than there are of us.”              

“Guess running a school for mutant kids is better recruitment strategy than a creepy dude in a metal helmet that’ll throw his own people under the bus in a heartbeat.  Did I ever tell ya about how he chucked an explosive at me?  And that was back he was tryin’ to recruit me!”

“Many times, Freddie,” Pyro was a little relieved that the conversation was meandering away from his own status – X-Man, Brotherhood member, Krakoan or whatever the hell he now was.  He wasn’t sure himself.  

“Wine?”  He held out the bottle again.  Blob swiped it and held it up between two fingers with another guffaw.

“What is this, matchstick, booze for ants?  That ain’t gonna be thimbleful for me.”  

“Oh, but this is a very special bottle, Freddie.”  Pyro took the bottle back.  “Have ya got a bucket?  I’m gonna be like Christ with the loaves and fishes here.”

“Doncha mean water into wine? That was one of the miracles, right?” Blob came back with a massive stew pot.

“Yeah, but there’s no water involved here.  Watch and marvel!”  He upended the bottle with a dramatic flourish.  Moments later, Blob’s mouth dropped open as the stew pot was half-way filled, and the bottle showed no signs of emptying.

“Ain’t that a hell of a trick. What’s the deal, Aussie?  Some kind of mystical Outback dream-time thing?”

“Nah, just a bribe from a wizard. Bottomless bottle.  Never runs out.”  Technically, Dr. Strange had offered the gift as a gesture to the entire island.  But technically didn’t matter, because Strange had given the bottle directly to him, which meant it was basically his.  He certainly wasn’t going to hand it over to the Council to use in their fancy-pants secret meetings.  Better to keep it among the people, right?  Pyro was willing to share.  A bit.  

“Well, tell Harry Potter thanks. That’s one hell of a gift.”

“Who?”

“C’mon, don’t fuck with me.  You haven’t been dead that long.”  

“True,” Pyro grinned.  But being dead was certainly a convenient excuse for bowing out of whatever must-see pop culture phenomenon he was supposed to be familiar with.  “Sorry mate, I was dead at the time,” usually shut people up.

Blob took the full bucket, downed half in one gulp, and held it out again for more.  Pyro took a moment to fill his own glass to the brim before pouring again.

“Damn, that’s good stuff. Usually bulk wine is pretty crappy.” Fred licked his lips in appreciation.

“I wouldn’t know the difference,” Pyro shrugged.  He’d gotten invited to a few fancy parties, way back in the day when he was journalist/writer St. John Allerdyce and “Pyro” didn’t exist.  But it hadn’t exactly refined his palate.   He’d rather have a full goon bag to himself than a dainty little glass of something aged and expensive.  

“Well, we can’t all be sophisticated gourmets,” Blob said airily, swirling the wine around and giving it a sniff. “French grapes, I’d say.  Black currant, acai, cherry, and just a hint of chocolate.  Probably a ’78 or ’79.”  He proceeded to down half the stew-pot again.

“Freddie me lad, you are absolutely full of shit.”  Pyro obligingly poured a refill.  Maybe he should get some kind of stand for the bottle, or he’d be doing this all night.

“I aim to be full of wine, so keep pouring, toothpick,” Blob laughed.  They lapsed into a moment of comfortable silence while Pyro finally had a chance to drain his own glass.

“So how’s it feel to be back in the land of the living?” Blob ventured.  “Ya know they cured that Virus just a few months after you croaked. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth?”

“I wasn’t gonna last a few months at that point.  I wasn’t gonna last even a few days, so…whatever.”  Pyro shrugged.  He still couldn’t remember the moment of his death, but he remembered some of the time leading up to it, feeling incredibly frail, and wondering every night if he would wake up in the morning.  Is it gonna be tonight?  Today? Will I just drop dead trying to walk down the street?  Even if some miracle cure had appeared, he suspected he would have been too far gone at that point.  

“It’s just good to be healthy again,” he added.  And wasn’t that the truth.  Just walking around, breathing the ocean air freely and without pain had been heavenly. He’d made it a point to get laid the first time the Marauders spent the night in Taipei – hadn’t seen any of that action for months before his death.  He didn’t want to touch anyone after the diagnosis (he was a selfish bastard, but not so selfish as to potentially spread the disease), and pretty soon pain and fatigue had meant his cock was the furthest thing from his mind.

“Yeah, I bet.  Ya made a real spectacular flame-out at the end, there,” Blob said, and there was something left hanging in the air at the end of that sentence.  What Pyro might have called a “pregnant  pause,” in one of his novels.  He gulped down another large swallow of wine.

“Yeah that was….I dunno.  I dunno what I was thinking, exactly.”  He hadn’t been able to believe it when Mystique showed him the headlines.  Sure he’d tried to help her save her shitty racist spawn Graydon Creed (a spectacular failure, thanks to X-Factor), but it had still been him playing Follow the Leader, trusting Mystique to know the right thing to do.  Apparently he’d made that final decision completely on his own – turning on his comrades to save the man they’d once tried to assassinate.  He didn’t like to look at the articles – all splashed with that one famous picture of Kelly cradling his dead body.  It made him feel sick to look at it.

Blob just grunted in response, and the silence became uncomfortable.  Pyro sighed.

“All right, you want me to say it? I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for turning on you guys.  I can’t say I’m sorry for protecting Kelly.  I guess I thought it was the right thing to do at the time, and I’ll stand by that.  But I’m sorry for going against you guys.  And especially for killing Post.”  Blob snorted, but held the stewpot out for more wine.

“You were gettin’ real soft near the end there, toothpick.  Can’t completely blame ya, I guess.  You were starin’ death right in the face, and Legacy was probably eating away at your brain. Avalanche said you seemed half-delirious near the end, whenever he went to see ya.”  

“Maybe I was.”  Time had gotten fuzzy back then – long patches of confused dream-like haze, punctuated by sharp, painful clarity.  Dominic would be there one moment and gone the next, conversations evaporating mid-sentence.  He’d lay down for a moment in the morning and wake up in the evening two days later.

“It was just all starting to seem a bit pointless, ya know?”  He continued after another swig of wine.  “All that violence….well, I won’t deny it was fun.  I don’t need an excuse to start a fight.  But it was also for a cause, right?  And things just kept getting worse no matter what we did.  I guess I just thought….if I could change the guy’s mind, maybe things would be different.”  

“Well, ya did change his mind, I’ll give you that.  Too bad he got himself killed right after that,” Fred smirked.  

“Yeah.  That’s the real kick in the teeth.  More than dying before the cure, really.  Bloody pointless.”  Pyro poured again.  

“I reckon everyone was pissed at me, yeah?”  At least the wine was giving him the courage to ask certain questions.

“Heh, yer lucky you croaked when ya did, really.”  Blob grinned. It was not a nice grin.  “I woulda snapped you in half for Post, invalid or no. Lady Mastermind wasn’t real pleased, either.  But you ain’t really here to ask about how I felt, are ya?  You wanna know whether yer boyfriend is pissed at ya.”  

Pyro was suddenly sitting up very straight, tension running up and down his spine.

“The fuck did you say?” he snapped.

“Oh, come off it, man.  Don’t act like I’m stupid!  I know you had this whole ‘don’t ask, don’t tell thing’ going on back in the day, but I figured it out.  We all did.”

“I don’t know what you’re blathering on about, mate,” Pyro said, each word coldly annunciated.  The tension from his spine was spooling tight in his mid-section.  “You’ve been watching too many soap operas.”        

“You’re the one that watches that crap, matchstick.  I gotta listen to you talk about ‘Home and Away’ every time you get smashed.  But don’t change the fucking subject.”  

“What subject?  Some made-up bullshit you imagined in your head?” Pyro’s hands were clenched tight around the glass.  Some logical part of his mind wondered why he was even making a fuss about this.  Times had changed a great deal in the years that he’d been floating in a void of nonexistence.  Iceman was openly gay, Mystique referred to Destiny as her wife, and no one batted an eye.

But still.  When Pyro was growing up, you didn’t say it.  You didn’t dare say it, because it would it ruin you, at best, and possibly get you killed, at worst.  It had been something he’d kept locked up tight in his chest, even when he was boldly and proudly “coming out” as a mutant.  And what he’d shared with Dominic over the years, secret little intimate moments slipped under the surface of their public friendship, had always rested on a foundation of silence.  They didn’t talk about what they did.  Didn’t even really acknowledge it to each other or try to define it.  It was their own special, private thing, and it was meant to remain unspoken.  

And now, here was Fred J. Dukes putting his fat, clumsy, grubby hands all over it, like a toddler smearing chocolate on a cashmere sweater.

“Quit bein’ so stubborn about it,” Blob continued.  “Ya think I’m stupid, that I couldn’t figure it out?  You guys were always slipping off together, locking your door.  Fuck man, I heard you two dumbshits in the shower together a couple of times when we were doing that Freedom Force thing.  My room was right next door, you know.  Haw!”  His laughter was an ugly sound.

“What, were you getting off on it?” Pyro snarled.  “Were you alone in your room jerking it to us, you fat fuck?  Probably the only action you ever see, ain’t it?  Assuming you can even find your dick.”  He paused, suddenly wishing he could hook the words back into his mouth, because he’d basically just admitted to it, hadn’t he? But he didn’t think he could stop now if he tried, with the anger burning in his chest, a familiar, almost comforting heat.  

“No, I was just sick of you both lying about it.  Pretending it wasn’t happening, and making the rest of us pretend, too!  Acting like we’re all idiots!”  Blob was on his feet now, red-faced.  

“Well, you never made that very hard, did ya, Freddie?”  

“Ya know what?”  And Blob had suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder with one meaty hand.  “I’m tired of your bullshit!”  Then Pyro found himself flung across the room, smashing into the wall and knocking crockery down to shatter on the floor.  Maybe he was going to get his spine snapped after all – but the way he felt at the moment he didn’t much care.  

“You always act so superior, like you’re sooooo much smarter than me.  What, just ‘cause you wrote some crappy books to help lonely women get their panties all moist?! ”

“At least I know how to write. Least I can get a woman wet,” Pyro quipped, while trying to climb to his feet.  Hell, Blob had just handed him that one, hadn’t he?  There was a blur at the edge of his vision, and suddenly Blob had grabbed the front of his shirt and tossed him again.

“You ain’t smarter than me!” Pyro could hear Blob bellowing through the ringing in his ears.  “You and Avalanche always acted like you were better than ol’ Fred Dukes, gangin’ up on me all the time.  Well, I danced on both of your graves, didn’t I?  I’m glad you died like you did.  Mr. Smart Fancy-pants, wasting away to nothing.  It was funny!”  Blob was towering over him, fists clenched.  Pyro raised his wrist and sent a jet of flame up at the man, mentally intensifying it enough to hurt as he darted for the door.  

“Augh!  Pyro, you asshole,” Blob roared, slapping at the flames on his clothing. They’d keep right on burning if Pyro wanted them to, and he had half a mind to let them.  Why not have a pig roast right there on the beach?  But in another moment he shook his head and let the fire gutter out.  Perhaps a mistake, as Fred charged out through the door.  

“Don’t think you’re getting away, you skinny little fucker.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Freddie, just getting myself a little more room,” Pyro said through clenched teeth.  “Go ahead and come at me if ya wanna get burned again.”  

Apparently Blob did wanna get burned again, because he ran at Pyro, arm raised to swing.  Pyro shot out another blast of fire at Dukes as he dove out of his path.  Blob tried to duck, but it was hard dodge fire that Pyro could mentally send wherever he pleased.  That was one advantage he’d always enjoyed over the fire-producing mutants.  This time it singed Blob’s eyebrows and licked at his shoulders.  Blob howled.

“Cut that shit out!”

“What, so you can hit me again? Ya know, this is why no one likes you, Blob!  You’re always flying off the handle.  Gotta turn everything into some big fight.  I was tryin’ ta be friendly, coming here- “

“Bullshit!  You didn’t come here for me, you came here for news.  You wanted to know if your boyfriend hated ya after what you did.  You only came to me because I’m the only one here who was with the group when it all went down.  The only one let alive, anyway.”  

“I came to you ‘cause I wanted to drink with ya, Blob.  And you started acting like a dick, like ya always do!” Pyro protested, although he couldn’t quite suppress a guilty twinge.  Blob wasn’t entirely wrong…and if Avalanche was alive again, it probably would have taken him even longer to get around to visiting Dukes.  

“You’re the one who started getting all hot under the collar when I was just tryin’ ta talk to ya!  But I ain’t surprised, I know where I rate!  None of you assholes give a shit about me!”  Blob charged again.  Pyro sent more fire swirling towards him.

“You wanna keep getting singed, Freddie, I could do this all da – oof!”  Pyro grunted as Blob ran right through the fire and slammed into him, shoulder first, knocking him back into the well-tended vegetable garden.    

“Pyro, you jerk, I worked on that for weeks!”

“Ya knocked me right into it, ya stupid wanker!”  Pyro jumped to his feet, brushing ruined squash and pumpkin off his uniform.  “I’ve been pulling punches, but if you come at me again, I will absolutely barbeque you, you fat piece of shit.  Then you can wait in line for resurrection behind all the people that actually deserve to be alive and breathing right now!”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me gone, and you all alone with your precious Dominic and your new X-Men friends.  I know you wouldn’t miss me.  Nobody would!  Ya know I tried to kill myself, back when I lost my powers?  And who was there for me?  No one, that’s who!”  

“….ya tried to kill yourself?” Pyro paused for a moment. Dropping his guard was a mistake, as Blob charged again and belly-slammed him several feet away.  It might have done some damage if he hit a tree, but luckily he just rolled on the soft sand.  

“Freddie, wait, what’s this about – “

“It was a fucking nightmare.  I had huge folds of skin hanging off my body. I looked like….like melted wax or something.  Couldn’t go out.  Couldn’t look at myself in the mirror.  It hurt just to move.  I tried…tried to cut my own throat, and I couldn’t even get through the skin.  And none of the Brotherhood lifted a goddamn finger to help me!  You had Dominic holdin’ your hand and cryin’ over ya, ya think anyone spared a thought for me?!”

Pyro clambered to his feet, feeling uncomfortable.  Angry Blob he was used to.  People called Pyro a hothead (and maybe it was just a little bit true), but anger seemed to constantly run under the surface with Fred, coloring every interaction – snide remarks during briefings, playful banter quickly turning into explosive outbursts, laughter that always had a cruel undertone, always at someone else’s expense.  But this was new.  Fred’s voice was shaky, threatening to crack.

“Freddie, are ya serious?  Look mate, I didn’t know.  I was – “ Dead, he was about to say.  But they were interrupted as a sudden telekinetic force lifted Pyro off his feet, leaving him flailing uselessly in the air.

“The fuck?”  Blob slurred.  Something was tugging at him, a psychic force attempting to lift him skyward. Attempting, and failing, as he remained solidly on the ground.  

“Haw!  Who’s tryin’ ta lift me?” he laughed, digging his feet into the sand for good measure.  “Ya must be really stupid, whoever you are!”

The pressure around Blob increased, and the sand at his feet flattened as Blob pushed  down with his personal gravity field.  

“Keep tryin’, Chuckles!  That tickles!” Blob yelled.  

“Hey, whoever you are?  You wanna put me the hell down?”  Pyro called out, from a good six feet in the air.  “Unless you wanna see me blow chunks all over this beautiful beach.”  He’d been tipped partially upside-down, which was really not helping his drunken nausea.  

“All right, that’s enough, lad. We’re just here to break it up, and it’s broken up.”  Banshee stepped out of the jungle, accompanied by a scowling boy with pink hair that Pyro didn’t recognize.

“Aww, are you the one tryin’ ta lift me off the ground?” Blob cooed nastily.  “That’s cute.  Nice effort, kiddo, but ya obviously didn’t do your homework.  Nothing moves the Blob!”  

“I could telekinetically hurl you into the sun, you simple-minded tub of lard,” the boy snapped.  “I’m only holding back because of Krakoan rules. But by all means, feel free to try my patience.”

“Try my patience?”  Pyro repeated incredulously.  “Hey Freddie, this kid thinks he’s Magneto or something.  Simmer down, junior.”  Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to be mocking the mutant who was telekinetically holding him suspended in the air, but booze had ruined Pyro’s already less-than-stellar decision making skills.

“It’s Kid Omega,” the boy corrected, and whatever he wanted to say next was drowned out by Pyro and Blob’s obnoxious, jeering laughter.

“Kid Omega, you’ve gotta be bloody kidding me!  That’s so adorable!”  Pyro stopped laughing as the boy bounced him up and down in the air a few times. “Seriously, ya don’t wanna do that. I’m gonna – “ he interrupted himself by spewing wine and stomach fluids all over the ground below him.

“Gross, dude,” Blob said casually.

“Listen, we’re here because you boys are causing a public disturbance,” Banshee said, hands on his hips.  “Remember, you’re expected to follow certain rules and keep the peace if you wanna stay on Krakoa.  Pyro, I thought you might be better than this since you joined Kate’s crew, but I guess you’re still just as dumb and violent as always.  I don’t think Storm’ll be pleased to hear about this.”

“Aww, c’mon mate, “ Pyro sputtered, still trying to spit the taste of bile and sour grapes out of his mouth.  The wine wasn’t nearly as good coming back up, and his stomach was roiling.  “It was just a little scuffle that got outta hand. We weren’t hurting anyone.  ‘Cept each other.”

“Oooooh, you’re in trouble now, Pyro! Banshee’s gonna tell on you,” Blob drawled.  “Then they might kick you out of their little heroes club.”  

“Piss off, Freddie.”   Pyro would never, ever admit to that particular fear, buried deep under a shit-ton of apathy and forced bravado.  He honestly kind of liked the Marauder crew, despite having tangled with most of them in the past (although in some respects, he really liked them more because of that.)  He knew he had the reputation of being the loose cannon of the group, given how frequently he was reminded not to kill (as if Sabretooth’s horrific fate wasn’t enough of a deterrent), but he was following all their bloody rules, wasn’t he?  He wasn’t keen on getting thrown out.  He’d go stir crazy on the island without a way to burn off all his energy with “a bit of the old ultraviolence.”  

“Don’t think you’re off the hook either, Blob,” Banshee said sternly.

“Awww, whattaya gonna do?  Use Lady Mastermind to force me to be a good boy?” This apparently struck a nerve, as Banshee blanched for a moment.  He’d have to ask Blob about that later.

“Maybe we should, if that’s what it takes for morons like you to behave yourselves,” said the kid snidely.  “No wonder the cause of mutant rights never got anywhere before if it was championed by you two losers.”

“Hey, I ain’t gonna listen to any lip from some brat that hasn’t even grown pubes yet,” Blob snarled.  “I was out busting my ass for mutant rights while you were getting conceived behind a bowling alley at 3 AM!”

Pyro was about to chime in with something equally nasty, when suddenly his entire world shifted.  The beach disappeared, and he was floating with the vastness of space stretched out before him.  Stars and planets that he had never seen, that he couldn’t even conceive of, glittered in impossible colors against the darkness, and it would have been extremely cool, if not for two unfortunate facts.  One – he couldn’t breathe, and his lungs spasmed and choked in a horribly familiar way when he tried.  Two – it was cold.  It soaked through his skin, into his bones, seeming to devour him from the inside.

And then, just as suddenly, he was back on the island, still shivering in the tropical heat, taking deep breaths of the moist air scented with the ocean, the faint perfume of nearby flowers, and the strong scent of sour wine.  He’d been dropped onto the sand, and was lying in his own vomit.  Well, he’d always said it wasn’t a good night if you didn’t puke on yourself at some point.

“Whoa, that was a hell of a thing,” Blob stammered, still shaking as Pyro sat up.

“All right, boyo, that’s enough. I’m not sure what you did, but I’m sure they deserved it,” Banshee said briskly, putting a hand on Kid Omega’s shoulder.

“I made a universe in my own mind, you know.  And I can put people there anytime.  So don’t piss me off,” the boy said, staring daggers at Blob.  

“Yeah, yeah, nice tricks, pink hair,” Blob waved his hand dismissively, quickly recovered from the ordeal.  “I used to work with a guy who can do illusions. You’re nothing I ain’t seen before.”

“I’m Omega level!”  the boy snapped, as Banshee just shook his head.

“i’M oMeGa LeVeL!” Blob mocked, and Pyro couldn’t stop himself from snickering.  

“Forget it, lad, they’re not worth it. They’re just drunk and stupid. Very, very stupid, “ Banshee said.  “I’m giving you idiots your one warning, got it?  If I have to come back out here, you’re gonna spend the night in the drunk tank – which is NOT built for comfort – and spend all day doin’ community service tomorrow.  There’s bathrooms to be cleaned, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, message received. We’ll be good,” Pyro said.  He almost wanted to apologize, it was right on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words in front of that posturing little brat.  Banshee he could respect, but not this pissant half his age that thought he was the next Big Thing for mutantkind.  There was always one of them running around.  

“Yeah, we wouldn’t wanna keep junior here up past his bedtime,” Blob added.  “He’s obviously already cranky.”

“Shut it, or I’ll let him put your minds through a telepathic blender,” Banshee snapped, but he grabbed the boy by the arm, and walked off into the jungle.  There was a quiet moment, while Pyro staggered none too steadily around, gathering up the wine bottle and their respective glasses (or pots), then collapsed against Blob’s side.  He needed something to wash the taste of stomach acid out of his mouth.  And besides, throwing up meant he was entitled to more – it was like hitting the reset button on intoxication, right?  He could feel Blob quivering against him, and realized after a moment that the man was shaking with laughter.

“Can….can you believe that little twerp,” Blob gasped.  “Strutting around with his boots and leather jacket like he’s hot shit.  Oooo, look at me, I’m Kid Omega!”

“I think pink hair is a substitute for having a personality!”  Pyro chimed in.  “Probably jerks off to…..I dunno, what are kids into these days?  Is it still Harry Potter?  NSYNC?”

“Fortnite?  I think?”  

“What the fuck is Fortnite?” Blob shrugged in response.

“Christ, Freddie, we really are over the hill.”  Pyro shook his head and filled Blob’s stew-pot to the brim.  

“Well, you ain’t.  You missed some years an’ I’m pretty sure they brought you back younger.  You’re missing some lines there.”  

“Missing scars, too.”  Pyro stretched his arms out in front of him, as if he could see through the spandex.  Underneath, they were disturbingly smooth, no trace of the marks life had left on him.  Like Blob’s skin, which was almost impossible to pierce.  But he probably had scars hidden somewhere.  

“Hey, Freddie.”

“Yeah, string bean?”

“About that whole….suicide thing. What you said earlier.  You wanna talk about it?”  Blob shifted against him.

“Nah, it…it wasn’t really such a big thing.  Just went through a rough patch, is all.  You know me, I can bounce back from anything.  That’s why I made it so long.  I was kicking up shit way back in the day, and I’m still kicking now.  No need to resurrect the Blob,” he finished proudly.

“Yeah, you got me there.  Me, and a lot of others.”

“Too many.”  Blob shook his head.  “I been waiting forever for Unus to come back, but seems like he’s low on the list. Most of us are.  Same old story.”

“Yeah.”  Pyro had asked Mystique when Avalanche’s turn would come, but she couldn’t give him a clear answer – given that Destiny hadn’t been resurrected yet, it seemed like she didn’t have a huge amount of power over those decisions, despite her position on the Council.  Would former terrorist criminals come before or after the millions of mutants that had died at Genosha?  Meanwhile other Council members’ family and friends got pushed to the front of the line, and Magneto couldn’t be bothered to stand up for people like Avalanche and Unus and the old Mastermind – but he’d still brought back several of his Acolytes (even Fabian Cortez, who, according to what Frezny had told him over a couple of drinks, was the absolute worst.)  Of course Magneto would bring back fanatics that worshiped the ground he walked on.  He couldn’t completely quiet the fear that lingered in the back of his mind – that this whole thing would eventually fall apart, before certain people came back.  

“I guess I was lucky to be a guinea pig after all, otherwise I’d probably be at the back of the line somewhere.”

“Fuck it, man, it’s all political. They just bring back their people, or the ones they think’ll be useful.  I’m lucky I ain’t croaked,” Blob sighed.

“They’d bring ya back, Freddie. You’re one of a kind.  Look, mate, I’m sorry about what I said.  That no one likes ya.  It’s not true.  I like ya. Toad likes ya.  Dom liked ya, even though you picked fights all the time.  I’m glad you’re here and not dead.”  Pyro wasn’t sure why he was being so generous after some of the crap that Fred had said, but to hell with it.  He was probably feeling soft ‘cause of the whole “suicide” thing.  And when it came down to it, he didn’t have that many friends – and his very closest one was still dead.  May as well appreciate the ones that weren’t six feet under.

“Only picked fights ‘cause you guys were always looking down on me, acting like your powers were so much better,” Blob grumbled.

“We only did that because you were always throwing your weight around, pretendin’  you were too good to follow Mystique’s orders, bein’ nasty to everyone – “  Pyro abruptly stopped, biting his tongue. This wasn’t where he wanted this conversation to go, and he was still just sober enough to remember Banshee’s threat if another fight broke out.  He sighed deeply, then poured Fred another generous serving of wine.

“Fuck, Fred, let’s not do this. We’ve been through some shit together, yeah?  We all acted like dicks sometimes back in the day, but it doesn’t really matter now. I’m sorry I said you were a fat piece of shit.”          

“Well, I kinda am, ain’t I?”

“If you’re a fat piece of shit, I’m a skinny piece of shit.  None of us are exactly saints in the Brotherhood.”

“You’re a saint.  It’s right in your name.”  Blob poked at him clumsily.

“Yeah, real ironic, that.  Gran wanted a good Christian name so I’d be good Christian lad.  Buckley’s chance of that.”  

“You get real Aussie when you’re drunk, ya know that.  Can’t barely understand ya.”  Blob was starting to slur now, having gone through the equivalent of several vats of wine at this point.   “But hey man, I’m sorry I said that I was glad you died.  I mean, I was glad right when it happened.  I was mad at you ‘cause of Post.  But it was a shitty way to go, wasting away like that.  You didn’t deserve that.  Gettin’ eaten up inside by your own power.  I remember when that happened to Unus.  He…he died right in my arms, man.”  Blob’s voice sounded shaky again.  Pyro reached up and patted his side – somewhere below the armpit, since he couldn’t reach huge man’s shoulder.  

“Sorry, Freddie.  I’m sure Unus didn’t deserve that, either.”  Pyro had never met the force-field wielding mutant, but he’d heard stories when Blob was feeling especially drunk and sentimental. But he didn’t think he’d ever seen this kind of raw vulnerability from Fred J Dukes before.  He’d blame the wine – stupid wizard probably cursed it with a sadness spell or something.  Get the mutants to drop their guard by making them all soppy.

“He sure as hell didn’t.”  Blob actually reached up and rubbed his forearm over his eyes, and Pryo diplomatically pretended not to notice. “I miss him, man.  He was a real stand-up guy, you know, for a criminal piece of garbage, and he didn’t let anyone push him around.  Don’t think I’ve ever clicked with anyone like him.  And now they’re danglin’ this resurrection thing in front of us, and who knows if they’ll ever get around to him?  Must be worse for you, with Dominic, right man?”

“I sure as fuck miss him,” Pyro admitted, downing another glass.  “He’s my best mate.”  

“Hey look, man, what I said earlier, I wasn’t tryin’ ta –“

“Freddie, I really don’t wanna talk about it.”  Pyro abruptly found himself pinned as Blob swung an arm down around him, holding him pressed against his side.  “What the hell, Freddie, are you tryin’ ta flirt, now?”

“No man, just listen.  Listen, listen man, shhh, listen,” Blob said in what he probably thought was a soothing whisper, while Pyro pushed uselessly against him.  “I don’t wanna start another fight, but I got stuff I wanna say.  I wasn’t tryin’ ta be a jerk before, okay?  When I brought it up.  I just wanted to say that, you know….we knew.  We ain’t that dumb, and you guys weren’t that slick.  We figured out you were – “

“Don’t say it, okay?”  Pyro snapped.

“Fine, but dude.  Listen.  We don’t care.  That’s the important thing here.  I mean, we probably cared a little back in the day.  I admit I made some pretty shitty jokes, but, you know, times were different.  I mean, ‘homo’ was the worst thing you could be back when I was growin’ up.  Until mutants started becoming a thing, of course.”

“Yeah, same here,” Pyro muttered. Apparently this conversation was happening whether he liked it or not.  He downed more wine to try to stop his insides from twisting up.

“But everything’s like, different now. Most people don’t give a shit anymore. Including most of us in the Brotherhood. I mean, it was stupid to ever care in the first place.  We’re already a group of outcast criminals, and we’re gonna judge you guys for wanting to bang each other?  It’s cool if you don’t wanna make out in public or get married or anything, but you don’t haveta sneak around anymore.  I’m cool with it, Toad’s cool with it.  I think ‘Tazia had you figured for gay even before Avalanche came back.  ‘Cause you weren’t drooling over her like Toad an me.”

“She was a perceptive one.”  Pyro wondered for a moment whatever had happened to Eileen.  She had been close-mouthed about her past – and Pyro could respect that – but extremely intelligent, and fun to talk to.

“The point is, it’s a brave new world and all that.  Dudes are marrying each other, chicks are marrying each other.  There’s a whole show starring drag queens that’s run for like, 10 years or something.  It’s all mainstream now.  I mean, I still don’t get it.  Making out with another dude sounds gross to me.  But I ain’t got no problem with other people doing it.”

“That’s real decent of you, Fred,” Pyro said, and he wasn’t totally sure if he was being sarcastic.  This was a surprisingly heartfelt comment coming from Dukes.  “You spend a lot of time writin’ that speech up?”

“I’m tryin’ ta be nice here, okay, matchstick?  And I’m just sick of you pretendin’ ta be straight, an’ me havin’ to pretend I don’t know.”  He trailed off, and gulped down his pot of wine, finally releasing Pyro from his grip.

“Fair ‘nuff,” Pryo conceded. Even though actually dragging all this out into the open felt horribly uncomfortable.  Exposed.  “Don’t expect me to do some big ‘coming out,’ thing or wear a rainbow or any of that crap, though.  I’m not into that.  My private life is my private life, right?  I’ll just….stop trying so hard to hide it, you know?”  

He’d already started to relax his guard a little in front of the Marauders, even picking up a guy at one of the bars that Iceman always dragged them to – although he’d waited until Storm and Bishop had left for the night, and Kate and Iceman seemed too drunk to notice. Iceman seemed to think Pyro was straight, as he’d asked him, with a mix of nervousness and defiance, if he “minded” the first night they went to a gay bar.  That probably would have been the time to say it, if Pyro was a little braver, but instead he’d just shrugged and said, “No worries,” like a good tolerant fellow.  Of course they wouldn’t care.  For all he knew, maybe none of them were straight.  He’d seen Kate give sideways glances to girls, Storm and Calisto seemed to have some chemistry between them, Bishop never seemed to mind men hitting on him at clubs.  But still. A literal lifetime ago, he’d been afraid of getting his teeth kicked in, or worse.  Things were different now, but actually coming out and saying it….it was not so much baring his chest, more like stripping completely naked and handing the other person a knife.  

“Hey, fine.  Do what ya want.  But I’m still gonna make fun of you and Dom if you get all lovey-dovey in front of us.  Not because it’s gay, just because I hate that hearts and flowers crap.”  

“I would expect nothing less, Blobbo.” Pryo took another long drink of wine, refilled his glass and downed it again, until the tension eased out of his spine.   

He supposed it had been stupid to assume that no one noticed.  Everyone living in close quarters, both in Brotherhood safehouses and government facilities (not to mention prison).  They’d all known.  Had they gossiped about him?  Laughed behind his back?  Been disgusted?  

But then, Toad and Phantazia had both hovered over him protectively in the first stages of his illness, when they were all on Empyrean’s private island together.  Toad had even talked about how glad he was that Avalanche could be “there for him,” and wow, there was probably a coded message that Pyro had been too dense at the time to pick up on.  Mystique was certainly not one to judge, and she’d figured him out ages ago. And if Fred Dukes, of all people, was accepting, then…well, it was probably okay, wasn’t it?

“Hey, matchstick.”

“Yeah, Freddie?”

“You and Dom.  Who tops?  Be honest, ‘cause I got money riding on this.”

“Shit, Freddie, I gotta be way drunker for this conversation.”  And he poured again.  The bottle continued to oblige.  

  When he opened his eyes a crack, the sun pierced right through to stab into his brain.  Pyro groaned and squeezed his eyes shut again, bringing one arm up clumsily to better block out the light.  He felt like utter shit, and that realization caused a sharp spike of alarm in his chest.

Sick.  I’m sick again.  

Or maybe he’d always been sick. Because it was all too good to be true, wasn’t it?  Dying like a hero, coming back to life on this magical island where mutants from all sides of the political divide were having nonstop raves and orgies, getting to sail around and play pirate with the X-Men, who accepted him as a team-mate without question.  How could that possibly be real?  Wasn’t it more likely that this was all just the fever dream of a dying man, still lingering comatose in a hospital somewhere?

Except Pyro realized in a moment that he was lying on sand, with ocean waves creating a comforting rhythm just at the edge of his hearing.  And the pain he was feeling wasn’t quite the same as what the Legacy Virus had done to him. His head was pounding like a drum, he ached all over, and he was fairly certain he wouldn’t get through the morning without barfing at least once – but he could breathe without pain.  He sucked in a deep, cool breath and slowly let it out again.  No coughing, no burning in his lungs, no constricting weight on his chest.  

This wasn’t Legacy, it was a very familiar kind of suffering.  One he’d inflicted on himself many times before.

“Heya, toothpick!”  Blob’s voice boomed cheerfully in his ear.  “Had a little too much last night, huh?”

“Uggghhhhh…..fuck off, Fred,” Pyro mumbled, trying to roll away from the sound of his voice.  Moving made his stomach flip-flop, and he stopped for a moment.

“Haw, haw, ya shouldna tried to keep with me, ya scrawny little light-weight,” Blob guffawed, but he didn’t sound as mean as usual.  Pyro feel something cool being pressed against his face.

“Here man, drink this and come back to life.”  He opened his eyes again, wincing, and accepted the water bottle that Blob was holding out to him.  

“Probably gonna take a few of these, Fred,” Pyro said, carefully sitting up, pausing for a moment to swallow saliva and wait for his stomach to hopefully quiet itself.  Then he began sipping the water cautiously.

“You’ll probably need a couple of these, too,” Blob offered, slipping him some aspirin.  

“Thanks, mate, right neighborly of ya. You’re in a good mood this mornin’ aint ya?”  He swallowed the aspirin and gulped down more water.

“Well, I actually was smart enough to drink water last night, so I didn’t totally wreck myself.  Plus I never get hit too hard with hang-overs. Got all this extra body mass cushioning me.”  He laughed again, slapping at his belly.  “Besides, it was hilarious watching you last night.  You were trashed, man.”

“Well, I had good company, didn’t I?” Pyro looked around, squinting in the bright morning light.  He’d wound up sleeping sprawled out on the sand at the edge of the jungle, just a few feet away from Blob’s hut, thankfully some distance away from the puddle of vomit he’d left the previous night.  He remembered that part clearly – the fight, the encounter with Banshee and that little pink-haired shit acting as Krakoa’s rent-a-cops, some of the heartfelt conversation that had followed.  And then, the night dissolved into a dream-like haze.  Well, they weren’t locked up in the drunk tank, so they must not have gotten in any more trouble.

“Least I know how to handle my liquor,” Blob chuckled.  “You wanna shower, toothpick?  You smell like something Wolverine rolled in.”  Pyro grimaced as he realized that the sour aroma of dried puke and smashed pumpkin was wafting up around him.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”  

He spent a good twenty minutes in the shower, using Blob’s surprisingly luxurious bath products, then gave his uniform a thorough scrubbing, and fire-dried it.  He’d get a clean one from the Marauder later, but he didn’t feel like sitting around smelling like garbage in the meantime.  

Vague images kept floating up out of the haze while he washed, little snippets of memories dissolved in wine.  

…..Blob putting the stew pot over his head and fastening a curtain around his shoulders, staggering around shouting, “To me, my Brotherhood!  Throw yourself under the bus for mutant rights!  I’m a self-important jackass and I don’t actually care about any of you, my loyal soldiers!” while Pyro rolled around in the sand laughing hysterically…….

……Pyro splashing into the waves, yelling back at Blob, “I’m gonna do it, you’ll see!  I’m gonna fight one a’ them sharks with my bare hands, then fry up it for dinner!  We’re gonna have a barbeque right on the beach, yeah.”  Blob was bellowing laughter while pulling him back with one hand, so that he was helplessly flailing around, swimming in place. “C’mon mate, I can do it!  Aussies aren’t scared of sharks!  We’ll kick the shit out of any animal!”  “C’mon dumbass, this won’t be nearly so funny if you drown,” and then he was being hauled back up onto the beach……

…..then he was draped across the stomach of a maudlin Blob, who wasn’t even bothering to hide the tears that dripped down his cheeks.  “It’s just….what am I if I’m not the Blob, right?  You’ve got those stupid books, but what have I got?  I mean, I’m nothing without my powers.  I tried to make it work back then, I really did.  Got my own reality show, got real popular in Japan, but it just wasn’t enough.  I was miserable not bein’ the Blob.”  Pyro was patting at Blob’s stomach, almost kneading it like a cat, in what he probably had thought was a comforting manner at the time, muttering encouraging nonsense,” Nah, Freddie, c’mon mate, you’ve got lots to offer, you got a big heart and a big personality……”  

….then the two of them were chucking the last of Blob’s squash and pumpkins at the trees.  For some reason they were both singing “Highway to the Danger Zone” at the top of their lungs……

Pyro just sighed and tried to blink it all away.  It wasn’t actually the worst drunk memories he had.  At least neither of them had gotten naked.  He hoped.  

“Hey man, you took your sweet time. You jerking off in there?”  Blob said as he emerged, piling eggs and bacon onto a plate and passing it to him.  Luckily his stomach had settled a great deal by then.

“Nah, I wouldn’t be so crass, Freddy. I only jerk off in my own shower.”

“Guess it’s not as much fun without Avalanche, huh?”  And Blob actually winked at him.

Pyro opened his mouth to snap back at Dukes, to tell him to shut up and mind his own damn business.  Then closed it again, because he couldn’t actually detect any malice in the other man’s tone.  Not needling him, just…playful joking, in Blob’s own crass way.  

Instead, he just shrugged and grinned. “Guess so.  Thanks heaps for the food, Freddie.  And the bloody aspirin, I really needed that.”

“Well, what can I say, I know my manners.  I’m a hospitable guy,” Blob chuckled, sitting down to his own breakfast.  “Besides, it’s the least I can do after what you gave me.”

Pyro paused with the fork mid-way up to his mouth, thinking back.  What had he given him, besides a whole fuckton of wine?  

“’Fraid I don’t quite remember what you’re referring to there,” he said cautiously.  Had he promised his services or something?  Given up some of the booty he’d stashed from raids with the Marauders? (He didn’t feel at all bad about that, as the captain herself was actively encouraging them to take as much booze and money as they pleased.)  

“The wine.”  Blob jerked a thumb over to the shelf on the wall, where the bottle sat surrounded by little ornaments, as if occupying a place of honor.

“Oh yeah, well I’m always glad to share – “

“No man, the whole bottle.  You gave me the bottle.”  

Pyro’s fork slipped out of his hand. Fuck.  Fuck!  He hadn’t. Surely he hadn’t been so stupid as to give up a priceless treasure like that, just because ol’ Blob had gotten a little weepy last night.  Surely not.

“Oh hell, I didn’t really, did I?”

“You did!  You insisted.”

And much as he wanted to deny it, there was a memory creeping back into his mind.  Himself, holding the bottle up to Fred with a grandiose air, waxing poetic about how he would be Krakoa’s Dionysus, Life of the Party, Keeper of the Mysteries, and the other mutants would frolic around him like the Maenads. Christ, he really was a pretentious sot when he got drunk, wasn’t he?  (But hey, he couldn’t help that he’d gone through a pretty heavy Greek mythology phase as a kid.  It was just so interesting!)

“I….guess I might remember something like that,” he conceded hesitantly.  “But that doesn’t count, does it?  You can’t hold me to that!  I was trashed out of my mind!”

“Not so trashed that you couldn’t blather on about a bunch of Classical bullshit!”   Blob declared.  “It was damned funny.  And if you think I’m givin’ this bottle back to you, you’ve got another thing coming.” His tone stayed light, but a sharp gleam in his eye suggested the promise of another fight.

“C’mon Freddie, you’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Look man, I thought this might happen. So I got video evidence.  I got a message from Drunk Pyro to Sober Pyro.” He held out his cell phone.        

“Fuuuuuck,” Pyro moaned, not even wanting to see.  He took a side glance at the bottle, so inviting out in the open.  He should just grab it and run.  Instead, he heard the sound of his own voice, slurred with wine, Australian accent even thicker than usual so that he was running his words against the backs of one another.  

“I, St. John Allerdyce,” the figure on the video stopped to belch, “bein’ of sound mind an’ body, do hereby bequeath this bottle of never-endin’ wine to Frederick J. Dukes, the Blob, forever an’ ever, no take backs!  Be’cause…..’cause….he’s my good mate, an’ he needs somethin’ for himself, an’ I’m fulla good will tonight.”  The figure was bleary-eyed and staggering, but at least he seemed to be happy, judging by the wide grin stretching his face.  

“Fuckin’ hell, Drunk Pyro,” Sober Pyro groaned, laying his head in his hands.  That bastard had gotten him into more scrapes than he could count.

“But!”  Drunk Pyro continued on the video.  “There’s….conditions.  One….no….two! Two…two conditions.”  He swayed for a moment, seeming to look up at the stars before pulling himself back together.  “Condition the first!  You gotta share the wine, Freddie.  Share it like, like I’ve been…been sharing it.  Bring it to all the parties.  Pour for….for eeeeveryone.”  He made a sweeping gesture and nearly fell over.  “Condition the two!  You gotta….gotta give me special access, right?  I get ta come over and drink as much as I want, any time I want, yeah?  No matter what!”  

“I accept your conditions,” came Blob’s voice from behind the camera.  Drunk Pyro grinned again.    

“Then I now pronounce you man and bottle!”  He crowed, holding it aloft.  “You may kiss the …wait, no, don’t put your mouth directly on it.  Everyone’s gotta drink that.”  

“Now make it official by singing Waltzing Matilda.  That’s Australia’s national anthem, right?”  Blob’s voice suggested on the video.

“No, it isn’t, “ said Sober Pyro.

“Yes, mate, you’re exactly right!” exclaimed Drunk Pyro.  He made it through one off-key verse and chorus before fumbling the words and collapsing to his knees, laughing.

“Hey man, thanks for this,” said Blob’s voice on the video, as a hand reached out to take the bottle from Drunk Pyro. And Blob actually sounded a bit sincere. “I really appreciate it, ya doing something like this for me.”

“Well, you’re my special mate, right?  We’ve been through loads together.  And I feel sooo wonderful tonight.  I’m fulla…..fulla love for everybody!”  Drunk Pyro spread his arms out to the stars.  “The world is so bloody beautiful, yeah?”

“Who do you love, Pyro?”  Blob asked from behind the camera.

“Everybody!  All the little mutants, and even the humans, too!  The ones that aren’t too shitty, anyway.”

“Who do you really love?”  Blob asked pointedly.

For a moment, Drunk Pyro looked up at the camera in confusion, then he lit up with the nicest smile Pyro had seen on his own face in a long time.  It wasn’t cruel or sarcastic, not sloppy drunk or wild with adrenaline.  It was the kind of genuine, soft smile he’d described in many novels over the years.

“I love Dominic!” Pyro exclaimed, hugging arms around himself and slumping down against the sand.  “I love Dom.”  

“Oy, you fucker!”  The video switched off abruptly as Sober Pyro made a grab at the cell-phone in Blob’s hand.  “How dare you, how fucking dare you pull that shit!  Fucking shit-cunt!”  

“Hey man, chill out!  You gave me the bottle fair and square!”  Blob held the phone over his head, while Pyro began trying to clamber up him.

“Forget the bottle, I don’t care!  Why would you make me say that!  On video, for fucks sake?  You lookin’ to blackmail me?”  

“No man, no!”  Blob plucked Pyro off with his other hand, and deposited him back in his chair.  “That’s not what that was about!  I ain’t gonna show it to anyone.  Here, look, I’m deleting it.  Geez.”  Blob pushed a couple of buttons in his phone.  

“You were tryin’ to make me say it, though, weren’t you?  Why would you want me to say that?!”  Pyro glowered at him over the table.

“I dunno man, I was loaded, too! I just….thought it would be nice, I guess.  I thought maybe….maybe you’d feel a little better if you said it.”  Blob looked confused, and again oddly vulnerable.  Not mocking or mean.    

“You thought I’d feel better?  Seriously?”  Pyro gave a breathless laugh.

“I mean….yeah, man.  It’s like what we talked about last night.  You’re so uptight about this shit, but no one cares anymore.”  

“Fucking hell, Fred,” Pyro sighed, putting his head in his hands again. Fucking Blob.  Fucking Drunk Pyro, spewing everything out into the open.  

But….it probably had felt kind of good to say it in the moment, hadn’t it?  All open like that?  He couldn’t deny, Drunk Pyro had looked beatifically happy when he said those words, his eyes soft and gentle.  Perfect for a scene in a romance, even if he was absolutely humiliated to see that expression on his own face.  He supposed there was no sense in denying it.  He’d said it, after all.

“Don’t spread it around about Dom, okay?  I mean, I know what I am.  I’ve known for a long time, and I guess I don’t mind people knowing, now that we’re all enlightened these days.  But I think Dom’s still working some things out.  Or at least he was.”

“Yeah, sure, man, my lips are sealed,” Blob agreed.  “So, are we cool?”  

“You deleted that video, right?”  

“Yep.”

“And you’re gonna give me free wine whenever I want, just like you promised, yeah?”

“Of course!  I’m a generous fellow, and I don’t go back on an agreement!”  Blob pressed a hand against his chest, proudly.

“Then, yeah. Freddie.  We’re cool.” 

Notes: Apologies to poor Quentin Quire, he didn’t deserve the crap Blob and Pyro were throwing at him.  I have nothing against the character, he just seemed like the kind of arrogant young hot-shot mutant that Pyro and Blob would have no respect for (even if he could absolutely destroy them).

[theskyeandsea]

Class is in Session || Ricky & Skylar

Location: Ricky and Winston’s House

Summary: Skylar and Ricky meet and talk to each other, seal to seal.

TW: Chronic illness and depression mentions

It had taken far more convincing than Ricky thought it would, but, he had finally managed to convince Skylar to come to terms with what she was. Which meant now of course that he had to start putting together a curriculum for Selkie 101 apparently. Dragging himself laboriously from his spot on the couch he stumbled his way into the kitchen, wincing as the healing wound on his side tugged against its stitches. “Fuckkkkkkkkk” He muttered as he rifled through the cabinets for the coffee, grinding enough beans to start a pot and then leaning against the cold wood of the countertop as he waited for it to brew. It wasn’t terribly long before he heard the sound of tires on the driveway, just in time for him to pull two mugs down and set them on the counter, “Door’s unlocked!” He called out, not wanting to make the trek from the kitchen to the entryway, “I’m in the kitchen.” 

Stepping out of her car, Skylar juggled her keys from hand to hand, staring at the house with trepidation. She didn’t want to be here, definitely not after everything that had happened at the dinner only just a few nights ago. But… she needed answers. Ricky had been right about everything, about her teeth, her food, being color blind, the fatigue and fevers and everything. He knew it all. And she knew absolutely nothing. She had to find out the truth. Her backpack thumped against her spine as she let herself into the house at Ricky’s invitation, the weight of the pelt a reminder of what was at stake. She made her way into the kitchen and saw Ricky setting two mugs on the counter top. “Hi… How are you doing, is there anything I can help with?” She asked anxiously, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her shirt as she stood in the kitchen. 

Tugging a hoodie from a nearby chair, Ricky shrugged into it and zipped it up gingerly, “Cream or sugar? You shouldn’t really, too much will fuck with your stomach but a little now and again never hurt anybody.” He poured two large mugs full of the delicious smelling coffee and settled into a seat up on the counter, “Come on. Put the bag down and make yourself at home. This is scarier in your mind than it is in real life.” He hadn’t bothered to put his teeth in that morning, he hadn’t been planning on leaving the house and so he flashed Skylar a smile full of his pearly white fangs, “So. You’re a selkie. Like me. Welcome to the family.” He pushed the mug of coffee towards her and took a sip of his own, humming in delight, “Ah caffeine. Sweet delicious life giving caffeine. Thank god it exists.” He’d never really had cause to talk to other selkies who were less experienced than him, and felt like he was stumbling his way through this. Best he could do was just be a friend. 

Seeing Ricky’s teeth in the daylight was a shock. Skylar had seen them before, she knew what they looked like, but it still threw her for a loop to see it in the light of day. This was real. It was all real. “Black’s just fine. Um… I guess I can take these out.” She said, gesturing to her mouth before she removed the veneers from her teeth. She tucked them away in the little case she kept in her backpack. It was always a nice relief to have them out; she was used to having them in, but it always felt just a little uncomfortable. Lifting the mug to her lips, she blew on the liquid to cool it before taking a sip. It just gave her something to do other than acknowledge the whole, selkie situation. “Mhm.” She nodded, not really sure what else she could say. Her backpack was still resting on her shoulders, safe and secure. She didn’t want to let go of it, even if Ricky said it was okay. “So… you’re a selkie?” She asked, the word foreign to her mouth.

Ricky watched somewhat nonchalantly as Skylar removed her teeth and tucked them away in a small case from her bag. “Always feels better to have them out. I can always hear just the littlest shade of a lisp when I’ve got them in. I’m just used to talking without them.” He listened to the long stretching silence, determined to let her take the lead on any self discovery that might happen “We…” he correct gently, “We are selkies. Since I’m now more than reasonably confident in that assessment.” Another sip of coffee and he stretched his legs out before tucking one under him, “But yes. I”m a selkie. There’s probably some latin species name for us, but…. Selkie usually just does the trick. Subspecies of therianthrope, or shape shifter, much like a werewolf, though in far more control.”

Skylar took a seat at the counter next to Ricky, staring into her mug as he spoke. They were both selkies. She was a selkie. She was… a seal person. And as much as she wanted to protest against it, to turn off her hearing aids and just pretend she’d never heard any of this, she couldn’t. “I… How. How does it work? If we’re not like werewolves, how does it work?” She asked. “I’ve never been a seal. I wasn’t lying when I said that, I’ve never been a seal in my life. I think I’d remember turning into a blubbery fish eating… animal.” She shook her head. Even as she said that, the confused memories of waking up in her bathtub with the pelt next to her came back to her.

“Well… for one, selkism can’t be passed on through a bite. It’s simply genetic. As to how it works? You’ve got a skin. Your real skin. You simply……. Step into it and return to being a seal. Which I know sounds a little reductive but, that’s what happens. Your body secretes what is essentially lube, and you just pull it on and you’re back to being a seal again.” Another sip of coffee and he nodded slowly, pushing uncooperative curls out of his face, “that… doesn’t surprise me. It sounds like you spent a lot of time not knowing, which means your body put itself into some pretty dire situations to keep itself alive. Which isn’t ideal. That can’t be good for you long term. But… that is in the past now. Now that you know what you are, you can start to live in a way that makes it easier for you to live in comfort.”

“My real skin?” Skylar echoed, the weight of her backpack pressing down against her shoulders. The seal pelt. It was hers. Her skin. That she was meant to just slide into. That wasn’t possible, that couldn’t be real. There was just so much for her to process. “I don’t know anything about this.” Skylar said quietly before taking a long drink from her mug. Staring at her hands, she wrestled with how to talk about her family. “I’m not… My family…” Her words caught in the back of her throat, but she forced herself to continue. “Ricky. I didn’t know any of this because no one in my family knows any of this. I’m adopted. And, less than a year ago, I found out that when I was a baby, my mom found me on the beach with,” Skylar gestured to the bag, “a weird pelt wrapped around me. That was it. No one else was around, there was no note, nothing.”

Taking a long sip of coffee, Ricky nodded slowly as Skylar told her story, “That sounds about right. Makes sense that you wouldn’t know anything about how to survive as one, then. It’s real easy for us to pass as human, teeth not withstanding, but we do require some upkeep.” He hobbled over to the fridge and pulled out the omnipresent place of smoked salmon, “help yourself.” Resuming his seat on the counter he thoughtfully chewed on a piece of salmon while he listened, “Well… it’s functionally pointless to try to figure out the why of all of that. It happened, it’s unfortunate and I can’t help but think there could have been a better way but it happened. Now we gotta figure out how to get you good and ready to face the world as a selkie.” 

Not one to pass up the offer of fish, Skylar took a piece of salmon and popped it into her mouth. She hummed in response to his words. There was a lot in her past that she really didn’t want to get into and it was a relief that Ricky didn’t seem to want to hear about it. He knew what he needed to and now… he was going to Mr. Miyagi her into being a selkie? Or something like that? “You said that vampires and werewolves and stuff were real too. Does me being,” She took in a deep breath to steady herself, “A selkie, does that put me in danger? Does it put the people around me in danger? What does it even mean for me to be like this? Am I supposed to go out and just hop into the harbor and turn into some seal thing? Do I need to start learning whale calls? I don’t-- I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this information.”

A lot of questions tumbled out in short order and Ricky couldn’t help but chuckle to himself a little bit, “Woah woah woah killer. Slow your roll.” He polished off the mug of coffee and refilled it, “You being a selkie puts you more in danger from humans than from other members of the supernatural community. Except vampires, who love us. We got extra blood. We’re like a supersized combo for them. The biggest danger will always be human hunters. Always.” He ate some more of the salmon and chuckled again “Do I look like I know whale calls? Look at me. But yes. You are. Generally in the middle of the night, and only in places where you know you’re absolutely alone. Consider this your superhero secret identity.” 

A superhero identity. Yeah, right. No superhero she’d ever read about turned into a big ball of blubber. And had fangs. Sighing, Skylar rubbed her temples, trying to process everything. The supernatural community. Which meant there was more to it than just the magical stuff she’d seen Winston do and the basics of what Ricky had told her. There was a whole… secret society of people. Supernatural people. And she was suddenly apart of that too. “Human hunters? What do you mean by that? Someone going Captain Ahab on us?” She said, choosing to ignore the thing about vampires turning her into a happy meal. She would deal with that later. “I don’t,” Skylar squirmed in her seat, not sure how to say this. “I’mafraidoftheocean.” She confessed, the words coming out in a quiet jumble.

“Yup. Human hunters. Some of them have some weird pseudo-religious rabid need to cleanse the earth of the monsters…. Which is just weird and wrong on so many levels, and some of them just like to sell shit on the black market. And selkie skins are hella valuable.” That second part threw him for a loop, though. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard of a selkie who was afraid of the ocean. “Well…. That’s new.” He scratched at the stubble on his jaw thoughtfully, “Not the end of the world though. We can get you in a swimming pool or pond too. It’s really more about wearing the skin than like ocean deep dives. But…… we might have to work on fixing that fear.” 

“A black market? There’s a black market-- wait, they’d sell my skin?” Skylar asked, voice cracking slightly at the idea of the pelt, her pelt, getting taken away from her. She’d spent so long without knowing any of this, of never having her skin. The thought of someone stealing her skin, keeping it from her forever, it filled her stomach with dread. “The ocean freaks me out because of these,” She said, pushing her hair back to show her hearing aids, “I can’t get them wet. If they get wet, I’d have to replace them and I don’t have the money to do that. I need my hearing aids to work.” At Ricky’s reassurance that they could go elsewhere, Skylar shut her eyes, cringing a little. “And… if I told you I don’t know how to swim..?”

“There’s a black market for almost anything. But yes. They’d sell your skin. They’d kill you, and leave you dead and skinless, and your family would have to bury you in the ground because you didn’t have your skin with you. You couldn’t be burned and scattered to the tides, like selkies should be when they die.” No small amount of heat crept into his voice, and he took a deep breath and tamped it back down again, “well. I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know how hearing aids work with the transformation. My hearing is bad and all, but I always just leaned on lip reading. Can you remove them? Or are the stuck in like cochlear implants are?” He couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit at the last confession, “Believe me. The seal knows how to swim. The woman might not, but the seal does. They’ll take care of you in the water.” 

Skylar could hear the emotion in Ricky’s voice and she reached out to hold his hand, rubbing the back of his hand reassuringly with her thumb. The fate he described sounded awful, it sounded worse than anything she had ever imagined. And it seemed like it was something he knew too well. She didn’t want to pry, though. So instead, she nodded. “Got it. Keep my skin secret. And avoid hunters.” She said before pulling her hand back, her face warming with slight embarrassment. Skylar knew she didn’t always like being touched by other people and here she was, violating his personal space. “Ah. Sorry. Um… I can take them out. It’s just kinda scary being outside without them.” She admitted. His words about her seal side knowing how to swim were probably meant to reassure her, but all she could think was, What if he’s wrong? What if she’s not a selkie and all of this is just a delusion?

Skylar reached out to take his hand and Ricky held it tightly, sighing to himself as he nodded, confident she’d understood the gravity of human hunters and the extreme danger they posed. He couldn’t help but make a quiet noise to himself as she talked about the fear of being without her hearing aids and a small smile crossed his face, “Do you know why your hearing is so bad? Why mine is? Why every single member of our species has some level of auditory impairment? Our ears aren’t made for hearing in air. My hearing is amazing underwater. I can hear the sounds of schools of fish moving through the water, the telltale crunch of shifting stone…. There’s no impairment down there. So. I get that fear. But… the other side of the coin is that once you do conquer it, the impairment doesn’t exist below the waves. 

As Ricky described what it would be like underwater, a part of Skylar couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like. What it would feel like. To have her eyes opened to a whole new world, to a world that she’d never known she was a part of. The idea of just being able to be free-- it was tempting. It was so tempting. But, as she thought about it, the other side of the coin became readily apparent. If all of her challenges in life were because she was a selkie… if her hearing and her depression and the pain that wore her down and exhausted her every day was part of being a selkie and never knowing… Tears began to well up in her eyes. How could her parents have let her live like that? “You’re saying that if I go underwater, if I turn into a- a seal. I’ll be normal?”

Ricky’s heart broke a tiny bit at Skylar’s question and he took her hand again and squeezed it “Well…. No. Because you’re a seal and the general majority metric isn’t. But. Why would you want to be? You won’t be normal. But you’ll be a new part of yourself.” Refilling both their coffees and smiled, “you’ll be putting another piece of the puzzle in, one that’s going to help you feel more whole. But definitely your health is going to improve. Depriving yourself of the transformation is similar to not eating right or not getting enough sleep. You do it for long enough it’s going to start wearing your body now. But now that you know, you can stop feeling like that because you know the cure for it. “ 

Skylar bit the inside of her cheek, her fangs pinching together in a reminder of just how different, how strange, how not human she was. All she had ever wanted was to just be normal. To not be a burden. And now, no matter how she tried to spin it, her definitive abnormality was staring her right in the face. Staring at herr coffee mug, Skylar did her best to absorb everything Ricky was telling her. She was in it now and, if she wanted to get through this new life of hers, she would need all the help she could get. “Okay. Okay. I can… I can try. I can try to do that.” She said, unwilling to say the word, “My skin. How do I keep it safe?” Skylar asked, her free hand moving to clutch the strap of her backpack instinctively.

Knowing that this was a monumental amount of information for Skylar to absorb, Ricky sat quietly on the counter while she did, one foot swinging listlessly as he enjoyed the bitter taste of his coffee. “Trying is always a good start. It’s not going to come right away, this is still a big adjustment, but, you can keep trying and keep trying and keep trying and eventually it’s going to be second nature to you.” Hopping down from the counter he trudged over to retrieve his phone from where it’d been charging, bringing up an email confirmation that he went to forward onto her. “There’s a small fireproof safe that’s going to arrive sometime this week. It’s the same kind that I keep mine in. Try not to bring it with you places. Keep it safe, keep it secret, bring it out when you need to transform or if you’re travelling. Never travel outside the city without it. Even if you think it’s just an overnight trip. You want it with you in case you get waylaid or stuck somewhere.” 

When her phone buzzed with the email attachment, Skylar stared at it in confusion. A fireproof safe? He’d ordered one for her? He didn’t even know her and he was giving her that? And, and all of this information? It was too much. “How much do I owe you for the safe?” She asked, sliding her phone back into her pocket. “That all makes sense.” God, the fact that she was even saying that was insane. “Keep it locked away and, and, if I go on a road trip, make sure I’ve got it with me. Uh huh. Yeah. That… that makes sense.” She said before resting her head on the cool, clean counter top, her eyes squeezed shut. God. “Fuck.” She mumbled quietly.

Ricky’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Nothing. You owe me nothing. This is something your clan or your family was supposed to do. Teach you this. Help you figure out how to be safe. You apparently don’t have one. So. As the only other selkie in White Crest… you’re part of mine now. If you want to be of course.” Leaning forward he squeezed her shoulder lovingly, “You’re not alone anymore, Sky. You’ve got me… and the giant rambunctious family that comes with that” it was true. His mother’s family was loud and sometimes annoying, but they would have never abandoned a pup on the beach like somebody did to Skylar. “This only seems like a lot because it’s happening all at once. But. It’ll even out and life will be as it was. Just with the addition of frequent transformations.”

When Ricky squeezed her shoulder-- a gesture that would normally make her flinch away-- Skylar found herself relaxing at the touch. Something about it just felt… familiar. Even though she didn’t know him any better than she knew anyone in this town, his reassurance meant so much to her. “A clan?” She echoed. “A family?” The words felt so strange to her, because they meant that the people she had considered her family for so long were anything but. They’d kept the truth from her, caused her nothing but pain and hurt. They weren’t her family. And whoever her… true family, her true clan had been, they didn’t care about her. They’d left her all alone. Unable to say anything more, Skylar reached for her hearing aids, pulling them from her ears. She couldn’t bring herself to listen to this anymore. It was too much. 

It was clear to Ricky that they had long since past the point where Skylar was emotionally able to process the conversation they were having, and her removal of her hearing aids confirmed that for him. He refilled her coffee and patted her knee gently, gathering his own mug to head out to his workshop. Before he left though, he caught her eye one last time. Stay as long as you want, my home is yours, he managed to sign out in clumsy sign language. It was a lot for her to take in, but, hopefully she knew she had a place where she was always welcome.

[sikhyes]

↳ 002. “the ladies love a guy who’s good with kids.” | fratboy!hobi ─ short oneshot ( 1,343 words ) / prompt list / more

hoseok was a competitor. maybe not as much as his younger friend and fellow frat brother, jungkook, but he'd like to see himself as a winner. whether it be a random dance-off on the streets or maybe beer pong at their usual parties, you can bet that he's there, eager to claim his prize. even if there wasn't an actual award, hoseok liked to think bragging rights counted for something. this need to win could be usually found anywhere: grabbing the last bag of chips at the store, being the first to shower in their frat house, and so on. whatever it was, he wants to be the first.

this time, he wants to be the first to get your number amongst the rest of his opponents. aka the rest of his frat house.

hoseok lounged comfortably on the hammock that was pinned to the overhead of the porch, swaying lightly as he plugged his headphones in to listen to some music. it was a calm week for the college student; quizzes were postponed and projects were close to completion, leaving him a few hours or so to do whatever the hell he wanted to do. (or whoever he wanted to do but that's a different story.)

“really—" 

beyond his music, he heard the gruff shouts and high pitched laughter from jimin and taehyung, closely followed by jungkook with a water gun. the three newest pledges were the best choices his house ever made, hoseok thought quietly, lowering his music volume to observe them. they were three best out of the large group that had wanted to join, mainly because they were so willing to do it all.

jeon jungkook and kim taehyung streaked across campus without flinching. jimin completed 5 minutes of a keg stand with a cocky remark of asking "if this was supposed to be a challenge".

they immediately fit right in beta tau sigma.

"hey---tae! dude, watch out!" taehyung and jimin were on the floor, wrestling over the water gun only for the latter to pull the trigger... drenching a girl on the sidewalk. her hair had immediately made itself into a curtain as she bent slightly at the waist, squeezing tightly at her clothing. once a considerable amount of water no longer left her top dripping, she pushed back the tresses of her hair and immediately the three younger ones snapped to attention.

it was the new, pretty girl. although she didn't belong to a sorority, her best friend did and was dragged to every party. it left her extremely well known to beta tau sigma and with how taehyung was already popping his collar, she was the next target of a terribly delivered pick up line.

now hoseok liked to think of himself as kind, as well as a winner, so he hopped over the porch and cleared the bushes as well; he wanted to save taehyung from any embarrassment he might cause for himself. 

"sorry about that, miss...?" hoseok gave the most brightest smile he could muster, deciding to play the polite and friendly frat boy for now. he shoved the three boys behind his back as he prompted you for your name.

"y/n," you answered and turned your attention to your hair now, wringing out the strands carefully and missing out on hoseok's winning smile. which had now drooped into a slight pout when he noticed you didn't even spare him a glance. 

"pretty name."

"thanks, sunshine." you finally lifted your chin to make eye contact and while you were a little taken aback at how handsome he was, you were a popular attender of frat parties; you were used to handsome. "are the other three gonna apologize? i did like this shirt, you know."

taehyung, jimin, and jungkook knew when to back away from a girl so they blubbered out half-assed apologies before rushing back inside to spread the news as discreet as they could.

"HOSEOK'S HITTING ON THE PRETTY GIRL."

unfortunately, taehyung didn't account at how loud his voice was.

hoseok immediately cringed at the announcement, eyes dropping to the floor as he cautiously peeked up to gauge your reaction. behind your hand, you attempted to disguise the smile but the crinkles by your eyes gave it away and soon you were laughing.

"don't worry," giggles threatened to interrupt your sentences but you powered through. "you're pretty too."

and it was like magic. hoseok puffed his chest out slightly, especially since he could feel his friends's eyes on his back, peeping from the second story windows. a confident smile, one that was bordering on a smirk, settled upon his lips as he ran a hand through his hair.

"maybe we can grab coffee sometime?" he asked confidently.

"sure---"

"perfect!" 

"---i need a study buddy."

"oh... right."

-x-

it became a weekly thing. on wednesdays, hoseok would pick you up at your apartment after your noon classes and would visit the small cafe near campus. it was a pretty place, aesthetic that seemed to play well with your charm as you sat by the large window seat.   

the table would immediately be crowded by notebook paper full of highlighted notes, shuffled aside for the third refill of coffee as you pushed out the final paragraphs of your paper. hoseok wasn't a slacker and decided to take the opportunity to finish some of his own work, stealing several glances when he could.

"by the way," the silence between you two had been broken by you and he automatically dropped his head to stare at his paper with pink tinted cheeks, wondering if you caught him staring. but you didn't even glance up from your laptop, too busy adding the finishing touches. "i won't be able to make it next wednesday." 

it was an instant reaction: a pout had pulled his lips down as you lifted your head to look at him. a soft melodious laugh carried through the small cafe and his heart warmed. "relax, sunshine, don't you have parties? i'm usually there so it's not like you're not gonna see me ever again." 

he rubbed the back of his neck as he chuckled, trying to hide the slight bashfulness that crept up his ears as red. "if anything... i'm worried about you not seeing me."

the flirty tone was not lost on you and with great effort, you managed to compose your expression into a passive one. "i'm sure i'll be fine, sunshine." and with that, you turned your attention back to the laptop. lately hoseok had been more shameless. from the smiley frat boy you met on the front yard to this neverending machine of smooth pick up lines and smirks, it was getting harder and harder to brush away his attempts.

"actually maybe you can see me next week."

"really---i mean... yeah?"

you snorted, deciding to ignore the eagerness that rang from his voice. "yeah. it's a bit of a favor though."

"for you, sweetheart? anything."

-x-

"i can't believe she got you BABYSITTING."

jungkook's laugh was now at it's highest pitch, nose crinkling as he clapped his hands stupidly like a seal. taehyung was on the floor, practically laughing his ass off. the cool, composed yoongi even broke out a gummy smile at his friend's slight misfortune.

"look, i didn't know---"

"dude, i thought you just wanted her number... is she really that pretty?" seokjin rose a brow as he plopped himself on the couch.

"hell yeah she is." jimin had hopped out of the bathroom, hair dripping wet and slick against his pale cheeks as he tied a towel haphazardly around his waist. his words were garbled, a result of having his toothbrush dangling from the corner of his mouth. "she's like... uh... i don't know but she's like gorgeous. and it's like that low-key gorgeous where it doesn't even hit you until you look at her and--"

"get back in the bathroom, you're spitting toothpaste everywhere."

"right. but she's pretty... i'd babysit godzilla for her."

"it'll be fine," hoseok grinned when a new thought came to mind. he leaned back against the chair to stretch out comfortably, a smirk finding its way home back upon his lips, as he shut his eyes serenely. "the ladies love a guy who's good with kids."

[sugagimmesugar]

Meet me at the Sunrise (Platonic SOPE)

Inspired by the Song „Sunrise“ by Kygo.

He was used to being awake at sunrise. Not because he was an early riser, god no, instead it had become the norm as he caught up in his music. Once he started working on some project he couldn’t stop tweaking it until it was exactly how he wanted it. So most nights, sunrise had actually turned into his sign that it was time to go to bed. It’s not like he was looking at the clock while he was busy writing or producing what might be the next hit.

But what he wasn’t used to was feeling so lonely. He had grown so much since his depression, had become so much happier, why was this melancholy back now?

Shaking his head, he decides to get some coffee, he has a meeting at 9, it’s 5 now, what’s the use in actually going to sleep? Might as well get some more work done.

IN the kitchen, he catches himself staring out of the window, the sun colouring the city, the windows and skyscrapers glittering beautifully. A smile spreads across his face, this is why staying up all night isn’t so bad after all. The view of a city waking up, the sun rising slowly over the mountains.

He suddenly feels the need to go out, get some fresh air, take a walk through the cool morning air. So as the coffee machine blubbers in the background he decides to text Hoseok.

Suga: U up?

Hobi: fuck, barely. Did u get any sleep at all?

Suga: have u met me?

Hobi: okok

Hobi: whatsup?

Suga: wanna go for a walk? I’ll bring coffee, u bring breakfast and smiles

Hobi: I guess I can skip one dance practise, right? I’ll be over in 15 mins :)

He quickly washes Hobi’s favourite thermos, as well as his own, filling them with freshly brewed coffee as his phone plings again.

Hobi: Also pls stop texting me “U up”

Hobi: It’s weird to receive that text from my best friend

He laughs, the sound breaking the peaceful silence in his apartment.

Suga: see u at the usual spot in 15

Hobi: <3

A few minutes later he has everything ready. The two thermos’ fit perfectly into the pockets of his favourite, huge jacket, so no need for a bag. He checks his phone, only to find a text from hobi “almost there”. Smiling, he decides to take a small bluetooth speaker as well. Music is always nice.

He heads out, slowly making his way up the path to his and Hobi’s usual sunrise-watching spot. He must’ve been walking extra slowly, when he gets close to “their” spot he sees Hoseok practicing his dancing by himself. His figure lit up by the sun, his eyes closed and his brows furrowed in concentration, he moves along to whichever music is on his headphones.

„I guess you couldn‘t quite get yourself to skip practise, huh?“, Yoongi says, standing in front of Hoseok, his voice raspy with exhaustion.

„Huh?“ the dancer opens his eyes, only to grasp his chest in surprise.

Taking off his headphones he says : „Ah, Yoongi, you scared me! You were so slow I thought I would keep myself warm by going through the movements a little.“

„Aah, well I‘m here now and I brought something to keep you warm.“ Yoongi answers, handing Hobi the Thermos with the Sunflower print.

Hoseok shooting him a dimpled smile, the two sit down on the rocks, sharing breakfast in silence for while, just watching the sun and the city, comfortably quiet next to each other.

As they both warm up with the help of coffee and almost still warm fresh pastries Hobi picked up on the way over, they start talking about this and that. The upcoming tour, the music Suga has been working on, Jungkook‘s latest shenanigans and some new restaurant Yoongi wants to try out.

„Oh, I have been looking into more different music and artists that ARMYs recommended to us, and I found a song I quite like. It actually fits perfectly right now. It‘s called „Sunrise“. Let me just find it on my phone.“ Hoseok says with a smile, picking up his phone and already scrolling through his music library.

„I actually brought a speaker to put on music but I forgot.“ Yoongi turns on the speaker and soon the song Hobi was recommending starts somewhat quietly sounding across the are they are sitting at.

*wake me up

my eyes are heavy

and I need some sun*

Yoongi can‘t help but smile, the easy house music do perfectly conveying the feeling of a summer sunrise. He leans back, his weight resting on his forearms, and stretches his neck, closing his eyes against the sun for a bit.

Beside him, he feels Hoseok doing the same, their shoulders grazing against each other as they adjust their posture to rest more comfortably.

A few songs of silence between the two men later, Yoongi drags open his eyes, the light hitting him a bit harsher than expected. Checking the time, he almost jumps up. Only half an hour left until the meeting. They‘ve been up here for over two hours. His movements stirring Hoseok up, the dancer half asleep, stretching like a cat.

„We have a meeting in half an hour, we really have to go now. Come on!“

Immediately, the other is awake, jumping up and quickly collecting their trash and belongings, packing everything up with Yoongi‘s help.

They make their way down the mountain somewhat hurriedly, stopping at Yoongi‘s place to quickly refill their coffees before they head downtown to meet the other members.

[bae-in-maine]

Nontu!!! I think this is the first prompt I’m asking you for lol but can you do “I’m not doing this” please. I miss you so much!

For my lovely strikon, @soldierofthenight

“I’m not doing this.” 

“Clarke. It is important that you do this. It is expected of us.” 

“Nope. Not doing it. And you can’t make me do it.” 

Except she could, because she was the Heda of the twelve clans, and no one said not to Heda, except for one Clarke Griffin. And Clarke had a habit of saying no, and Lexa had a habit of accepting that Clarke was going to do what she wished, when she wished. And normally it wasn’t an issue, until today. 

Lexa sighed and brought her hand up to rub at her forehead in an effort to keep the building headache at bay, but she thought better of it, instead letting her hand drop to the armrest of her throne. 

She glanced out over the crowd, a small smile flitting about her lips at the sight of her people scattered around the fires and tables, laughing and talking, drinking, and spilling their ale. The dogs scurried about in the great hall, chased by fat children, as they scrambled for scraps and bones tossed their way. 

She could see flashes of color throughout the crowd, representing each of the clans, and she was relieved to see that no fights had broken out yet, possibly because no one was drunk enough yet, or because she had taken great pains to make sure that the Ice Nation wasn’t sitting next to the Floukru or Shining Forest Clan. 

She picked up her cup, letting the wine wet her throat, before setting the cup down again. She needed to appear as if she were drinking, but she needed to keep her wits about her. A drunk Heda was a dead Heda. 

She turned her attention back to Clarke, the skin around her eyes tightening as she took in Clarke’s visage, the plump lips pressed together too tightly, making her look like a grumpy cat. 

She sighed. The Feast of Thirteen had been underway for two hours now, and as was customary when a new clan was brought officially into the alliance, they threw a huge feast in Polis. Each clan brought with them a delicacy of their clan, and if their delicacies weren’t in season, then a staple of their food. Each dish was presented to Heda and the thirteen ambassadors who sat at the long table on the dais. 

Clarke sat on her right, a place of prominence that each ambassador understood. Clarke was also Heda’s chosen, and it fell upon her to lead by example. 

“Clarke,” she breathed a warning. The Shining Forest ambassador had already looked at Clarke twice, his countenance changing from concern to growing annoyance. 

“You are being rude, and the ambassadors are starting to notice. I know you don’t want to do this, but we don’t need a war.”

“A war?” Clarke scoffed, looking at Lexa with bemusement upon her face that quickly changed to worry. “Wait. You’re serious? My refusal to do this could start a war?”

“The Shining Forest clan is rather hot tempered, and they are closely allied to Luna’s clan. And while Luna owes me her allegiance, her husband is from the Shining Forest.” 

Clarke gulped and nodded. This wasn’t so hard. She could do this. She looked down at her plate, her stomach turning over, and she felt bile bubble in her belly. She whimpered and gripped Lexa’s hand under the table, thankful that the long clothes draped to the floor and hid her action. 

Lexa squeezed her hand gently and leaned over whispering in her ear, pressing a soft kiss to her earlobe. “It’s easier if you just pick it up and bite into it quickly. You don’t have to eat it all. But at least half.” 

Clarke nodded and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “I can do this. I ate the Trikru bear stew, the Blue Cliff flower relish,” she turned to Lexa, “That was actually really good on Luna’s whitefish fillets.” She turned back to her plate, biting back the whimper. 

“You can do this, Clarke. Hey you even ate the Ice Nation blubber.” 

Lexa smiled and nodded. “Yes, Clarke, if you can eat the blubber from the whales they hunt, you can eat this.” It was a lie, but one she told with a straight face. The blubber was far easier to handle than this. 

Lexa straightened and picked up the beetle from her plate. It was the size of her palm, and she wasn’t particularly fond of this delicacy. She made a show of taking a huge bite, not even wincing when the spindly legs scraped her throat. She chewed thoroughly, not rushing it, knowing the ambassadors were watching out of the corners of their eyes. 

She set her beetle down, wiping at the yellow juice oozing from her mouth. She swallowed and then licked her fingers, pretending that her fingers were coated in a different kind of delicacy. 

“It tastes nutty. This is the worst of it.” It was another lie. They still had the Horse clan’s delicacy to get through. Clarke was never going to speak to her again. 

Clarke gingerly picked it up, trying not to look at the beetle’s face. She moved it around, unsure how to bite into it, wishing she was anywhere but here.

“Clarke kom Skaikru, it is sometimes easier if you tear off the legs first.” 

Clarke twisted in her seat to look at the woman on her right, the ambassador for the Plains Clan. She nodded and gingerly pulled on one of the legs, blushing when she heard the ambassador chuckle. 

The woman reached over and took the beetle from Clarke, wrapping her other hand around the small legs on one side and tearing them off in once twist. “Like that. Here.” She handed it back to Clarke, gesturing for Clarke to do the same and twist off the legs. 

It took her two attempts but the beetle was now legless on her plate. Darkish brown with a large head and beady eyes. Her stomach gurgled in protest, but she grabbed it anyway, her mind spinning a new mantra as she readied herself to take the first bite. 

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. 

She almost gagged around the mouthful of juice and exoskeleton. It crunched beneath her teeth and scraped her gums. She willed herself to keep chewing, counting each chew. She grabbed her cup, draining it of wine in two gulps. 

Lexa smiled a little, and passed Clarke her napkin. She had seen the wet salt in Clarke’s eyes, and she couldn’t help the bloom of pride that she had managed to do it. 

“Well done, Clarke.” 

“I fucking hate you,” snarled Clarke as she coughed into her napkin. “And it isn’t nutty. It’s horrifying,” she muttered behind her napkin as she wiped her chin of the oozing juice. 

She coughed again, her fist against her chest. “Fuck. Something is stuck,” she whimpered. She took a deep breath, coughing harshly just as she felt a hard thwack between her shoulder blades. She twisted around and glared up at Anya’s smirking face. 

“Finish up your beetle, Clarke. The Horse Clan is anxious for you to try their favorite summer dish.”

She narrowed her eyes at Anya, worried at how much delight Anya appeared to be taking in giving her the news. She turned worried eyes to Lexa who was staring at her, her eyes slightly wide, her nostrils flaring. 

Clarke felt her stomach drop. It was going to get worse. 

“B-but you said...” She growled as Lexa lowered her eyes slightly. She could say nothing as Lexa turned her attention to the ambassador on her left, probably happy to escape Clarke’s impending wrath. 

She took one more bite, barely managing to swallow it, and struggling even more to keep it down. She was relieved when one of Lexa’s handmaidens immediately whisked away the plate with the rest of the beetle. She was even more relieved when another handmaiden refilled her cup with wine. 

She was careful not to gulp it this time, sipping it slowly until it finally drowned out the taste of the beetle. Her relief was short lived, and another plate was placed in front of her. 

She stared down at the small glistening piece of...flesh? Her nose crinkled at the smell. 

“It’s a slice of raw horse’s brain, Clarke, served on a cracker made out of flour and pig intestine,” Anya whispered in her ear before laughing quietly and stepping back behind Clarke’s chair. 

“I’m not doing this.”