#anyways. go eat shit and live with the sickness you absolute block of ice

[bokukawas]

Drunken Mess

pairing; Kuroo Tetsuro  x Reader

warnings; alcohol, suggestive in the end, some grabbing from some random stranger

a/n; ok guys, enjoy, this took me forever to write and idk, i just hope someone here likes it ♥

summary; when you have a shitty day and then your boyfriend presses all the wrong buttons upon his return , you just need a little alcohol to keep your sanity… and maybe have a drink too much

word count; 6k, I actually planned to keep this short. WELL HUH jokes on me, right? 

The only thing that got you through the day was the thought, that when you came home later, your boyfriend would be back from his training camp with his team. Because, seriously, today had sucked. You had to take a double shift at work, because a colleague had called in sick and all the customers had just been annoying and rude. You had expected working in retail to suck, but compared to the reality your imagination was a fucking dream come true. Retail was the worst. The absolute fucking worst. And no one could truly understand it if they haven’t worked in retail at least once in their life.

By the time you could clock out, you were nearly crying from frustration. You were so eager to see Kuroo and leave your work; you nearly ran the whole way home.

When you finally arrived home, you could already see light seep out from under the door, which meant he actually was home already. Your heart made an involuntarily somersault as you pushed the door open and yelled “I’m home!” with a huge smile plastered on your face. You had missed him terribly. Yet instead of your boyfriends loving arms around you, you just found the mess he somehow managed to produce in less than a day. Your smile slipped just as fast as it had appeared. “Kuroo, what the actual fuck!?” No answer to that.

You could see him, lying on the couch, one leg slung over the back of it, controller in one hand, a piece of pizza in the other, headset on his head, while he cackled. He didn’t even seem to hear you. And damn it stung. You waited the whole day with dinner so you could eat together with your boyfriend. And not only that, you had cleaned the whole house before he returned, so you could just relax together once he was back, hell, you even dumped your friends who wanted to go out and have a girls night, and this was how it turns out?

With watering eyes, you inspected the spectacular mess in front of you. Eyes flicking from the kitchen, where he obviously already made ramen before he ordered pizza, to the living room where the whole content of his sports bag seems to just have been dumped on the floor. Then to the bathroom, where the door was open and showed the still wet tiles and a towel carelessly thrown in the middle of it, fog still clinging to the mirror, because he once again had not opened the goddamn window.

In that moment all you could feel inside of you, was burning anger and huge disappointment. It was not the first time you had asked him to just please be a little bit more considerate of you. Why didn’t he fucking get it? The damn flat didn’t magically clean itself; it was all you who did it. The mess he made in literally only a few hours felt like a punch in the face.

Clenching your fist, you angrily throw your bag into the mess he already made, which seemed to finally get his attention. Head popping up from the couch, he pulled down his headset a bit and looks over to you: “Oh hey kitten, didn’t hear you come home.”

“Yeah never mind”, you spit, “continue your thing there, I’m gonna be gone soon anyways.”

You slip out of your sneakers, phone already in your hand to call one of your friends.

“S’ something wrong, kitten?” Kuroo sets down his headset, mustering you with concern in his eyes. Obviously something was wrong, but his brain still felt foggy with exhaustion from all the training he had pushed himself and his team through this week.

The answer came in the slamming of the bedroom door, where you had disappeared.

He sighs and briefly puts his headset back on to give his friends a heads up: “Guys, I’ll be back later, seems like somethings wrong with Y/N”, then he left the game and stood up, slowly walking to your shared bedroom, before he tentatively knocks on the door.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Did something happen at work? Are you alright?” Upon not getting an answer, he pushed down the latch, only to find that you had locked the door. He silently swears. It had to be bad when you actually locked him out. “C’mon hun, don’t be like that. Talk to me.” Door rattling followed, which you blatantly ignore.

You were sitting on the bed, which was, of fucking course, not made any more and stripped out of your work clothes, throwing them carelessly on the floor. The damage was already done, what bad could your few clothes be then, right?

It was then, that Miwa finally picked up. “Oh hey, Y/n, whats up? I thought you were having some quality time with Kuroo?” You could hear loud voices talking in the back; she must have gone outside to answer your call.

“Yeah you know what? I thought so, too. Plan has changed, though. Where are you? Mind if I join you? I need a drink.”

“Are you alright, Y/n? You sound a little upset?”

“Miwa, for god’s sake, just tell me where you are so I can join you. I’m going to explode if I stay here any minute longer.”

You could hear Miwa sigh into the phone. “That bad, huh? We’re at our usual place.”

“Good, I’ll be there in twenty.” You hang up and throw your phone into the pillow and start rummaging through your closet, finding one of the dresses you like very much, but never actually wear, because it is actually very short. Well, fuck it, you think to yourself and put it on, together with your new high heels. Quickly freshening up your smudged make-up, you grab your keys and your clutch and brace yourself for your escape. Because that was exactly what you were doing: escaping from this whole mess.

Then, you unlock the door and push it open, marching straight for the door, which was, of course, blocked by your boyfriend, who was leaning against it and now eyeing you from head to toe. He probably had heard you talk to Miwa and taken his position at the door right away. He did not comment on your outfit though, having the good sense to know he was walking on very thin ice.

“Going somewhere?”

“I’m going out with my friends. At least I would like to, but someone is standing in the way. Do you mind?” You look up at him and give him one of your perfect angelic smiles as you try to squeeze through. Even though you were wearing your heels, your boyfriend was a goddamn giant and he somehow managed to still be taller, which was mildly frustrating at the moment.

He does not budge; not even an inch.

“Are we not going to talk about what is going on? Because something clearly is going on.”

“I’d actually rather go right now.”

Kuroo could basically feel the passive aggressive energy radiating from you, but still, he didn’t budge. He didn’t even have the chance to talk to you yet, what could he possibly have done to upset you so much that you could not even stand to be in the same room as him? It was a mystery to him.

“Y/n, please.” He reaches out a hand to brush a thumb against your cheek, because he knows how much you always enjoy these little affectionate gestures, but he stops right in his tracks, when he found you staring at him with barely withhold anger. He was surprised that you did not swat at his still outstretched hand.

“Move Kuroo, I mean it.” And when you try to squeeze through this time, he lets you.

You were rarely in such a bad mood and he knew when he needed to let you cool off, first. As you walk by him, he catches your wrist in the last second, holding you still for a moment. “At least send me a text when you get there, alright?” he whispers while brushing his thumb once over your veins and then lifting your hand up to press a soft kiss against the palm of it.

The urge to just turn around and press your head into your boyfriends’ chest right then was overwhelming, but you were still so mad that you stubbornly continued on your way, leaving Kuroo standing there, watching you go.

When he turns around to go back into the flat, he feels like a train hit him as he takes in the mess he made. “Oh fuck.” He groans as he ruffles his spiky hair, because how could he be so stupid. Of course you would be mad if you came home to such a mess. The worst part was, that he didn’t even contain his chaos in one room, no, he seriously fucked up the whole flat, which by second thought, you had probably cleaned just hours before. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Your foul mood suddenly made sense to him. Groaning again, he closes the door behind him and goes to the kitchen. He better gets rid of this whole mess before you come home later. But first, he wants to apologize. Fishing out his phone out of his joggers, he opens the chat with you and freezes all over again. There it was, black on white. Dinner later, Tetsu? We can order from your fav restaurant if you like ♥

Oh sweet fucking hell, he was the biggest douche in the whole wide world. How could he forget that you two wanted to eat together? “Ah shit.”

He types out a quick message to you. Y/n I’m so sorry. I’m the biggest idiot in the world. You can punch me later if you still feel like it. I sure as hell deserve it. Pls text me when you get there safely. I love you.

Kuroo really wants to kick his own ass in that moment. You were always so good to him, going out of your way to make the time you got to spend together as pleasurable as possible, taking time where you actually had none to spare and just simply spoiling him in any way possible and this was how he treated you? He didn’t even kiss you when you got home, which was funny, because it was one of the only thoughts in his head, besides volleyball this whole past week. The feeling of your soft lips against his.

He was not surprised that he didn’t get a message back, but he still unmuted his phone, just in case you called him when you had enough and wanted to go home.

Then he starts cleaning up his mess.

You on the other hand nearly arrived at the bar where you and your friends usually met up once a month to keep in touch. You already regretted wearing your new heels. As you turned the next corner, you could already spot the bar and with it, a whole lot of people standing outside at high tables. Your friends amongst one of them.

“Hey ladies”, you call out as you get closer. “Long time no see.”

Fighting a smile to your face, you found your place right next to Miwa, who gently nudges you in the side.

“Stop that grimace and tell us what happened.”

Alisa, who was standing in front of you, just reaches over the table, takes your hand in hers and squeezes it softly.

“Actually, I think I’d rather have a drink first”, you moan.

One drink followed the next and your friends realized later, that they probably should have stopped you after your 5th cocktail or so. Which they didn’t, because you spilled your heart out to them, nearly crying a few times, which was rare to see, because usually you managed to keep your cool in front of others, even your own friends. Moreover, the drink in your hand seemed to be the only thing holding you together. They were a little taken aback, too, because you usually were a very good drinker, and could handle alcohol very well; but by the time you went inside to dance and just bumped into stranger after stranger while trying to walk a straight line, they figured you probably had not eaten anything before coming here.

Miwa squinched up her face. “She’s gonna feel even worse tomorrow. We should probably get her home.”

Alisa just nods, before sprinting in your direction as she witnessed you tumbling into a group of men, of which one luckily caught you in his arms, before you hit the floor, but then couldn’t keep his hands to himself. You just laughed, not realizing what was going on and not feeling the hand, currently sneaking up your leg. Everything looked dizzy and swayed and you felt a little funny in the head. Vaguely you realize that Alisa was arguing with the man who stopped your fall and then her face popped up in front of you, asking you were your phone was.

You look at her irritated, not quite understanding what she wanted.

“C’mon y/n, where is your goddamn phone.”

“My clutch?”

Miwa suddenly popped up next to you, steadying you and gently guiding you to an abandoned empty chair. “Sit.”

Alisa rummaged through your clutch, only to find your purse and your house keys…but no phone.

“Your phone is not in here y/n. Are you sure it was in your clutch?” she looks at you questioningly, with her big green eyes, which were all you could focus on. She always looks so pretty.

„Focus y/n!“

You thought back to when you left the flat… “I think I …left it on the bed”, you mumble, eyes suddenly growing very heavy. Leaning heavily against Miwa, your head lolls against her shoulder. You inhale deeply. Miwa always managed to smell so good; you wonder how she does it. The girls just shared a concerned look. You couldn’t even sit upright on that damn chair, how were they supposed to get you home.

“We need to call Kuroo”, Miwa states, while brushing some strands of hair out of your face. You didn’t seem to notice.

“That was my plan. But I don’t have his number… do you?” Miwas face was answer enough. That’s when Saeko popped up next to them. “Hey girls, I made it after all.” She grinned happily at all of you. “What’s wrong with this one here, though?” She nudges you in the side, which was rewarded with a lazy grunt from you and a silent curse from Miwa as you tipped dangerously to the side.

“Is she drunk!? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drunk. What happened?” Saeko seemed mildly concerned, which leads to Miwa and Alisa freaking out a little. Saeko usually doesn’t show concern, so it must be just as bad as they imagined.

“Do you have Kuroos number?” Alisa asked her without answering her question in return, not letting her eyes stray from your face, as you looked ghostly white at the moment and started mumbling random things under your breath.

“No? But you have? Right?”

They both shake their heads. Saeko sighs and mumbles something under her breath, which rather sounded, like ‘I should’ve just gone straight home’, before facing Alisa.

“Call your brother then. He must have his number.”

“Oh my god, Saeko you are a genius.”

“Thanks, I know.”

With another concerned look your way, Alisa left your side to go outside and call her brother. She just hoped he would pick up, since it was already the middle of the night.

Meanwhile Kuroo was sitting on the couch, worriedly glancing at the clock all few seconds and constantly brushing his fingers through his hair. No wonder you hadn’t texted him back, he had found your phone lying on his pillow as he had made the bed again. This meant, you were out, with no phone and no means to contact him if something was wrong. He didn’t like that one bit. The worst part was that he couldn’t even blame someone for it, besides himself. This was his fault and he knew it all too well. Scratching at his scalp, he tried to calm down a bit. He knew you could take care of yourself; your small figure belied the strength you actually had, but still. There was always a chance that something happened. So when his phone started ringing he answered it in seconds, without even looking who was calling first. It just had to be you, right?

“Y/n?” he nearly yelped in the phone.

“No, this is Lev.”

Kuroo nearly lost it then, breathing heavily and punching the pillow right next to him, he thought he was going to combust any second.

“What is it Lev? It’s the middle of the night!”

“Yeah, I know, I was sleeping until my sister called me.” Now that he mentioned it, Kuroo could hear the slight strain in Levs voice, as if he had just gotten up.

“It’s about y/n, though. They are worried and would like you to come and pick her up. Apparently she didn’t have her phone with her and got stupidly drunk.” He paused. “…did you have a fight? Are you alright?”

Kuroo swallowed.

“Just tell me where they are, please.” And so Lev does.

“Tell your sister I’ll be there soon… and thank you, Lev. Sorry that you got involved in this.”

“Yeah, yeah. G’night.” with that, he just hung up on Kuroo, probably eager to get into bed again. Kuroo couldn’t even blame him for that, he was tired, too, but he swore he wouldn’t go to bed before you got home safely.

He gets up, just grabs his wallet, keys and his sweater and was out the door in seconds, running all the way to the bar. Never before had it been so bad, that your friends were concerned about you. You had always gotten home on your own, or were sober enough to just give him a call, or get a taxi. Your alcohol tolerance was quite high, too, but alas, you hadn’t eaten today. That was probably the problem.

Alisa spotted him from afar and just starts waving. She was impressed at how fast he was, it hadn’t even been 10 minutes since the call. When she saw him up close though, she realized that he was sweating and breathing hard. He must have run the whole way here.

“Jeez, Kuroo you look like you might pass out any second.”

“Thanks, it’s nice to see you, too Alisa. Now, where is she?”

He didn’t even look Alisa in the face, his eyes scanning the crowd around them, searching for your face.

“Inside. C’mon.”

He follows her tall blonde form through the masses, until she stops in front of a chair. An empty chair. He could barely hear her curse under her breath.

Kuroos head snaps up, when he could hear a commotion start on the dance floor.

There you were, the hands of some random stranger draped across you, while you danced as if you didn’t even notice. Which of course, you didn’t. Not really. You just enjoyed the lights and the music and silently swayed to the rhythm of it, being a little surprised that the world suddenly didn’t seem so shaky anymore. Your back felt warm, too, which was at the same time pleasant and very unpleasant at once. Something somehow felt wrong, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. You were just happy that you somehow managed to get yourself drunken enough, to stop thinking about how little your boyfriend seemed to care about you.

Kuroos eyes wander to the two females next to you, desperately trying to pry the hands off that damn stranger of your dancing form, but they were both so small compared to the guy, it was useless.

He lost it the moment said stranger seemed to thrust his hips into your back. Miwa and Saeko spotted him just the second he lunged at the person, shoving him away.

“Get your filthy hands off of my girlfriend!”

The guy of course didn’t like being handled that way and was in Kuroos face the very next instance. “What’s your problem man? It didn’t seem to me that she didn’t like it.”

Miwa winced. She had seen Kuroo lose his cool once before, and it hadn’t ended very well for the other dude. He had him up by his collar at once, sneering in his face “she’s so drunk she probably doesn’t even remember her own name and you want to tell me she liked it?” He shook the stranger, muscles flexing under his T-Shirt.  “Get the fuck out of my eyes.”

With that, he shoves him so hard that the guy loses his balance and falls face down onto the dance floor.

Your world had become very wobbly again, as soon as the somewhat steadying hands had left your hips. Tumbling to the side, you were caught in strong arms again. Your boyfriend’s arms.

“C’mon kitten, we’re going.”

“Wha-? Kuroo?” Were you hallucinating now? “No I don’t want to go. I want to dance.” You wind your way out of his arms, only to stagger once again.

Kuroo exhales once again and tries to pull himself together, looking at your friends who all watch you with deep worry in their eyes. “How much exactly did she drink?”

Alisa nervously twirls her hair around her finger, not wanting to look him in the eyes. Your boyfriend could be scary, especially if he was worried about you. “Don’t know… I kinda lost count after her 5th cocktail or so… she might have had some drinks on the dance floor, too.”

Kuroo breathes in deeply, watching you as you tried to dance, which was actually just staggering from one side to the other, trying not to fall on your face. He was low key impressed that you had not already broken your ankles in those heels. Trying to remain calm and reminding himself that in fact, this was his fault and he couldn’t get angry with anybody else, he sighs again, starts fumbling in his pocket to get his wallet out and pushes some money in Alisas hand.

“Here, for her drinks. I’m pretty sure she didn’t pay for them herself, did she? Well, never mind. We are going now. Thanks for reaching out to me.”

And with that, he appears next to you again, draping his sweater around your hips to keep your very short dress from flashing anyone, before crouching down and just throwing you over his shoulder.

“Hey, what the hell!? KUROO! Put me down, I don’t want to go!” you slur, as he starts to push his way through the crowd.

“Good thing I’m not asking then.”

Your friends watch as your boyfriend singlehandedly maneuvers you two outside, sighing in unison as you leave the club.

“Wow. That was intense”, Saeko deadpans.

Miwa nods. “He was so calm, though? The last time I saw someone touch y/n with Kuroo around, the guy had a broken nose afterwards. I was a little scared for a second there.”

“He must have been really worried. Lev told me he seemed really agitated, which is rare for him. He’s usually very composed.”

They sigh in unison again. “We better call her tomorrow and ask if she’s alright”, Miwa states, to which the others all nod. Saeko starts grinning a moment later. “I’m pretty sure Kuroo is gonna take good care of her now, so let’s not worry. The night is still young.” She throws her arms around the waists of her friends and pulls them all in direction of the dance floor.

 Meanwhile your world shakes violently with every step your boyfriend makes and your hair was jumping in tact with it. His shoulder blade pressed very uncomfortably into your stomach. You could feel the warmth radiating from his hand at the back of your knee, where he gripped you softly to keep you steady.

You hadn’t spoken to him since he had thrown you over his shoulder and just marched out of the bar. In fact, you felt a little ashamed. It had been years since you had gotten so drunk you could barely stand. It was a mystery to you, how he even knew where you were.

Another step, another bounce, another uncomfortable press against your roaring stomach. You clutch your hands into the hem of Kuroos shirt, trying to steady yourself a bit, inhaling his familiar smell and focusing on that, instead of the turmoil in your stomach and your head.

Kuroo of course feels you clench fistfuls of his shirt and slows down a bit, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Kitten, you alright there?”

The fresh air had sobered you up quite a bit and you were fully aware of the gentle grip your boyfriend had on you, same as the every so often brush of his thumb across your thigh.

Since you didn’t answer, he just presses a quick kiss to your leg and then continues on his way, a little more slowly, but still persistent. You groan, as the nauseous feeling in your stomach got overwhelming. Not only that, but you could also feel your feet burning and hurting. Those heels were really not the best choice for tonight.

“Y/n?” he stops once more and tries to look over his shoulder again.

“First of all Kuroo, I’m still mad at you, secondly I feel like I might puke any minute if your shoulder is gonna press in my stomach again and last of all, my feet hurt.”

It occurred to you that you were whining, but how could you not? Today has been hell and now everything hurts and you couldn’t even just press your head into your boyfriends’ chest because you were supposed to be mad at him.

“Hold on a sec, hun.”

“I mean it Tetsu, I’m gonna puke.”

Kuroo smiles at that, not because it was fun to him that you had so much to drink that you felt like puking, but because you used his first name…which in conclusion meant you weren’t in fact as mad as you tried to be.

He could already see his target at the end of the street, so he just ignored you and walks on a few minutes longer.

“Ok, I’m going to put you down now, be ready.”

He slowly lets you slide down on his front, so that you were now standing in front of him. His hands were on your hips, steadying you slightly in case you still needed it. You wince as your feet hit the ground, your heels pressing against every sore spot on them. Kuroo could tell you were avoiding looking in his face, even though he stood right in front of you.

Sighing, he puts his slender index finger under your chin and lifts your head up, so you had no choice but to look at him. “I’m sorry Y/n, I was a total dick earlier and I didn’t even realize it. But for now, can we ignore that so that I can take care of you properly? Please?”

Damn it, it wasn’t fair. As you look into his catlike, earnest eyes, so full of love and concern for you, you could already feel your anger melt away. “You’re the worst, Tetsu.” Your words significance was betrayed by the fact that you leaned your head against his shoulder the exact same instance and inhaled deeply. He chuckles deeply at that and presses a soft kiss against your neck, holding you a little while longer.

“Sit down here for a bit kitten, I will be right back.” He guides you to a bench right in front of the 24/7 he had aimed for, noticing you were still very unsteady on your feet and actually limping now. After you sat down, he squats down in front of you and takes your foot in his hands. “Let me see.” He slowly peels off your shoes and inhales sharply through his teeth. “Damn hun, you really butchered your feet.” You decided you didn’t even want to see it and just wriggled your toes at the new found freedom.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back”, and with that he rushes into the store behind you.

After a few minutes, you feel something cold against your cheek. “Here, drink.”

You take the bottle of water out of his hands, suddenly feeling very thirsty and drink a few mouthfuls, as he squats down in front of you again, inspecting your feet once more, before applying patches at the worst spots. When he was finished, he just looks up at your exhausted form in front of him, bracing his hands on your knees, his thumbs already drawing gentle patterns across your skin. It seemed cold to you suddenly and you shiver, which leads to Kuroo taking off the sweater he had put around your waist and pulling it over your head.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.” He grabs your shoes, and turns around, squatting again in front of you, his back muscles flexing under the shirt as he motions for you to get on. With a sigh you did exactly that. No way in hell would you walk the next 10 minutes home on your own two feet. You put your arms around his neck and try a weak little jump to get on his back, which was rewarded with an amused chuckle by your boyfriend. Luckily, he caught your legs just fine and adjusted you on his back with a little wiggle, so that he now could give you a proper piggyback ride home.

“Y/n?” he asks as you got closer and closer to your home, already walking up the stairs to your shared flat.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”                            

Ah damn that bastard really knew how to play you. Even though you could feel your insides warm up at that, you thought he could feel bad a little more, so you didn’t comment on it, as he puts the key in the locker and opens the door.

The moment he switched the light on, though, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Ah fuck Tetsu, I love you, too. Asshole.” That made him laugh in return. It seems like he had cleaned the whole flat after you rushed out to drink yourself stupid.

“I realized why you were so mad the moment I turned around to go back in here”, he confesses and slowly lets you down from his back. “And as I said before, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was a total douchebag.” He comes to stand in front of you and puts your face into his hands. “Can you forgive this asshole?”

You punch his chest in return. “Stop being cute!”

“Can you forgive me? Pleaseee?”

He actually pouts as he squishes your cheeks, already knowing he had won. You tried to fight the smile that wanted to spread on your face at the ridiculous show of your huge boyfriend pouting in front of you, but you fail miserably.

“Just kiss me already, idiot.”

So he did, his one hand sliding from your cheek to your neck, as his lips press against yours in a feather light touch. Your own hand finds its way into his hair at once, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, as the other steadies you against his hips. He sighs contentedly in the kiss, brushing his lips against yours as he mumbles “I missed you so much”, before kissing you again, this time a little more hungrily. Your lips move eagerly against each other and after a little while, you feel his tongue grace against your lips, which makes you shudder. Your knees started feeling dangerously wobbly again. Luckily, he had already pulled you flush against him and now lifted you up by putting his hands under your ass to carry you to the bedroom, where he gently lays you down on the bed, before slowly climbing on top of you.

You smile fondly at his expression as he kisses you repeatedly, every kiss getting a little rougher than the last one, moving your lips in time with his and then there was his tongue, finally in your mouth. He could still taste the alcohol on your lips.

When he finally breaks away from you, you were both panting. Your hands were gripping his shirt greedily and you were already pulling him down on you again, wanting more. God his kisses gave you life.

“I’m not sure we should go there today, kitten, as much as I’d like to. You’re still very much drunk, and I’d like you to feel and remember all of what I plan to do to you.”

He smirks and plants another kiss on your lips, teeth grazing teasingly against them as he did so, then snorting at the bewildered and somewhat outraged look you gave him when he pulled away. You were clawing at his biceps the moment he starts to get up from you, trying to pull him down again and groaning when you realized you were going to lose against his strength.

“Tetsuro”, you moaned in a last attempt to get him back to you, which made him freeze on the spot. “Wow you’re mean, kitten, but still no.”

And with that, he simply helps you get out of his sweater and your dress, always swatting your grabbing hands away, before he manhandles you into the bathroom to get you ready for bed.

You were getting pissed at him again, because first, he got you hot and bothered and then he didn’t want to do something about it. How rude. That would get him payback, you swore to yourself.

Still, not even your naked form had him thinking twice about his choice, he simply wrangles one of his tees over your head and pulls you flush against him in your shared bed, having a death grip on you, so you couldn’t even move around, as much as you tried.

“Sleep now kitten, and then maybe tomorrow I’ll give you what you want so desperately right now.”

He runs a hand down your side teasingly and you could feel his smile against your forehead at the way your body quivers against him.

“On second thought, I think I’m not able to forgive you yet, you are actually the worst”, you mumble against his chest. He only acknowledges this with another kiss against your forehead. Still, somehow your boyfriend had made the right call, because it only took you seconds to fall asleep in his warm embrace. 

He watches your sleeping form on his chest fondly, pressing little kisses to your face from time to time and thinking to himself, that he deserves a price for self-control, because he seriously had not wanted to restrain himself at all.

Groaning, he presses another kiss to your face as he sleepily mumbles, “I love you, Y/n.” before squishing you even more against his chest. This was what he had longed for all week after all, he thought to himself, as he tried to ignore the bulge in his pants. This was going to be an extremely long and very torturous night for him… he just hopes he would fall asleep just as fast as you did. Morning could not come fast enough…

[gardenia-angel]

Chapter 3

𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓮 𝓜𝓮 𝓝𝓸𝔀

A few hours later I was sitting on the couch. One of my hands handcuffed to the arm of the couch and my other was softly petting a cat that was resting in my lap. I should’ve expected that they weren’t going to completely untie me. They’re trained assassins, that would be dumb of them. I probably would’ve tried to escape anyway. Axel had also put the gag back over my mouth. I guess we weren’t on the level of asking personal questions.

The day just kept getting weirder. Axel had taken off his clothes and was now cooking in the kitchen in just his underwear, a white t-shirt, and a pink apron. What could be weirder than that?! I asked myself. Lo and behold, Otto and Oscar stood face to face in front of me. I watched with perplexed look upon my face. Otto had a knife in his hand, ready to throw. Keeping his eyes on Oscar, he threw the knife in one swift motion. The knife barely missing his foot by an inch. My brows furrowed in confusion as I stayed silent and continued to watch. Oscar picked up the knife and did the same thing. Although this time the knife actually could be seen penetrating Ottos thigh. My eyes widened at the amount of blood that started to pour out. “What the hell?!” I tried to say but it only came out as a muffled noise. They both looked at me a little alarmed, but not even fazed about the blood.

Oscar finally got what I had said and tsked his tongue. “Oh he’s fine, right Otto?”

Otto removed the knife with no effort and nodded to Oscars question. It made me wonder what era they were from, seeing that this is their way of passing time and also I noted their very outdated clothes.

In an instant, it was like I had vertigo. I was thrown into another vision. The three brothers were in a cornfield. Vanya was also in the cornfield. She seemed to be running away from them. In another moment, Axel was about to shoot her but Vanya has sent them flying backwards with her powers.

The vision had come to an end and I was back in my reality. “Are you ok?” Oscar had asked. Axel was about to come and investigate what was wrong but a ‘woosh’ sound could be heard coming from the cupboard. He opened the small door revealing a tube with a message inside. Oscar and Otto came up behind him to see what the message from Commission was.

I already knew what the message was. A picture of Vanya and her coordinates. To get their attention I decided to try speaking again, knowing that they wouldn’t be able to understand what I was saying. So they would have no choice but to take off the gag. Otto came and took it off of me. “Thank god, finally!”

“What were you saying?” Axel asked.

“The message you got from the Commission, it’s about Vanya isn’t it?” They looked at each other, which made me certain that it’s true. “Listen, you shouldn’t go. Vanya’s more powerful than you think!” I continued.

“It doesn’t matter. We have orders.” Axel said before going back to the kitchen. Otto went to the freezer to get ice for his leg while Oscar took the seat next to me and began playing with another cat. When Otto opened the freezer door, I gasped. Sitting inside was the head of the lady that lived here. I turned away quickly, directing my attention to the cat Oscar played with. “I’m gonna be sick.” I mumbled. Oscar turned, seeing the head in the freezer too? “What? Just a head..” He shrugged.

“Just a head!” I scoffed.

Axel had finished making their dinner. He set their plates on the table then came over to me and tried handing me a plate. The smell of fish almost made me gag. “You know, I may not remember who I am but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t a seafood person.” I laughed lightly while trying to block the smell by pinching my nose. Axel still had the plate out for me to grab. Geez I wonder when he’ll loosen up. I shook my head and pushed the plate back towards him. “I appreciate it but no thank you. I’ll pass..”

“You can’t just eat nothing!” Axel said while going over to the table to give his brothers the fish, which they happily took.

“If I’m not mistaken, I think you’re sassing me!” I said in the same tone as him. Oscar and Otto looked at each other after I said that. Axel, taken aback by my words, turned back to me and scoffed. “You’re being difficult..” He grumbled.

“Maybe if you wouldn’t keep me chained, you’d see that I’m not so much of a pain.” I countered, crossing one of my arms around my waist and tilting my head. He narrowed his eyes in thought. “So what you’re saying is you’ll cook for yourself?”

“Yeah I will if I’m hungry but right now I’m not...I’d much rather take a shower..” I mumbled the last part. Axel gave me a funny look, not knowing what to say. “You are going to allow me to shower right?!” I hated this. It felt as though I was being treated like a child.

This time Otto spoke up. But this time they spoke amongst each other in Swedish. I internally groaned. What the hell was being said this time? They didn’t appear to be saying anything bad about me, otherwise they probably would be laughing and smirking. But they sounded serious.

“Fine.” Axel said when he turned back to me. I smiled. “You know I think we will learn to get along very well with each other..” I said as he unlocked the handcuffs. I stood and walked over to the hall entrance. “And don’t worry, I won’t try to escape.” I turned to say. I walked calmly away until I wasn’t in their vision then bolted down the hallway to the bathroom. It wasn’t that hard to find. There were four rooms. Three of them being bedrooms and one being the bathroom. As soon as I shut the door I went straight up to the window. A clever smirk on my face as I pulled the curtains apart.

“Fuck.”

It was a single hung window which was the type that only opens up a few inches. Not enough room for anyone to fit through. I guess a shower really wasn’t such a bad idea anyways. As I showered, I thought about what was happening with the Hargreeves siblings. I wondered if Five was worried that I disappeared. He probably isn’t though. I was just a burden that was thrown into a story that’s not even mine. But how do I know this isn’t my story? Or maybe I was just in the afterlife. Some weird afterlife if you ask me.

Once I was done, I felt a million times better. I was refreshed and ready to make peace with the Swedes. Or at least try to be on civil terms with them. I still thought it was a bad idea for them to go on their mission. I tried to think of things to get them to stay but no solid statement could come to mind.

I looked down at my pile of clothes. They were absolutely filthy. Both my pants and my shirt were covered in dirt and grime. My shirt also having the smell of sweat and the slight metallic scent of blood. It made me gag. I never knew my clothes would ever smell that bad. I had a decision to make. I either put these clothes back on or I can try to find something to wear in one of the rooms. Leaving the bathroom was a risk I was willing to take. I opened the door slowly as to not make a creak and peaked my head out. The coast was clear, they seemed to still be in the living room. I quickly tiptoed into the nearest room. I turned the light on to see better and took a look around. If I had to guess this was the landlady’s room. Opening the closet I took out a sleeveless dress with a multi colored checkered pattern. Oh yeah this was definitely the sixties. The dress itself was too big compared to my frame. I put it back in its place and made my way into the next room. This room had a slight teenager-ish vibe to it. To put it simple, the walls were slight darkish pink but covered in posters and the furniture and decor were a light cotton candy pink. I walked over to a vanity and picked up a notepad that sat on top. “Packing for college checklist.” I whispered. The lady must’ve had a daughter who just recently went to college. Well I hope she doesn’t mind if I raid her closet.

With that in mind I opened her closet. She barely had any dresses in here, at least none that I would feel comfortable wearing, so I went to take a look in her drawers. I picked out a pair of high waisted plaid pants and a white sleeveless button up top. When I went to close one of the drawers it had gotten slightly stuck. For a moment I had forgotten where I was and went ahead forced it shut with a loud bang. ‘Oh shit they had to have heard that!’ I thought to myself in a panic. I stayed quiet to see if I could hear any footsteps. Within a few moments someone could be heard coming down the hall. I was still wrapped up in a towel and didn’t have the time to change before one of them came. I dashed to the door to shut it all the way before anyone could come in. I closed it with a slam and reached down to lock it, yet there was no lock to be found. “Shit, shit, shit!” I said in a hushed tone as I held my body to the door. One of them tried to open it but found that the door knob wouldn’t budge. “Huh? What are you doing in there?!” Came the angry voice of Axel. He banged on the door. “No! D-Don’t come in!” My strength was no match for his and he was able to push the door open. I took a few steps back and mentally prepared myself for the embarrassment I was about to endure. I turned my head down to the side and winced as I held on to the towel wrapped around me tightly. “What do you think you’re. . oh. .” His voice started off furious but it quickly trailed off. I could feel my face flush as I tried to regain my composure and look at him. He looked absolutely confounded and lost for words. “Uh —umm..” I was also lost for words but I at least broke the silence making him snap out of it and avert his eyes away. He stepped back through the doorway. “Uh, sorry.” Was all he said before closing the door gently. I put my hand up to my my mouth to keep myself from the burst of nervous laughter that wanted to come out. I had mixed feelings of uneasiness, shock, and giddiness. What just happened?!

I quickly changed into the new clothes, not wanting to ponder on the thought much longer, and walked into the living room like nothing happened. They three were loading up guns. They looked up as I entered the room. I put my hands on my hips as I looked at each of them. “You’re still gonna go? Even after what I told you!” Axel looked at me, his eyes lingering for a second before turning to Oscar and saying something in Swedish.

Was it bad that I wanted him to look at me again the way he did earlier?

Oscar made his way over to me and pulled me towards the couch, once again hand cuffing me to it. “You guys don’t believe me, do you?” I sighed as I stared at the wall in front of me. None of them spoke until they were about to walk through the door.

“Even if we did believe you, we still have to do our job.” Axel said before shutting the door behind him.

As I sat there on the couch, the cat from earlier had come up to me again and sat in my lap. “I may not have known them for long . . but I worry for them.” I said softly to the cat, who stared up at me while purring. “Yeah, maybe I will be able to help them. Maybe that’s why I’m here?”

A few hours passed by before I stirred awake again, the cat still sitting with me. I looked at a clock that read ‘1:11 am’. They still weren’t back yet and I wondered what could be happening. As if on queue, one by one walked inside. Their shoulders were slumped and their eyes looked tired. Oscar has a gash the side of his head that was bleeding slightly. Otto has some fresh cuts on his face. “What happened?” I questioned. I knew something was going to go wrong.

Axel was the last to walk in, his face contorted in pain. He took off his coat, his whole sleeve was soaked in blood from a wound on his arm. I gasped softly at the sight of it. I’ve seen so much blood in such a short time. I wondered if it was always like this for me.

Axel rolled up his sleeve revealing a bullet wound. A feeling, almost like and instinct, took over and before I could stop myself, I spoke up. “You guys looks awful! Un cuff me and let me help.”

They all looked at me with their same expression of surprise and suspicion. “Please . . Let me help you.” I said slowly and earnestly. They gave in with little hesitation. Once I was freed I asked Otto, him being the least injured to go find some washcloths and other medical supplies. I went ahead and helped Oscar first. The cut on his head wasn’t too bad, it just needed to be cleaned up. He smiled and thanked me for helping. He stood from the chair to leave the room. “Careful with Axel he may bite.” Oscar joked before disappearing into the hall. I felt my face heat up as I turned to Axel. He had his face in his hand, shaking his head slightly.

“Well anyways..” I said trying to get back to the task at hand. I cleaned the wound up as much as I could. “It looks like you need stitches.” I told him. He nodded for me to go ahead.

“Why are you being kind to us?” He asked as I began stitching.

“I’m not sure.” I said after a moment. I didn’t really know how to answer his sudden questions. “Maybe because you decided not to kill me.” I said with a small smile. I finished up and we stayed sitting there on the couch. “And I feel as though there’s . . Something more to you guys than what’s on the surface.”

“What’s on the surface?”

“Cold hearted assassins that work for the Commission.” I said without a second thought.

“And the ‘something more’?” He asked. His aura seemed to be more at ease and not so tense around me anymore, making me feel more relaxed.

“I don’t know yet . . But I’d like to find out.” I replied in the same soft tone.

“You’re very different.” He said and smiled to that. We sat there in comfortable silence for a while. I felt myself become more tired again and soon my head leaned to the side and I fell back asleep.

“Thank you . .” Axel whispered before falling asleep as well.

❤️Tags : @koelu-chan @gorgeourrific-nerd

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #323

“dehumanized upon a shell  /  we came to bleed it dry  /  obsessed with divine wealth  /  divide and multiply”

Have you ever drawn on someone’s face while they were sleeping? No. Would you scuba dive in shark infested waters if you had the chance? No thanks. What is your favorite slow song? There are so many, but one of the slowest and most beloved of mine is "Obstacles" by Syd Matters. It gives me goosebumps without fail. It's one song I know I want at my hypothetical wedding. If there were aliens on earth, would you be afraid? I mean, yeah. I'd want to know their intentions. If your best friend died, would you be able to speak at their funeral? It'd be extremely difficult, but if I had any say in it, I absolutely would. Do you enjoy going through old pictures? Sometimes. Other times it causes too much pain, depending on the pictures, of course. Do you tend to have a lot of drama in your life? Definitely not. My life is painfully uneventful. When’s the last time someone was disappointed in you? I don't know. Do you have a house phone? No. Which fast food place do you eat at the most? McDonald's. Have you ever met someone on the Internet in real life? Yep. What’s your favorite color to wear? Black. Do you like being in pictures? No. Do you travel a lot? Essentially never, even though I'd love to. Do you play any sports? No. Do you like pickles? Yesssss. How many times have you been kicked out of a store? Never. Is there things you’ve told someone that you’ve NEVER told anyone else? Probably. When was the last time you had alcohol? My birthday dinner last month. Are you one to often make typos? No, except when I'm texting. I have autocorrect on for a reason. On a hot day, would you rather prefer ice cream or a popsicle? Ice cream. Have you ever wanted to get drunk and get your mind off everything? Yes, but I just didn't want to drink anymore at one point. I'm far from a lightweight, apparently. Have you played cards recently? No. Is there a band you like with amazing music but a bad vocalist? Mother Mother immediately comes to mind, but not the main singer; he's great. The woman who occasionally joins in is fucking horrendous. Like, it hurts my ears. Is there a certain song you like to headbang to? I don't and never have really headbanged, surprisingly. It's a sure-fire way to make me dizzy. Anything you might be giving up on soon? I hope not... Sometimes I feel like it's time with photography, but I just. Can't. Have you ever captured a moth? I've raised a caterpillar into one before, then of course let it go. Is there a band/artist who has strange lyrics but you love them anyway? Otep, noteably. When was the last time you wore earrings? It's been a long time. How many pairs of heels do you own? I don't think I have any. When was the last time you changed your picture on Facebook? Uhhhh it's been at the very least a month, but I know more. Would you consider yourself to be physically strong? Absolutely not, especially my legs. I struggle to fucking walk because they're so weak. Have you ever painted a piece of furniture? Yes, actually. I helped Jason paint his shelf black. Do you have a really fat cat? No, we never have. We've always been good about keeping our pets at a healthy weight. Do your initials spell a word? No. When was the last time you went to a playground? A year or so ago when I was taking pictures of someone's son, as well as just general family photos. That same family just had another baby the other day. Have you ever made a business card for yourself? No. Do you have a favorite curse word in a different language? No. Are there any recipes you have memorized? No. Do you know your multipication times tables? Lol not most of them, no... It's been way too long. Do you have a favorite font on the computer? Of the basic ones, probably Garamond. Are you good at creating logos? *shrugs* I've only ever really made my photography watermarks, and I only JUST made one I like pretty well. How about catch phrases? I don't make those. Have you ever been severely burned? Not severely, no. Did you ever dream that you had a baby? I've actually had numerous dreams where I was pregnant, but I don't THINK I've had one where the baby was born yet. Do you or anyone you know have a rabbit? No. What was the weirdest thing you ever saw cross the road? Hm, nothing too weird, I think. Last song you got stuck in your head? "ALTÆR" by 3TEETH. Last song you listened to? ^ Favorite movie quote? I don't know. Maybe Rafiki's quote about the past hurting, but you should take that opportunity to learn. Favorite lyric? That is impossible. There are so, so very many that just like slather me in goosebumps. What magazine are you an avid reader to? None. Have you ever gone a full day without interacting with another person? I have. How many relationships have you been in that lasted less than a year? Four. Have you ever been significantly more physically fit than you are now? Man, take me the hell back to my WiiFit days. I was pretty damn fit. The last time I did it, it was seriously alarming how much I struggled doing things that were once pretty effortless. When growing up, did you parents keep the house very tidy? "Very" seems a bit too much, but Mom definitely kept it in order. How many watches do you own? None. Should teenagers be allowed to have their cell phones with them in class? Yes. Emergencies happen. Do you have any gay relatives? Yes; my mom has a cousin who's gay. Have you unfollowed, deleted, or blocked anyone on social media recently? Not recently, no. If so, what was the reason? ^ What’s the biggest financial mistake you’ve ever made? Oh, y'know, dropping out of college three fucking times. Once I pay my own bills and I truly understand finances, that's going to fucking wreck me. Do you like metal music? Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck yeah. If so, what sub-genres of metal do you like the best? Heavy and symphonic. Who was the last person you sincerely thanked? My mom for bringing home lunch recently. Have you ever been in a relationship where there was a large difference in maturity levels? No. What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed as a guest at someone’s house? Maybe like a month when I was technically homeless? How bad was your acne when you were a teenager? It was preeeetty rough. Do you like strawberry shortcake? No. What’s the last you got out of the freezer? A microwavable breakfast bowl. Do you go on the computer or watch TV more? Guess. Explain why you are single: Because I'm a very, very underdeveloped "adult" that has very little clue what she's doing. At my age, I and any potential partner should want someone with direction. What feature do you usually get most complimented on? My hair. Has anyone ever accused you of being gay? Well, I'm bi. I had this weird therapist once in middle school though who asked if I was a lesbian... Idk why she did? What Facebook groups have you found the most helpful? I'm in an advanced ball python husbandry group, and while a lot of people there are utter, degrading elitists, they do have valuable information. Did you name all of your stuffed animals and dolls? I sure did as a kid. What would you have your bridesmaids wear? Probably black dresses, and I think it'd be really cool if I were to marry a woman, the bridesmaids wear checkered Converses colored into a rainbow pattern, or something like that. Where do you want to go on your honeymoon? I think Alaska, if it was a good time to see the Northern Lights. Are you sick right now? No, thankfully. Do you feel loved? Yes. Do you like your butt? Why or why not? God no. I have such a flat ass. Are you ashamed of your faith? I'm assuming by this you mean religion, in which case, I don't have one and am not ashamed of that. Has anyone ever tried to force their beliefs on you? Yes. Have you ever personally been a victim of homophobia? Again, I'm bisexual. I have never had a personal act of homophobia inflicted upon me, though. Have you ever been accused of being homophobic? Yes, because I was for most of my life. Fucking repulsive to remember. "Repulsive" is much too gentle a word, but yeah. It is so, so embarrassing to recall myself ever believing it was wrong because my then-religion said no-no. Do you think you’d be happier if you had a pet? I have two pets. I would be so, so lonely without any. :/ I've had pets my entire life. Who was the last person you went on a date with? Sara. How long has it been since that last time you went on a date? Like two or so years. Do you think babies are cute? They can be, but I usually don't find them all that cute, honestly. Especially newborns/very young infants. They're usually hideous. My youngest niece is actually the only newborn that I remember seeing that I thought was absolultely precious. What is your favorite style of pants? Ripped skinny jeans. Were you ever hospitalized as a little kid? No. Who was the last person who broke your heart? Jason. ^Do you still miss this person? I'm sure I always will to some degree. Do you have someone to talk to and share your secrets with? Sara more than anyone, but Mom, too. Is there someone you feel extra shy around? Just men in general. Have you been hurt more by friend break-ups or romantic break-ups? Romantic. Closest living thing to you? My snake's terrarium is against the opposite wall. She's in her hide. Would you rather drown or burn alive? Drown. You go unconscious first, so. And I'd assume it to be faster than burning alive. Also me no like hot. :'''( Who is the last person you got really pissed off with? My stepmother posted some ignorant bullshit on Facebook about how people blow out of proportion our "supposed" environmental crisis. I nearly deleted her right then and there. I take that shit seriously. Most of her beliefs drive me insane, honestly, but she's a wonderful person at heart, so I just bit my tongue. Who was the last member of the opposite sex you laid in a bed with? Girt. What type of sushi do you like to eat? Never tried it, don't want to. Was the last person you kissed physically attractive? Yes. Do you have any flowers in your room? No. Do you know anyone that owns horses? Yes. Well, I took pictures for her family, anyway. Do you know anyone who has road rage? Who? Jesus, yes. My little sister. Is your mom a big health freak or your dad? Or neither? Neither are "big" health freaks, especially not Dad when you consider he smokes and knows it'll be what kills him. My mom is diabetic though, so she's reasonably careful. Do you know anyone who wants to be the president one day? No. What kinds of chips are in the cupboards? We don't have any. Ma tries to keep snacks out of the house for both hers and my sake. If you were going out with your celebrity crush, what would you wear? OH BOY idk. I'd probably spend days planning the "perfect" thing. Do you have any friends who have naturally red hair? I do. Have you ever cried when a teacher retired? Yep, my band teacher. He was incredibly loved by literally everyone. Do you have your mom’s or dad’s eyes? Neither's. They both have brown eyes. What’s the best date movie? We gonna have a problem if you don't watch The Notebook w/ me if I have it on lmao. How long has your current best friend been your best friend? Many years now. (: Do you swear and yell while playing video games? I might swear under my breath, but I don't yell. Would you rather name your daughter Andrea or Eva? Andrea. If you were adopted, would you want to know? Yes. Do you know anyone who has grossly skinny eyebrows? I couldn't care less about someone's eyebrows. Do your pets chase after bugs? Oh yes, Roman certainly does. When’s the last time you were so excited you couldn’t sleep? Why? Hmmm... this actually happened recently, but I don't remember why... What is your mom’s favorite movie? I don't know, actually. I think it's some romance one. What TV family reminds you of your own family? None, really. Do you know anyone who always looks perfect? Who? One of my best high school friends Alon was like... just always pristinely beautiful, it seemed like. I haven't seen many pictures of her lately, but I'm sure that hasn't changed. Has anyone you know ever pulled the fire alarm in school, joking around? I think so once, yes. Who was the main character in the last book you read? A dragon named Sunny. Who are the last people you saw kiss? On the lips, I'm sure it woulda been my sister and her husband. Would you rather look at clouds or stars? Clouds, I think. Well, it would depend on their design, I guess, and time of day. When you get married, who will be the maid of honor/best man? Probably my mom. Does your best friend get along with their parents? She has a wonderful relationship with them. Have you ever been in a wedding? What were you? I was the fat, hideous, crying bridesmaid. ;x; Are you purposely hiding something from someone? No. What’s the most intimate thing you’ve discussed with a stranger? My suicide attempt with doctors. What, if anything, do you substitute for fries? I always get fries. Have you ever been in a building that was on fire? No. Are you in an argument with anyone right now? No. Have you ever written a poem for someone? Yes. Who’s the last person who cussed you out in anger? My grandmother. Who is the person you are closest to that you’ve meet online? Sara. Have you friended your parents on FB? Mom, yes. Dad doesn't have one. What’s the last tourist area you visited? Chicago. Mice or roaches? Mice are precious, meanwhile I hate roaches. Did you give or get any Valentines this year? No. Well, Mom bought me and my sisters each a delicious candy apple, if that counts? What’s your homepage? Google. Is there anyone whose grave you visit? No.

[searchingforstarss]

irondad prompt: accidental poisoning, peter whump? pleeease? love your writing! hope you enjoy your time away!

hi lovely anon!! this took me a little longer to do because it kind of got away from me and turned out a lot longer than i was thinking! i hope you like it because it’s not as whumpy as i originally intended but as soon as i saw accidental poisoning i couldn’t get this idea out of my head so here you go. i hope you enjoy :)) x

---

Morgan’s gleeful yells are the first thing Peter’s greeted to when he arrives at the lake house on a Friday afternoon.

“Peter’s here! Peter’s here! I can hear him!”

The six-year-old barrels through the living room and out onto the front porch, excitement practically radiating off her in waves.

No matter how many times they try to explain to her that it simply isn’t feasible for Peter to stay with them any more than two nights a week because he has school in the city, she whines about how long he’s been away whenever he arrives, without fail. Today is no different.

“You’re not allowed to stay away for that long anymore, I miss you too much,” she declares. “Daddy can’t do the right voices when he reads Harry Potter to me either. You’re wayy better.”

Petter grins broadly down at her, about to open his mouth to greet her properly, ask about her week at school and whether she learnt how to do fraction multiplication like she had excitedly told him that she was going to during their Wednesday night phone call. He can’t even get a word in edgeways though because before he can, Morgan is babbling on again in her same gleeful tone that Peter adores.

“I have a surprise for you!” she announces proudly, tugging him up the creaky porch steps with her smaller hand tucked inside his.

“Whoa, that’s cool. What is it?” Peter asks. He tries to hide the apprehension from his tone, because Morgan’s surprises always swing one of two ways.

He’ll either end up trying to pretend he isn’t choking up when she presents him with a hand drawn-picture and note or craft project that she made at school during their art hour. Or, he’ll end up as a victim to one of her latest ideas, experiments and schemes. Last week it was her determination to teach Peter how to roller-skate on the cul-de-sac a few blocks over, which ended in Morgan clumsily pressing an excess number of band-aids onto his scraped knees. The month before he ended up as a human canvas to entertain her desire to learn how to face paint (that was all-around just as much of a disaster as it sounds like it would be).

“You can’t know what it is, silly!” Morgan sing-songs, “you’ll ruin the surprise.”

“Silly me, of course,” Peter deadpans, but he’s ignored as she tugs him through to the kitchen as soon as he’s dumped his backpack on the couch.

“Surprise!” she exclaims as soon as they’re both in the room. She guestures excitedly towards a few slightly sad looking lumps of something drenched in icing and severed onto sticks. There are sprinkles as well, which look like they might have been a nice touch to cheer the entire thing up, had the majority of them not ended up scattered around the surrounding bench space.

“Daddy and I made cookie pops! Well, I made them, he just helped me use the big scary whisk-y thingy. They’re for Katie’s birthday party tomorrow because we all have to bring something yummy to eat, and Daddy wanted to do regular cookies but I told him that was boring. So we made these instead!”

“They look great, well done you guys,” Peter praises. Secretly, he’s almost certain that Tony was onto something with his suggestion. Cookies would have definitely been the safer option.

“I want you to try one! I saved the first one for you because I’m the best sister in the whole wide world.”

Peter eyes the pink ball of cookie dough being waved in his face dubiously, but Morgan’s creations often look worse than they actually are so he bites the bullet and accepts the treat that she’s thrusting towards him.

He takes a bite, partly because he’s being watched expectantly by large brown eyes and partly because he’s absolutely starving. He’s had a long day. Decathlon practice in the morning, AP classes back to back all afternoon and then the drive up here. Plus, he really wasn’t planning on Spider-Manning today, but there was a gas station robbery on the side of Interstate 87 that he pulled over to break up on his way because the man was threatening the poor guy behind the counter with a gun for a raspberry slushie, a hot dog and two packets of cigarettes and Peter had to intervene because that was just stupid on so, so many levels.

The shopkeeper gave him a free hot dog in return which he gladly scarfed down before he disappeared back out to his car, but that’s all he’s eaten since lunch. So as he chews Morgan’s baked concoction, he figures that the cookie dough is crumbly, sure, and maybe they went a little heavy with the icing sugar in the icing but Peter is so hungry that he thinks anything would probably taste good to him at this point.

Footsteps thud down the stairs, and Peter hears Tony’s voice before he sees him.

“Morgan, I swear if you’re force-feeding Peter. Your dear old brother doesn’t want any of our atrocious attempt at baking-“

Tony rounds the corner, eyes falling on Peter, mouth full of icing and cookie dough.

“Oh, I’m too late. Great.”

“Hey, Tony.”

“Hiya, Pete. Enjoying your snack?”

Peter carries on chewing on the food his mouth. “Mhmm. Definitely. Good job you guys.”

Tony shakes his head. “Nuh-uh, not a good job, not at all. I just got off the phone with Pepper, turns out you actually have to partially bake the cookie dough first. It honestly just seems like a lot of extra work if you ask me, but she’s the boss.”

“You’re starting again?” Peter asks.

“Yep, and since you’re here you can actually make yourself useful,” Tony snarks but there’s a fond smile on his face. Peter nods willingly. “Don’t just stand there then, kid. Grab the flour from the cupboard would you?”

Peter grins and turns to grab the flour like Tony requested. He doesn’t even have to think about it anymore, he knows exactly which shelf to reach for with the same sort of instinct that he has in his and May’s apartment.

(Even with all three of their hands on deck, the second round of cookie pops only end up looking mildly more appetizing than the first, but at least all of Morgan’s tiny friends won’t have uncooked, crumbly cookie dough forced on them so Tony claims it as a win - he’s never had the patience to deal with other kids’ whining parents anyway.)

---

Peter sleeps in the next morning, and the house is silent when he wakes. The first thing he notices is the way he’s shivering, even in the balmy morning sun streaming through his windows. There’s nausea as well, constantly threatening to make its way up his throat as it sits at the bottom of his stomach, churning and rolling uncomfortably,

The second thing he notices is a note sitting on his bedside table as he fumbles out one arm to grab his phone and check the time. Peter recognises Tony’s scrawl immediately.

Morning, sleepyhead. Gone to drop Morgan off to her party. Be home soon. T

He’s content to lie there for a while and wallow in his own misery and how dreadful he feels while he’s all alone in the house until his stomach lurches violently and he’s hauling himself out of bed, sweaty covers pooling around his feet. The room around him is spinning, but the singular thought occupying his hazy mind is get to the bathroom, Parker. Just make it to the damn bathroom.

He does, even though his legs are shaky underneath him, and he just manages to stumble through the open doorway of the bathroom and drop to his knees in front of the toilet. He doesn’t even register the pain that shoots through his knees and up his legs as he slams into the tile.

A charming mix of gas station hot dog, Morgan and Tony’s tragic attempt at a cookie pop and the lasagna Tony made for dinner last night ends up swimming at the bottom of the toilet bowl.

Gross.

“Peter?”

That’s his name. It sounds like it’s coming from somewhere down near his bedroom. He tries to call back, but acid coats his raw throat and he can’t seem to get the words out. He retches again, before dipping forward to lean up against the ceramic of the toilet.

“Peter, oh, there you are-” Tony begins, but he drops off as Peter sees him appear around the corner of the bathroom door and take in the scene in front of him. “What’s going on?”

He blinks up at Tony through cloudy eyes.

“Think ‘m sick.”

“I thought you couldn’t even get sick?”

Peter tries to give a coherent answer, he thinks, but all that comes out is a whine. He looks up at Tony, eyes pleading. He’s not sure what he’s asking for, really. He just wants someone to make it better.

“Okay, okay, got it. That’s not really the point right now.”

Peter isn’t quite sure what he’s expecting as Tony hovers around the doorway. He wants comfort, he wants Tony, but he doesn’t dare to move far from the toilet.

“Oh, shit. Kid, you actually ate that garbage attempt of baking that Morgan gave you yesterday, didn’t you? There was raw egg in that.”

Peter just nods feebly, not entirely listening. His head is head still resting on the toilet seat. He doesn’t have the energy to lift it.

“I hate to break it to you, kid, but maybe Spidey is just as susceptible to food poisoning as the rest of us.”

Peter’s certainly listening now, his glazed eyes shooting open. Weak displeasure simmers within them.

“You poisoned me?”

Morgan’s surprise has now definitely landed on the bad side this week, leaning towards absolutely-fucking-awful.

“Technically, Morgan poisoned you. I just operated all the heavy machinery,” Tony says. Peter glares at him, but it’s so pathetic that Tony’s own stomach clenches in sympathy.

“You’re the adult-” Peter points out, feeble indignation in his voice before he cuts himself off with another round of heaving.

“Oh, Pete,” Tony sighs, stepping further into the bathroom at the sight. He lowers himself to the floor right next to Peter. A warm hand finds his back, rubbing in slow circles right at the base. A fraction of the tension leaves Peter’s body.

“You’re alright, bud” Tony soothes. His voice is gentle and calming, and Peter lets it wash over him. He’s always loved just listening to Tony talk. “You’ll feel so much better once it’s all back up.”

Peter finds that hard to believe because caught right in the throes of pain, shivering and feeling like a total and utter mess, he struggles to remember a time when he wasn’t wholly consumed by Morgan’s attempt to poison him.

There’s nothing left for Peter to bring up eventually, and he’s left gasping for air.

“Think you’re done?”

Peter nods, stomach still clenching painfully. He shoves himself away from the toilet, legs giving way underneath him as he slumps into a pile of shaky, sweaty limbs against the bathroom counter. This doesn’t seem to faze Tony though, and Peter watches through bleary eyes as he goes into Dad Mode. It all fades in and out in front of him, but he registers the corners of his mouth being wipes gently with a warm washcloth, the hair being brushes back from his sweaty forehead, a cool glass of water being tipped down his throat.

It was because of moments like this that after the snap, it took Peter a while to correlate his Tony with Morgan’s Tony.

His Tony had only ever cared from afar and he usually shied away from physical affection and comfort unless either of them were on their deathbeds. They always loved each other, but it was sort of a given. An undeniable fact with little physical expression. Now though? Morgan’s Tony tucks her into bed at night and smoothes kisses into her hair and lets her curl into his lap during lazy evenings on the couch with absolutely no reservations or qualms. He tells her he loves her at least five times a day.

It then took Peter even longer to realise that Morgan’s Tony wasn’t exclusively hers. He’s just Tony, softened around the edges a little with parenthood and settling down, but he’s Peter’s as well, still.

That’s evident in the way that instead of leaving Peter to his own devices once he’s taken care of him and cleaned up his mess, Tony just leads him gently downstairs instead, a warm solid hand wrapped around his forearm to make sure he doesn’t stumble forward and end up on his face.

Tony lies him down on the couch, before taking a seat himself. He lets Peter pillow himself against him, head buried into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. Tony’s hands trail along their time-worn path in Peter’s hair, the action almost second nature.

“I’m never eating anything you make me ever again, I swear,” Peter mumbles into Tony’s chest. His words are quiet, scraping against the rawness of his throat but Tony hears him loud and clear. He chuckles.

“Fair enough, buddy.”

---

Peter’s nap is only interrupted when Morgan bursts into the room sometime in the afternoon. He blinks slowly from where he’s resting against Tony’s chest, head tucked up against his collarbone.

Morgan has a goody bag clutched in her grip and a few flyaway pink streamers caught in her hair. She beelines for the couch.

“Petey, Mommy said that I need to apologise for poisoning you!”

Peter feels a deep rumble in Tony’s chest as he attempts to stifle a laugh. He can’t quite muster up the energy (and he’s far too comfortable anyway) to get up from his position resting against Tony to hug Morgan, so he just gives her the warmest smile he can manage.

“It’s okay, bug, I know you didn’t mean to. I forgive you.”

She beams up at him. “There was one cookie pop left so I saved it for you, see?” she says, rattling her goody bag around, which Peter presumes contains the cursed treat. “They’re really good, I promise!”

Peter’s stomach churns again at the thought.

“That’s really nice of you, Mo, but I think I might give cookies a miss for a while.”

[mercifuldeaths]

Vertigo: Chapter 2: Jacked Up

Vertigo: Chapter 2

Jacked Up

This fic is in progress.

Jim Mason x Reader

Warnings for this chapter: Graphic descriptions of drug use.

Summary: Jim’s very good at hiding his vices, except, that is, with Medina.

Notes: More exposition. I’m sorry guys but the drama is worth the wait. This is Jim’s story-Y/N is a component, but this is a story about Jim’s journey. Thank you all so much for the positive responses from Ch 1! 

Word Count: 2.6k

Jim would see Y/N at the beach pretty regularly, not that he was looking for her. He couldn’t help that his room had a perfect view of the bay and whenever Medina was going for dawn patrol with her he would have his coffee outside, waiting for Sandy to be awakened by the other’s starting their day in the waves.

It seemed that Medina had finally had a friend, which made him exceedingly happy. Jim recalled the nights Medina would slip into his room and lay on the unmade bed asking why nobody liked her. He didn’t have an answer for her, or rather he did, but didn’t have the heart to tell her.

He couldn’t help but constantly be reminded of how much stronger she was. Of course, she was heartbroken that she didn’t have friends, but she did have the strength to not change herself for others’ approval. Jim couldn’t say the same for himself.

Coming in from his coffee- she wasn’t out there that day- he picked up his backpack and jacket.

“‘Dina,” he whispered, ear pressed to her door. He almost fell over when the door was ripped away from his face.

“Hey, we’re running late, let’s go,” she responded. She managed to smack him with her backpack as they snuck out the door, avoiding Sandy.It was a miracle that she even let him go to his classes.

The pair hopped into Jim’s car, a new Nissan SUV from Phil. A graduation gift his father had called it but Jim knew what it really was. It was a “Sorry we’ve been shitty parents and let you overdose, but here’s a material item that’ll make up for it” gift. Medina got a smaller Volkswagen beetle that she absolutely adored.

It had been three and a half years since his overdose. It really wasn’t even that bad, he thought. He had passed out at home, Sandy overreacted and he spent a night in the hospital. Then Phil proceeded to tell him that they wouldn’t be going to Paris and that he’ll do better.

Admittedly, it had been slightly better. With Sandy back on her meds she wasn’t as prone to mood swings and temper tantrums meaning Jim had slightly more freedom. It didn’t allow him to escape his responsibilities as ‘man of the house’ but things were almost manageable. Almost.

After everything, he had to be more careful. Withdrawal had been a nightmare but when his mind cleared he found that the memory was fuzzy. Turning back to booze, then weed, then pills, then coke, then everything at once, had been an easy decision. This time, though, he needed to be careful.

A few weeks into sobriety, his mother would inevitably forget about Jim’s problems, replacing herself as the center of attention in her mind, so hiding it from her had been a joke. “Oh, I’m just tired, mom. Long day at school,” he’d say as his eyes fluttered shut, laying on the couch with a comfortable blanket of haze clouding his thoughts. She ate that shit up.

His father was even easier. He had still moved out, but his relationship with Ava had ended a while back, now seeing some other redhead. He was never around, not that Jim wanted to see him anyway. But with him being a doctor, he had to make sure he was sober around the man. He’d recognize all the signs, especially knowing Jim was a user.

Medina. She was...complex. He had tried to hide it from her, he really did. She found out almost immediately and hadn’t said anything but he could see the pain in her eyes. The only response she gave was a “Be careful with that shit, Jim. You don’t know what you’re playing with,” bitten out on his way back to his room from the bathroom where he had just taken an oxy. All the warning he needed was written on her face every time she looked at him. He tried to ignore it, for his own sake.

It’s because of this that when she said, “Is it getting bad again? Please tell me,” while biting into an egg McMuffin on their way to campus that morning Jim almost crashed his shiny new car. She had begged to get breakfast on the way and he could never say no to his sister.

“What are you talking about, Medina?” he rolled down the window and looked out the windshield pretending to focus on the traffic in front of him.

“I know what you’re doing. I’m not stupid. But just tell me if it’s that bad again,” she tried to seem casual, sipping her iced coffee but it sounded a little too rehearsed.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry,” his teeth grit together. Turning into the parking lot of their university

“‘Cause I know when mom gets weird you get weird. I don’t think she’s taking her medicine again- since dad’s new girlfriend,” she hesitated not knowing what reaction Jim would have.

His fist slammed against the steering wheel, making Medina jump, spilling coffee on her corduroys. “I’m not ‘getting weird’ or whatever, okay?” he yelled. “Yeah, mom’s fucking crazy again, it’s whatever.” He pulled into a parking space a little too quickly and the car lurched.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” her voice was smaller than she wanted it to be.

Jim’s jaw was still tense, teeth clenched. He took a deep breath through his nose and rolled his eyes back. “I know you didn’t. I’m sorry for yelling,” he looked over to her and stuck his tongue out a little, the way that usually made her laugh.

She wasn’t laughing. “So it’s gonna be like that, then,” he leaned over and poked her in the ribs, right in the spot that tickled most.

“Jim, stop!” she shrieked, attempting to get away from his long arms. Her laughter bounced in the car. They both smiled.

“Now, go. I know you have ‘Adult Coloring’ or some bullshit,” he loved to make fun of her customized major, full of classes she was taking to one day do what she wanted most, travel and surf. It was a lot of photography, journalism, and some random classes for credits.

“It’s ‘portraiture’, I’ll have you know,” she called over he shoulder before closing the door. Through the open window, she smirked, “Have fun with your blocks or whatever you do.”

He let out a groan that turned into a laugh, “It was once!” he shouted to her back, walking to campus’ central. He had been trying to figure out the flow and perception of this one project he was working on, so yeah he brought out some Legos to visualize it. That’s architecture for you.

What she’ll never mention is that she distracted him and then proceed to spend the entire night on the living room floor trying to one-up each other's towers. Jim using what he had learned from four years of design and structural classes while Medina relied on ‘just staking them up until they fall.’ Her’s was taller by two blocks and she will never let it go.

Grabbing his backpack he decided to pull the small baggie of pills out and place them in an empty plastic cup, hidden under the seat. Out of sight, out of mind. He was almost off his last bender and held a small glimmer of hope that this would be the last time. The back of his mind was already itching for another fix, reminding him to be even more careful around Medina.

Planning for a long day in the library, still trying to find a topic for his senior thesis, he grabbed Medina’s unfinished iced coffee and headed into the beating sun with a brave face painted on.

--

No. No. No. He coughed up more bile, spilling from his throat into the toilet in front of him. It was disgusting, he knew, but he needed to rest his head on the seat of it, cool porcelain taming the heat that coursed through him. He dry heaved this time, causing the head-splitting migraine to reappear.

“Jim?” his mother knocked on the bathroom door. “Jimmy, are you okay?” The handle jiggled but it was locked.

“I’m fine, mom,” he breathed through his nose, trying to stare straight ahead to stop the room from spinning.

“I can hear you in there. Are you sick, honey?”

“Food poisoning. I’m fine.” Short words. Short sentences. The sound of his own voice making him want to smash his head on the tile, hopefully blacking out.

“Let me in,” she demanded. The thought of her being around him made him retch again, this time probably for the last time as there was nothing left to vomit up. But, from experience, he knew to sometimes just go along with Sandy rather than fighting. Especially when he was feeling like this, he had no fight left in him.

He crawled over to the door and managed to unlock it, Sandy not missing a beat and plowing into the room. “Jim!” She kneeled next to him and immediately put her hand over his sweaty forehead. Admittedly, her cool hand felt nice.

“It’s just food poisoning, mom. I’m fine,” he whispered and leaned into her- an instinct leftover from childhood. “Just need to sleep.” Chills wracked his body but sweat was clinging to every pore, the dark circles under his eyes almost red. His irises still shined a brilliant blue.

Sandy put her arm around him and helped to bring him to his feet. They shuffled into his room, his mother rambling about how California sushi can’t be trusted because so many of the people eat it, its mass produced.

Jim wished she would shut the fuck up.

He didn’t fully recognize how, but he was laying in his bed, tee shirt removed, blankets pushed off the mattress. In the fetal position, he slowly rocked himself willing the nausea away. He nearly lept out of his skin when Medina suddenly appeared, replacing Sandy.

“He likes to be alone when he’s sick,” Medina tried to reason to their mother, recalling when they were kids how Jim would always shy away from attention when he was sick, preferring to suffer in silence.

“He doesn’t like to be alone, he likes to be with you,” their mom spit out and turned on her heel, leaving Medina in the doorway holding a glass of water.

She made her way closer Jim, placing the glass on the nightstand. Perching on the side of the bed, she ran a hand through his sweat soaked hair, grimacing a little. He sighed under her touch and closed his eyes again.

“Thank you,” she whispered, mindful of his migraine. His eye cracked open and managed to convey his confusion. “I know what this is.”

“It’s food poisoning, that’s what it is. It’s that bullshit sushi we stopped for. Thanks for that,” he scoffed. She knew he didn’t mean any of it, that he was hurting. She could see his muscles twitch under his thin skin. They reminded her of springs, coiled and ready. His eyes screwed shut again and he nuzzled into her thigh. She could hear the small cries he was trying to hold back.

“We had the same thing for lunch, Jim. We split it,” she observed, letting him know his jig was up. She felt his head shake.

“Okay, then. It’s the stomach flu. Same thing, Jesus. Let it go,” he attempted to growl out but the intent wasn’t there. She held out the glass of water she had brought in and he was never more grateful for their twin telepathy ‘thing’. He managed to prop himself up and take a few slow sips. “Thank you,” he mumbled and handed the glass back to his sister, relishing the cool that washed down his throat.

Laying on his back he tried to stare ahead again, this time at the blank ceiling above him. He briefly thought about going outside to look up at the sky, but remembered that any sort of movement was practically impossible at the moment. His body ached as he had just run a marathon. Joints tight, frozen in place, he continued to lay on his back trying to regulate his breathing. 5 seconds in, 5 seconds out. He counted.

Medina continued to run her cool hands over his head and face. It only felt good because it was her. His other half, a strange extension of himself. Or probably he was the extension-Medina was already her own person. She didn’t need him anymore. His thoughts made him start rocking again, seeking any sort of primal comfort.

As if on cue, he felt the bed shift and she started to leave. Before she could, he managed to grab her wrist. “Don’t.” Only his lips moved. “Please.”

“I’ll be right back. I’m just getting more water,” she went to pull the blankets over him as the had shivers started despite his constant sweating. He nodded, content with her answer.

He thought that maybe he had finally started to drift off to sleep but was awakened by yelling. Sandy. At Medina, of course. Their shouts were muffled by the door and the fact that he couldn’t really think straight helped a bit, but his head still throbbed.

Sandy was going off about how Medina was always so judgemental towards her. Medina was snapping back with questions of why she wasn’t the ‘favorite’ twin. Sandy didn’t bother trying to hide it and plainly stated that she liked Jim better because he cared for her. Loved her. Medina started ranting about how this was just like last time. Last time, when things were Not Good. When Jim, the favorite, was Not Good. She suggested that maybe Sandy wasn’t that great of a mother if she didn’t love one of her children and couldn’t even manage to keep the one she liked from spiraling, practically killing himself.

Jim ground his teeth willing them to stop.

“This isn’t like last time for god’s sake,” Sandy screeched. “And it wasn’t my fault. Jim’s fine. Just like he was last time. It was a stupid mistake, once. He hasn’t touched that shit since, I’ll have you know,” she huffed. “Don’t make things worse than they are.”

Medina wasn’t about to out Jim. She was just trying to drop subtle enough hints that maybe Sandy would get the picture that things weren’t all that great.

Medina and Jim knew what was really going on in the other room. He was trying to detox from everything he had been taking in for the past few weeks. The two of them knew, and that’s the only thing that mattered.

Jim continued to hear them screaming from one thing to another. It was Sandy treating Jim like a husband, then it was how Phil was a bad father, then it was school, then Jim, then back to Phil, then Medina’s apathy, then back to Jim.

It always went back to Jim.

In a further attempt to block it out he rolled onto his side to his body’s dismay. Everything screamed in protest. When he opened his eyes he was greeted with the almost empty glass of water resting on the nightstand. His eyes narrowed in on the draw. Oh shit. Oh fuck.

To his horror and delight, he remembered the two small tablets he had pushed in the back of the drawer. For emergencies only, he told himself when he had placed them there. They went completely forgotten for so long he couldn’t even properly remember what they were. As if a puppet on a string, he propped himself up and opened the drawer, feeling the contents with long fingers. He felt the thin plastic and pulled the baggie out.

Directly depositing both of the pills on the back of his tongue, he used the last sip of water his sister had brought to swallow them. Shortly thereafter, he finally fell asleep.

Tags: @langdonsdemon @coloursunlimited @thecinderellaposts @michael-langdon-appreciation @langdonalien @tarkofetis @stupidocupido @katiekitty261

Special thanks to some ultimate babes: @michael-langdon-appreciation @thecinderellaposts @katiekitty261 You are all so amazing and keep me fed with only the best Jim content. Thank you <3 

[echodrops]

My KH3 Fix-It Dream

(Warning, long post is long because part way through I just started writing bits of the actual fic, oops.)

There’s a lot of people complaining about this and that with the KH3 plot, but I honestly don’t have too many complaints because the story we were given was about what I expected (did anyone realllyyy believe that Kairi was going to become a badass Keyblade wielder? Search your heart, you know you saw this travesty coming), except on one front: Vanitas was tragically under-utilized. After being hyped up so much in the trailers, you’d think that he would have at least had a go in the game that was worthy of his character. But KH3′s Vanitas was little more than a shadow of BBS’s, and that’s a darn shame.

So, I present to you: a fix-it fic plot bunny that fixes several things at once:

1) Vanitas doesn’t die. Okay, actually, it still works fine if he does die, but we’ll take his “I’m always with you” suggestion literally--Vanitas is a heart of Darkness wrapped in a body made of bad feelings, and that final battle was one brutal attack on the feels after another. The fear, anxiety, horror, and desperation the Lights, especially Sora upon witnessing what happens to Kairi, manifests as so much accumulated negativity that Vanitas--even though he actually wants to!!--can’t stay dead, and his heart, which naturally lingered with Sora and Ventus even after his defeat, gets shoved back into another body made entirely of other people’s suffering and pain, now even more unstable and dysfunctional than before.

2) The final battle happens. Kairi is saved, but Sora disappears. While the finally-reunited good-guy crew are busy coming out of shock planning how they’ll inevitably rescue Sora, they’re also struggling with another major issue: what to do about Vanitas, who is as comatose as Ven was at the beginning of BBS, a broken heart in a broken body.

3) Nobody wants to say “mercy kill”... The idea is there, but none of the gang is really willing to do it barring maybe Roxas, whose practicality is actually alarming (”You’re not going to be feeling so sympathetic when he wakes up and stabs somebody, you know. Don’t say I didn’t warn you”). Even Aqua, who knows as well as Ven how much of a danger Vanitas is, can’t really convince herself to attack someone who's completely helpless. But what to do, if not that? He isn’t waking up, and anywhere they leave him, he’ll have to be guarded around the clock--he still, technically, has the ability to trigger the apocalypse if left unattended to chase hearts of light, you know.

4) It’s Ven’s idea to take him to Destiny Islands. That was Master Xehanort’s plan for Ven, after all, when they were first separated: let Ven’s empty body waste away, forgotten, in a backwater world. Instead he’d made contact with Sora--and nobody wants to say that either, that maybe there’s the tiniest bit of hope: somehow, some way, maybe Sora can still be reached, maybe the call of yet another heart in need will be irresistible enough to make the unfailing hero claw his own way back from the brink...

5) What really happens is this: Sora’s mother has had MORE THAN ENOUGH. Spaceships start dropping out of the sky, the deserted play island is somehow brimming with grown men and women running around, she sees Kairi of all people wandering right back into town as if she hasn’t been inexplicably absent for months... So where is Sora? Where is Sora and why is he not coming home? Finally, after three days of radio silence from Kairi and Riku (Riku’s been gone for years, and now he’s suddenly here, without Sora? When has there ever been a such thing as Riku without Sora?), Sora’s mother prepares a scolding on the level of God casting humans out of the Garden of Eden and indignantly rows her way out to the play island. It seems there’s a whole crowd gathered at a bonfire down the beach, but she never makes it there. Because there’s Sora right there on the paopu island, there’s Sora, only everything’s wrong--who let him dye his hair like that, what is he wearing, why won’t he wake up--”Sora? SORA!”

6) It’s Riku who tells her the truth. That Sora is gone, in the wind, not even a body to bury except this one, this boy who’s wearing the face of the son she hasn’t held in her arms in ages--maybe never will again. This is what he looks like now, Riku says, but this isn’t him. (How? How is this not her son? Under his bangs there’s the same freckle at the edge of his forehead she used to give good night kisses to--)

7) They make several attempts to stop her (”Ma’am,” the man with brown hair and guilty eyes says, “Ma’am, you really can’t--he’s a danger to--”) but none of them stopped her son either and if they’ll stand by and let the light of all the worlds extinguish itself, let’s be honest, they’re just not that good of guardians. She takes Sora the boy named Vanitas home. In Sora’s old bed he looks comical, the only time, maybe, that he’ll ever look tall, and the shadow of the toys and clutter she hadn’t had the heart to clean (not after the day she remembered that the room up the stairs wasn’t just sealed up storage, that a boy had lived there, that his worn clothes were still strewn across the floor, that she’d had a son at all, Sora, for a whole year she’d forgotten the name, the sound, the jut of his lip in a pout--) falls over his face. They say he’s not her son.

8) Well, she thinks, we’ll see about that.

And lol I know that was a million words but like that was the prologue and the actual rest of the fic goes like this:

Sora’s mom takes care of Vanitas’ comatose body because hey, she’s a pediatric nurse, that kind of thing is literally her job. Riku and Kairi try to bodyguard her for a couple weeks, but the longer Vanitas stays asleep, the less and less often they come around--they’ve got to find Sora, after all.

The longer she takes care of Vanitas-not-Sora though, the worse her loneliness gets, until the deep vein of Darkness sadness (she lost her son not once, not twice, but three times) resonates with the shattered remnants of Vanitas’ heart and she forcefully because Sora got his busybodiness from somewhere generously connects with him enough to wake him up.

(“Go away,” answers a voice without speaking.

“Why?”

“You’re annoying me. I’m tired.”

“You’re hurt.”

“That’s what I said.”

No it isn’t.

There’s a certain sort of sadness only people who’ve lived through losing the light of their lives will ever know. There’s a kind of kinship in surviving separation. Her heart aches, goes out of her all at once, reaching--

“I made my decision. Leave me alone.”

"Did you make that decision because you were alone?”)

Only, you know, Vanitas doesn’t want to be awake or even alive now that he has absolutely no purpose, no master, no X-blade, no mission, nowhere to go, and no chance of ever reuniting with Ven--so fuck off, he’s not going to eat those home-made muffins and he’s not going to go take a bath even if he does stink, and he’s not going to talk, and he’s not coming out from under the covers for anything less than the sweet release of a swift execution.

...But that’s so boring.

So he insults her instead. And threatens her and mocks her and knocks over the water glasses she brings and lets the Unversed chase her out of the room and picks out all the stitches on this ugly hand-sewn quilt and asks her why she’s got a room full of toys but no kid to go in it.

No sell: she’s a pediatric nurse and dealing with sick, miserable, screaming children is what she does every day. And anyway, from seven to eight Sora threw a year of temper tantrums that make this boy look positively mild.

There’s one more thing working in her favor: he’s still curious. She learns: he’s never had a fruit smoothie, read a comic book, or slept in sheets fresh from the dryer. Sora’s old action figures aren’t played with so much as dismembered in effigy (is it that Vanitas is vindictive or that he’s jealous?), but the new electric toothbrush somehow wins grudging approval. The vacuum cleaner startles him the first time she turns it on, but one night when she goes for a drink at 3am, she discovers he’s been teaching himself to use the TV. Finding out the water can come out of the taps already hot buys her a whole seven minutes of intrigued silence, but the existence of ice cube trays might as well be a mortal offense. (”Don’t tell me you people actually wait for the water to--?” Given that he then summons a block of ice longer than the dining room table out of thin air, she thinks on this occasion he might be right though when he leaves said ice block to melt, her charitable feelings dry up.) He has to watch her pick herbs from the garden and cook with them before he can be convinced that the “weeds” are food. In short, he’s barely half way back from feral, and if the man who made him wasn’t already dead, she’d happily go kill that piece of shit herself.

It turns out, with spit, polish, and proper motivation (read as: bribes, read as: hot pot and honey castella), he’ll do the things she asks (sometimes). When he actually commits himself to a task, he’s focused to an alarming degree, meticulous and self-critical, and he stubbornly refuses to give up until he’s content with the results, which means that sometimes on her way to work she finds him where she left him the night before, still glaring, bleary-eyed and bratty, at the broken stand-mixer or mantle clock or book spine that she hoped he could fix with magic. If he spitefully tracks mud all over the house after he relentlessly weeds the whole garden, well, she’d say the benefits still outweigh the costs.

The hoard of creatures that follow him around (”They’re my feelings,” he says, and kicks one without the slightest hesitation) take getting used to, but it’s easier to share space when they make themselves so useful--sometimes even when he can’t be badgered into work, he’s willing the boss the underlings into action: the crooked door on the backyard shed finally gets rehung thanks to a towering brute with a banana peel on its head, and once she opens a jar in the kitchen she doesn’t remember buying and finds it full of rich, warm apple pie.

He gets... better. It’s not linear. They have bad days, days when he breaks things without warning and won’t talk except through stinging barbs, one day so bad he let a flock of his worst feelings pound enormous holes in the living room walls, burns up her favorite rose bush--but they have good days too. Some days he laughs and it isn’t malicious at all; some days he eats with her at the table without even being asked; some days she comes home late to find he’s still awake, ready to poke fun at the tired way she toes off her shoes, and it takes everything she has to keep from saying You really didn’t have to wait up for me.

One day he smiles for no reason at all, and she thinks: The boy’s going to be okay.

(But how in the world is she going to explain all this to Sora?)

And there’s sooo much else I want to write but I can’ttttttt, I don’t have time, so here’s a bullet list of “also featuring:”

Vanitas being a natural Heartless deterrent because none of them want to mess with the biggest Darkness on the block.

Ven, Terra, and Aqua sniffing around trying to figure out whether they need to take Vanitas back (just to make sure he’s properly under watch, of course); Sora’s mom giving them the politest “Fuck you” this side of the universe.

Kairi and Vanitas friendship. Vanitas doesn’t even know it’s happening. Kairi is devious. Vanitas taking over Kairi’s training even though they can’t physically spar because they’ll literally end the world if they fight lol. Kairi taking advantage of Vanitas’ lack of interest in social cues to get him to do things none of the other boys will do with her like clothes shopping.

Kairi and Axel friendship with Roxas being the weird middle man who doesn’t know why they can’t just text each other instead of sending handwritten letters back and forth through him of all people.

Vanitas and Roxas reaching grudging levels of respect because sarcastic bitches gotta support each other.

Roxas and Sora’s mom being hilariously awkward because Sora’s mom doesn’t know if she should also be claiming responsibility for this child too and Roxas is absolutely clueless about the concept of having parents in the first place.

After many chapters of redemption arc, Sora’s mom taking Vanitas with her to work at the hospital so he can turn the sick children’s negative feelings into Unversed and then defeat them. She doesn’t know this hurts him and he sure as fuck isn’t going to tell her.

Everything going to shit when Chirithy shows up, insisting Vanitas is its master and calling him “Ven.” Vanitas was getting better--he was getting over the fact that he’d never be “Ventus” again--

Discovering memories of Daybreak Town and the first Keyblade War with Chirithy’s (and Namine’s!) help. Remembering the existence of old friends--Ephemer, Skuld, the other Union leaders--and the realization that they might still be alive, trapped in a timeless world of sleep.

Vanitas and Riku teaming up after someone (Mickey? Yen Sid?) suggests that Sora’s heart may have returned to the place where all hearts eventually go--the core of light that lies sleeping in the deepest depths of the realm of Darkness. Realm of Darkness road trip! (This is just my excuse to wax philosophical about how being made of Darkness doesn’t actually make anyone evil.)

Finding out that saving Sora will mean finally, actually opening the door to the true Kingdom Hearts, which can only be accessed via Scala Ad Caelum, or, more specifically, the ruins of Daybreak Town that lie beneath it.

Insert some Nomura-esque convoluted plot here about how the clock of Daybreak Town isn’t actually a bell tower but the mechanism for protecting the original X-blade and the door to Kingdom Hearts, and Daybreak!Ventus’ very existence was somehow tied to this clock tower--that’s why Ventus’ and Vanitas’ Keyblades form the two halves of a broken gear: they’re maybe literally the gear that turns the hands of time in the world that once lay closest to the heart of all things. The bell, the sword, the door--they’re all linked, and the only way to save Sora--to save everyone, including the sleeping Dandelions--is to reunite (to wake) their fractured dream of Daybreak with reality, restore the X-blade, and retrieve Sora’s wandering self with the power of Kingdom Hearts’ connection to all worlds and all hearts.

In short, like Nomura, I don’t actually know how I’d ever make it make sense, but the X-blade would get forged by Ven and Vanitas in a safe and sane way (this is just my excuse to give Vanitas a scene where he finally recognizes that he is content to be a separate being from Ventus; that he wants to stay his own person)... Kairi wields the X-blade because fuck you KH3, and everyone gets the damn happy ending they deserve--but most especially Vanitas, who gets to be the big damn hero to finally bring Sora home safe to their mother.

Like guys, I just need Vanitas’ narrative arc to feel coherent and complete. I need to know why he and Ven have a gear motif. How they’re connected to the Dandelions. Whether or not Ventus and Vanitas could ever both simultaneously be at peace despite remaining separate people. Whether Chirithy would have recognized Vanitas. Why Ventus alone had the power to forge the X-blade by reuniting with his other half when it would otherwise have taken 13 Darknesses and 7 Lights. What Sora’s mother would say finding out her son has like five clones now. If anyone would ever recognize that Vanitas had never been shown basic fucking human kindness.

Nomura. Plz.

[tenyatrash]

Day 2: A House on Fire

This is my entry for Day 2 of the BNHA Noir Week 2019. Tumblr hates my ao3 links so let’s try this instead. @bnha-noir-week Heist, Fatale, Detective

In which Fuyumi and Touya take back control of the narrative. This one didn't exactly meet the prompt as much as I would like, but it's as close as I could get and I like it too much to orphan it, so here's some noir-lite. Come for the twins pulling off a heist, stay for the fatale/detective pair up. 

Ships: BG Fuyumi Todoroki/Ryuko Tatsuma

Characters: Fuyumi, Touya, and Enji Todoroki + Ryuko Tatsuma

Rating: Teen (Some lang, references to past abuse)

Word Count: 2925

It was a hot one, a scorcher of a day that’s left a memory of fire radiating off the pavement even now, hours after the sun disappeared. Slithering heat and muggy night air swirl into a heavy fog that tries to paint the city white and pure, but it fails. Nothing can hide these sins.

This world vibrates with a sickness that skitters just below the surface, coating everything in bitter bile, destroying everyone, one way or another. Some are destroyed by simple violence, quick knives in the dark. They’re the lucky ones, if anyone can be called lucky here. Everyone else? They sit and stew as the corruption eats away at them like rust.

There’s a pair of prowlers on the town tonight, eyes and hearts hardened to cut out a spreading cancer. It’s a night of reckoning for a family name that shoulda been put down long ago.

Pine needles crunch underfoot, sap oozing into the dirt path that marks the road to so many memories, all of them as dark as the oppressive and moonless night. Fuyumi pushes back her bangs and picks her way across the garden that she was never allowed to enjoy, to the house of the Father she was never allowed to escape. She’d smile in bitter triumph, if she remembered how.

There’s a hand at her back now, burning too hot, fingers tapping a steady beat against her spine.

“Pick up the pace, will ya? Pops ain’t gonna be away forever, and yous the one who said no violence.”

Fuyumi looks over to her twin. He’s a scary looking one, alright. The kinda mug folks on the up-and-up cross the street to avoid, the kinda heel soft chippies would gossip ‘bout, bed, and then hide like some kinda dirty secret. Meanwhile, the same skirts are always falling over themselves after the sonofabitch that did it. Just more proof that this world is rotten.

They’ve all got scars of Enji’s ambition, his are just on the outside, is all. Enji got smarter after that, or maybe Touya was just the bravest of them. Either way, dear ol’ Dad learned to keep his abuse strictly need-to-know after that. Learned to hurt, to control, to destroy, all without leaving a mark. Not that anyone would bother to investigate anyway.

Not when every two-bit political wannabe and too-blind copper saw him as some kinda hero.

Fuyumi slides the door open. Just like Pops to not check after his own home security. To assume no one would challenge him, least o’ all here in his pretty little estate. It’s the same arrogance that bred them, after all. Lord, they’re going to enjoy watching the place light up, all pretty blue flames and falling ash.

Touya is eager to start, fingers already caressing awards and photos, skin shivering as they smoke and char. It’s all a lie and God does it feel good to let it burn. A happy family, a heroic life-- filthy deceit that mocks them with every pose and word of commendation. He’s a hero, huh? That what you think, Mr. Mayor, Sir? Then why don’t you try living with him.

Try being a child under that roof.

The two twins slide through the house like shadows, feet still remembering all the steps, remembering which boards creak and which doors groan. They had to learn early, how to hide. How to be silent and unseen. All that training, all that pain, and for what?

To make them big goddamn heroes?

Nah. Turns out, he’d been training them for this heist their whole lives. He mighta been able to catch ‘em, to stop ‘em, to contain ‘em...if he’d cared enough to notice, that is. As it is though, he’s just going to have to say goodbye to all this shiny scratch and all the dreams he had for this name.

Touya’s got his predisposition for fire, and Fuyumi’s got matches, accelerant, and a dream.

First stop is the study. It’s all mahogany slabs and stiff stools, designed so everyone but the kingpin himself can experience stress and smallness and pain. What kinda way is that to do business, much less raise kids? What kinda notes do you give your interior designer when building a room like that? ‘See pal, I wanna room that screams gangster, but you know, classy and legit and all. Wanna keep everyone on their toes.”

Sheesh. They could make a fortune on the book rights alone, if this was any kinda just world. As it is though, Fuyumi knows they’d get buried by law hounds and dirty money the second they so much as pitched the idea. Reputation and respect are the only currency Enji trades in, and if you threaten that, he comes down on you like the fires of hell.

Just ask Touya. Or Ma.

They fiddle with the safe, bad memories making ‘em antsy to get this job done and dusted. Neither knows the code. Not like Enji would trust ‘em with it. After all, they were barely worthy of taking his name, much less accessing his secrets. Lady Luck loves making a fool outta a fella though, and it’s not long before the too-weak twins have their hands on secrets Pops would have done anything to hide.

Fool set the combination as the date his poor “masterpiece” Shouto started manifesting his gifts to the world. It was the third set of numbers they tried. Once this place was ash and his legacy was crushed, Fuyumi hoped she’d have the chance to lean in, real close, and let him know just how his empire came crumbling down.

Let him know that it all came down to his own damn failing. His played-out narcissism and twisted family pride.

They sort through documents and trinkets. It’s all here. Sheathes of paper on the special training they all had to endure, notes from doctors that expressed concern, before blood money overwhelmed their morals, even a dowry arrangement that looks damn sure like a bill of sale.

Touya is more than a little amazed. It’s like Christmas, but happy for once. “What kind of no-good scoundrel does shit like this, then keeps records?”

Fuyumi frowns down at the papers in her hands. She should be pleased. It’s what they’ve been after this whole time, right? But all these names...she wasn’t prepared for that. She might be playing at being a hood tonight, but she’s lived her life more or less on the right side of the law, more or less with faith in people.

And now there’s this. A whole damned mountain of names, of people who knew something sick and twisted was brewing in this house, and who did absolutely nothing to stop it. Hell, even Ma’s parents were in on it, selling her off like a broodmare. Something twists in her gut and all the sudden, she thinks she understands why Touya comes home sometimes, smelling like gunpowder and copper blood.

He sees red, but she feels ice. Ice creeping up her veins and into her heart, that small and abused thing that beats with love, that never seems to learn better. Never protects itself. They all knew. They all knew and they did nothing. Long as the image stayed shiny like the coins that passed hands, they were happy to send them all to the slaughter.

At some point, Touya starts rubbing circles across her palms, gently prying away the documents from her death grip. He helps bring her back to reality, to the job they’ve got to do. She’s not a helpless little girl anymore, and he’s not a throwaway kid. Damn but it’s chilly in here.

There’s no way to heal a festering wound like this one, but at least they can get even. Can show the whole world exactly what they’ve been complicit in. And Fuyumi’s not just interested in taking down Enji. No, she wants them all. Every single patsy and punk who let themselves be bought.

It all clicks in place. That’s why he kept the evidence. Insurance. Pops was never going to go down alone. No, if he got caught, he’d take the whole damn place with him. Fuyumi has no problem making that last request come true.

She wants them to burn too.

They move on, mirror images splitting in two to check the rest of the house. It’s just as impersonal as they remember, with more shadows than furniture and more blood than memories. When he squints into the cloaking night, Touya can swear he can still see the scorch marks from his last training session out in the yard.

Fuyumi touches his arm. They start the fire in two places. Touya begins in the dojo, letting steam and tears lift off his body like all those unanswered prayers, body convulsing as he watches the sparring mats and training dummies that engulfed his childhood be engulfed by flames. Fuyumi begins in Enji’s bedroom, getting drunk on the smell of gasoline as she douses the bed and lets the barren room be swallowed up.

She does it for Mother, who laid on that bed until her body and mind were broken by a man she never loved. She does it for Touya, who destroyed his body and fractured his mind trying to meet standards that he could never reach. She does it for Natsuo, who was called worthless from the start. She does it for Shouto, the masterpiece who never asked for any of this, who spent so long in a gilded cage that he forgot how to feel. And most of all, she does it for herself.

For the girl who did the best she could, who was never enough. Who wasted years trying to tiptoe around a dragon, who blamed herself every time the world descended into flames. For the woman she is, and the woman she could have been.

She spends an eternity looking into the licking flames before Touya, who has more experience in these kinds of things, pulls her out of the room and out of the shuttered home. They leave the lot, no glance spared back until they reach a high hill a few blocks away, at a distance Touya declares safe.

They don’t sit. They stand and they stare and they watch the harsh beauty of orange and blue flames dancing across the collapsing roof and black smoke rising above the murky white fog that still blanketed the lower-lying parts of the city.

They don’t feel the release they had hoped for, but they feel a type of validation, and that’s enough. At least for tonight, their once-home is just as ugly as hellish outside as inside. A four-alarm fire that can’t be ignored. No one gets to turn away. Not tonight.

---

It’s morning, when Ryuko finally makes it home from the clubhouse, just long enough to grab a shower and a bite to eat. Her shift had been held over last night. Whole damn city was losing its mind over that fire especially when some loose-lipped recruit let it slip that the whole thing was cut-and-dry arson.

Ryuko shakes her head and steps into the shower, rivulets of water washing her skin clean but doing nothing to unlock the dark swirls of smoke that clung to her hair and pores. She shudders at the memory of Old Man Todoroki himself, all claws and fire and vitriol as he pushed through the wreckage of his ancestral home. Man damn near started a whole new inferno when he opened the scorched safe and found it empty.

Detective Tatsuma had been sent over, boot-licking superiors and ashen-faced patrol boys offering her as a sacrifice to his anger.

“Come on, you’re shackled to his baby girl. Makes sense you’d be the one to interview him-”

Ryuko had resisted the urge to fill them in on just how much Enji and Fuyumi would hate that characterization, but had trooped forward anyway, too tired to fight for rationality. It’s a losing battle anyway, and it ends up not mattering, at all.

Enji claims the safe was always empty. Nothing is missing. He’s lying like a cheap suit. It doesn’t matter. His word is law, after all.

Ryuko closes her notebook, nods her head, and feigns deference as the hero stomps off, no doubt eager to take out his rage on whatever poor chump is planning on breaking the law today. Once her towering Father-in-Law leaves, she peeks into the safe herself.

It’s bare, that true, but not totally empty. Sitting in the middle of safe like some kinda proposal is a single metal staple. Looks surgical. Ryuko takes note of it before slamming the door shut.

If Enji doesn’t care about who robbed and ravaged him, why should she? Sure, she’ll go through the motions, maybe even catch the doers. But she’s not going to kill herself. Not on a case like this, a one without a real victim.

The shower ends. The house still reeks like smoke and something squirms against the back of her mind as she steps into their bedroom and leans down to press a kiss into Fuyumi’s tousled hair.

Lord love her, but she looks like death warmed over. Ryuko feels a stab of regret. That was Fuyumi’s home, and Ryuko hadn’t been there to deal with whatever emotions hearing about it burn must have elicited. Fuyumi’s never been that forthcoming about her family, and Ryuko has never pressed. Didn’t want to seem like a fame groupie. But surely, there’d been memories there, tokens that Fuyumi might have wanted to take with her. And now some nameless, faceless thug had ripped that away from her.

She’ll make it up to her. She’ll find the arsonist, maybe even find answers. It’s the least she can do.

---

Out in the boonies, Touya’s got one last bit of trash to take out, one last crusade before he can maybe put all this filth behind him. He knew Endeavour would take the bait. Had to, with all he had to lose. He wouldn’t drag Fuyumi into this darkness. Sure, she was mad. And she has just as much right as he. But he’s already lost, his soul already in tatters. He doesn’t mind adding another mark to his debts.

He hears Pops before he sees him, skin simmering and crackling like a bull under a sweltering sun. His ears got trained a long time ago, to recognize that sound and flee from it, but he’s not a kid anymore. Whatever innocence he had was burned to nothing on the floor of that house, under the heel of his no-good progenitor. He stands tall yet disrespectful, scarred hands jammed into soot-stained jeans, a smirk chasing away the tiredness and fear of his eyes.

“Yo, Endeavor. Long time no see.”

There’s a roar. Charming.

The man who was once Touya laughs darkly as hands close around his throat. Well, this isn’t exactly how he saw this going, but he’s nothing if not adaptable.

“You sure that’s your move, Sir?”

Enji realizes there’s no loot bag. No scraps or scrips. He releases the boy who was once his son.

“What’s your game, boy?”

Dabi smiles all lazy and languid. What is his game? Ha, it’s hard to even remember. Oh, right. He’s at a crossroads now.

He could kill the man. Fuyumi would forgive him, and maybe he’d finally be free. His mind flickers forward, already seeing the State Funeral and hearing the cloying speeches of sycophants and snakes. His jaw tenses, metal scraping and clinking with every roll of his neck. Nah, he don’t wanna see that, not at all. A sight like that, no telling what it would do to a man. Nasty things, probably.

He feels his sanity start to slip, just a bit, like a pickpocket's just rifled through his head. He needs to get clear of this, and as good as it would feel to smother those flames once and for all, he can’t let him die a hero.

There’s some things that are just beyond bearing.

That leaves him with his second option. A more….poetic type thing. An execution of public sentiment, if not of the man himself. He ruffles a hand through sooty hair and smiles and Enji glowers at him.

“My game? Gee, I guess...I just wanna rob the house. Prove it can’t always win.”

“Talk sense, or don’t talk at all.”

Touya flicks a spent cigarette into a grimy barrel, still slick with the oil that powers this city, that keeps all these poor bastards rolling to and fro, as if anything really matters. As if they’re good people. As if they’re in control. He hops up on to a railing and starts to teeter before giving a false salute and dropping down to the street below.

“You’ll see.”

Enji stares at the spot for a long time, not sure if he’s more concerned or calmed by the lack of body. He doesn’t trust Touya, how could he? But a body is a hard thing to explain. It’s one thing to have a son who ran away, maybe to Europe, maybe to love. It’s another thing entirely for the corpse of a known hardened triggerman to fall at your steps. To look so much like you.

Enji’s still staring when the newspaper inquiries start to come.

They want to know about the fire, and the safe, and the strange articles and evidence that are hitting papers and precincts all over the city.

He grinds the phone into dust.

[araliyaintheskywithdiamonds]

A CrissColfer Fic- How Darren Lost Brian, But Didn’t Actually

For a prompt by @ccfetish : early!crisscolfer where Darren is watching Brian and Brian leaves the house cause that's what he usually does but Darren panics thinking he's lost him.

While I do imagine Darren being able to charm the pants off like every living thing, I love the idea of him having to compete with Brian for Chris' affections. I adored this prompt!

Read on AO3

It’s the first time Darren’s been alone in Chris’ house, and honestly, he’s not surprised  it’s come so soon. In the past few months he’s all but moved in, spending more time here than at his own apartment, where the dust gathers on his kitchen counter and socks remain untouched on the floor for months on end.

It should be strange- Darren had practically taken the leap from hopping over once a week for script readings, to taking up residence on the couch every other day, and finally, slipping between Chris’ sheets every night, all in a matter of weeks. It was now a common occurrence for him to ride home in Chris’ BMW, his own car sitting lonely in the  Paramount parking lot.

Considering everything- namely Darren’s perpetual need to make noise or do something- Chris actually seemed like having Darren there- a fact that made him almost vibrate with happiness.

The same, however, couldn’t be said for the true head of the house- Brian Colfer.

As soon as Darren stepped into the house that very first time, the immediate rivalry had been established. Brian loathed him from the very start- he was sure of it. After all, why else would he make a point of howling loudly outside the door whenever he and Chris were doing stuff and getting an infuriatingly smug look on his face whenever Darren’s allergies acted up?

Chris, to Darren’s abject indignation, found the whole thing perfectly amusing. Instead, he presented Darren with his antihistamines and a glass of water at the door, and made a point of distracting Brian with food every time they had sex. (Which probably explained why Brian was getting so fat, but Darren wasn’t about to suggest otherwise.)

Chris was kind of their peacemaker, and Darren had been dreading the day that he Brian would inevitably end up alone in each other’s company. Which turned out to be today.

At first the tension had been thick, Brian staring daggers at him as soon as Chris left home, gracing Darren with a peck on the nose and a stern glare at his cat.

As entertaining as Darren’s grudge with Brian was, he knew that if his relationship with Chris was going where it was going (and god, Darren hoped it was), he really had to make an effort to make friends with him. And he hasn’t been above bribery to do it.

All throughout the morning he’s been slipping Brian gourmet cat treats- Delightibles or something (and Chris would have killed him if he knew Darren was significantly reversing the effects of the diet he’s put Brian on)- but the quiet way the cat noses into his palm in the search of more treats is absolutely worth it.

It’s even gone so well as to him curling up in Darren’s lap as he takes care of a couple of emails, Brian’s contented purr tickling his thighs. He eventually has to nudge him off- the urge to pee being too large- and as Darren returns to the sofa he’s surprised to see that the cat’s vanished.

And at a strange time as well- now’s supposed to be when Darren feeds him. He doesn’t think too much of it, settling back down into the cushions that smell so much of Chris and pulling out his guitar for some song tweaking.

It’s not until a couple of hours later that he realises that Brian still hasn’t been to the kitchen to eat, which is ridiculously out of character. Food practically trumps Chris in Brian’s list of loves. Come to think of it, Darren hasn’t seen the damn cat in since morning, and he’s been around the house several times.

A slightly sick feeling forming in his stomach, Darren gets up to search every room- under the bed, on the windowsills, in the washing machine, and nope- he’s nowhere to be found. All that he finds is the open window above the kitchen sink, the gap wide enough for a dog, a raccoon, or a really fat cat.

Fuck.

Now Darren’s freaking out. Brian’s gone. Brian, practically Chris’ child, is gone. And it’s all his fault. Suddenly the thought enters his mind- if he can’t babysit a cat, how is he supposed to look after more important living things, like their kids?

(And woah- where did that thought come from, but right now he’s got more pressing matters on hand than how far gone he is with Chris.)

Quickly pocketing his phone and grabbing his car keys, (Chris doesn’t have to know, Chris doesn’t have to know that he’s lost the cat), Darren jumps in his car, pulling out of the driveway and carefully driving up the street. Brian can’t have gone far, right? He’s a house cat, he probably wouldn’t know where to go anyway.

Darren drives at a snail’s pace, combing the streets around Chris’ house with crazy precision. If he actually had lost Brian, Chris would never forgive him. He’d accuse him of driving Brian away and they’d break up and Darren would die and-

No. It’s all going to be okay. It has to be.

But two hours later, Darren’s still searching even though it’s practically nighttime now, brightening his headlights to the highest setting because he can’t see shit. Defeated, he pulls into the driveway, freezing when he sees Chris’ car already there. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. How is he gonna do this? ‘Oh sorry Chris, the one time you trust me with your beloved cat, he runs away and I can’t find him? Please don’t break up with me?’

Darren steels himself for a moment, fingers gripping the car door for support since his legs might give way with the anxiety. After a minute (or five), he takes a deep breath, slipping through the door after unlocking it with his own key. Darren looks around as he walks into the open plan kitchen, but the house still looks painfully Brian-free.

Chris stands at the counter, phone in hand, and startles when he sees Darren.

“Hey,” he says, eyes brightening.  An easy smile lingers on his face as he makes his way over, and a twist of guilt tightens in Darren’s stomach when Chris’ arms loop around his neck. “I was kind of worried.”

“Oh yeah?” Darren manages to get out, swallowing to get the dryness out of his throat.

“Mhmm. The neighbour called and warned me about some guy circling the block really creepily- multiple times. She’s the lady from across the road, the one with the talking gnomes, so I really wasn’t sure what to make of it.”

Come on, Darren. Do it. Rip the band aid off before it gets any worse.

“I uh- that may have been me?”

Chris’ brow wrinkles in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh god, please don’t hate me, it was all my fault-”

Chris places a hand on Darren’s knotted fingers which have been wringing themselves in a frenzy. “Woah, slow down. Why would I hate you?”

He takes a deep breath, looking straight into the glasz eyes in front of him. “IthinkIlostyourcatandI’msofuckingsorry.”

Chris raises one perfect eyebrow, his face a picture of amusement. If Darren weren’t so fucked right now, he’d be tempted to push him onto the counter and maul him.

“English, please.”

“Brian’s gone. I swear I was being nice to him- we were bonding! I literally turned my back for three minutes and he wasn’t here, I checked everywhere. And then I noticed the open window, he had to have gotten out somehow-”

Chris starts laughing, his high clear voice startling Darren out of his frenzied tirade. “Oh my god, D-dare…” he wheezes, brushing newly forming tears from his eyes. “Y-you do realise that cats go out?”

Darren frowns. “Isn’t Brian a house cat?”

Chris is flushed red from laughing so much, and he tries to somber up, taking a moment to steady his breaths. “House cats can go outside, in fact it’s much healthier for them to do so. Brian actually goes out so much that I was thinking of getting him a cat flap or something- opening the kitchen window lets way too much hot air in.”

Suddenly Darren feels very, very stupid. How did he not know that? He must have been to busy all this time following Chris around like a lost puppy to notice Brian’s lifestyle habits.

At Darren’s rapidly falling face, Chris’ voice softens. “It’s fine Dare, he’s asleep on our bed right now. Shit, you were really worried, weren’t you?”

“Well, yeah?! I would have died if I’d actually lost him. You’d never trust me again!”

“Hey, Brian doesn’t even like Ashley. If you guys were actually bonding, it would literally be a sign from the heavens to trust you. No matter what.”

A pleased smile forces its way onto Darren’s mouth, and he can’t help but preen at the fact that he’s finally won the love of Brian Colfer. “I can’t help but melt the hearts of everyone I meet.”

“Mhmm, keep telling yourself that,” says Chris, leaning forward to peck a kiss against his cheek. As his arms loop around Darren’s neck again, he murmurs against his hairline. “How did you end up bonding with Brian? Must have been a pretty grand gesture, for you to have thawed that ice cold kitty heart.”

Darren swallows guiltily. “Cat treats? Like, lots of them?”

Chris pulls back abruptly. “Dare! He was on a diet! Is that why he hasn’t eaten his dinner yet?”

“Maybe...?” At Chris’ indignant expression, he backpedals slightly. “I mean, at least he’s finally accepted me into the family!”

A small smile appears on his boyfriend’s face at that, and Darren breathes a sigh of relief.

“Well then, we’ve got two options, haven’t we?”

“And they are…?”

Chris’ eyes twinkle with amusement. “Option one, we never have sex again.”

At Darren’s splutter of horror, he laughs. “What? That’s why Brian’s been getting so fat- we always bribe him with food whenever we don’t want him to bother us.” When his expression of alarm doesn’t abate, Chris continues. “Or option two, we let him outside when we want to be alone, maybe that way he can burn some calories.”

“Option two,” Darren blurts immediately. “Definitely option two, I can’t believe you’d even think of number one.”

“Good,” Chris mumbles against his lips, their breath mingling in a heady concoction. “Because I was just thinking, I’d like to put Brian outside now.”

“Colfer, what an amazing idea.”

[coffeesforfuckers]

Cuffed In Handcuffs To My Biggest Secrets // Frerard

Pairing: Frerard Summary: Gerard hates Frank and Frank hates Gerard. They swear at each other, kick, hit, spit at each other, anything that could possibly kill the other while screaming insults at one another. Everybody else is sick of their shit and decide that handcuffs are the only way to solve the problem. Word Count: 3,892

“I hate you so much, Frank Iero. Why the fuck do you even try?” I snap at him without even turning to face him, walking to the changing rooms after a show, “You can’t sing, you can barely play your fucking guitar and on top of that, you’re a reckless moron.” I list off and I can just tell he’s nagging me behind my back.

“You just say this shit because you know you suck and this band will never take off. I don’t even know why I stay at this point, I could do so much better without your dumb ass.” He mutters from behind.

“Yeah right, Frank. How about you go try that out and tell me how it goes?” I sass and he kicks me in the shin. I spin around to face him and he spits up into my eye.

“Maybe I will, dickhead! You’ll fall apart without me here.” His voice is sharp as I wipe his saliva off of my face and quickly grab him by the collar of his shirt.

“Listen you little goblin, I will fucking destroy you.” I hold him up, too close to my face.

“Like you could fight me, I’ll kick your ass, I’m from New Jersey!” He says as if it’s intimidating.

“Like that would ever be-” He spits directly into my mouth. I drop him and spit into the floor in disgust.

“You little shit! What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” I yell angrily, “Are you fucking challenged?!”

“I’m defending myself you cunt!” He yells back and I swing at him, nailing him in the jaw. He swipes his hand over my face and claws me over the cheek and eye.

I go to grab him again, “Hey! Hey! What are you fucking doing!?” Mikey and Ray rush towards us as Mikey shouts at us.

I catch Frank’s collar and slam him against the wall. Mikey pulls his arms around me and Ray gets Frank, prying us apart as we both desperately attempt to injure each other. I fight against Mikey but he holds me firmly as Frank kicks around in Ray’s arms, looking like the little gremlin he was.

Frank spits at me again and it hits Mikey’s arm, “ Hey !” He practically screams, “ Enough !”

“He started it!” Frank growls.

“No, he fucking spit at me!” I defend.

“Why the fuck are you trying to kill each other anyway?! Jesus christ! Can’t we have one day where you two don’t fucking maul one another!?” Ray snaps.

“Frank’s a fucking idiot! That’s why!” I attempt to break free of Mikey’s restraint again to no avail.

“I didn’t fucking do anything! He just started insulting me for no reason!” Frank struggles, kicking his feet as they couldn’t reach the ground from the way Ray was holding him.

“Can you two please just go get changed so we can go back to the hotel?” Mikey sighs exhaustively. We were constantly at each other's throats and I could tell they were sick of having to pull us apart. I think they should just let us kill one another in all honestly.

“If you let me take one more swing at the gremlin.” I hiss.

“Gerard. Fucking go change. Now .” Mikey demands and starts pulling me to my dressing room, “Ray, take Frank to his dressing room please.” He sighs.

I can hear Frank shouting to be put down and that he could ‘ walk himself’ as Ray carried his tiny ass to his changing area.

|||

“Just let us fight each other. Whoever wins gets to live and stay in the band.” I say as I pull my shirt over my head.

“Gerard, you are not fighting Frank.” Mikey rolls his eyes, “Why do you two hate one another so much anyway?” The question causes me to freeze.

Only Frank and I knew the reasons but even then, there barely was one. We just hated each other really. It was that simple. Him and I were complete opposites, they don’t attract, they repel in our case.

“We just do, Mikey. Opposites don’t always attract.” I grumble, sliding out of my skinny jeans.

He sighs at my immaturity, “Have you ever tried to get along?”

“Once. We’re better as enemies.” I speak and tug on a pair of baggy sweatpants, “Never will I ever be friends with Frank Iero.” I say and lightly kick Mikey’s knee as he was sat on the floor, blocking the exit so I wouldn’t run off and murder Frank.

Smart move.

I let out a huff as he stands up and grasps my arm. Mikey leads me out to the cab that’s waiting for us. Frank’s on the far end and Ray’s in the middle, Mikey hops in and then me. They put a barrier between Frank and I to keep us from ending the lives of one another.

I stare out the window and so does he, completely ignoring me. It’s almost surprising that we haven’t started a screaming match yet. Well, we mostly only did that when Ray and Mikey weren’t around to stop us.

I did feel bad that they always had to stop us from being sent to prison for murder. But I could care less when I was in the middle of one of our infamous arguments.

My eye hurt.

“Mikey, could you get me ice when we get to the hotel, I’m gonna go look at my eye to make sure that I won’t go blind from his attack.” I glare over at Frank who’s already shooting daggers at me.

“Okay, I’ll grab you some ice too, Frank.” He smiles between us as we have a stare down.

“Fine, betray me why don’t you?” I huff and Mikey rolls his eyes at me and my pathetic childishness.

“Gerard, knock it off and you too, Frank.” He mutters to us both and we go back to watching out the windows.

|||

I’m barely awake when we finally get to the hotel. I drag myself up to my room that I’m sharing with everybody. Everybody gets up there quickly, except Mikey of course, who’s finding me ice.

I step into the bathroom to check my wound and it looks awful; my eye is almost swollen shut. I let out a sigh and wash my face with water and then sit down on the floor, leaned against the wall with the hot water running.

I did this a lot. It helps my voice a lot from how much I’ve been straining myself to sing and occasionally get sick from nerves. I was always a very awkward and nervous kid and I get extremely anxious before shows, especially big ones and sometimes end up vomiting from the anxiety.

There's a banging on the door that causes me to jump, “Yo! Hurry the fuck up!” Frank shouts from the other side.

I huff and turn off the water, tossing the door open. I shove him back and he stumbles as I move past him, “Dickhead. I will end you.” Frank grumbles as he slams the bathroom door.

I just end up going to bed.

|||

I sigh as I wobble on my feet, unsure of if I were still going to throw-up again or not. Frank keeps banging on the bathroom door and I’m ready to kill him.

“Can you hurry the fuck up!? Other people have to use that too you know!” He yells, slamming on the door. I’m so fed up with his yelling that I just rinse my mouth and step out, punching him in the chest to move him out of my way.

“Go fuck yourself, Frank.” I snap as I stomp off.

The set goes by so fast, I almost kill Frank probably around three times and he almost cracks my head open with his guitar. Everybody thinks it’s all for the show somehow. Probably because we’re not screaming profanities at each other and actually trying to piss the other off to the point of murder.

As soon as it’s over Frank and I are beating each other as soon as we step off of the stage. Mikey catches me just before I grab Frank by the neck and Ray grabs him.

“You dirty little troll! I’ll fucking slaughter you! I’ll fucking kill your ass!” I shout, fighting as hard as I can against Mikey.

“Try me, Cunt! I dare you to fucking try and fight me you cock sucking whore!” Frank does the same as I.

“Okay! Knock it off!” Mikey shouts over us and we fall silent as always, “Ray, it’s time,” he huffs.

“Brian!” Ray calls our tour manager over.

“Are they at it again.” He groans seeing the scene.

“Grab the things out of my back pocket. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Mikey speaks sternly.

“Aren’t you afraid they’ll actually kill each other?” Ray raises a concerned voice.

“It’s time for them to settle their differences themselves, Ray.” Mikey shakes his head as Brian grabs my arm and Franks. Suddenly cold metal is strapped around mine and Frank’s arms.

“Handcuffs!?” Both Frank and I yell in unison.

“Good luck, dipfucks. If one of you dies the other has to drag around the other’s body forever.” Brian nods at us as he leaves.

“No! No!” I shout, “Get him off of me!” I yell at Mikey.

“Learn not to kill each other and we’ll let you go.” Ray chimes in.

“We can’t play like this!” Frank snaps.

“Your problem, not ours.” shrugs Ray, and I glare at him.

I am not okay with this.

|||

“I need to shower.” I say, it's only Frank and I in this hotel room.

“Too fucking bad.” He says and I hold back everything in me that's screaming to deck him.

“Can you stop being a cunt. Just stand outside the-”

“No.” He interrupts angrily, “Sponge bath or no bath.” He snaps at me.

“Why the fuck do you hate me so much?” I demand and he just ignores me, typing on his phone. I pull my hand back and it causes him to drop his phone.

“Cunt!” He shouts.

“Go fuck yourself.” I shake my head, “I'm going to bed.”

Frank mutters angrily as we lay uncomfortably close and awkwardly in bed.

I hated my friends so much right now.

|||

Breakfast is the biggest pain in the ass. We're attached with both our dominant hands and let me just say, it's impossible.

Our elbows smack together, our wrists are red, our hands hurt. It's awful. I can't take it.

Sadly, lunch is even worse, having to eat with our heads actually pressed together. We're both absolutely miserable.

By the time we get to the venue we are so ready to murder each other or kill ourselves, we can't tell which would be worse. The place is so big and I'm so anxious. I'm shaking violently and I can tell Frank is getting annoyed by it.

I was also panicked over him finding out about my nervous issue of vomiting before shows. Not even Mikey knew about that somehow. Nobody ever found out.

I bounce my leg and shift around more than normal in my seat. Frank is grinding his teeth with anger at this point.

“Do you have to piss or something?” He snaps and I shake my head, “Then stop bouncing around like an idiot.”

I can't, I want to, but I can't.

“I… Frank I really need to get these cuffs off, like now, please.” I beg.

“You act like I want to deal with this.” He growls at me, he's pissed.

“Frank, you don't understand.” I persist.

He stands and pulls me up, “I knew you needed to piss.” He grumbles and drags me along.

“Not piss.” I say.

“Gerard no.” He glares at me.

“Not that either.” I mumble, now I’m pulling him along, knowing I’m going to vomit. I end up pulling him into the bathroom with me and he seems confused for a second until I drop to the floor.

“Whoa! What do you think you’re doing!?” He shouts and I kick him in the shin.

“Shut up, don’t draw attention.” I mutter angrily.

“Dude, what the fuck? Are you-... Gerard, do you purge?” He whispers, kneeling next to me and holding my hair. It feels so fucked up to have Frank of all people in here with me while I spill the contents of my stomach into an old, pretty gross toilet.

“No.” I cough, “I get sick when I’m too anxious… Which happens almost every show.” I give a weak smile.

“Does anybody know?” He rubs my back after tying my hair up.

“No, I’d rather not worry anybody…” I vomit promptly after I finish speaking and Frank flinches, surprised almost.

“Well, I hate you and even I’m fucking shaking with worry so yeah I can get that.” Frank says and shakes his head.

“Thanks but I’m fine. I just need to stop eating right before shows.” I sigh and sit back, tugging the band out of my hair. My hair flops down around my face and I stand, flushing the toilet with my foot. I wasn’t a fan of public bathrooms. I rinse my mouth out in the sink and Frank doesn’t bother me for once.

It was actually kind of nice not fighting him constantly.

It didn’t last long as his arm got caught in the door and we started yelling over it, threatening to kill each other. Of course, the one time we argue, Mikey shows up and shakes his head at us.

“Good luck playing like that.” He grins, finding our situation amusing.

“I fucking hate you, Mikey!” I shout as he walks off, laughing to himself, “Cunt!”

|||

The shows have been an absolute disaster. He had to play with me hooked to him, singing and moving around was a struggle. He kept fucking around with his guitar and went to toss it around himself and nailed me in the jaw and I bled so bad that they had to bandage it on stage because I refused to leave. That was only the first night. Try over a week of this. I was so banged up and I swear he's reopened that gash in my jaw with his guitar almost every night.

Being back in the hotel room was a blessing. Even though I had to have Frank practically wrapped around me, it was better than trying to beat the shit out of him while he was attached to me.

I somehow manage to get comfortable. Frank was already asleep somehow, my face hurt too bad for me to fall asleep yet. Frank mumbles incoherently in his sleep, it’s surprisingly the least annoying quality about him.

He begins to stir at probably four in the morning, his mumbles getting a bit louder.

“No…” He hums, “No! Go away!” He speaks loudly and he starts to toss and turn anxiously, practically shouting. He’s actually crying, bawling, years running down his face as they slip out of the corners of his firmly shut eyes.

“Frank.” I mumble.

“Stop! Don’t do that! No! I said no!” He starts to get a bit aggressive. I catch his free arm and start to shake him.

“Wake up! Frank, hey… Wake up.” I push him again and again but his yelling continues, “Frank! Wake up!” I shout, startling him awake. He sits upright, still in tears. I can see he’s trembling.

His hands shake as he rubs at his eyes, sniffles and hiccups shaking him. I  turn the lights on and sit up, going to place a hand on his back but I end up yanking at his arm. I frown and rest my hand on his leg.

“Are you okay?” I ask and Frank doesn't look at me, only shaking his head, “How can I help?” I want to make him feel better, I'm the only one who should cause him pain is what I think for my reasoning of feeling bad for him.

“Y-... You can't…” He stammers and I frown a bit more. I decide to pull him into me, which forces him into my lap, “What-... What are you doing!?” He struggles in my arms for a second and I hug my arm around him, resting my head on his chin. He stops moving and his cheeks heat up.

“I'm trying to be comforting. Mikey used to do this to me when I would get night terrors.” I hum and feel him squeeze an arm around me, gripping onto my hand.

“Why are you helping me?” He mumbles.

“You've been helping me and I'm just trying to help you in return.” I explain. He and I may beat the fuck out of each over all the time but I felt pretty bad and this feels pretty good.

“Oh… T-... Thanks…” He says into my chest.

He shakes for a while longer, sniffling and not so much crying as whimpering. I'm exhausted but I stay awake the whole time, singing to him. That's what always calmed me down when I'd be so upset.

“Do you think this would be enough of a reason to get the handcuffs off?” I joke and he starts to shake his head.

“I don't want them to know.” He winced against me.

“Okay. Your secrets safe with me, Frank.” I told him and he pressed himself more into my chest. He fell asleep and I laid down, holding him still.

My heart was beating so hard and I couldn't sleep until probably around six.

|||

I wake up with Frank wrapped tightly around me. I stir slightly and notice that Mikey is stood at the end of the bed, taking pictures.

“Hey!” I snap and startle Frank who jumps and sits up.

“You two friends now?” Giggles Mikey.

“No!” We both shout.

“Yeah, okay. ” Mikey chuckles, “Now get up, we're going out to eat.”

“I'm not hungry.” Frank instantly says, “I forced Gerard to get up with me and we ate last night.” He lies. I give him an odd look.

“You sure? It's like four, we have to go in a bit.” Mikey says and we both nod, “Okay, we’ll be back in a while.” Mikey says as he starts to leave, “Bye losers!”

I roll my eyes and the door closes, “Why’d you do that?” I turn to Frank.

“You won’t get sick before if you don’t eat until after, right?” He smiles at me with red cheeks.

“Yeah, you’re right… Thanks.” I mumble and toss my legs over the side of the bed. Frank crawls over and climbs off the bed.

“Let’s go get ready for the concert.”

|||

I walk ahead of Frank to the dressing room, we had been wearing the same shirts for the past, probably week now and had to keep dousing each other in cologne to help us not smell like complete shit. He starts to wash his face and hair in the sink while I standby, involentarily helping.

I’d caught myself staring at him a few times. It was hard not to when you were literally handcuffed to him, but I mean, excessive staring, “Your hair's so soft.” I say without thinking. It really was surprisingly soft.

“Thanks.” He chuckles bearing his bright white teeth up at me. My heart beats too fast as he squints up at me, water dripping down in his face.

“Uh, yeah, no problem.” I cough.

“Could you please get me a towel?” He laughs and I grab him one, patting the water off of his skin. He takes it from me after a moment of watching me with a dopey grin and starts to dry his hair, my hand banging against his head as he did so.

“Frank…?” I speak.

“Yes?” He coos with his schoolgirl giggle.

“Why do you hate me?” I ask and he’s taken aback by the seriousness of my sudden question.

“Uh…” He mumbles, getting flustered and red faced, shrugging.

“Tell me.” I insist.

“I don’t have a reason…” He says awkwardly. I stay silent for a minute or so, pondering whether or not to keep pushing it.

“Yes you do.” I shove him with my arm.

“No!” His cheeks glow.

“Come on, just tell me, I won’t get mad.” I say and he shakes his head, “Well, I honestly just hate you because you’re definitely better than me.” I admit, also because he’s hot and it’s not fair.

“It’s not that you’d get mad.” He sighs.

“Then what is it?”

He shrugs at me, sighing. He seems extremely upset, trying to avoid me which was almost impossible with the cuffs on our hands. I grab his hand and he almost jumps out of his skin.

“Don’t do that!” He smacks me.

“Just tell me what’s bothering you, Frank. We already know each other’s weirdest secrets.” All except that I’m gay as fuck.

“No we don’t.” He gives me a funny look.

“Close enough.” I bump against him with a smile.

“Uh…” He’s as red as a tomato.

“I told you why I hated you, you have to tell me, it’s a rule.” I speak, “You have to, Frank.” I press and Frank gives in with a sigh.

“I like you.” He says, looking at me.

“I asked why you hate me, Frank.” I look at him like he’s crazy.

“No, I-... I’m in-... I-...” He kisses me.

I’m not sure how to respond. I don’t kiss back out of pure shock, but my heart beats too fast and my face burns. I don’t hate it.

Frank pulls back quickly, “Oh, god… I am so sorry, I couldn’t uh… Think of any other way to convey my feelings, but that didn’t work either because it makes me look stupid and it makes my feelings for you like… Even more of them have flourished and your lips are like… Nice… And I’m just gonna stop talking now because I feel really dumb…” He is so red and flustered. Frank looks really cute when he’s blushing, I realize.

“No, I-... I didn’t hate it.” I say.

“You didn’t kiss back… If you didn’t hate it then you would just… Kiss me back…” He sighs, “Well, secrets out I guess…” He frowns, “Can we pretend this didn’t happen?”

“No.” I shake my head.

“Gerard, can we please just forget about it?” He begs, not looking at me.

“No, we can’t.” I reply and he looks at me in frustration and anger.

“Gerard!” He shoves me, I stumble and fall, grabbing onto Frank as I collapse onto the couch, “Forget about it okay.” He persists.

“No, I can’t.” I reply as I place a hand behind his head, resting it on the back of his neck, I pull him closer to me, kissing him myself this time. It felt good, it felt like the thing I’d been missing forever.

The door opens and we try to jump apart only ending up with me writhing in pain from Frank pulling my arm and popping it from its socket.

“Looks like you two have solved your differences and congratulations, you are free to go!” Mikey laughs.

“Yeah… To the hospital.” I grunt and Frank chuckles at me.

Mikey takes the cuffs off but in reality we we’re around each other more without the cuffs than with once they came off.

[yoi-secret-valentines2017]

How to Surprise Your Fiancé With Pork: An Honest Walkthrough by Viktor Nikiforov

[for @love-like-a-soldier]

–

The thing with Viktor is that once he’s set his mind on something, there is a very very minuscule chance of him not following through on said thing.

Add quad flips to his program six months before the Junior Grand Prix series because ‘no-one else is doing them’? Ask anyone who was there: he came, he flipped, he conquered (and, less importantly, Yakov yelled at him the whole time for it).

Take a year off and jump on a plane halfway around the world because the cute Japanese skater from last year’s banquet skated his program? He’s got the stamps on his passport and the shiny ring on his finger to show for that.

Decide not to decide between coaching and competing and resolve to do both this year instead? Well, this last one’s a bit of a work in progress, but Viktor is still sure it will be fine. Granted, his criterion for ‘success’ involves having himself and/or Yuuri, preferably both, on the podium at Worlds, but if that doesn’t happen then it can only mean the apocalypse is coming, and by then nothing will matter anyway.

In any case, the timing of Valentine’s Day is unfortunate this year: it falls a few short days away from when they’ll have to fly out for the Four Continents. After his record-breaking silver at the Grand Prix and subsequent absolute domination of the Japanese Nationals, Yuuri is a favorite to win the tournament this February. He’s been an absolute workhorse these past few weeks, hungry for the win – Viktor couldn’t be prouder of him as a coach, nor more excited to face him on the ice at Worlds in March.

Still, he has a short-term concern that will need to be addressed before anything else: he wants to do something for Yuuri, partly as a Valentine’s Day gift, partly as a prelude to Worlds, and partly ‘just because’. It’s somewhere between dwelling on the abstract thought of Yuuri’s hunger as a competitor, and watching the younger skater on Facetime with his mother back home, that an idea starts to form.

An idea starts to form, and it latches.

“The Japanese do this holiday a bit differently, no?” Georgi comments in the locker room, when Viktor excitedly blurts out his plan to the first non-Yuuri person he can find. “Something about chocolates? And something about another day in March?”

“It doesn’t have to be just about that. It can be… I don’t know. It can be ‘I care about you, you deserve this, thank you for your hard work’?”

“Hmmm. I suppose so.”

Georgi doesn’t look or sound terribly convinced though. Viktor lets the other man side-eye him at least until he finishes cleaning his skates, at which point he whirls around and squints. “What is it?”

“It’s just… I think you are forgetting a small, minor detail.”

“Which is?”

“Well, since when have you ever… actually cooked?”

—

Alright, so it’s no terrible secret that Viktor Nikiforov, the most decorated men’s singles figure skater to walk this earth, might be considered slightly less than proficient in some, shall we say, domestic endeavors. Specifically, culinary endeavors. Alas, for 27 years Viktor Nikiforov, skater extraordinaire and poster boy for countless ad campaigns that showered him with more money than he knew what to do with, lived on the existence of restaurants, takeout and the occasional frozen dinner.

Yuuri moving in with him was a bit of a blessing in that regard, because his talents in ‘broke college student cuisine’ as he and Phcihit called it meant that Viktor could at least eat warm meals that had been prepared in his kitchen, and from something other than his microwave. Yuuri isn’t a fancy cook, mostly sticking to the basics: if it can’t be prepped in half an hour and cooked in much of the same, Viktor doubts he’s seen Yuuri make it. Not that he’s complaining, since a quick dinner means more time for after-dinner activities.

Regardless, he wants to show Yuuri that he appreciates it – that he appreciates him, all of him, his life and love and piping-hot stews, and all the other wonderful things he brought here, to Viktor’s home. Presenting him not only with any dish, but his favorite and a surely-welcome taste of home, sounds like the perfect way to do it.

Georgi has a point, though. Viktor’s lack of… relevant experience could be a hindrance.

It’s okay, though. In the words of one Katsuki Yuuri who had just poked on the whorl of his coach’s hair and then promptly panicked about it, “everything’s okay!” Because Viktor is determined, and much like all of his previous instances of inspired madness, Viktor has a plan of action.

—

Step 1: Look up recipes for katsudon on your phone.

“There are so maaaany, Yura,” he whines, scrolling and scrolling through an endless list of results. Viktor’s half-draped over the railing while Yuri does his stretches at rink side. The only reason he can afford to be this careless is because it isn’t even 7 in the morning yet – far too early for Yuuri to even be awake. Then again, Yuuri is usually the last to leave at night, so it all balances out in the end.

Maybe. Yakov doesn’t yell about it, that’s what’s important.

“Quit bitching and just pick one, old man.”

“But how do I know which one to choose? I should have asked Mama Katsuki for hers, that’s Yuuri’s favorite, right? It would have been foolproof.”

Yuri gives him a look. “Just having the recipe doesn’t mean jack shit in terms of you getting something edible in the end.” At Viktor’s pout, Yuri rolls his eyes. “Besides, you know there’s an actual Japanese restaurant a few blocks from here, right?”

“That would be cheating!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake – what are you even getting him katsudon for, anyway?? Bit premature considering he hasn’t won the Four Continents yet!”

“But,” Viktor breaks into a dazzling smile, “he’s won my heart?”

Yuri makes gagging sounds for a good two and a half minutes.  

Viktor ignores Yakov’s yelling and pays closer attention to one of the recipes. It looks simple enough, it opens with a delectable picture of the finished product, and there’s something in the author’s blurb about ‘authentic’ and ‘Tokyo’. It’s not Hasetsu, but he supposes this will have to do.

By the time Yuuri strolls into the rink, Viktor has already made up his mind and bookmarked this recipe. For a moment he wonders what ‘Tonkatsu’ is and why the word shows up as a link on his screen; when he taps on the link, he’s taken to another recipe page, still under the same author. Ah, so this is for the pork cutlet, then. Of course, that makes sense. He needs to make a mental note of that:

Step 1.5: Remember that Tonkatsu involves a separate recipe on its own.

—

When the much-awaited day arrives, Viktor is ready:

Step 2: Make sure the fiancé is oblivious to everything.

“You’re taking the day off?”

Yuuri is squinting down at him with an unreadable look, and Viktor isn’t sure if he’s suspicious or just confused. He hopes it isn’t the first one though, otherwise he’s ruined. “Just one day, I promise,” Viktor assures him from underneath the pile of blankets and pillows he’s gathered around himself. “I don’t know if I picked this up from Georgi or what…” He punctuates that with an exaggerated sniffle. “I miss Hasetsu. Your lovely city’s weather has made me weak, Yuuri.” Only half a lie.

“Sorry. How do you know you’ll be better by tomorrow?” Yuuri sets his bag back down and sits on the edge of the bed. Somehow he snakes a hand through the blankets and pillows and finds Viktor’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever at least.” He sighs in relief. “That’s good.”

“Mmmm.” Fake-sickness or not, Yuuri’s hands always feel good against his skin, and he’ll never get tired of Yuuri’s touch. Viktor almost has half a mind to abandon the plan altogether, yank his Yuuri down and pull him close, kiss him… patience, there will be time for that later, he tells himself. This will all be worth it. “Or it could just be fatigue. I suppose we’ll find out tomorrow?”

Yuuri frowns. “I can take the day off too, just to make sure…”

No, no, no, that is the opposite of what he wants. “And lose a precious day of training less than a week before the Four Continents? I can’t allow that.”

“But – ”

“What kind of coach would I be if I let my student lose precious ice time at this crucial moment, all because of something a few painkillers and some rest should remedy?”

“Well…” Yuuri brushes back some tendrils of hair that had fallen in front of Viktor’s face. He almost wants to purr. “If you’re sure…” He finally stands up, and leans down to press a quick kiss against Viktor’s lips. “Text me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all. I’m going to be doing ballet at Madam Baranovskaya’s for most of the day, but I’ll keep an eye out for any messages from you.”

Viktor smiles and nods, and offers a pathetic little wave as Yuuri leaves. He’s already running late, he thinks with a glance at the clock: it’s almost noon.

He waits exactly ten minutes, and then leaps out of bed.

—

Step 3: Obtain all the necessary ingredients.

There’s a handful of Asian supermarkets in St. Petersburg, and the closest one still takes him the better part of an hour to get to. He wasn’t kidding about the weather being harsher than Hasetsu’s, and the snow and ice make for some tricky walking.

What’s important is that he makes it. And what’s even more important: where can he find dashi stock?

“It looks like this,” he tells one of the store employees, pulling up a picture of a bottle on his phone. “I think? It’s stock made from some kind of kelp.” The man stares at him, and Viktor sighs. “No? Okay, then.”

He tries a couple more times, and then finally just pulls up a new browser tab on his phone. ‘Dashi stock substitute,’ he types.

Chicken stock it is.

He knows he’s off to a terrible start when he can’t find the mirin either. He makes it through several trips up and down the store aisles, circling back on himself once or twice, before considering if he’s to settle for some dry sherry and brown sugar. But at the last minute, he spots a single row of bottles – shorter than the rest, easy to miss – and thanks his lucky stars for the bright red caps.

From there, it’s easier to find the pork and the panko bread crumbs. He thinks they should still have soy sauce in the kitchen, since Yuuri uses it a lot for his stir-fry dishes. And they should definitely have onions back home.

Shouldn’t they? In his excitement to leave the apartment to go shopping, he realizes, he didn’t think to check what they had in store. In hindsight, he really should have done that.

Somehow, by the time he heads out with his purchases, the snow has gotten worse.

—

Step 4: Walk your dog before committing to any cooking, especially if this is your first serious time doing this, as you will probably be tied up in the kitchen for hours.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Viktor pouts. Makkachin’s face after a short half-hour stroll seems to say ‘that’s it?’ She shakes her fur in the foyer to retaliate, and Viktor sighs fondly even as he’s drenched.

Then he gives her a dog biscuit, because he can deny her nothing.

He takes a good 20 minutes to make the necessary arrangements so that his little endeavor runs as smoothly as possible: comfortable clothes, new apron, all the lights on in the kitchen, music from his free skate playing on loop from the adjacent living room. He sends a quick message to Yuuri that he’ll be ‘taking a nap’.

His heart swells at the response: ‘⊂(・ヮ・⊂) Feel better!’

Lastly, he also asks Yuri to give him a heads-up once Yuuri leaves for home. He decides to count ‘Fuck off old man’ as a ‘yes’.

“Okay Makkachin,” he calls out in sing-song. She perks her head up for a moment before resuming her task of gnawing on a chew toy. “Here goes nothing.”

—

ACTUAL STEP 1: In a small bowl, combine the dashi  chicken stock, sugar, soy sauce and mirin making sure the sugar is completely dissolved.

Just a year ago, the cupboards in his kitchen were almost completely bare. Now that he tries to remember it, he probably only had a couple of plates, some mismatched glasses and mugs, and maybe two and a half sets of cutlery in there.

It was Yuuri who insisted on shopping for kitchenware together, four jet-lagged hours after moving in. Which is the only reason he actually has the bowls and measuring cups that he needs now.

It’s funny to think about it, how they’re not even technically married yet, but for all intents and purposes they’re already starting to act like it.

Step 2: Add the liquid mixture to a small frying pan over medium heat and bring to a simmer.

Viktor is 99% sure he knows what ‘bring to a simmer’ means, but he looks it up anyway just to be safe. There’s no shame in being sure.

There’s also no shame in incognito browsing, anyway.

Step 3: Add the sliced onions to the mixture and cook until onions are fragrant and start to turn translucent.

Oh, so he was supposed to slice the onions beforehand? That’s not a problem, he can just do it now.

Luckily, they do have enough onions to cover the recipe, if barely. The cutting board and Yuuri’s favorite knife are still in the drying rack from this morning’s breakfast, so it’s easy to find them.

He starts slicing the onions, the knife coming down with every other downbeat of his free skate music. Viktor hasn’t done a lot of knifework in his life at all, so he decides to go slowly. He’s not arrogant to the point of foolishness, there’s a reason he dedicated all afternoon to this task.

He wipes his smarting eyes on his sleeve after the first onion. He expected this much.

He finishes a second onion. It’s getting worse now, he’s still got a lot to do. Maybe this is the plateau though, and in that case, he can tolerate it.

Two and a half onions and oh God the pain is real and the tears might never stop. He abandons his onions, flushes his eyes out with water, and asks the internet for advice again.

Step 2.5: Place onions in the freezer for 15 minutes so that your eyes don’t sting (as much) when you slice them.

He chucks the rest of the onions into the freezer and puts a lid on the sauce before taking a break. When he checks his phone, there’s a message from Yuuri: ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Missing you :(‘, he types out. Guiltily, he realizes it’s one of the few non-lies he’s told Yuuri today. All for a good cause, he convinces himself. ‘Done for today?’

‘Soon. Do you want soup for dinner?’

Uh-oh. ‘Not very hungry. Don’t worry about me.’

‘Σ(゜ロ゜;) But you have to eat something!’

Viktor lets out a little laugh. He doesn’t want to argue with Yuuri about this though. And maybe a little soup won’t hurt, if that’s all it is.

‘Okay, soup sounds good. :) Not too much though!’

Back to his katsudon. The onions are much more cooperative now, Viktor is pleased to find, and he makes quick work of the rest of the batch. Now for the next step…

Step 4: Place the Tonkatsu –

Oh, shit.

—

~INTERMEZZO: TONKATSU~

Step 4.1: Trim the pork chops of any excess fat, leaving just a little on the edges.  Make small cuts in the fatty areas of each chop. This prevents curling when cooking.

Right, good to know that, it’s like he’s learning something new every step of the way. That’s a good thing, Viktor tells himself as he makes cuts in the pork. It’s the same knife he used on the onions, but he’s not sure if it makes a difference. That, and he was too lazy to get another one. This is fine. So far, so good.

Step 4.2: Lightly season both sides of the pork chops with salt and pepper.  

Viktor frowns. How much is ‘lightly’? Everything else in the recipe got actual measurements, why is this suddenly a matter of guessing now?

He decides to err on the side of caution. Yuuri can always add more later.

Actually, does it even matter if all this will be drenched in the mirin-stock sauce anyway? Viktor has so many questions.

Step 4.3: Get three shallow bowls and add flour to one, beaten egg to the second one and panko crumbs to the third one.

Wait, when was he supposed to have beaten an egg before this?

Doesn’t matter, a more pressing concern is that they don’t really have any shallow bowls – much less three. He finds the bowls that they eat cereal in, and decides to use those. God, he’s already filled up the whole counter with stuff. Doing the dishes after this is promising to be an adventure on its own.

Step 4.4: Dust the pork chops in flour (making sure they’re completely covered) then dip in the beaten egg, coating the surface thoroughly.  Finally coat in the panko breadcrumbs. Firmly press each side of the pork chops in the panko so it sticks and you get a nice even coating.

Okay, that is a lot of action for one step.

What Viktor quickly learns is that there’s no real, fast way to do this that’s also dignified. The first time, he drops the pork chop into the first bowl from too high up, and sends a cloud of flour into the air. So he adjusts, taking his time with the egg wash, and then with the breadcrumbs, turning it over and over until it’s thoroughly coated.

So are his fingers, at the end. He’s got panko caked under his nails.

It’s slow going, and he has to add more breadcrumbs to the bowl at some point, but the chops come out looking beautiful. He almost has half a mind to crow about them to Makkachin, but he’s not sure she won’t try to nab one off the counter.

He contents himself with a picture of his work so far.. He’ll think of a witty caption later.

Step 4.5: Fill a medium-sized, heavy bottom pot halfway with oil and heat over medium heat.  When the oil reaches 340 degrees gently lower the cutlets into the oil.

..But this one, this is the step that gives him pause. For all that he’s already willing to indulge Yuuri with this, he’s not too sure how thrilled he is at feeding him fried food. Come to think of it, he’s not even sure that Yuuri, who once said no to his coach-endorsed offer of Shanghai crab with a straight face, would approve.

Is there a recipe for baked Tonkatsu somewhere?

Step 4.5-a: Find a recipe for baked Tonkatsu somewhere.

His phone buzzes as he’s typing in the search bar; he makes a mental note to check it later. For now, he skims over the results and clicks on the third one at random.

What do you know, you can make a sort-of baked Tonkatsu. The fact that the steps between seasoning the pork and getting them all coated and ready to fry are more or less the same is very, very welcome indeed.

Step 4.5-b: Adjust an oven rack to the middle position and preheat the oven to 400F (200C). Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.

Viktor’s phone buzzes again as he’s fiddling with the rack. He’s not sure he’s actually seen Yuuri use this oven before; he usually makes things on the stovetop, unless they’re eating something like salad which doesn’t require even that. He’s also not sure how he’s supposed to know when the oven is done preheating. Is it supposed to make a sound? There’s a green light next to something helpfully labelled ‘PRE’, is that supposed to go off at some point?

So many questions. Viktor has five tabs open when a series of cheerful beeping puts him out of his misery. Remember, he tells himself as he wipes the sweat from his brow, you’re doing this for love!

Step 4.5-b(cont’d): Remember you’re doing this for love!

Step 4.5-c: Place the pork on the prepared baking sheet. Bake until the pork is no longer pink inside, about 20 minutes.

Viktor doesn’t even try to figure out the timer on the oven this time. He just checks the clock on the microwave and – holy shit, is that really the time??

The pork has been cooking for about ten minutes, and Viktor has been trying to find more eggs for about five, when his phone buzzes again. And again.

“Hello?” The phone is sandwiched between his ear and shoulder as he opens cupboard door after cupboard door.

“Finally. What the fuck old man, I was starting to think maybe you burned down your kitchen and died.”

“Not yet,” Viktor forces himself to sing into the phone. “Check again in some 20 minutes though. May or may not be kidding.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “You’re still not done?”

“Why – “

“Check your fucking texts!”

Yuri ends the call before he can protest, so he decides to do just that.

[30 minutes ago]: ‘Piggy’s heading out.’

[25 minutes ago]: ‘Piggy’s on his way. Btw if you didn’t completely fail, I call dibs on leftovers.’

Oh, no.

Oh, no no.

He’s spent countless days in the ballet studio in Lilia’s house, enough to know how much time it takes to get from there to here. That is, not much time at all. Still! He refuses to give up now, not when he’s so close!

Okay, maybe not so close, but he actually got the pork chops into the oven and that’s something, right?

He glances over at the many buttons and labels on his oven. By any chance, does one of them cast ‘miracle’?

Step 4.5-c-1: Locate the manufacturer’s manual for your convection oven. Verify if it has a ‘speed bake’ mode or some similar function that might drastically reduce baking time.

Close enough. He presses it with all the hope and yearning of a desperate man. Oh God Yuuri’s going to be here any minute and the kitchen is a mess. Viktor is a mess.

He decides to spend his nervous energy by at least setting the table –

But wait, he was looking for more eggs, wasn’t he? Damn it. He should have picked some up at the store when he was there –

Why didn’t Yuuri text him to let him know he was coming home? He usually does –

Hang on. When had he removed the lid from that frying pan with the sauce and the onions? He doesn’t remember doing it – but it doesn’t matter now, because there’s not much but onion left. Swearing, he shuts off that burner and moves the pan.

… Where is that infernal sound coming from??

Step 4.5-c-1**: A note of caution regarding the ‘speed bake’ option mentioned in the step above: there is a small chance that you pressed some other button instead of the intended one. Adjust accordingly. For example, if you accidentally set the oven to ‘Broil’, you will want to keep a constant eye on the food inside the oven to ensure that it does not burn up.

Viktor yanks open the oven door. He winces as a blast of heat and smoke smacks him in the face, and coughs out a few selections of Russian profanity. Makkachin’s barking from a room away.

To his dismay, the pork chops are now a rather… unfortunate… color.

And because the universe apparently decides he hasn’t been punished for his hubris enough, the next second his ears are assaulted by a shrill, otherworldly BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Step 4.???: It seems your overhead smoke detector has gone off. Obtain a chair to stand on and some decently-sized flat object which you can use to fan the smoke away from the detector.

Step 4.??? (note): Maybe turn off the oven and stovetop entirely before you do this.

—

This is how Katsuki Yuuri, the love of his life, the apple of his eye, the fire of his loins et cetera, ad infinitum, finds Viktor when he walks into the door: standing precariously with one foot on a barstool and the other on top of his counter, frantically fanning at his smoke detector with a magazine from their coffee table.

It’s… well, it’s not the scenario he envisioned, that’s for sure. In his earlier moments of self-delusion, Viktor might have had visions of candles on the dining table, sparkling wine, and piping hot bowls of katsudon that would make Yuuri’s face light up the room. To his credit, his imaginary scenario didn’t necessarily involve a spotless kitchen as well, but he didn’t envision it was ever going to get this bad. He thinks he must present quite the sight himself, with flour and panko all over his clothes and hair.

Neither of them says anything for a few, long seconds. Yuuri looks like he’s still struggling to process what exactly he’s meant to do with everything he’s seeing right now. There’s a flush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, and his mouth hangs half-open.

No, don’t say anything yet! He can still fix this! He can…

Oh. Did he ever make rice?

Step 5: Nope. It’s all over now, save for the shoutings.

“Oh, Yuuri,” he groans. He drops down from the stool and buries his face in his hands, promptly getting flour on his face. “I have no words. I just wanted to surprise you. I promise I’ll clean this all up – ”

“Were you cooking?” Yuuri blurts out. He cranes his neck to peer at the oven over Viktor’s shoulder. “So when you said you were sick…”

“Lies,” he admits readily. “With good intentions, I promise, but good intentions only get you so far.” Makkachin bounds in through the kitchen to greet Yuuri, and tracks paw-prints of flour in her wake. “I suppose I deserved this,” he adds in lament.

“Don’t say that,” Yuuri chuckles. “I’m… I’m touched. And I am surprised. Really.”

Viktor suspends his dramatics for a moment to scrutinize the look on Yuuri’s face. His eyes seem to have grown even wider since the initial shock of walking into their catastrophe of a kitchen, which doesn’t make any sense. And…

“Wait.” He finally notices the huge plastic bags in Yuuri’s hands, too big and too many for to hold just soup. “What are you carrying?”

Somehow, the adorable flush on Yuuri’s cheeks only deepens. “I, uh…” He avoids Viktor’s eyes as he unloads container after container on the counter: boiled eggs, some kind of barbecued sliced meat, loose herbs in little bags, and… several different thermoses? “You said you were feeling sick and that, the weather was bad and um, that you missed Hasetsu. You didn’t exactly say ‘no’ to soup, so I… I made ramen?”

Viktor stares at him. Yuuri stares at a package of noodles. “You… made ramen.”

“W-well, it’s not going to be anywhere close to what you got back home… I didn’t exactly have 18 hours to burn, so. The pork’s from a Chinese takeout place. The eggs might have ended up cooking a bit longer than I wanted. Uh, and the noodles are a bit mushy because I got distracted when Yurio kept yelling – “

“Yurio helped you with this??”

Yuuri finally laughs. “Sure, but only after I promised him half of the finished product. And to take the full blame if we ever ended up trashing Lilia’s kitchen.”

“I… I thought you said you were going there for ballet training.”

“Not a lie! We did all this after.” Yuuri scratches at the back of his head, and offers a sheepish smile. “It’s funny, huh? We both wanted to surprise each other.”

“But ended up thinking of the same thing anyway,” Viktor breathes. And then he can’t take it anymore, because he pulls Yuuri close to him, ignoring his still-freezing skin and the indignant yelp as he gets flour on Yuuri too.

The thing with Viktor is that once he’s set his mind on something, there is a very very minuscule chance of him not following through on said thing. To his credit, it can never be said that he gave up on this brave culinary adventure, not really anyway, even though the results turned out… less than ideal.

But did they, really? He’s not so sure anymore, not when he’s got Yuuri in his arms and a perfect close-up view of that pretty blush on his face that still hasn’t gone away. He’s not sure he can ask for much more than this.

Viktor presses a kiss against his cheek to try to make the blush even worse. It works. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Yuuri smiles, and buries his face into his neck. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“For what it’s worth, I am truly, truly sorry about the current state of our kitchen.”

“I’m just glad you’re not actually sick.”

“… I have so much to clean up.”

“Maybe I’ll help you.”

“Maybe,” Viktor echoes. He squeezes him tighter and wonders how he ever got so lucky. “Hungry?”

—

The Tonkatsu is hopeless, gone, like it barrelled full-throttle towards ‘inedible’ under that broiler and then kept going, possibly screaming its own name. With the rest of the ingredients and some leftover chicken breast in the fridge, Yuuri manages to make something quite palatable. He also makes rice.

Meanwhile, beside him, Viktor heats up the ramen broth. Which really just involves moving it all from the thermoses to a pot, and staring at the pot while it sits on the stove. But he’s got this.

He even stirs it once or twice, to feel useful.

—

Later that week, Yuuri takes gold by a margin of 2.57 points from JJ at the Four Continents.

Viktor had already pinned all the Japanese restaurants in a five-kilometer radius that serve katsudon by the time they landed. Right after the awards ceremony, Viktor drags Yuuri to the nearest one, and Yuuri finally gets his hands on a proper pork cutlet bowl – with actual dashi stock! – for dinner.

–

A few hours after dinner, Viktor gets to eat some katsudon too.

“Vkusno”, he murmurs playfully into warm skin, earning a laugh and a kick for his troubles. All is well with the world.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #63

“now it’s you-know-who, i got the you-know-what, stick it you-know-where, you know why, you don’t care.”

tell me about the last thing that made you laugh until it hurt. chelsea showed me a stupid video that had me crying on new year's. i normally wouldn't have laughed so hard, but i was almost drunk. is there a trampoline in your backyard? no. we got rid of ours years ago. what about kids on leashes? what do you think about that? i don't feel much about it, because i've never raised a child. it's funny to see, no doubt, but idk if it's right or wrong. kids can be dangerously ignorant. for whatever reason, your significant other can NEVER have sex again. do you stay with them? duh. i can live without it. how would you react to losing a close friend? same shit, different day. have you ever drunk/eaten a substance in the science lab? no, because i didn't want to die back when i was in school. have you ever led the prayer at dinnertime? if not, do you want to? i have. do you like those sudoku puzzles? 
 i sure do. have you ever taken a course in chemistry? 
 no, i took physical science, which had chemistry mixed into it. do you like to draw?  not nearly as much as i used to... so, tell me about your day. was it good? 
 same old day. woke up, ate breakfast and such, watched my daily gmm. started taking surveys while i listened to music and let's plays in the background. seriously, it's the same every other day. do you have your own web site? 
 well i mean i created the rp forum my friends and i moved to, but it's not "mine." do you frequently add people to your friend’s list that you don’t know? no, never. how do you feel about girls that post half naked pictures on facebook? cover it up, hunny. not everyone needs to know you like that. sorry to be all "conservative," but i hate that shit. what’s your favorite ice cream flavor? vanilla, but with chocolate icing. have you ever considered changing your sexuality? no, i have not. i don't believe you can just "change" your sexuality like that. ever thought about changing your gender? here come the liberals. i don't believe it's possible to change your gender. what is the worst physical pain you have ever felt? getting my former cyst emptied at the er. fuck that. who is the most inappropriate person you know? mmmm... chelsea, probably. has someone ever told you they loved you and you didn’t say it back? yeah. are you satisfied with what you currently have in life? no. like look... i am happy i have a house. i have both parents. we have food. but what i have, both good and bad, is not enough for me to see a happy life possible. how long has it been since you kissed someone? over a year ago. your best friend has sex with your ex. what happens? i'm killing her. your ex wants you back, but you are in a relationship. what do you do? ... fucking kill me. i'd leave my current boyfriend to be with him. what did you do last night? wallowed in self-pity, convinced myself to not kill myself. if someone was to ask you if you were okay right now, are you? no. mom's taking my letter to jason to the mail tomorrow. i feel it in my gut that it's not going to change his feelings for me. do you think you would lose some friends if you gained 100 pounds? honestly, no. i feel that the friends i have now are more serious than that. when was the last time someone gave you a massage? i'm sure it hasn't been since jason and i dated and he'd give me one. when was the last time you were in an amazingly awesome mood? HA. is there something you need to get off your chest at the moment? there's a novel's worth. has the last person you kissed met your father? he has. i don't know how he feels about my dad since the divorce, though. he'd always have to hear me rant and cry about him. have you ever woke up crying from a bad dream? i have. have you ever had to block anyone online? plenty of times. have you ever made a boy cry? i sadly have. do you find guys with facial piercings attractive? generally. who was the last person to insult you to your face? colleen, kinda. what scares you more: snakes or spiders? spiders, i'm not scared of snakes. do you wear thongs? i never have. have you ever done yoga? i used to be amazing at it. many summers ago, i used wiifit to lose about 40 pounds. i mainly did yoga. i was super flexible. would you consider yourself a flirt? not in the slightest. do you have any friends who have an STD? i have a family member who does. are you thinner than your best friend? i am not. have you ever been prescribed narcotics? yeah, xanax and another for anxiety that i forgot... how many rings do you wear daily? just one. i want to repair the one jason gave me so i can wear that one again, too... i think i'll do that tonight or tomorrow. do you get car sick or motion sick easily? does it ever stop you doing things? i don't. did you ever dream of living in a house with a white picket fence? not really, no. after you go swimming, do you sit around in your wet bathing suit with a towel or do you immediately change? i usually sit around for a while. what was the last activity you did that made you sweat? i'm pretty sure i sweat very slightly just when i got the craft box out of the closet. because of my medication, literally everything makes me sweat... it's so embarrassing. when was the last time you used lotion? last time i shaved my legs. currently listening to? "tourniquet" by marilyn manson. just another song that makes me think of how i feel about jason in some ways. give us a lyric from this song. "take your hatred out on me, make your victim my head." besides your mouth, where is your favorite spot to get kissed? breasts or neck. ever jacked a dude off? were you even romantically involved with him? hey, when you "can't" have sex, you find the loopholes, sister. and yes, we were dating at the time. would you rather eat your pizza cold or hot? i'd rather it be hot, but cold's fine. have you ever had fake nails? i have not. is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? no. it feels demeaning, honestly. does the person you like, like you back? no, he does not. do you believe ex’s can be friends? if you were deeply romantically involved? fuck no. do you like to text or call more? texting. calling is awkward imo and it's hard to understand the person, at least to me. when was the last time you really pushed yourself to your physical or emotional limits? what were you doing and how did it turn out?   emotionally, right fucking now.  colleen's decided to lecture me again, and i am a hair's width from just... i don't know.  basically, it's taking stupendous amounts of emotional willpower to not go kill myself right now.  i have HAD IT with her.  i won't bore my survey tumblr readers with the full story.  physically, probably the last time i went to the gym, i assume. what's your favorite saying or quote? why does it mean something special to you? how did you come across it?   i answered this in a recent-ish survey.  my favorite (series of) quote(s) takes place in the recent movie "Suicide Squad."  a police asks harley quinn, "harleen, what did he tell you?"  harley's cackling/crying and responds, "he said he loved me." i love the quote so much because i feel it.  bit of villain backstory, harley quinn was driven mad by her boyfriend/former patient, and i'd consider myself to have been through the same (via his absence, anyway, but you get it).  i started as jason's mentor, and i guarantee he'd tell you the same.  then, without him intending it, i've become his fucking slave, shadow, and #1 fan all at once.  i'd do it all for him.  all because he said he was in love with me.  powerful fucking words.  don't abuse them, people. do you enjoy getting dressed up for a night out? what are your favorite places for a "night on the town"?   i like getting dressed up for something that's bigger than usual, but i don't really have "nights out on the town."  i don't do anything even remotely extravagant. what is your favorite classic disney film and why?   does "the lion king" count?  if so, that one.  i can't exactly say why it's my favorite besides simba coming back from a tragedy as the king of the world pretty much, but i love that movie dearly. are you a good liar? under what circumstances do you choose to lie (just little white lies, or bigger ones)? have you ever regretted your choice to be less than truthful?   honestly, when i do lie, i'm rarely caught.  and i'll lie mainly to avoid hurting people, but i confess to sometimes doing it to just avoid confrontation. can you remember the first swear word you ever learned?   no, but i remember the first one i said aloud: shit.  i had no idea it was a bad word.  got a massive lecture in the car. how old were you when you first started to wear make-up? do you prefer others with or without make-up?   late middle school, i think.  and i personally find make-uped faces more aesthetically pleasing, it's why there's such a problem in this world with women feeling ugly without it, but you're still absolutely beautiful without it, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. how long do you need to get to know someone, before you’d think about having a relationship with them?   i don't measure that by time, i measure that by how well i'm getting to know them. is global warming actually happening?   duh. does gpa determine a person's intelligence?   no, fuck this question. do you refuse to talk about your sexuality?   no.  it's not a big deal to anyone. do you have a debit card?   i do not. would you have an abortion if you would otherwise die in childbirth?   no, because i'm not fucking selfish. do you think sleeping is a waste of time? yet you LOVE your dreams, even when they're kinda bad?   i mean, it technically is a waste of time, but we need it regardless. what would you do if your boyfriend got snake bite piercings?   that's totally up to him, i'd love him regardless.  now whether or not i'd find it physically appealing just depends on the person. do you think it's at all possible you may change your religion in your life?  i'm not going to bullshit.  maybe.  DO I THINK I WILL, NO, but do i rule out the possibility, no.  after how pissed i've been at god lately, i wouldn't be entirely surprised if, in the worst case scenario, i became satanic.  god please don't let me. if you were told that you were going to spend the rest of your life with the last person you kissed, would that make you happy?   i would... oh my god.  i would physically break down from joy.  i would sob.  i would bow and praise god beyond all explanation.  i would fucking lose it. who was your first boy/girlfriend and do you still talk to them?   if you want to count him as "the first person who had the 'boyfriend' title," aaron.  and no, we don't.  we're friends on facebook though. have you ever watched the big bang theory, or how about glee?   i've watched and love tbbt, but i've never watched glee. are you considered a “clingy girlfriend?”   i probably would be. do you have a large dog?   she's pretty big, yeah.  we have a boxer. would you ever date someone who watched cartoons?   ... the fuck is this question??  no shit i would!! what was your last dream about?   all i remember is it was the apocalypse and i was back with jason.  he was there with me.  we somehow survived, and demons took over the world after the humans were eliminated.  everyone was trying to be heroes and such by killing them. have you ever seen a crocodile in real life?   i know i've seen alligators, don't know about crocs. if you were drunk and couldn’t walk, would the person you have feelings for, take care of you?   i kinda feel like he would if he was already there, anyway.  he wouldn't like drive somewhere to come watch me, but if he was already there, i'd at least hope he'd be kinda protective... has anyone recently told you something you didn’t want to hear?   not only that i didn't want to hear, but didn't need to hear, too.  tell me again my mental illness is invalid, swear to fuck. why were you last scared?   i'm scared of myself now. do you know a secret about your last ex that would embarrass them?   something potentially might, but i doubt it.  i'd never share the information though regardless. were you a hyper or mellow kid?   i was quite hyper.  i miss that. what’s your favorite movie?   burton's "alice in wonderland" do you hate it when everyone you know is sleeping in, so you are bored?   ha ha, sometimes. how much of your time to do you spend being bored? what could cure that boredom?   honestly... almost 24/7.  i've talked about this before: jason left and took my hobbies with him.  because they feel "bad."  i take no pleasure in what i used to enjoy, like games, drawing, reading...  i honestly think the only thing that'll heal that is spending time with jason himself. what are your least favorite kind of people?   people that think mental illness isn't fucking valid is what i feel most hatred towards at the moment. describe an orgasm. (just do it, nobody will judge you here.)   hahahaha omg the person before me answered "god will judge me," i love that.  anyway, i wouldn't know. are you a picky eater?   beyond so. are you hopelessly addicted to the computer?   i mean i guess you could say that, as i'm always on... would you ever take nakey pictures of yourself?   maybe for my husband??? what cause (feminism, gay rights, abortion, etc) are you most passionate about?   abortion does your best friend have any piercings?   ears, and... i think nose.  omg i feel horrible, i'm not sure. what's better: an apology to your face or a nice apology letter?   an apology to your face. has anyone ever kissed you when you REALLY weren't expecting it? was it a good random kiss, or a bad random kiss?   i don't think so, but it's possible... what is the last thing you got a blister from?   i got one from my flip-flop rubbing against the side of my toe. do you remember the song that used to be really popular, 'she will be loved'?   I DON'T MIIIND SPENDIN' EV-ER-EE-DAAAAAY, OUT ON YOUR CORNER IN THE POURIN' RAAAAIIIIN do you have any friends who have never seen you makeup-free?   i don't. what is the worst thing that could happen to you?   the worst thing that could happen to me already happened. do you think age matters in friendship?   in friendships, absolutely not. are you more likely to eat when you’re bored or depressed?   i wouldn't be overweight otherwise. describe the nearest photograph to you?   it's jason and i at our first prom.  we're peeking at each other from around the tree. do you know anyone who has overdosed?   i know of people, but i know none directly.  well wait... my half-sister overdosed, but didn't die as she called the cops in time. the person you have feelings for says he/she wants to have sex, you say?   ... i would. kfc or popeye’s?   i don't like fried chicken. what was the name of the last pet of yours that died?   link, my former rat. have you ever had to evacuate from a natural disaster?   thank god, no. do you have any family members who are cancer survivors?   quite a few, actually.  my mom survived kidney cancer, my grandma lived through thyroid cancer i believe it was, and i think an aunt of mine had breast cancer. when was the last time you went way out of your comfort zone? what happened as a result?   uhhh i guess when i told my former boss i had to quit, and what happened is obvious. is working with animals something you enjoy? how about working with people? what would be your ideal work environment?  well, it's become clear i can't work with people.  i've had two jobs in retail, and each time, i vomited from the anxiety and when i wasn't vomiting, i was living in constant panic mode.  i haven't had a job with animals yet, but that's what i'm looking for.  the ideal job would just be where i work on my own... do you have any favorite stuffed toys?   oh yeah.  i have a stuffed meerkat named rebel from jason, and my stuffed moose named brownie is very dear to me too. would you ever get any private parts pierced?    heeeell no. do you agree with medication to treat mental illnesses or do you believe that they are a ‘stage’ that a person will grow out of?   mental.  illnesses.  need.  to be.  MEDICATED.  just like a person with asthma needs an inhaler, a mentally ill person needs medication, too!! do you ever get really paranoid about how loud you’re breathing?   i do occasionally, yes. have you ever met a person who was convinced they had supernatural powers?   i "met" a woman who thought she was jesus christ, the mother mary, and god all in one person while in the mental hospital...  she scared THE FUCK out of me. what're you thinking of RIGHT THIS MINUTE?   i actually just started thinking of jason's sick grandma outta nowhere a few seconds ago... and now i feel sad.  she was definitely dying while we were dating, so i guess she's gone now... she was a sweet lady, despite not saying much.  she seemed to like me enough. what is your opinion on sex without emotional commitment?   okay, i know casual sex is gaining popularity, but me?  dude, FUCK that.  sex is supposed to be a very emotional and connecting experience.  it's not "just for fun" and shouldn't occur everytime you feel horny with someone or whatever. what are you doing right now?   doing this survey, possibly talking to jax if she's still online, and listening to "slo-mo-tion" by marilyn manson. what books, if any, have made you cry?   that i can remember, "the notebook," "a walk to remember," "old yeller," and i think i teared up in "the giver."  there was also this one book about an elderly couple we read in high school, but i cannot remember the name...  i remember tearing up. are you picky about spelling and grammar?   very much so. song you REALLY wanna fuck to?   okay, if it's with jason, i do plan on deliberately trying to woo him into having sex to "heart-shaped glasses" by marilyn manson because uh... this is terrible... but it reminds me of his ex because she always wore heart-shaped glasses and i fucking hate her for MANY reasons and idk it'd just kinda feel like a huge "fuck you" to her lmao.  yes i am a child somewhere in my heart.  just to add to it, when i get sunglasses, yeah... i found heart-shaped glasses on rebel's market and i want them. if you could have sex with anyone, who would it be?   it'd still be jason.  sorry, link neal. do your hands shake a lot?   well, i have an essential tremor that's only gotten worse over the years, so. the mere thought of anyone ever made you... you know... "moist"... downstairs?   omfg do you really have to say that word this question bothers me lmao.  but yeah. i like dirty questions, let's continue! do you masturbate? if not, why? also if not... what's the most tempted you've ever felt? you know you have at least once!   i do not masturbate because i personally find it disgustingly lustful and gross, no matter how clean you may be.  i've been tempted before once, sure.  i had a really hard time one night kinda recently when i was thinking rather sexually of jason, but i did nothing about it. do you get crazy sex hair?   i wouldn't know, but i've had some pretty wild hair from doing sexual things.  my hair was super long when we were together. is everything going to be okay?   i am the wroooong person to ask. have you ever had a pet rat?   four so far, yeah. do you like free samples?   who doesn't?! have you ever made yourself look like a fool for love?   i'm pretty sure i always do nowadays.  to be so obsessed with your ex-boyfriend... it's silly. who was the last person you slow danced with?   jason...  long time ago... has any of your friends’ family ever yelled at you?   i'm pretty sure no. at concerts, are you one of those people that push and shove their way to the front, or are you one of the those people that gets there hours before in order to ensure that you get a front-row position; or do you just suck it up and stand wherever you can?   i've only been to one, at which i sucked it up and stood wherever i could. did you ever like jewel?   like one song anyway, but she has an absolutely heavenly voice. when watching scary movies/hearing scary stories/etc, what subject scares you the most?   when women are raped by demons.  just.  let's not. do you think marilyn manson looks good?   ha ha how funny, i'm actually listening to him right now!!  but anyway, VERY rarely, honestly.  in some pictures/videos he looks pretty appealing.