#maybe it’s the gels? this did happen once when i took them on a recent long run

[whatafirefeelslike]

ran my first half marathon today in 1:54:39, so about an 8:45 min/mile pace. I’m mostly happy that I got under 2 hours lol but I really hope that I’ll be faster at the one in April. I didn’t really get to properly warm up bc our friend met up with us beforehand, plus it was raining. the rain wasn’t so bad throughout but my feet got pretty wet and my shoes were slippery on painted pavement and leaves. I really struggled in the last couple of miles but I felt pretty good for most of it, my hamstring didn’t bother me at all! but my legs started getting Tired by the end, and my sprint for the last tenth of the race sure was something lmao. but I smiled as I crossed the line and am still very proud of myself. 13.1 is tough and today presented its obstacles for sure. plus my stomach bothered me a couple times during the race but I did Not want to use a port o potty lol

my takeaway for the next race is, longer and easier long runs—I should do more runs that are over 13 miles. And I need to do more speed work. I didn’t have a gym for a month and a half before the race which was definitely a detriment bc I like doing sprints on the treadmill. But a new & better gym is opening next week so I’ll start using that yay. I also need to work on getting the gels/fueling right too. I’m excited to have stuff to work on and I just hope it works and I can get closer to 1:45, the goal

[thecavernsabove]

okay now i just want to talk about my expectations versus why i have ended up liking certain characters because i am just so intrigued by everything these people and characters do. for bells hells, i went into it knowing i would love ashton because they are the reason I started watching, i didn't think i would really latch onto any other character, apart from maybe fearne because she's a satyr and i am particularly partial to satyrs, and imogen because i mean it's laura bailey!

but what actually happened, is that yes i did get super attached to ashton of course i did, but my top three quickly became ashton, orym and laudna (and as someone who started being able to watch live at the split you can imagine how devastated i was). and recently chetney is really creeping up there. i do love all the characters dearly though.

ashton just reminds me of myself so much, apart from the fact that they are much braver than i could ever be, and blunter too. i wish i could be them and also see all my faults in them. its a lot.

orym was my first introduction to liam o'brien and his devastating little guys (more on caleb later), and just his backstory and the way he deals with people intrigues me so much and i want to see him happy so bad.

laudna oh laudna. marisha ray you have ruined me. even going into this with my minimal knowledge of the briarwoods, her backstory reveal was so intense and it hurt. also, creepy unnerving girlies stick together! she's iconic.

chetney is so wild to me i love him so much. he is so intensely gender as well i love him so much. i love gruff and grumpy characters that are actually nice once you are more friendly with them.

imogen. i will say it took a little bit for her to grow on me but i do love her. i think the bassuras dusk stuff really helped me like her more. also her immense power and lightning scars are pretty cool if you ask me.

fearne. i love how sweet she is and the stuff like being bad at lying and also just stealing little things here and there was really fun. but what made me like her more was when she got more serious and i didn't expect that (foreshadowing for later!)

fcg. now, i still have, mixed? feelings for fcg. in a sense of i dont hate the character but i think the character arc is not something im too interested in, but i do still like them. the stuff with frida was very nice, and i do like the bits that they do - but i think there still feels like there is something missing for me somewhat.

now, with the mighty nein, i had an inkling on who i would like. i thought caleb certainly because we seem very similar, molly maybe because i liked ashton so hey i might like this taliesin character too! and that was it really. going into it though, because i had seen so much of jester (talking about her and cosplays mostly) i thought that she would be probably my least favourite because her personality didn't seem to really gel with what i usually like in characters. but here i am, on the other side with my favs being caleb, fjord, and jester! it was so much watching everything for the first time, even with knowing the big spoilers and then looking at more minor spoilers so i knew somewhat what would happen - but i do that with a lot of things, its different knowing what happens versus actually watching and experiencing what is happening.

caleb. caleb widogast is such an intense character and i loved every minute i spent with him. i spent so much time checking when i would finally see the nein sided tower of his and watching liam describe everything for an hour was so incredible i was in awe. i truely love that dirt wizard so much.

fjord was a truly unexpected character for me to fall for. the first time i realized that i was going to love him though was when they were in the one politicians house early in the campaign and he held his sword to caleb to make sure he wasn't fucking with them. then seeing his growth, the accent change, and just his whole deal i was enraptured. i do miss the southern eldritch blast though.

jester oh my goodness did she creep up on me. i think her initial cuteness that i had experienced throughout just existing on the internet put me off for some reason but i don't know why. however i did quickly fall in love with her, when she had one of her more sinister/serious moments early on. i don't remember what it was but i remember thinking oh. /oh./ okay. i love her. and then her relationship with her mama, and artie, gosh i just loved watching laura bailey do literally anything. the cupcake bit! also the sprinkle bit is quite funny. i also just love doing her voice when im talking to myself. she is also the reason that i take a decent amount of damage spells with my current cleric.

beau. i think i thought that i would have liked her more than i did (don't get me wrong i liked her a lot but she is not in my top three), but she is incredible. as a fellow monk pc i do love going the extra mile with those stunning strikes, and also seeing her relationship with yasha blossom was so lovely. and her bro relationships with fjord and caleb were also some of my favourites.

yasha. after starting with campaign three, it was really hard to not see ashley all the time and i remember having to look on the wiki while watching to check when she would come back every time she left. i think i really started to like her more after her she got taken, and went through that big arc, and we were around her more often. i loved watching her dreams. i loved watching her so much.

veth was so unexpected are you kidding me?? i will say i have yet to have a sam character be in my top three but god he knows how to throw an emotional punch and i love that kind of stuff. i love her relationship with caleb, the detective agency, the chaos crew. i love her arc of getting herself back, of seeing her family again. ough. im a big lover of families.

caduceus. goodness gracious me what a character. i just absolutely loved the aesthetic and caduceus's whole relationship to how he approaches death. he is also the reason i started playing a grave cleric in a newer campaign. but truly, has made me think differently about death - which was especially needed for me this year.

mollymauk. i knew he was dead. i knew he would die. but that didn't make me any less upset when it happened! i think about him often, what could have been. especially since i was so sure he took the wrong amount of damage in that fight and should not have quite have been knocked out at that time. but his whole maximallist aesthetic is something i very much enjoy, and i love the through line of his cards with jester.

wow okay this has gotten to be very long but i need to get my thoughts about everyone out somewhere!! if you've read this far im so sorry this is so much of my own ramblings.

[dragonflight203]

Mass Effect 2 replay, Zaeed’s loyalty mission:

-Now’s a good time to contrast Kasumi and Zaeed.

They’re both DLC companions. Kasumi is paragon aligned, Zaeed is renegade aligned.

This is reflected in their loyalty missions – Kasumi’s is to infiltrate the scum of humanity to retrieve the memento of her murdered lover.

Zaeed sets fire to a refinery full of innocent people he was hired to save so he can pursue revenge.

-What’s most notable here is Bioware breaking from the dichotomy of male paragon/female renegade that they’ve had with prior pairs of human companions.*

As others may have raised, it’s possible that with the prior human companions the assumption was women were more likely play paragon, so their love interest (Kaidan, Jacob) should be paragon as well.

Men were assumed more likely to play renegade, so they’re love interests should correspondingly be renegade (Ashley, Miranda). Jack can also be thrown in here, although she’s not paired with another male human.

Since neither Kasumi nor Zaeed are love interests, they’re not obligated to follow the established pattern.

*I’m not including Liara, Garrus, or Thane in this discussion as they’re non-human. However, it would be interesting to dive into more detail about how mshep in ME1 has a paragon and renegade love interest, but femshep only has paragon love interests.

-Ah, the joys of planet scanning in ME2. It makes me wish I played on PC so I could install the mode that retrieves all minerals with one probe.

-Blue Suns are essentially the de facto government of Zorya as well.

Between this and Omega, I take it they’re a mercenary group aspiring to go into politics.

-Zorya looks like your average forest.

While I love that the quests in ME2 have unique environments, I mourn how all the worlds are very Earth like.

ME1 had many unique, alien settings. ME2 settings typically look like they could take place somewhere on Earth.

-Aaand it has pyjacks. I think by the end of ME2 they can be considered as invasive a species as tribbles.

Also, pyjacks are definitely what the food stall on Omega was selling. But how did it find pyjacks so big? Many were human sized; the in game model is a small monkey.

-It’s obvious the loyalty missions were not designed with a second companion in mind. In some the second companion has only one or two lines, in others none.

I took Garrus with me the first time I did Zaeed’s loyalty mission. Do you really think Garrus would remain silent as Zaeed talks about being betrayed by his men? Or that Mordin would be chill with leaving the refinery works to burn to death?

I wonder if at one point the assumption was the loyalty missions would only be you and the squad member, but later in development they let you take another companion to keep the fights more manageable.

-As numerous others have said, Zaeed and another human starting a galactic wide mercenary group twenty years ago, less than a decade after first contact, is ridiculous.

For the sake of my sanity, I will treat this like humans creating medi-gel. Zaeed and Vido started a chapter of the Blue Suns together. Maybe the first human chapter, and that’s why it’s so notable.

(I also have issues with the fact that all three notable mercenary groups in ME2 and ME3 were started quite recently in the Mass Effect timeline, but we’ll come back to that when we get all the codex entries for them.)

-Once again batarians are all villainized as evil. Vido hired them because they were cheaper; Zaeed called them terrorists.

I wouldn’t mind this treatment of batarians so much if the game ever played with it. Yes, treat a group as one dimensional at first, then later on show how they’re three dimensional. Make the protagonist face their own prejudices and move past them.

Or in a game like Mass Effect, fail to do so – and make that have consequences.

Neither happens, other than a possible minor loss of war assets in ME3.

As others have said, given the huge roster in ME2 the lack of a batarian party member is a missed opportunity.

-When confronting Vido, the framing of how Zaeed looks at the gas valve is similar to how the game frames an object just before giving you a paragon/renegade interrupt for it.

And just like you can when given the option, Zaeed takes a strong renegade interrupt.

-There’s another line of auto dialogue from Shepard when Zaeed blows open the gate.

-As others have noted, this mission is similar to the mission Anderson and Saren went on when Anderson was considered as a spectre.

Do you blow up a refinery and let innocent people die for your own gain or not?

You have the option to tellAnderson that you would in Mass Effect 1. He says that you would have a good reason to do so. If he learned that you let these refinery workers die to gain Zaeed’s loyalty, would he consider that a good reason?

-Since I’m not interested in listening people burn to death – done that once before to see the alternative mission path, not interested in repeating it – save the workers it is.

Honestly, the most baffling part if Shepard chooses this route is that they let Zaeed come with them. Considering how driven by revenge and ruthless he is, why is Shepard willing to trust him? How do they know Zaeed won’t put a bullet in their back so he can chase after Vido?

You should have an option to send him away like you do Liara on Noveria. Could be an autofail – if a paragon/renegade check fails, Zaeed tries to kill you and you’re forced to kill him.

-There’s no combat as you move through the burning refinery. No surprise; the mercenaries don’t want to burn either.

-That battle at the end is always difficult. Almost made it through with a few charges on my first try, then died to the mech.

Finally made it through, surprise surprise, by playing as a cover shooter.

-Neither of the paragon options with Zaeed at the end are compelling in my opinion. Obviously I went upper left to gain his loyalty, but the game doesn’t sell me on it.

Go upper right, you tell him you’re too much of a badass for him to kill in your sleep. You don’t gain his loyalty, but you do get grudging respect.

Go upper left, you threaten with a gun and tell him he’s part of a team.

The best is neutral, where you tell him he’s crazy but you need crazy for your current mission. I still don’t like it, but it feels more genuine than the others.

Normandy – Shepard’s Inbox

-Email from Talitha, the formerly enslaved colonist you talk down if you have the Midnoir background – One of her doctors works with Ceberus (because of course Cerberus has people everywhere) and that’s how she gets you the message.

The end is such emotional blackmail I question if TIM faked it:

The doctors say that other people are getting taken like I was. I hope you can help them like you helped me.

If it’s genuine it’s very sweet. If it’s not, I want to shoot TIM again.

-There’s also an email from Sha’ira the Consort which feels a little too on point:

When you fought Saren, only your resolve was tested, but now I fear you cannot rely only on your own strength. Take whatever steps you must to ensure that those battling at your side fight with clear minds and glad hearts.

Points to the game for encouraging you to complete the loyalty missions for the good ending. Points to Sha’ira for being more helpful than she was in ME1.

I’m docking points from the writers for not working that in more naturally.

-Dr. Michel wrote the winning email today, where she very blatantly is writing you because she’s hoping you can get her in touch with Garrus.

Girl has a massive crush on him for saving her, and he’s completely oblivious even after she gives him turian chocolates in M3.

[from-a-reckless-writer]

because, i think it's stupid that lena wouldn't have a back-up plan after alex took the device from her...

“Hey, Alex,” Lena calls, jogging to where Alex was putting her jacket on. Everyone was already gearing up to go home and she’s been thinking about this for the past hour. 

So, Lena shoots her shot.

“Yeah?” Alex turns to her, motor helmet in hand and already clad in her leather jacket.

“I was wondering if I can bring home the tracker? I know it’s a long shot but I was thinking maybe if I get another look at it, I can reverse engineer some of its properties and try to come up with a another way to get Kara back, I know Nia’s already doing the time-travel the but it can’t hurt to-”

Alex mercifully puts a stop to her rambling and puts a hand on her arm to stop her nervous fidgeting.

“I left it on top of the workstation.” She smiles in reassurance. “Of course you can take another look at it. Anything to help Kara.”

Lena lets out a relieved sigh. After everything that’s happened today she’s still a bit wary of stepping on anybody’s toes. That showdown with Alex was really something not to mention that talk after.

“Okay, okay. Thank you.”

“Alright. Good night.”

She sprints to the lab--which looks like more of an awkward gallop in her high heels--and snatches the tube-like device from the table.

She doesn’t even realize she’s hitching an elevator ride with Nia and Brainy—too caught up with planning out what to do with the device—till Nia speaks up, “Hey, that wasn’t bad for a first day.”

Lena looks up from the device in her hands, meeting Nia’s eyes.

“What’d I tell you, Nia Nal? Lena has always been extraordinary,” Brainy states, pressing for the ground floor.

“T-thank you,” she says, voice shaky and shy, but who can blame her? She isn’t used to this kind of appreciation. She still can’t believe they’ve accepted her like this, even though she very nearly ruined the whole mission by choosing Kara above everything else. 

It was a good thing Alex was there to call the shots.

Nia gives her a small smile before slowly closing her eyes and resting her head against Brainy’s shoulder.

They say their goodbye’s at the door and then Lena’s speeding her way to her apartment.

***

The device worked with Kara’s DNA before it got recalibrated, if, and that’s a big if, Lena thinks.

If she can extract Kara’s DNA, replace the core of the device, and input it in, then she can recreate the same tech she did earlier.

She already knows she’s not going to get any sleep tonight.

She pulls up in front of her building and heads straight for her penthouse.

Kara hasn’t been here for a year, what with their falling out and everything that’s happened with Lex. They didn’t even have a chance for one last movie night before Kara disappeared.

Her eyes start to sting with unshed tears at the thought, but knowing the work she has to do tonight, she quickly pushes it down.

Despite Kara not having visited her home recently, Lena knows there are many traces of her in this place. Namely, the lavender hairbrush living in her second bathroom drawer, the one she didn’t have the heart to throw away even during their fight.

She quickly makes for her bathroom, throws open the drawers, grabs the brush and puts it in a clean zip-lock, one she pulled from the kitchen.

She didn’t even bother changing clothes.

She was too busy outlining tonight’s lab work in her head to bother with something as trivial as changing clothes.

There are more important things to do, like busting inside the LuthorCorp tower, and down to what used to be her private lab. Lex hasn’t changed security. This, she knows. Therefore, she also knows that Mr. Johnson still works the night shifts and if she plays her cards right, she can sway him to open the door for her and keep it discreet.

Of course, you must be wondering why doesn’t she just use her private lab at home, instead? The reason being, her private lab is strictly an engineering and physics lab. What she needs right now, is enzymatic reagents and buffers; a gel electrophoresis machine and a PCR machine.

All of which can be found in LuthorCorp’s cutting-edge Biochemistry laboratory.

***

Turns out, she was right.

Mr. Johnson still does the nightshift and he was only a tad bit surprised to see her there. Already used to Lena staying holed up all night long, in her lab in the past.

He tells her he’s on her side despite the bad news about the Luthor Children’s Hospital, tells her that most of them here dearly misses Miss Luthor and hopes that Lex as CEO is only a temporary thing. He also tells her thank you again for the thousandth time for Lena saving his daughter’s life. Lena smiles warmly and asks if he can keep this visit under wraps if he doesn’t mind, to which he immediately agrees. Lena fights the urge to let out another sigh of relief.

See, Lex? It pays to treat people kindly.

It’s 11 pm when Lena reaches the labs. It was already dark, save for the lights of the big freezers. She knows there’ll be footage of her little excursion here but that’s an easy enough problem to solve when you have a Twelfth-Level intellect as back-up.

When she said she isn’t going to sleep tonight, she really genuinely means she isn’t going to sleep tonight.

See, it’s already 11 and she needs at least an hour to sterilize all equipment, another hour to sift through the clump of hair in the brush and look for an intact hair shaft. Then, she estimates 2 hours for extracting the DNA from the hair shaft using enzymes and she knows all too well how long a time it takes for a pipette to find the right fit during electrophoresis, not to mention the PCR machine can take 2-4 hours.

And even then, Lena still has to test the device, link it to her transmatter portal in order to open a portal once she gets Kara’s coordinates and after all that she isn’t really sure if this is going to be effective.

She has half a mind to call Brainy here and run her through all the probabilities.

But she knows this is something she needs to do alone.

***

It’s been so long since she’s had to do anything with physiology that she has to spend at least 30 minutes reading up the lab manual.

Extracting cattle DNA like she did back in college was an easy enough task with someone with the brains as hers, but a Kryptonian’s?

Lena had to do some extra calculations on what temperature to set and how much solution to use to get through Kara’s hair of steel.

In the end, she figured it out and soon enough the hum of the PCR machine becomes her only companion. It took a while to denature Kara’s DNA, she had to double the amount of Taq polymerase before actually getting it to the PCR machine.

It’s 4 am now, and she only has two hours before the LuthorCorp employees show up; two hours before her brother pulls up.

Thank God, for state of the art PCR machines that get things done in under an hour.

***

She’s been actively avoiding thinking of Kara throughout all of this.

But now, she’s home and in her private lab with Kara’s DNA strands in vials inside the LuthorCorp sterile container.

If she pulls this off, if this works, Kara would be home.

She won’t have to talk to holograms anymore, she won’t have to dream about bloody capes, she won’t have to feel incomplete anymore. Kara would be home. She can bring Kara home.

With a newfound determination, she sets on recalibrating the device. She takes out a vial of Kara’s DNA; gloved hands carefully inserting it unto the core of the device.

Now, onto the second part; linking her transmatter portal to open up at the exact coordinates the tracker points.

The whole process took her at least two hours. By the time she trudges to her bedroom to test the device, the sun was already peeking up from the horizon.

She opts to do it in her bedroom, granted that her physics lab was nothing more but the size of two small rooms mashed together. Her bedroom was more spacious and in the event that Kara needs to lie down, her bed would only be three steps away.

The device feels heavy in Lena’s hand, it actually feels alive. Lena supposes, it is. 

It does have Kara’s DNA in it after all.

She feels like this is one of those moments where it will be ingrained in your brain for forever. That small in-between in the middle of the Before and After. The realization of how important this moment is clears up her mind.

So, with sweaty hands she raises the device, clicks something on her wristwatch, watches as the tube fills with a blue hue getting brighter and brighter, till a streak of blue-white light beams out from the device and from a single point starts to form the beginnings of a portal.

Lena’s seen one too many portal openings for a lifetime to know in the next instant that this is it, it works.

She fucking did it.

***

A gust of ice cold air is the first thing that hits Lena once the portal fully opens.

The next was the sight of Supergirl. Kara. She was slumped against a boulder; cape tattered, hair dirty and face begrimed. She looked tired, exhausted, and in those first few seconds, Kara had her eyes closed.

Before it hits Lena all at once, Kara’s right there! She’s right there! She found Kara! Kara is right there, just three steps away—

“KARA!” She shouts, runs to the portal and into the Phantom Zone.

Kara jerks at the call of her name, squints her eyes at the bright blue portal before she realizes a figure is barreling straight for her, screaming her name.

A figure she knows all too well, a voice she knows all too well.

Before she knows it Lena’s crashing unto her place on the ground, two arms wrapping at Kara’s neck, sobbing, “It worked! Oh, God, it worked, I found you! I found you, I found you-”

All Kara could do was mutter a Lena in response, still suspended in disbelief.

Lena pulls back to touch her face and Kara finally takes a good look at her. Lena knows her hair was a far cry from her prim ponytails, she’s been tugging at it since midnight, her face was blotchy with tears and her eyes must’ve screamed exhaustion. But she couldn’t care less about her appearance, because Kara was here, she found Kara.

Kara was here and she’s crying too, also bringing a hand to Lena’s face and wiping at her tears.

They were crying and smiling and sobbing in each other’s arms.

“You found me.”

Lena leans in to Kara’s touch, both hands cradling Kara’s hand on her cheek, smiles in between sniffles and nods.

“I did, Kara I did. I found you. I'll always find you.”

“Take me home, Lena.”

***

Alex picks up on the third ring.

“Lena?” she answers, voice still groggy with sleep.

“I found her, Alex, I found her, she’s home.”

“What? Who? Lena what-”

“Kara. Kara’s home, Alex.”

The next thing Lena hears were sobs. She passes the phone to Kara, who was still in her filthy supersuit, sitting on the edge of Lena’s queen bed probably making it dirty beyond saving but Lena cannot find in her to care.

“Hi, Alex.”

She exits the room to give the Danvers sisters some privacy and also to prepare Kara a shower, grabs a couple of Kara’s clothes from when they still had sleepovers and left it in the bathroom counter.

By the time she comes back again, Kara’s put the phone down, still sitting on the bed and fiddling with her thumbs. Kara looked small like this and there’s nothing more Lena wants to do than to embrace her.

So, she does.

“Hi,” Kara says, as she holds Lena close, Lena straddling her lap, foreheads pressed together.

“Hi back,” she whispers, smile in her voice, Kara’s blue eyes were filled with exhaustion but still beaming bright just for her. “Would you like to take a shower? I’ve prepared the bath for you.”

Kara nods, refusing to pull away, “Okay, okay, great,” she mutters even though the both of them make no move to pull away from each other, choosing to remain in this quiet existence of overwhelming love for each other’s presence, instead.

There’s still so much to say and so much to do, but all of that can wait, everything can wait, there’s no rush.

Her hero is finally home after all.

***

When she opens the door, Alex crashes into her with an embrace so tight, Lena had trouble breathing. Kelly closes the door for them, they drove here still in pajamas Lena notices, as Kelly gives her a smile from over Alex’s shoulder.

“Where is she?” Alex gasps out, tears springing from her eyes at the sight of Kara’s supersuit on the floor, right next to her grimy red boots. Concrete proof that her sister really is home, that Lena really did the impossible.

“In the shower,” Lena murmurs, giving Kelly a cup of tea as Alex paces in anticipation, Lena was half-afraid she’d wear a hole in her hardwood floors.

“H-how?” Alex asks, too emotional to let out a full sentence.

“Well,” Lena begins, and takes them through the entire process of what she had done the night before, how she didn’t sleep, how she kind of needs Brainy to scrub clean the LuthorCorp surveillance system, how she replicated Kara’s DNA as substitute for the life force in that crystal, how the portal had opened in her bedroom.

Alex took all of this in with quiet tears streaming down her face and Kelly’s hand tight in hers.

“Thank you, Lena. Thank you.”

***

The sight of the Danvers sisters reuniting was something that would make even a grown man weep.

Alex collides into Kara, before she even gets the chance to say her name.

“Rao, Alex, I missed you.”

Alex couldn’t respond to hearing her sister’s voice again for the first time, so she just sobs into the embrace.

Lena has to wipe away a stray tear or two before turning around, feeling like this moment was something too precious to intrude on.

This moment belonged to Kara and Alex, not her.

Kelly did the same and asked Lena if it would be okay to use her kitchen, she wanted to fix Kara her first breakfast.

***

“Are you sure you’d rather stay the night here?” Lena murmurs unto the crown of Kara’s head.

They were both laid in Lena’s bed, she doesn’t why she asked, when the both of them are already in pajamas and are two seconds away from slumber still Lena can’t help but ask.

Surely, Kara would want to spend her first night back in her own bed rather than here, right?

“M’sure, I’m right where I want to be,” Kara says around a yawn, pressing close to Lena, and nuzzling into her neck. She was clearly wearied, which was totally understandable, hell the both of them were. Lena’s been up for 24 hours. She’s amazed her body hasn’t knocked her out yet.

After that emotional morning, Alex insisted Kara be checked in The Tower. And so they did, everything was fine with her vitals, though they all still insisted she stay a couple of hours under the sunlamps. All of them knows, there was no sunlight in the Phantom Zone.

Nia, Brainy and M’gann all had teary reunions with Kara. Although, Nia’s was the most amusing one, “I’m sorry, in advance,” she said between sniffles, “But I just couldn’t think of anything and- and- Andrea was grilling me so I just said you were with Cat,” she sobbed.

“It’s okay, Nia,” Kara laughs, “We’ll work on it together,” she promises.

Seeing Kara back with everyone, seeing her in her pastel clothes, seeing her without her glasses; laughing and soft and safe has Lena crying quietly again at the memory.

“Hey? Why are you crying? This is a happy day, remember? I’m home. You brought me home. No more crying, okay?” Kara tells her from her place in the bed.

“I know.” Lena quickly wipes a tear, “I’m sorry, I’m just happy. So, so happy.”

She is. She really, really is. Especially right now, finally laying in bed with Kara after a long two weeks of lonely nights.

Kara requested to be held tonight, asking Lena shyly, “C-can you hold me? For tonight? Please?”

Lena was powerless and now here they were.

“For the record,” Lena says, “I’m right where I want to be, too.”

[libraryofloveletters]

so cute fic request. You are Maddie's OBGYN and at every appointment she insists to set you up with Buck, you deny her and finally one say yes just to be quiet and you meet what a great guy Buck is

The Set Up

Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and doctors offices, reader wears makeup, alcohol and the consumption of

Category: Straight Up Fluff 

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: here's a lil late v-day present for y’all :) 

Part 2: Dispatch: Labour in Progress 

----

“How does the baby look ?” Maddie was laid back, her eyes on the monitor. “Perfect, a perfect little baby” you smile at her as you hand her a towel to wipe up the gel. 

“How many copies would you like ?” you turn towards the ultrasound machine. 

“As many as you'd give me” she laughed, pulling her shirt back down. 

“Dad’s working ?” you asked, leaning back in the chair. “Yeah, he’s been trying to get off a day to come with me” she sits up, pulling out her phone. 

Maddie was one of your favourite patients, she was a sweetheart and always happy, regardless of what was happening, you didn't know how she did it. She began showing you a few pictures of the nursery and two guys who were in the picture. The first guy was Chimney, who was the baby’s father and Maddie’s boyfriend, the two of you had met at a previous appointment and the other guy, who you hadn't meant yet but felt like you had, was her brother Evan or Buck, which is what he went by. 

“You know, if you want to just come in one day when he's off work, we can just do a regular check-up just so he can see. It doesn’t have to be anything special for you to come in” 

“You’d do that ?” 

“Of course I would, between me and you, you’re my favourite patient” 

Maddie smiled at you, “so,” she gave you a look, “since I am your favourite patient, would you also go on a date with Buck ?” she asked, you nearly choked on your coffee. Maddie had a habit of trying to set you up with her brother. She did it often but it still caught you off guard each time. You coughed, “Maddie, no.” you laughed, “that would be unprofessional” 

“Oh come on, take a risk y/n. Life goes on and one date won't kill you” 

“Who said I’m looking ?” 

“Please, you are. You can't lie to me” she smiled, you shook your head. “Still a no Maddie” you handed her the copies of the ultrasound. “If you do want to do the ultrasound when he’s home, just give me a call” you smiled at her and she got up. “I will, thank you”

-- 

A few weeks later and Maddie was back in your office. “Good afternoon momma,” you were looking at the files as you walked in, pushing the door shut with your foot. Taking a seat on your little spinny chair, you look up when Maddie says good morning back to you. 

“Oh Chimney, it’s nice to see you” you smile as you shake the gel bottle. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “it’s good to be here” 

You hand him the gel bottle, he looked at you with brows furrowed. “You’re a paramedic, aren't you ? Go ahead” you chuckle as you turn the ultrasound machine on. “How are you feeling ?” you ask, “good actually, thanks for asking” Chim answers you. 

“I’m glad to hear that but I was asking Maddie” Chim’s mouth forms an O and he nods, Maddie smiles at him. “I’m good, baby’s good too. Kicking a lot recently. Especially when I drink orange juice” she chuckled. 

“And still just the one cup of coffee ?”

“Yeah, he won’t let me have anymore” she groans 

“Good, as he should be. You’re lucky I agreed to the one cup Maddie, you know I rather if you didn’t” 

“Ugh,” she groaned and rolled her eyes, “not you too” 

“I’m your doctor, it's my job to remind you unfortunately” 

Maddie sighs and rolls her eyes once again. You get what she meant, you couldn’t be pregnant and not have coffee, pregnancy is exhausting as it is, imagine it without coffee. “you know how to use an ultrasound machine right ?” you look over at Chimney, who was looking rather confused. 

”I do, why ?” 

“Would you like to do it ?” 

“Really ?” 

“Yeah, I let the dads have a chance to do it sometime. Makes them feel a little more involved” 

“I'd love too” 

You hand him the wand and step back, you watch as he rolls it across her belly. It was always sweet when the fathers came to the appointment, even more so when they're involved. 

“Y/n?” 

“Yes Maddie?” 

“Will you go on a date with Buck ?” She smiled sweetly at you, Chim looked at her, half shocked and half confused. 

“If I say yes to one date, will you quit bugging me about it ?” 

“Of course, just one date is all I’m asking for” 

“Does he know you’re setting him up ?” 

“Yeah- well no ? but he won't mind. It's part of my job as his sister” 

“Maddie, I have siblings as well, you don't see me setting them up” 

“Yeah yeah, that’s fine” 

Chim turned to you. “everything looks good doc” 

“Then we’re all done. Just hit print on the machine and you’ll get the pictures” 

Maddie wiped the gel off her stomach. She took a pen from the desk and scribbled a number down before handing the paper to you. “That’s his number, just message him” 

“You’re setting me up and I have to message him too ?” 

“Oh come on, you’ll be fine. Thank you for this and I'll be expecting details at my next appointment!” She gave you a smile before walking out. Chim looked at you, “I’m sorry I didn't know she was going to do that.” You laughed, “it's okay, she’s not the first person to do that. You should catch up with her though, she walks really fast for a pregnant lady” you chuckle, Chim smiled and walked out to find Maddie. You had some time to kill before your next appointment, you looked down at the paper in your hand. 

Do you text or not ? Wouldn't that be creepy ? Like oh hey, I'm your sister’s doctor let's go on a date.

You know what ? 

Screw it, what’s the worst that could happen. 

To Buck: Hey, I'm y/n. Your sister gave me your number, hope this isn't weird. She's been trying to set me up with you for months, thought we’d hit it off haha

God that was so stupid. Why the hell did you put haha ?

From Buck: Hey, it’s cool. She’s weird like that. What’s up ?

Oh shit, he answered. 

To Buck: Just at work, how about you ?

From Buck: Same thing 

Wait what do I say now ? Do you ask him out ? 

From Buck: Hope this isn't too forward of me or anything like that, but maybe you’d wanna grab a drink tonight ? Only if you’re free

Guess you don't have to ask him now 

To Buck: Yeah, that sounds good. Pick a place and let me know ? I’m off at 4 so anytime after that is fine. 

From Buck: I’m off at 6, how about 7 at the bar on Main Street ? 

To Buck: sounds good, see you then 

It was now 3:30 and Maddie was your last patient of the day. There was no harm in leaving now. After putting away your files and replying to a few emails from patients, you headed out. Only one issue you had when you got home was what to wear. 

Well so you thought. 

Taking a shower was the easy part, trying to do your hair and makeup with only 2 hours left, was a bit of a hassle. First disaster of the night was too much mousse in your hair, making it sticky and tacky. Washing it out, you managed to set it the way you like. The powder compact had fallen onto the floor, you hoped it wasn’t broken, turns out hope isn't enough. The other powder you had was far too light for your complexion right now and you decide against makeup for the night. 

Let him meet the bare you, you can wow him next time, if there is a next time. 

Deciding on a simple outfit, a white shirt that fit you nicely and a pair of black pants that went along with it. In your head, it seemed boring but in the mirror, it looked much better. Walking into the kitchen, there was a half drunk glass of wine from the night before.

Stale wine or nervous wreak ? Stale wine it is. 

You down the wine, spilling some onto your shirt. “Are you kidding-” groaning and turning back to the room, you end up changing your entire outfit. A pair of blue jeans and a black top that fit you in all the right places. One more look in the mirror and a hand through your hair, you headed out the door. 

It didn't take you long to arrive at the bar, as you only lived a few minutes off Main Street. You had seen Buck from the countless pictures Maddie had shown you so it didn’t take long to spot in at a table in the corner either. 

“Hey” you walked over, a smile on your face. He stood up, “Hi! you must be y/n” he leaned in for a hug, you mirrored his actions. “I am, it’s nice to meet you” 

The two of you sat across from each other and there was a bottle of beer in front of you. Buck spoke up when he noticed you noticing the bottle, “I ordered for you, I hope that's alright- you can order something else” 

“It’s fine, thank you” you take a sip, not your usual choice in drink but you didn't need to complain either. There was some silence for a while, not uncomfortable but not comfortable either. Anyone that passed by could tell it was a first date, if you could even call it that. 

“How do you know Maddie ?” he asks, you smile at him and take a sip of the beer before answering him. 

“I’m her OB” 

“Her ?” Buck had a confused expression on his face. 

“Her doctor, her obstetrician actually” 

“Oh for baby Buckley” he nodded. 

“Yeah, she's been bugging me about you since we’ve met actually. She’s sweet but she’s persistent” you chuckle and Buck gives you a smile, “that’s my sister” 

The night went by rather quickly, the two of you sharing work stories. Buck told you about the time he worked a full moon and they responded to a call at a yoga class only to have 3 women go into labour simultaneously. 

“It was the full moon I swear! I tried to tell Bobby but he didn't listen to me!” he said, laughing. 

You nodded and laughed too, “no, it’s true. I've had so many full moon babies. I never book off full moons because I know someone is going to go into labour”

“Thank you! Someone gets what I mean!”

You then told him about the time you filled in for your colleague, he told you it was supposed to be a regular birth but turns out it was quadruplets. It was nice to find someone who understood your weird work schedule. The two of you shared stories until the waitress came over to tell you that they’d be closing in a few minutes. It was a little past midnight when she came over, the two of you decided to call it a night and head out together. 

“How are you getting home ?” he asked you, you walked with him over to his Jeep that was parked down the street. “I’ll just walk, I don’t live too far from here” 

“No” he stated while shaking his head 

“No ?” you questioned him, your brows furrowed as you looked at the man in front of you.

“I invited you out, at least let me take you home. It’s late too, it won't be right to let you walk home by yourself” 

“Are you sure ? I don't want you to go out of your way” 

“Oh no it’s cool, c’mon” 

He opened the door for you like the gentlemen he is and then got in after. “Which way my darling ?” he gave you a cheesy smile which made you chuckle. “A left at the next light and the brown building is me” you leaned back in the seat. It was quiet as he drove down the street, you looked over at him and admired him. From the way his hand rested on his wheel to the little smile on his face, even to the birthmark above his eye. 

“It's rude to stare” 

“Can't help myself, you're pretty” 

Oh shit, did you just-

Buck looked over at you, a wicked little smile on his face. “You think I’m pretty ?” 

You could feel the blush on your face, “uh- well- um I guess ?” 

“I think you more than guess that but whatever you say” he smiled 

Buck pulled into the building parking lot, he stopped and his head hit the seat as he leant back. Looking over at you, “let me walk you up ?” 

“You’ve already done enough, it's fine” 

“It’s fine. Come on” he got out, you mirrored his actions. Buck followed behind you as the two of you made your way up to your apartment. Unlocking the door, you stepped in and he stood by the door. 

“Do you want to come in ?” setting your keys on the counter, you look back at the man who was leaning against the doorframe. 

“I’d love too but I've got the first shift. Maybe another time ?” 

“Yeah, that’s fine” walking back over to him, you stood in front of him. Even with him leaning, he still towered over you. 

“I had a nice time tonight” you say, he nods. “I did too. Maybe we can do this again sometime ?” 

“I'd like that” 

“Okay.” he smiles, “well, good night then y/n” 

“Good night Buck” standing on your toes, you go to kiss his cheek but it seems he had the same idea, both of you turning your heads at the same time and your lips were on his. Buck’s hand cupped your face for the few moments your lips were on his. When you pulled away, Buck had a slight red tint on his face, a blush or simply could have been the heat coming from your apartment, either way you were sure you looked the same way. 

“How does Saturday sound ? Noon for lunch if you’re free ?” he breaks the silence.

"Saturday sounds perfect” 

Buck smiled at you once more, he turned and began walking back to the elevator. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning back once again and walked towards your door.  He leaned down and gave you one more kiss. Laughing at the sweetheart that was now smiling at you from the other end of the hallway, you watched as he stepped on the elevator and then shut your door. 

Outside of your building was a happy Buck who skipped his way over to his car, his keys twirling on his finger with a big grin on his face. As he got into his car, he sent his sister a text message. 

To Maddie: You seem to know me better than I think, thank you. 

Upstairs, there was a similar scene, a happy you skipping their way to bed with a smile on their face. As you laid in bed, you too sent a text message to Maddie. 

To Maddie: Your match making efforts have worked, thank you. 

----

taglist: @mrs-dr-reid @ssa-volturi @advicefromnixxxx @dralexreid @keenmarvellover @venusrosepetal @mikaelson-emma @beth-winchester21

[in-tua-deep]

idk if you still do au ideas but what if delores was a real person in the apocalypse? how it woul dbe done i have no idea but i love all your aus and thought it would be cool

okay okay I don't tend to go for real!Dolores aus admittedly because I find her much more compelling as what she is: a reflection of five himself and a symptom of his crushing loneliness

but i started thinking about it and you know what?? i think five deserves a little socialization, as a treat

so say like, 0.5% of the population is resistant to abilities. Allison would really struggle to rumor them, Five wouldn't be able to jump with them, and, most importantly, whatever the fuck Vanya's ability does has like, reduced damage or something

and the og apocalypse isn't the moon apocalypse, so let's say that it was pure waves of Vanya's powers that fucked over the earth

so 0.5% of the population survives the apocalypse. though, let's be honestly, the real number is a lot smaller than that. People who might have survived Vanya's initial power wave (miraculously) did not survive buildings crushing them or survive the car/plane/bus/train/other transportation crashes or survive being left alone when they are too young to reliably look after themselves, or the variety of other problems that come with 99.5% of the population dying at once

So, Five arrives in the apocalypse and is met with ruin and fire and a whole lot of dead people. He finds his siblings, but it doesn't matter. They're dead. He doesn't even recognize them at first, these strange grown-ups who he identifies not by their faces but by the umbrellas on their wrists that match his own

As he realizes the full impact of his situation, he hears a voice that says, very succinctly, "holy shit!"

It's a girl a few years older than Five himself, maybe 15 or 16, and she is very excited to see another survivor.

And here's where I u-turn this au around bc i'm not all that interested in real!Dolores, but I would be down to talk about Five meeting survivors in the apocalypse, because if Dolores is real I don't buy no one else survived.

So Dolores shows up and see a Literal Child crying over the corpses of his family and assumes that Five is a fellow survivor, and she immediately grabs him up. Five is incoherent with grief at this point anyway, so he doesn't even protest when she basically hauls him away from the bodies. She's babbling at him, but he doesn't really hear anything she's saying

And then she takes him to her dad

(Why not, let's have the 1% potentially be a heritable thing)

and her dad, let's call him just some dad name. like Rick. it has been a fucking WEEK for him, okay. he had his daughter with him, his ex-wife is on the other coast for her work, and by some miracle he survived the apocalypse and so did his child, and he's been wracking his brains trying to figure out what the fuck to do next

and then his daughter shows up with a traumatized thirteen-year-old in tow

now rick is a good dude. he's a dad. they get out of five that his name is five ("what the fuck" dolores mouths to him over five's shoulder and rick can't help but agree) and the bodies he found were his siblings ("Dad and Ben and Vanya weren't there though," this child cries desperately and rick feels his own heart clench in response, "They might still be alive!")

"We can look for them." Rick assures his new adopted child, because he is an adult in a fresh apocalypse and this kid has presumably lost everything he's ever known (more than rick even knows at the time)

and they do. They each get wagons and they go out and find supplies and look for other survivors. Five is... surprisingly helpful and also surprisingly docile as he is able to rely on Someone Else to give orders while he attempts to (dissociate) process what the fuck has happened

and here's the thing: Five prides himself on being independent, sort of. He's independent for a child soldier, but he's used to taking orders from a male authority figure and Rick happens to be just that

The first time that Five does something dangerous and Rick yells is a revelation

(Rick isn't sure if he hopes that Five's dad is alive or not, because if they find that man alive then Rick might just kill the jackass himself. Also like, Five is bizarrely knowledgeable out survival skills, like way too knowledgeable about it, which is helpful for them but also very concerning)

they find a newspaper and Five finds the article that mentions his father's recent death ("Huh. Heart attack." Five says, and there is no emotion in his voice)

(Years later, years later, Five and Rick talk. "I don't think I wanted to find him, either." Five admits, softly because Dolores is asleep, "I think I was more scared of finding him alive than I was of finding his body. He would've been so mad at me, I think.")

this newspaper is how Rick and Dolores find out about Five being Number Five, Umbrella Academy Missing Person

"Dude, what the fuck." Dolores says, wide eyes, "You're like, thirty?"

"I'm thirteen." Five says, and then checks the date on the newspaper again, "Also I think I would technically be 29 if I lived through all of it, 'cause it's April and my birthday is in October."

"You... time travelled?" Rick asks, which is honestly the more relevant question, "Can you go back?"

And Five just,,, crumples on himself. Because he tried, he tried really hard. It didn't work. "I'm gonna figure it out. I'm gonna go back, I'm going to save them."

That, Rick thinks, is a lot of weight to put on one person's shoulders, but especially the shoulders of a child.

"Alright." Rick says, because what else can he say after finding out his new child has superpowers and is from like, 2004? "What do you need?"

("Oh my god I have so many memes to teach you." Dolores says later, reverently. Five blinks in confusion and Rick mentally prepares himself for the recitation of so many vines)

And it's easier, somehow. Five sometimes feels like it's a betrayal, but he settles into apocalypse life with an ease that surprises him.

He lets Rick fuss over him and help tie his scarf securely around his head every morning before he sets off on supply runs with Dolores. And they're kids! Five has never had a friend before, and Dolores is funny and smart and she's struggling just as much as he is.

"I don't know if my mom's alive." She says to him, in solidarity when he checks the face of every corpse to see if they're Vanya.

Five is practical in the way only a child soldier can be. He's economical with the room in their wagons, carefully examining what might and what might not be useful.

Dolores, on the other hand, constantly takes up space with what Five sees as useless shit.

"Excuse you," Dolores says, shoving a game of monopoly, the entire discworld series, and a pack of glitter gel pens into her wagon, "These are absolutely vital apocalypse supplies."

She challenges him, plays with him in a way no one ever has. "I bet you I can find more batteries today than you can," She grins at him, "Winner gets to pick dinner first?"

"You're on." Five says, directly before Dolores pulls two packs of 24 AA batteries from behind her back, like a cheat.

Dolores makes him take a ten minute break when they find a playground that has been mostly not-destroyed. They rummage around kids backpacks and mother's handbags for some good loot, too numb to corpses to even be bothered all that badly about the corpses they belong to.

"I'm getting on the swings." Dolores says when Five starts making noises about moving on, "I haven't been on a swingset in ages."

"What's the point?" Five grumps.

"Don't be sour because you can't swing as high as I can!" Dolores laughs, getting higher and higher as the swings creak ominously.

Five grumpily gets into the other swing and grudgingly kicks himself back and forth until Dolores takes pity on him and teaches him how to properly move his legs and body to get higher and higher.

Dolores jumps from the swing seat and lands with a flourish and smile. Five jumps out of his seat and then jumps, warping right in front of Dolores and making her yell and hit at him in outrage. Five smiles the widest he has all week.

This is how Five grows up in the apocalypse, with Dolores teasing him into taking breaks and leaning over his shoulder to look at his math and scandalizing him by stating that she'd only just started on matrices in her own high school math class.

Every night they huddle around Rick while he picks up whatever book Dolores picked out that day because it is a travesty that Five has never read hunger games or whatever, and then they read together because it would be a genuine blood bath if they all took turns. The first time Five accidentally mentioned a spoiler and Dolores genuinely considered murder was the birthday of this tradition

Some days the air is too smoky or there are dust storms or it's just plain too dangerous to go out, and they all stay in. Dolores regales Five with stories about public school, and Five tells them about his siblings.

Then they all cry

"I shouldn't be crying." Five sobs.

"Shut the fuck up," Dolores sobs back, "You literally watched me lose my shit over remembering my shitty eighth grade dance and listened to me sob-sing toxic for like four hours."

"In fairness I also wished you would shut up then."

"Let me hug you or I will start singing songs that I only remember the chorus for again you absolute fucker."

"I could always sing some -"

"No, Rick/Dad."

And Five grows up. Rick shows him how to shave very carefully in front of cracked mirrors. Dolores teases him every time his voice cracks. Rick tells Five in no uncertain terms that he loves and cares for him, and that Reginald was a little bitch. There are a lot of heartfelt conversations around that, honestly. Rick telling Five that he and the siblings deserved better, that they were children and deserved to have a childhood.

And that he has faith in Five. Rick and Dolores both do, they bring him back paper and pens and pencils and chalk and anything Five can use to write equations. They poke around any libraries for books on theoretical mathematics and quantum physics. Rick and Dolores go out scouting for food while Five stays home and can work longer.

They also make him take breaks, make sure that he's looking after himself.

They're a little better off than OG!Five when it comes to food, because some animals survive. Enough that Rick figures out how to hunt. Five is the first one to each bugs, and even though Dolores makes faces they all start eating bugs as well.

"Pretty sure there's loads of cultures that eat bugs." Rick says grudgingly, wondering if he should try stirfry the cockroaches and if that would improve the taste. "There's even, uh, cricket flour or whatever, right?"

"Plus you eat like, five spiders a year when you're asleep." Dolores says cheerfully, just to watch her dad's face scrunch up in displeasure.

"That doesn't sound true, but I don't know enough about spiders to dispute it." Five mutters, and Dolores gives him such a proud look that it makes him roll his eyes.

They're in their thirties when Rick dies. He's out foraging and hunting, and the rubble he's standing on gives way and he ends up with a gash in his leg. He manages to stop the bleeding, but the world is filthy and they don't have any antibiotics.

He gets an infection.

"It's okay." He tells both of his kids, "It's okay. I'm just so glad that you guys have each other, y'hear? I'm so glad."

"It's not okay." Five says, voice thick and choked, "It's not."

"Yeah, well, you're going to figure out how to go back, right? Go back in time and save everyone. Then I'll have never died, right?" Rick smiles, "And even if you don't, I'll be waiting for you on the other side and we'll see each other again anyway."

"I'm going to fix it."

"I know. I have faith in you, Five." Ricks says honestly, and that's more than Reginald ever said.

They sit quietly together while Dolores is out scavenging. They've been taking turns sitting with Rick.

"I won't remember you, in the past, will I?" Rick says rhetorically, but Five answers anyway.

"I don't think so."

Rick hums, "Well, doesn't matter. If you need help in the past, you come to me, y'hear?"

"You won't remember me."

"Doesn't matter. You come find me, and you tell me your crazy story until I believe you, and then I'll help you." Rick says firmly, "You're family. You're my son. Timelines? Don't matter. If you need help, with anything, even if it's just with - with filling out a bowling team or something -"

"I have never been bowling in my life and you know it." Five interrupts, but it makes him laugh just a little bit which was clearly Rick's intention.

"Well who knows what you'll get up to in the past! You'll be able to go bowling, you know. Get to wear those uncomfortable shoes. Hey, you go far enough back maybe you can go to Dolores's tenth birthday party and put me out of my misery."

"Was she bad at bowling?"

"Oh, she was wiping the floor with me. No contest."

"Honestly, that sounds absolutely accurate."

"Shut up, bowling just wasn't my sport. Regardless, the point was that I'm giving you a free pass to come and get me. Because I know you, I know how you think." Rick brings up his hand to tap his finger against Five's forehead, "You get it into your head that you need to go it alone, take it all on your shoulders. I'm telling you that if you do that I'll somehow manifest my memories and come smack you over the head for being stupid, you hear?"

"I'm not dragging you into anything." Five says firmly, "I'll have my siblings."

"Who were also children." Rick points out. "And dragging? Dragging is such a strong word for a volunteer."

"A volunteer who won't remember volunteering." Five shoots back.

Rick just shrugs, and then winces when the movement jolts his bad leg. "Five, I'm going to be honest with you here. And sappy. Can you handle a bit of sappiness for a minute?"

"No."

"Well too bad. Can't leave a dying man, you'd feel too bad. So you're stuck with me. But you listen good, okay? Because you aren't dragging me into anything. Whatever life you have, I want to have a part of that. Because you're my son. Wherever you are, whatever you do, I want to help because you're family. What you'd be doing by leaving me out of it is depriving me of someone I love, depriving me of knowing one of the best kids I've ever known."

"Shut up." Five says, choked.

"Nope, it's sappy time." Rick states, "Maybe asking you to come find me is selfish, but I don't care. No matter what version of me exists, I want to be in your life."

"My life is a walking joke, why would you want any part of that?"

"It has been my privilege to watch you grow up. To help you. To be here for you. Of course I'd want to be there to watch you grow up the rest of the way."

"But -"

"Shut up, just let me tell you that I am so proud of you. You never give up, and your heart is so big. You love so much and so loudly, and it's been the highest honor of my life to be included in your family."

Five pauses for a moment to collect himself before simply saying - "You're the best dad I've ever had."

Rick snorts, "Considering my competition, I'd sure hope so. That bar was so low old Reggie was practically limbo dancing with the devil. Now get over here and give an old man a hug."

They don't bury Rick, when he dies. They don't have time and the ground is too hard and they don't have the heart to move him. Instead the pack everything up and seal him in the shelter they'd lived in.

Dolores pulls out a bottle of ancient nail polish and painstakingly writes Rick's name on the wall with his birth year and an approximate current year. They aren't 100% sure though, since time blends together out in the apocalypse, but it's something.

They continue by themselves. They get older.

Dolores jokingly calls him her husband because the way his face scrunches up makes her cackle. They see other people very occasionally, usually passing through. Usually groups. Dolores and Five get to flex their hosting skills, though more than one group declines their cockroach stirfry.

("It's a family recipe." Five says with amusement in his eyes that usually manages to drown out old grief.)

"Jeeze, that kid couldn't have been older'n twenty-three." Dolores complains, "Makes me feels positively ancient."

"They wouldn't have known any world 'cept for the apocalypse." Five muses, pouring some boiled water into wine glasses because they might be living in the apocalypse but they can be fancy.

"Do you ever think about that?" Dolores asks, turning to him with no judgement, just curiosity. "When you go back, you'll be like, erasing them from existence."

Five shrugs, "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe this place will just split off into an alternate timeline."

"Maybe none of this is real." Dolores says, amusement coloring her voice. "Maybe you aren't talking to a real person at all. Maybe this is just a symbol of your insanity and cracked mind."

"Dolores, I literally have a scar where you stabbed me. Did I somehow manage to stab myself in the back?"

"Scraped you, I scraped you. By accident."

"So you maintain." Five says haughtily, swirling his water in his wine glass like a pretentious prick.

"I could totally be fake. You don't know my life."

"I know way too much about you, Dolores. Like, way way too much." Five scoffs, because Dolores and him have literally no secrets from one another at this point. Five even knows the truth behind what happened at Janet Scranton's thirteenth birthday party. Like, he said, way too much.

"Maybe you made it up. Maybe that's why you know so much."

"Dolores, I'm going to be honest with you right now." Five presses the tips of his fingers to his chin, "If you were a figment of my imagination, you would be so much better at math."

"Hey!" Dolores squawks indignantly, "I didn't even get to finish high school you pretentious prick!"

"Neither did I!"

"You didn't even go to high school, you brat."

"I'm fifty-two I think I've outgrown 'brat.'"

"Tell that to your attitude." Dolores says haughtily, "You're still younger than me."

"Won't be when I go back in time." Five says cheerfully, completely ignoring Dolores's venomous look.

"That's cheating."

"Sucks to suck." Five says loftily, taking another sip of his water.

Sometimes they talk about The Plan, with capital letters. What Five is going to do when he goes back in time, depending on when he pops out. Is he going to adopt his siblings? What about Reginald?

"You don't think I could kill Reginald?" Five says, holding a hand to his chest in mock offense.

"I think you should let me do it. I'll even give you control of tonight's music if you do."

"What are you doing to do? Bite his ankles? What if you're like, seven or something?"

"All the better to get away with it since I'll be too young to convict or whatever."

"Pretty sure that's not how the law works."

"How would you know? Just for that I'm playing Istanbul on repeat again."

"I don't know why you think that's a threat. That song slaps."

It takes a few more years before Five is close enough that the Commission comes to interfere. Because that's what I think happened - Five was getting too close and they stepped in because they might as well distract the man as much as they can with missions, right?

So the Handler shows up. And she offers Five a job, telling him that they have the ability to travel through time. And Five - hesitates.

"Give me some time?" Five asks, and the Handler graciously gives him 24 hours.

And he and Dolores talk it over, because now that his goal is more in sight than it has ever been and Five is scared.

"What are you waiting for? You have the chance to see your siblings again." Dolores says patiently.

"Yeah," Five says, and what he doesn't say is clear. But I won't see you.

"Five." Dolores says, and she cradles his face between her palms like he is something precious, "I have had so much time with you already. More than I would have ever. We have been so lucky, to have this time. How can I demand more than what we have already been given?"

"When have you ever not demanded the world, Dolores?" Five asks, his own hand coming up to cover Dolores's own.

"We've had decades together, Five. We're getting old. I was always going to lose you, one way or another. Nothing lasts forever."

"I don't want to lose you."

"I know. But if I had to choose a way, if I could decide where our story ends, this would be it. Letting you go, because this way you get to live. You get to see your family again. You get to save the world. I could ask for nothing more than for you to get your happy ending."

Five removes Dolores's hand from his cheek so that he can cradle it between them, "I'm happy here with you. I've never been happier. Isn't that silly? That I was happier in the apocalypse?"

"I bet killing Reggie would make you happy." Dolores laughs rustily.

"One day you're going to see the mysterious disappearance of a famous billionaire in the paper and feel a twinge of satisfaction and now have a clue why." Five laughs as well, shaking his head.

Dolores pats Five's hands, "Five, look at me. We've had our time. And you're going to give me even more of it. More time with my father. More time with my mother. I'll never know it, but you'll have saved me."

"What if this is - what if this is an alternate reality? What if I leave you here alone?"

"Then you'll be saving a 15-year-old girl from the same fate as me. Because as much as I love you, as much as I have loved this time we have had together, this is still an apocalypse. This should never have happened, and if you have a chance to go back and prevent it, then I want you to take that chance with both hands."

"Even if it means leaving you alone?"

Dolores smiles at him, "I'm not going to be alone. Far too many creepy crawlies in the apocalypse for that."

"Shut up, I'm being serious."

"Hmm." Dolores hums consideringly, "Maybe I'll head North, to that new settlement that last group said they'd heard word of. Sure they'd find some use for an old woman who's survived this long in the wilderness."

"You can have my half of the record collection." Five says, pulling her against him into a hug that she easily returns.

"As if I wouldn't have stolen them as soon as you left." She scoffs, but it's a little wet, and Five pretends his own eyes aren't leaking tears.

When The Handler comes back, Dolores gives him another hug. She also slips something into his pocket - some photos. They'd taken it a year into the apocalypse, when Dolores had found an ancient looking polaroid camera and towed it home despite Five's protests about practicality. The photos are worn and faded at the edges, but the smiles on Five's little apocalypse family's faces are undeniable.

"You'll have to see if they magically fade when you change the timeline." Dolores whispers to him with a grin, "Like in the movies."

"Okay." Five whispers back.

"You have the list of movies to watch, right?" Dolores says. Five rolls his eyes and nods because he wrote the list last night into his Vanya-book while Dolores hovered over his shoulder and critiqued his handwriting.

"And you promise to try a proper non-expired twinkie at some point?"

"That I do not promise. I think even looking at one would make me lose my lunch. I have twinkie-trauma."

"Shut up and get going." Dolores says, because the Handler is starting to tap her foot impatiently.

And off Five goes to become an assassin. Though - he's much more gentle this time. He's careful, he doesn't kill children and he usually takes jobs that don't require killing at all. He distracts and manipulates events as much as he can without killing.

He's actually much more well socialized, thanks to Rick and Dolores. Less feral child and more determined man on a mission.

Which is why he's so frustrated when he finally, finally manages to get the equations to work and falls through and falls - directly back into his stupid thirteen-year-old body.

"Shit." Five says, loudly, and revels in the surprised look on his siblings faces.

He strides into the kitchen, and they all follow him like ducklings. They look exactly the way they did when they died.

"Wow this is actually way harder than I thought it would be." Five muses, looking at their dead faces. But as Dolores would say, life is hard but you have to keep on trucking sometimes. "Whatever, what's the date?"

"Five, where have you been?" Diego demands, looking irritated. It makes Five snort in amusement.

"The future. The past. If you want like, an exact list of dates you'll have to hold your horses. I spent like, two weeks in Peru once. No souvenirs though, unfortunately."

They look taken aback, like they didn't expect Five to have quite this much sass. Oops. That is definitely Dolores's influence. Or maybe he was always a little asshole. In fairness, what teenagers aren't tiny assholes? He has an excuse.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Diego's eyebrows are furrowed in anger. It kind of takes Five aback for a second, because he remembers a Diego who stutters when he argued.

"When did you learn the fuck-word?" Five asks, raising an eyebrow before her can help it, "Grace ought to wash your mouth out with soap."

Diego immediately goes red, "Shut up!"

"Wow you're so easy to rile up. Aren't you like, twenty-something? Actually, I could figure out for myself how old you are if you gave me the date."

"I'm twenty-nine." Diego growls, like that was the point.

"Haunting!" Five says cheerfully, because that means there is way less time than he would like, narrowing his time down to a six month window.

It's extremely funny how his cheer makes all of them make faces.

It's Klaus who leans forward, "Why do you need to know?"

Klaus's face is open and curious and - (looks exactly like he did when Five found him all those years ago) - and Five can't help but answer him. "The world end on April 1st, 2019. No it isn't an April Fools joke, yes I have heard that joke like a million different times. I just want to know how close I landed so I can, you know, start working on how to fix that."

"Woah woah woah, roll it back." Allison says, holding a hand up, "What?"

"The apocalypse occurs on April 1st, 2019." Five says, slowly. "I have traveled from afar to prevent this from happening, because like, everyone dies."

"Everyone?" Vanya says weakly from the side.

She's clearly expecting to be ignored, so Five turns his head to address her directly by wiggling his hand back and forth a little. "Sort of. Like, not too many people survive at all. A handful of the human population, you know."

"But you survived?" Diego recovers admirably, if bitingly.

"Well, no." Five says rolling his eyes, "Wouldn't you just know it, Klaus here has managed to figure out a new ability!"

Everyone turns to look at Klaus, who immediately holds up his hands like he's being arrested or something, "I did not!"

"Wonderful! Now that we've established that I'm alive -"

"Why should we trust a word you say?" Luther says for the first time, looking pensive.

Five blinks, genuinely taken aback. "Because... I'm your brother? Because I can clearly and obviously time travel? Like, yeah, it would have been more convenient if I'd arrived in like, my old-body for proof-purposes, but like. I mean. Thirteen is still a pretty convincing age to be to prove time travel considering if I hadn't, I would be like, almost thirty."

"Roll it back again." Allison says firmly, "What do you mean by 'old body'?"

"Great question!" Five says pointing at Allison and smiling. Everyone looks at him weird again, and Five takes a moment to wonder if they've ever experienced positive reinforcement. Knowing Reginald, probably not. "Wait! Is Reggie alive? Wait, no, answer that in a second. Uh. When I time traveled I fucked up my body I guess, I was like, old. White hair and wrinkles-type old from spending decades in the apocalypse. But I fucked up the calculations and got booted back to my thirteen-year-old body, I guess. How, I have no idea."

"What?" Vanya says, still equally weakly.

"You have no idea how fucked up time travel is." Five whispers conspiratorially to Vanya, loud enough for the whole table to hear, "There are so many ways to die. Or permanently tear a hold in space time. But like, with life as we know if ending soon-ish, I figured I couldn't possibly fuck it up worse than it already was, y'know? Speaking of, anyone have the date again?"

"Wait, what was that about dad?" Luther asks, very focused.

"Oh, you still call him dad? Big oof." Five says automatically, because apparently his verbal filter is shot to hell after living with Dolores. It does make Klaus bark out a too-loud laugh.

"What does that mean?" Luther asks aggressively.

"It means Reginald sucks and doesn't deserve the title of 'dad,' what did you think I meant?" Five asks, and now both Diego and Vanya and both cracking smiles, though Vanya is covering hers with a hand.

"Have some respect for the dead." Luther growls, standing up and looking very large and threatening.

Five sways back, craning his head up, "Woah there big buy, sit down before I injure my poor growing spine looking up at you. Jeeze, did Reggie force feed you steroids or something? I wouldn't put it past him but like, I just want to know he at least went over the side effects of the drug with you. Also like, thanks for narrowing it down. Also terrifying! Seriously though, exact date please because if I have less than 24 hours I am going to break down crying and that is a threat."

"I love this Five." Klaus says reverently.

"March 21st." Vanya offers, finally.

"Wow! Terrifying!" Five says, clapping his hands together, "Hate that. Ten days, huh? Well, who wants to get on board the save-the-world express?"

Klaus immediately flings his hand in the air, Five points at his brother appreciatively. "Yes, excellent! I'll take the volunteer in the lovely skirt as my first team member. Any other volunteers?"

"Danke!" Klaus simpers, grinning widely like this is the vest entertainment he's had in weeks.

"I'm not just going to stand here and listen to you badmouth dad and boss us around." Luther slams his hands on the table.

"Well not with that attitude." Five snarks.

Diego raises his hand, "I would like to join team fuck dad as well."

"We can certainly debate team names later." Five says, nodding wisely as Luther gives some sort of scandalized gasp.

"Honestly, I just want to see where this is going." Klaus confesses.

Five shrugs, because he doesn't really care about the reason. "Don't you want to prove me wrong them? Prove what a well-adjusted young man Reginald Hargreeves raised?"

"Shut up." Luther grinds out, looking a moment away from throwing a punch.

"If this is all true, I have to get home." Allison cuts in, looking concerned, "I have - I have a daughter."

"I mean, if you want to give Claire a world to live in then I'd stick around, but that's just me." Five shrugs.

"You know her name?" Allison asks, obviously taken aback.

Five is almost offended, "Uh, yeah. I have her photo as well. Y'all get on like, a bizarre number of gossip magazine covers did you know that?"

Allison manages to outdo herself in terms of being taken aback once more.

There's a beat of silence, and then Five turns, "Vanya? You in?"

"Me?" Vanya blinks, looking shocked. "What can I do?"

"Yeah, what can she do?" Diego asks, crossing his arms and suddenly looking grumpy.

It baffles Five, who scrunches his nose, "Uh, like, a lot? I assume? I mean. I'm going to be honest here, just looking at y'all right now is a lot. In more ways than one! Hashtag trauma and all that, but like, name a single one of you that wouldn't be the most obvious person in the room as soon as you walked into it. Except Vanya, who somehow manages to look like a well adjusted adult, by some miracle."

"Did you just verbally say the word hashtag?" Allison asks, looking so deeply confused.

"More concerned about the trauma he tacked onto there, but y'know, to each their own." Klaus immediately cuts in.

"You think I'm well-adjusted?" Vanya asks, looking oddly touched.

"I would like to direct your attention to Diego's leather pants-scowl combo and Luther's general aura of daddy-issues." Five says pointedly, "I can practically smell the tragic comic book backstory in this room. If I'd jumped back a decade earlier this would have been Batman's wet dream of orphan selection."

"Alright! Game plan!" Five says, waving Diego's knife in his hand.

Diego's hands immediately go to his weird harness looking thing, "Hey!"

"Give me just one moment to get the tracker out." Five rolls his eyes, "Then I'll give it back, I promise. Also if someone could ask Grace for like, some antibiotics that would be good."

"What?" Allison asks, directly before Five stabs himself and there is suddenly panic at the table.

"Relax!" Five says, allowing Diego to remove the knife from his hands. He doesn't need it anyway and his hand immediately drops down to root in the wound.

"Five what the fuck!" Diego yells, but Five just pulls up bloody fingers and waves the tracker into Diego's stupefied face.

"What the fuck is that, Five?" Allison demands, looking very shaken.

"I literally just said it was a tracker." Five points out, "Now, I think our first team activity should be voting on whether we destroy it or take it out to bumfuck nowhere and ditch it to confuse the Commission."

"What the fuck is the Commission?" Diego barks.

"Man. Maybe I should just hit up Rick." Five muses, "This is going to take so much explaining."

"Who is Rick."

"So much explaining."

[too-gay-for-marvel]

just this once pt.2

a/n: hey babes, so uhhhhh this got too long for just 2 parts so... yall get 3! happy birthday!

Word Count: 2,088

Warnings: mentions of smut, implications to cheating, mention of injuries

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6.1 pt.6.2 pt.6.3 pt.7 pt.8)

There was no easy way to deal with everything going on in Natasha’s head. Not only did she remember every detail from her night with you, but she had to pretend like it had never happened whenever she was with Maria. Maria, who was now her fiancée, who had no clue that Natasha had willingly and eagerly gotten fucked by you when she was just a few rooms away.

How could she have said “no” to a marriage proposal when she was the only one who knew about the infidelity?

But Natasha could barely even look at Maria without feeling like her heart had been thrown into a blender while her stomach tried to jump out of her throat. There was no explanation she could give that wouldn’t sound awful, and she couldn’t lose Maria. She couldn’t.

When she needed to get away, her feet often led her to the one place she had visited so many times in the past. Down the elevator to the fifth floor below ground, straight down the hall until she hit the third left, down to the second door on the right. The door code was 1960; the year SHIELD made the discovery. It took 2.3 seconds for the door to unlock and Natasha to walk in.

Natasha rarely found you in your suite after the… incident. In fact, she rarely found you at all. The moon pool in the left half of the suite was empty, no signs of you or your recent presence. No wet footprints on the floor, no scales on the unmade bed, no half-used bottles of moisturising gel on every surface in the suite. Nothing.

She wasn’t sure if she liked that or not.

But whether you were there or not, she still found comfort in the space. The sounds of the water in the moon pool and the small waterfall right above it, the mesmerising view of the seascape and wildlife you kept safe, the smell of tea going cold in a forgotten cup. It was a comfortable space, one Natasha had always sought out in her time of need.

At least once a day, she found herself sitting at your table, putting her feet in the moon pool, making herself a cup of tea. It didn’t matter what she did, she just needed that comfort. She couldn’t get it with Maria, not anymore, not after she had fucked up.

She needed to tell Maria.

Even if it meant she lost one of the only people she had ever loved.

That opportunity came far too soon.

Another quick mission, another debriefing, and Natasha found herself back in her room with Maria patching up a few small cuts. Nothing serious, because it never was; not to Natasha, at least. But the gentleness in Maria’s touch, the care and comfort that went into it was enough to set all of Natasha’s nerves on fire.

She just couldn’t take it anymore.

“I need to tell you something,” she blurted out so uncharacteristically that even Maria stilled. There was an uncomfortably long moment of silence.

“I actually had something I wanted to say as well.”

She knows.

Just the possibility that Maria knew what had happened was enough to make Natasha’s skin crawl. Maria’s fingers on her skin were too soft, too gentle, it was painful. The kind of pain that made her want to jump off the top of the nearest building just to make it stop. She wanted it to stop.

“You first,” Natasha said, slowly, deliberately. She always did prefer to be on the defensive anyway.

“Do you remember the dive from a few weeks ago?”

“Yes.” There was a lump in her throat.

“Well, we did some research on that plant Y/N found. The one that covered them in ink?” Her hands were still moving, still patching up wounds that didn’t matter. Maybe she was looking for a distraction. Natasha wished she had a distraction.

“What about it?”

“Well, you were acting off after we got back.” Oh god. “So I grabbed Y/N’s suit from the pile and took it to the lab.” Just say it. “Turns out the ink is some kind of enhanced aphrodisiac.” Wait, what?

“It’s what?” Natasha asked, turning around and forcing Maria to finally focus on her, not her wounds.

“An aphrodisiac,” she continued, making eye contact. Natasha couldn’t decipher the look behind her eyes.

“You said it was enhanced?”

“That’s what the lab techs said,” Maria shrugged. “Said it would have been painful.”

Natasha didn’t know what to say. What could she say? “Yes dear, it was extremely painful, that’s why I fucked the only other person who could help me. Why didn’t I go to you? Well, you know, I always did love getting fucked by our coworker.” Because that would go over so well.

“Maria-”

“I’m sorry I didn’t know sooner to help.”

Excuse me?

“You… what?” Natasha asked. It was rare for her to be caught off guard, but there she was, completely lost and unsure what to do about it.

“If I had known, I would’ve helped,” Maria shrugged. “Instead of having to go to Y/N.”

“Maria…”

“The techs said it would be…” she hesitated, refusing to meet Natasha’s eyes, “inescapable.”

“It’s not what you think-”

“I don’t blame you,” Maria interrupted, eyes snapping back up to meet hers. It sent a shiver down Natasha’s spine. “I would’ve preferred you come to me, but since you were both affected, I understand.”

“You do?” Natasha asked. This was all so surreal, it couldn’t be possible. It was a fever dream, it had to be.

“Don’t take it as a free pass,” Maria continued with a raised brow before going back to patch up another scratch. “I’m still upset.” As you should be. “And you’re still in the dog house.” As I should be. “But I…” another hesitation, “I still love you. And I trust you.”

Why couldn’t she have just stabbed a knife through Natasha’s heart? That would have hurt exponentially less than this undeserved trust.

“I love you too,” Natasha murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Maria grabbed Natasha by the chin and turned her head before giving her a kiss. Soft, possessive, hopeful. The message it was trying to convey was clear; crystal clear.

“You owe me big time,” Maria whispered with a smile before letting go and focusing on the rest of Natasha’s now-insignificant injuries.

-----

Natasha found you five weeks later.

She hadn’t meant to. Quite frankly, she hadn’t been trying; she had been spending her days making things up to Maria. She was getting the good cookies from the little bakery down the street at 6 AM, or the crappy coffee from across town that did nothing for their taste buds but everything for their nostalgia. You know, the little things.

And it had been nice.

Maria had tasked her with getting some takeout from the hole-in-the-wall four blocks over, and of course Natasha had said “yes ma’am.” But the elevator stopped on the 9th floor, and once she saw you she couldn’t help but get out.

A small group was around you, all of you dragging your feet as you walked out of one of the debriefing rooms. Everyone was still wearing gear; dripping wet, splotches of red and green covering your suits and skin. You had your belt - only one grenade remained - slung over your shoulder. There was a limp in your step and your right eye was nearly swollen shut.

A failed mission.

“Y/N?”

Your head snapped up so fast that Natasha winced at how badly it must have hurt. Although judging by the blossoming bruises creeping up from the collar of your suit, everything hurt. But you stared at her nonetheless, something hidden lurking behind the sea of your eyes.

But you didn’t move.

“Can you spare a minute?” Natasha asked. You looked over to your team and waited for them to give you a shrug before you walked in her direction. She didn’t wait for you; she just turned around and made her way to an empty room.

The door clicked shut behind you, but Natasha couldn’t bear to look back at you. Something was tugging at her heart, telling her to look at you, to see you the way she used to. But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. She had Maria, she loved Maria, and no lingering feelings were going to ruin the one good thing in her life.

“Did you need something?” You finally asked, voice deep and cracking. Something about it was different.

“I’m engaged,” Natasha said simply. You hated when people beat around the bush, so she didn’t.

“Heard from Sam,” you shot back without hesitation. She was almost glad you had already known; it saved the awkwardness of an explanation.

No, she didn’t need to explain anything to you, her decisions were her own.

“Congrats, by the way,” you continued, and Natasha braced herself to turn around…

But that tugging at her heart stopped.

There was something different about you; about the space you were both sharing. Before the dive, just being in the same room as you had a calming effect on Natasha; it wasn’t scandalous, there were no nefarious intentions, but it was a different feeling than when she was with Maria. Something she couldn’t properly put into words.

Instead, the air felt thick. You were standing just a little too far away, your eyes would shy away after looking a little too long. Your jaw was tense, your gills twitched, the spines on your back raised and lowered defensively. Natasha wasn’t feeling comfortable in your space; no, she almost felt trapped.

“Did you need to tell me something?” You asked when Natasha continued to say nothing.

“It can’t happen again,” Natasha said before she could properly decide if that was even what she wanted to say. “It can’t.”

“We used to do it all the time,” you huffed.

“Before I started dating Maria,” Natasha said quickly.” Now I’m engaged, it can’t happen again.”

“Maria said it was fine,” you mumbled to yourself as you set the belt on the table. The way the grenade hit the wood made Natasha flinch before she remembered it couldn’t accidentally go off.

“She talked to you?”

“A bit,” you shrugged. You weren’t meeting her eyes.

“Then you know she didn’t say it was fine,” Natasha continued, ignoring the ripple that went down your gills. “She said she understood that we couldn’t help it.”

“It’s basically the same thing,” you shot back.

“It’s not the same thing, Y/N.”

“Yes it is,” you continued, “you couldn’t help it so it’s fine.”

“We couldn’t help it,” Natasha emphasised.

And her heart stopped.

“Y/N,” Natasha urged when you stayed frozen. “We couldn’t help it.” Still nothing. “Right?”

That was when you looked up. You finally looked up and into Natasha’s eyes, and she  saw what was hiding behind your eyes. It wasn’t something beautiful, it wasn’t the mesmerising seas that she had always seen. No, this time there was a monster, something under the roiling waves that would go unnoticed until it was too late.

“When did you know?” Natasha asked. No, she demanded.

“I didn’t know until Maria talked to me,” you said. A little too quickly for Natasha to believe it.

“How?”

“Genetics.” You were still talking too fast. “The same genes that made me what I am. I’m immune.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” Natasha questioned, her voice rising. Not enough to be considered yelling, but it was loud for her.

“I didn’t know it affected humans,” you urged. Pleaded.

“You let me cheat on my girlfriend and then lied to me about it?”

“I already said I didn’t know!” You finally shouted. The spines on your back were raised and your hands visibly shook. Were you upset that you had gotten caught? That you couldn’t explain your way out of this one? Or just upset that you had lost?

Quite frankly, Natasha didn’t care.

“Unless Nick needs us,” Natasha said calmly, “I don’t want to see you again.”

She didn’t give you any time to say anything, didn’t give you time to plead your case, before she shoved past you and walked back to the elevator. Heads turned when she passed, but she didn’t stop. She just got in the elevator and headed back down.

Dinner was already late.

Natasha was going to be in the dog house for the rest of her life.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story Pt 19 - Sci Fi

The new part is here. I've struggled with this story a little bit recently, but I wanted to continue this, to share it with you.

Master Post linked here

Enjoy!

_________________________

“Bel…”

“BEL!”

The world around me was pitch black, empty except for voices I didn't recognize, shouting a name I couldn't remember. I blinked, trying to clear my vision without success.

“Hello?” My anxious shout faded into the nothingness around me.

“I have to do it, Bel. It’s how the story goes.” A blurry figure stood in front of me, his facial features unclear behind his blond hair, but his tone contained frustration and regret. “You know what happens to a world when the story is incomplete. Sacrifices have to made.”

“Who are you…?”

“That’s our fate, we just have to accept that.” He faded away into the darkness, leaving me alone again.

“Come back! Explain what you meant!” I screamed at the disappearing figure. “WHAT SACRIFICE? WHAT FATE?!”

"YOU MUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE."

“Are you lost?” A new voice spoke up, strange, yet completely and utterly familiar.

I spun around, but there was no one behind me. “I’m… I’m lost.”

“No matter where you go, who you become… I’ll find you, Bel. I promise.” The voice was a whisper in my ear. “Fate can’t tear us apart. I won’t let it. Even if I have to destroy fate itself.”

“But I can’t find you. I don’t remember who you are!” I was crying, my tears disappearing into the surrounding mist.

“I’ll find you.” The words were quieter, as if the owner of the voice was fading away.

“DON’T LEAVE ME!”

“I promise.”

“NOT AGAIN!”

"You must accept your fate."

"Bel..."

"You must.."

“…I promise…”

_________________________

“LIAM!”

I woke up, screaming a name that disappeared from my mind as soon as the sound as faded, tears and sweat staining my cheeks.

I curled up into a ball, my head resting on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

Who am I?

Finding no answers, I eventually steadied my nerves, getting up, showering and changing. I looked up at the clock on the wall, wincing as I realized that I was running late for class.

Great, now I’m going to miss breakfast, and I'm starving.

I put on my uniform jacket, lamenting silently my lack of time to fill my empty stomach. As I left my dorm, however, my eye caught something sitting on the floor right outside my door. It was a small plate with a peeled apple and a note with Alaira’s name on it.

I thought Alaira was supposed to be loner… This has to be a trap, right?

It had been several weeks since I woke up in this strange world. It couldn’t be more obvious that she didn’t have any true friends or allies. No one who would care enough to send breakfast, definitely.

Maybe it’s from whoever has been following me around?

Since the second day, I had noticed a shadowy presence following me at a distance. Whoever it was, they never attempted to try to speak to me, or interfere with me in ay way. But it was always nearby, always watching.

So now they’ve upgraded to leaving me food?

I picked up the apple, looking around, and scanned it with the personal computer on my wrist, which showed no drugs or other abnormalities.

Well… I am hungry, which outweighs the possible grim outcome of death by poison, I suppose.

Shrugging mentally, I took a bite. The taste was sweet. I sighed with satisfaction and took another bite. As I chewed, a thought occurred to me, confusing me all the more.

How did they know I like peeled apples?

As far as I could remember, Alaira had never liked apples. It was considered an ancient fruit, more of an oddity than a dietary staple. She had tried it once or twice and hadn’t been impressed.

But I liked it…

I liked apples a lot… but only peeled ones. It was something almost instinctive I had felt whenever I thought about the fruit. But… I hadn’t eaten any apples since I woke up as Alaira.

So how do they know? Does this sci fi story come with mind readers?

I took another bite, feeling confused.

_________________________

“Why the hatred for the apple peel?”

The young man seemed genuinely curious from his tone of voice as he handed me a freshly peeled fruit.

I shrugged, taking a bite. “You try living as a princess in a lower fantasy realm. I bit into a poisoned apple once and the inside was glowing green.” I shuddered. “Ever since then I can’t stand to bite into an apple with the peel still on.”

The man had already started peeling another fruit, and paused in his actions. “Did the prince have to kiss you to break the spell?”

“Why, are you jealous?” I grinned.

“N-no… I’m just asking.” His head hung down, as he seemed to stare intently into the apple in his hands.

I patted his head. “I took an antidote ahead of time. Didn’t fall asleep. Instead, I beat the crap out of the witch.”

He laughed at that. “Didn’t you get in trouble for changing things?”

“Of course. But it was so worth it.”

_________________________

I stared down at the partially eaten fruit in my hands, feeling overwhelmed at the memories surging through my mind.

I keep seeing these memories, but I can’t connect them to anything. What are these lower realms? Is that what I’m in right now? Who is this person I keep seeing?

I felt incomplete, a large part of my memories, my emotions, were missing. What was worse, I wasn’t even sure what was gone, what I should be sad about losing.

I grabbed my bag and walked out the door.

“Alaira.” A voice called out, stopping me in my tracks. Turning, I sighed with odd sense of disappointment at the person standing before me.

Who was I expecting?

I forced a grin and made a rude gesture. “Hey Chris, how awful to see you this morning! Terrible of you to stop by.” I checked my personal communicator and shrugged. “Fortunately for me, I’m running late and have no time for your nonsense. So we’ll save your annoying ranting and raving for a later date, okay?”

He ignored my words, stepping closer with an excited look. “Have you heard the news?”

“Even if I say yes, you’re still going to tell me, right?”

“Don’t pretend, it’s not fooling anyone!” He glared at me. “You’ve been hoping to trap me as your Connector since the match results came back!”

I sighed. “At this point, it’s not even funny anymore. What can I say that will possibly convince you that that is NOT the case?”

“You won’t be able to stop my dreams, Alaira! Next time I’m going to win!”

“Yes, you’re the absolute greatest.” I rolled my eyes. “I cry myself to sleep each night over the fact that we aren’t partners, and I will never feel anything in this life but anguish and despair… now can I go to class?”

He looked ever angrier at my sarcasm. “Just wait until the next match. You’ll see that I’m good enough to be a Guardian. Because I’ve got…”

“Okay, buddy. Sounds good.” I interrupted, walking away.

“Wait, you didn’t finish listening…”

“Yep. See you next match.”

I left him behind, ignoring his rage induced sputtering.

Met an idiot first thing... but hey, at least I'm not hungry anymore!

_________________________

A few days later, the next round of mock Mech battles began.

As the winner of the prior fight, I was slated to go first, completing the first four battles with relative ease. As the day wore on, however, the drain on my body from using the Mech was increasing exponentially. Fortunately I was on my last scheduled fight of the day… even if this was the hardest so far.

A light headache was throbbing at my temples as I scanned the field around me. The arena stood as a large stadium, featuring a high-class barrier shield that extended up to twenty stories in the air. Hundreds of seats surrounded the fighting field, all equipped with holo screens that played the footage taken by the referee bots floating around the fight.

The excited screams from the audience were slightly muffled by the protective screen, and the remaining noise was filtered out as I focused on the fight ahead of me.

My opponent this time was a third year A level Guardian, an experienced fighter, who fought along side a D level Connector. Alaira had faced off with them multiple times in the past, and she had always struggled to win despite the difference in strength of abilities.

There was no denying the advantage that a Connector brought to the fight.

I grinned, ignoring the draining sensation of operating my Mech, the headache and weakness that quickly came on each time I made the Connection. The pain was severe, like a knife stabbing through my eye, but I forced myself to ignore it. As I fought, I couldn’t help but feel bitter.

It’s not like I haven’t been looking for a Connector.

Each day I went to the Matching Center. Each day I endured the laughter, the stares, the whispers and pointing. Each day I was faced with the same words: “No match available.”

Do I need to come up with a different plan? But I can’t fight the Hive without a Mech, and I can’t operate a Mech without a Connector… unless I want to slowly destroy my mind like Alaira did.

I sighed, not seeing any easy answers, and focused on the fight ahead of me. Although I had Alaira’s memories, and operating the Mech came as almost second nature with my S level alpha waves, I had run into an unexpected obstacle:

Alaira’s weapon of choice had been dual wielding energy pistols.

What a waste of the cool looking sword on my back. My physical body was suspended in the Connection chamber, a shielded globe filled with suspension gel. Although the Mech was controlled through alpha brain waves and the Connection, the closer I was to the Mech, the easier that control was. Thus the space for the Guardian was always in the center of the Mech.

I wore helmeted mask monitoring my vitals such as oxygen saturation and heart rate, adjusting the air composition and breath volume to accommodate my body’s stress reaction during battle. A skintight silver suit covered me, interacting with the gel to provide me physical feedback that the Mech would feel. My vision was shared with my Mech’s video system; I looked down and saw the pistols resting in the robotic hands. It was strange, I was obviously inside the robot, but the sensation of the ground beneath my feet, the guns in my hands, was all too real.

The physical sensation made it easier to fight, but it had an obvious drawback, which was that I felt any blows that my Mech sustained. During the fight I was the Mech, and it was a part of me. I tightened my grip around the energy weapons, feeling tired.

Something felt off about using these as my weapons.

I still had no memories about my past, but as I had practiced with the Mech these past few weeks, I had noticed a familiarity with fighting and battles, even more than what Alaira had in my memories after a lifetime of training at home with her father and then in the academy.

Am I some kind of warrior or something?

It didn’t seem right, but I couldn’t explain the comfortable sensation of judging my opponent and fighting with them. But that comfort and familiarity did not extend to dual wielding pistols.

I just wasn’t a great shot.

We had already been fighting for ten minutes. My headache had worsened and I felt tired, but I had only managed to score a few hits on non-vital areas. The only benefit was that the opposing Mech had only been able to strike me twice with the energy-enhanced spear he carried.

“You seem a little off today, Alaira, everything all right?” My opponent’s voice came over his speaker, shocking me. It was technically considered bad etiquette to talk during battle, but it was hard to fault him, as he seemed genuinely concerned about my less than ideal fighting state.

I shook my head, raising my pistols once more. “I’m fine, let’s continue.”

I rushed forward, taking advantage of my superior speed and maneuverability to get closer, trying to make it harder to miss my shots. The opposing Mech jumped backwards, but it was too late. Its hand was within my grasp. Turning and using its significant weight to my advantage, I flipped the robot over my own’s shoulder put the barrel of my gun against the metal head.

My final shot through its temple destroyed the key mechanisms within it, rendering it immobile and finishing the fight.

That was too close… I’ve been practicing with the pistols since I’ve woken up in this strange world, and seen no improvement… what am I doing wrong?

As the referee called out my victory, I backed away, letting out a sigh of relief. It had been a harder fight than it should have been, but at least it was over.

I need a nap.

“I WANT TO CHALLENGE ALAIRA!”

An extremely annoying voice spoke up, causing my already bad headache to worsen.

... Why me?

I turned towards the speaker. “Chris. Didn’t we agree that we were going to avoid each other? … Or was that just my wishful thinking?”

His all white Mech landed in front of my own, holding a large, oversized sword. He swung it back and forth, and although I couldn’t see his facial expressions, the smug tone of his voice through the Mech’s speakers were enough to make me wish I could make my Mech roll its eyes.

“Surely the legendary S level Guardian Alaira isn’t SCARED to fight with a mere D level Guardian such as myself, right?”

“Guardian Chris, please retract your challenge. Guardian Alaira has already finished five consecutive mock battles, and needs time to recover.” The instructor’s face was stern on the holographic screens around us, leaving no room for disagreement.

Chris laughed mockingly. “Oh, I thought she said that even with all the advantages and luck she could still beat me? I guess it was just empty arrogance.” His Mech shook its head. “With such a weak personality, no wonder you can’t find a Connector to match you. Who would want to endure such a woman?”

“…”

CLANG!

My Mech’s foot connected with the other’s crotch, and I heard a high-pitched squeal of pain. Ha, shared sensation with the Mech comes in handy sometimes.

“How dare you?!” His pained shout made me grin.

“Less talking, more fighting. I accept your challenge, Chris.” I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeling of my head splitting apart, as well as the light ringing in my ears. I had reached the limit of how long I could safely operate the Mech.

But the sound of his smug satisfaction infuriated me.

Every night, I was haunted by nightmares. Sometimes it was fragments of memories of unfamiliar worlds and people. Most nights, however, I dreamt of Alaira’s end. Alone, broken, terrified, a horrific death for a lonely girl.

And this idiot had watched it happen.

It might not be smart, but I just really want to beat him up. I took a stance, brandishing the pistols, feeling off kilter once more at the light weight in both of my hands.

In the meantime Chris had recovered from his inconvenience, and had resumed his taunting. “Oh, yeah, you ran away so fast the other day, I never got to share with you the good news:” He paused for what I assumed was dramatic effect. “I matched with a Connector earlier last week.”

He obviously meant this to be a huge blow to me, but Alaira’s memories had already warned me this would happen. A beautiful young woman, one of the many who competed for Chis’s affection. This one is a princess… Ilene, I think?

Unbidden, my mind was filled with the thought of the serious, quiet Prince William. I hadn’t seen him since that first day in front of the matching center. So he would be her brother?

I felt a moment of concern at his absence, and then confused, I shook my head, dismissing the thought. I had no reason to see him. Why would I worry about a stranger? Shrugging, I waved casually to Chris’s Mech.

“I welcome the princess to the battle. Sorry you’re on the losing team!”

“…”

There was a moment of shocked silence. “You already know?!”

I winced at Chris’s ear piercing shriek. “Know and don’t care.”

“But… I have a Connector.”

“Yeah, you said that.”

“So I won’t be YOUR Connector!”

I sighed. “We’ve long established that. Look, buddy, it’s been a long day and I’m really tired, are you gonna keep talking about your boring personal life, or are we gonna try to crush each other with massive robots?”

“... Fine then! Keep pretending you don’t care!” Chris seemed really upset at not eliciting a bigger reaction from me, but fortunately turned his attention to the battle as well.

As the hologram around us signaled the start to the fight, he raised his sword and moved towards me, but I had already moved behind him.

BAM!

A shot hit his shoulder, blowing large metallic pieces into the air. I frowned, frustrated. I was faster and stronger than him, but my shots just weren’t going where I wanted them to.

Chris ‘s Mech turned around to face, me, the oversized sword’s momentum swaying the robot from side to side. His movement accuracy and speed had tripled from our last encounter. Clearly, he and his Connector were well matched, well over the required 50%.

But I was still faster.

I ducked under his blow, aiming upwards at his elbow and firing another couple shots.

BAM! BAM!

I missed. Cursing, I recovered, dodging another blow as I increased the distance between us.

Stupid guns.

_________________________

A young man threw up his hands, clearly frustrated.

“Why are you so stubborn? Every single world you insist on using a sword. We were in a laser battle for goodness sake!”

“Swords are more dependable.”

“Oh come on…”

“Plus I’m a terrible shot.”

He sighed. “Fine. But what if one day you don’t have me watching your back?”

“It will be fine.” I grinned. “Don’t you love saying that everything is according to fate? Maybe a sword is just mine?”

“... It doesn’t work like that.”

_________________________

A brief memory flashed in my mind, confusing me.

During my distraction, Chris’s Mech tried to strike again. With no time to dodge, I raised my gun, blocking the blow with the barrel. The weapon cracked under the edge of the sword. I pushed him back, relying on my superior strength and jumped backwards, throwing away the broken weapon in my hand. Glancing down at the remaining gun I had, I felt a warm liquid drip from my nose. It was bleeding, a sign of the increasing strain of the Connection.

I was breaking down. I wouldn't last the rest of the fight.

I had to surrender.

Screw that!

I holstered my remaining gun, drawing the large sword on my Mech’s back. As I held it in front of me, I suddenly felt at home, completely comfortable, as if I had held a sword many times before. I stared at Chris’s Mech, feeling excited.

Now, this feels like a fight!

I raced forward, swinging my sword in a horizontal strike.

_________________________

I was standing in a group of zombies, my sword cutting through the neck of the closest monster.

_________________________

Chris dodged, stumbling backwards. I used the momentum of my first swing to smoothly transition into a downward slash.

_________________________

I was an elf, dancing in the forest, my blade striking down shadowy creatures in the midst of a large battle.

_________________________

THUD!

A robotic hand fell to the ground as I cut it off at the wrist. Chris let out a moan of pain, cut short as I controlled my Mech to kick him in the face, knocking him on his back.

_________________________

I was a vampire, holding a sword made of darkness, fighting humans with elegance and grace.

_________________________

Chris tried to stand up but my foot on his chest prevented the movement. I rested the tip of my sword at his Mech’s throat.

“Do you surrender?”

_________________________

“Surrender?” I smiled as I spoke, staring down at the man on the ground. I couldn’t see his face clearly except for his dark blue eyes, which stared at me without a hint of embarrassment despite his defeated position.

“I surrender.” His voice was warm. “You’re pretty amazing with a sword.”

“After all the realms I’ve fought through? I would have to be.” I shook my head. “Don’t you use swords when you travel?”

“I’m not permitted to travel anymore.” He grinned. “I keep refusing to play my role.”

_________________________

I blinked, focusing on the partially destroyed Mech in front of me. Not hearing his answer, I dug the tip into his neck slightly, only stopping when he let out a groan.

“Do. You. Surrender?”

“I surrender.” His answer sounded like it was forced through gritted teeth.

I could hear muted cheers from the crowd behind the shield as the holographic screens around us displayed my name as the victor.

“Good.” I moved my sword and turned away. My body felt drained, every muscle screaming in pain. I tasted blood in my mouth, my head hurting worse with each passing second.

“I’LL BEAT YOU ONE DAY!” Chris called out behind me. “I’LL GET STRONGER, AND I’LL SHOW YOU!”

“Tell it to someone who cares.” I didn’t turn around, and left the arena.

At least I won. Now if my head would just stop hurting...

As soon as I reached the docking area, my legs crumpled beneath me, and my world faded into darkness.

_________________________

Where am I?

I woke up in a white room, on a plain, clean bed, wearing a hospital gown.

This isn’t a different world, is it?

I carefully searched my memories, but didn’t feel anything different. I sighed, realizing I must be in the school infirmary. In my memories of her life, Alaira had helped bring her fellow students there in the past, but had never stayed to be examined. Deep down she had known that without a Connector she was breaking down, and was afraid the school would prevent her from fighting.

It might have saved her life if she had.

I sat up, rubbing my forehead tiredly. It was still throbbing.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice spoke up, startling me.

I jumped, looking to the chair beside my bed, where a dark haired young man sat. His dark blue eyes studied me carefully, his face expressionless.

“…Prince William?”

“…” After a long silence, he nodded slowly.

“What are you doing here?”

He stared down at the floor silently, and just when I thought he might not respond, he reached out, handing me a peeled apple.

I took it, feeling dazed. “Umm… thanks.” I took a bite, and after swallowing, asked the question on my mind. “Were you the one leaving food outside my dorm room then?”

“…hmm.” His gaze never left the ground.

What the heck kind of answer is “hmm”?!!

“How did you know I like peeled apples?”

“…” A look of genuine confusion crossed his face, but quickly disappeared as he shrugged silently.

“Okay. Well. Thanks.” I pushed myself up, trying to swing my legs to the side of the bed.

He stood up, his face concerned. “Wait. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, my head hurts, but otherwise I feel great.”

“…You should rest.” He frowned as he looked me over.

“It’s just strain from a prolonged connection.” I sighed. “I’m used to it.”

“You haven’t matched?” He seemed mixed, as if happy and disappointed at the same time.

“Nope. Not for lack of trying though. ” I looked him over. “Are you a Connector? Have you matched yet?”

“I…” A look of agony distorted his features.

“He can’t. He’s broken.”

A young woman stood at the door of the infirmary, a mocking smile on her face.

I studied the newcomer carefully. She had long black curls framing a heart shaped face, and large blue eyes that looked down on me with pride. Given the similarities in features to Prince William next to me, it wasn’t difficult to figure out her identity.

“I’m assuming you’re Princess Ilene?”

She ignored my words, walking closer to her brother, whose face had become expressionless once again.

“He can’t Connect. His mental barrier is too strong.” She stopped a few feet away from him and raised her hand, knocking on what looked to be empty air. It made a solid noise, her hand stopping at the same invisible point. “He can’t put it down even if he wants to.”

I thought back to the first time I met him, remembering people being pushed aside.

“A useless Connector who can’t make the connection. A Guardian who can’t match. Two failures together.” She smiled at me. “Sorry I took away your only possible chance at matching Chris, but you needed to see the reality of the situation. He’s a better Guardian than you.”

“…Remind me again who ended up flat on their back at the end of the last fight?”

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance at my comeback. “At least he will be around a long time to help fight the Hive. You, on the other hand.” Ilene pointed at her head and turned her finger in a circle. “You have no future. But on the bright side, at least my useless brother can keep you company while your mind slowly breaks apart.”

BAM

William stood up, angry, and with the loud sound of an impact, Ilene was pushed by an invisible barrier out of the room. Her face enraged, she slammed her fists against it while her mouth made motions as if she was shouting. I stared at her, confused as to why I couldn’t hear her.

“…I sealed her out of the barrier.” William whispered. “Her voice can't make it through either.”

“Oh.” I nodded with satisfaction, watching her shout silently outside the doorway. “Thanks.”

“I can expand the barrier… but she’s right… I can’t drop it.” His eyes dropped down to the floor again. “I can’t Connect… I can’t help Guardians… useless…” His voice slowly dropped in volume, until it was barely a whisper.

“Well, you’re helping me out right now, and I’m a Guardian. So I’d say you’re a pretty useful guy.” I gave him a thumbs up. “I know that not hearing her is already making my day better.”

He stared at me silently for a few moments. “… Are you hungry?”

“Kind of. Why? Do you have more apples or something?”

William shook his head. “No… cake.”

“Please tell me you are serious.”

He solemnly set a container with a piece of cake on the table next to me, along with a napkin and utensils.

I stared at it in shock, motionless.

“… Do you not like it?” His nervous tone broke me out of my stupor. I quickly reached out and held the container close, grabbing the fork and taking a bite.

“Oh, this is amazing… totally worth passing out after my fight.” I took a few more bites, noting him relaxing visibly as I showed my enjoyment. “…Why are you being so nice to me, anyways?”

“Why?” William blinked, looking shocked as if he hadn’t considered it before.

“Yeah. As far as I can tell, I haven’t met you outside of running into you in the hallway once. Why go out of your way to leave me food and sit by me in the infirmary?”

He finally looked up, his dark blue eyes staring into my own. “…I’m not sure. “ He shrugged. “Whenever I see you, I feel happy. I want to help you.”

I leaned back against the backboard of the infirmary bed. “Well… I guess I could always use a friend.”

“Friends?” A trace of a smile crossed his face, before it disappeared into expressionless once more. “Really?”

“Yeah. So let me introduce myself officially, Prince William.” I started to reach out a hand to shake, but remembering his barrier, I pulled it back. “I’m Alaira. Level S Guardian but unable to match, and your new friend.”

He stared at my hand with a look of regret before looking back up. “I’m a Level S Connector… but can’t connect. I’m your new friend… “ He hesitated. “Can you call me a nickname instead?”

“Sure.”

“Then call me… Liam.”

_________________________

“Are you lost?” I woke up in a strange world to the sound of an unfamiliar voice, laying on my back, confused.

“Seems a good description for my current situation.” I stared into a pair of dark blue eyes, smiling despite the dizziness. “Nice to meet you, Stranger.”

He grinned, reaching out a hand to help me up. “Call me Liam.”

“Nice to meet you, Liam.”

_________________________

I blinked away the memory, smiling at the timid young man in front of me. “Nice to meet you… Liam.”

[psychicdreamfriendoperator]

Going off from the free dating headcanon… how about some for Miguel and Agata? >.<

I’m so happy to see another blog writing for the shishigumi, they’re finally getting the character development they deserved

I'm happy to write for the lovable bastards, though it does seem like there's only 1 or 2 other blogs that write for all of the Shishigumi.

Speaking of blogs, @couldyouspeakmyname is a very nice one ü, please check them out if you haven't already!

I had to keep the word limit in mind (especially since there's 2 characters involved here), so, if this ask wasn't what you wanted, feel free to let me know and I can try again!

— Psychic

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.

.

General Dating Headcanons

Agata

Agata has had his fair share of partners. Society makes lions out to be good leaders, and so, many animals begin relationships with them. Agata's a darker-coloured lion, so this effect was multipled for him.

While he did have a “bad boy” phase, Agata is truly a nice person at heart.

That would have been more than enough for others to stay in a relationship with him, had he been born almost any other animal.

He was cheated on a lot by love interests who wanted to make a lion jealous, and by those who expected something . . . more passionate from a relationship with a lion.

As a result, Agata's very clingy, and mayhaps a bit bitter.

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Miguel

Miguel's relationships tend to last 6 months to 1 year, but never much longer than that. He doesn't have much of an interest in relationships, but he's open to love if it finds him first.

Previous lovers had a tendency to sexualise him— this is something that makes Miguel very uncomfortable.

He doesn't mind dirty jokes, etc, but more intimate actions have been partially ruined for him.

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Meeting Them

Agata

It's quite possible that you ran into him at a local community college.

I can imagine Agata taking a course there— perhaps it's related to technology?

It's also quite possible that the both of you shared the same, mandatory class.

.

.

“oh shit oh shit oh shit . . .”

A noise that was more whisper than spoken word. You don't see it, but you can almost taste the anxiety that flows over from your colleague.

Your eyes moved involuntarily over to your left, where a dark-maned lion crawled on his hands and knees, as if searching for something.

You rest your head on your hand. “Looking for something?”

A muffled, “Dropped my pen . . .”

You fished about in your pencil case, pulling out one of your spares. It wasn't nearly as favoured as your gel pens, and, it also wasn't one you would miss if someone were to steal it.

“You can borrow this one . . . just give it back.”

You had never seen someone look so grateful; the expression was genuine, which filled your body with a cosy warmth.

.

Miguel

Perhaps you met him at the gym.

Although Miguel had more than enough exercise equipment at the Mansion, he preferred to workout away from the Black Market.

It gave him the chance to organise his thoughts.

.

.

“STAY FIT”— a simple, two word long mantra and a reminder of the New Year’s resolution you wanted to keep.

In order to achieve that goal, you signed yourself up for a gym— it was only a few blocks away on foot. Since it was so close, you were always the first one there . . .

Or rather, you were always the first one there, until recently.

“You must really love working out,” You struck up pleasant conversation whenever the both of you took your breaks. There wasn't anything else to do, really.

The feline, whose mane was tied up neatly behind him, took a swig of his bottled water. “I suppose you could say that.”

It was a curt response, yes, but it was also the start of a wonderful acquaintanceship.

.

.

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Growing Closer

Agata

over the course of several weeks, Agata racked up a fine collection of pens— all of them yours, of course.

Somehow, you didn't believe that you would get them back.

It didn't matter much though— you had more than enough to spare.

The pair of you studied together often; either on-campus or back at your place.

His notes were very neat, you noticed.

He divided his pages into three sections; one for definitions, one for summarisations of the text and one for miscellaneous notes.

When you expressed your interest, Agata is more than happy to explain the Cornell Method to you.

You were just pleased that all the pens you lent him hadn't gone to waste.

.

Miguel

you actually had to put some effort in before Miguel felt comfortable enough instigating a conversation with you.

In the beginning, you talked to yourself, more or less.

Miguel gave short, curt answers in reply.

You both took note of what subjects the other person was interested in, and then went from there.

Polite conversation made to pass the time became deep and insightful discussions.

Miguel kept a neutral expression when speaking to you, but after a while, his lips curved into a pleasant smile more and more often.

You liked his smile.

.

.

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Going Steady

Agata

You didn't notice the way Agata’s hands shook until much later, when you were both reminiscing on how he had asked you out the first time.

You did notice that the lion had a few bags’ worth of stationery with him, though.

“Finally decided to return those pens you borrowed?” You were teasing of course — your friendship with him was such that you didn't care about those trivial things anymore.

.

.

“Let’s go see a movie tonight!”

You blinked once. Twice.

.

Then, you cleared your throat. “Ah . . . sure—” You turned around, intending to fetch a jacket. “I’ll just get a coat and—”

“Y-you can borrow mine!”

Thought it was several sizes too large, Agata's jacket was indeed very comfortable.

.

Miguel

It just sort of happened.

One thing led to another, really, and soon, the both of you were bouncing ideas back and forth.

.

.

“You're weird,” You snorted, playful as always. With the gentle push of a button, the treadmill belt beneath you began to move.

You thought you saw Miguel smile. He slung his towel over one of the machine's handle bars. “Maybe so, but, aren't you going to answer? It's not hard, right?”

“Well . . .” You clicked your tongue, actually thinking. “I've always wanted to go cycling at the park with someone else.”

“Are you free Thursday?”

You eyed the lion suspiciously, but nodded, “Mhm . . .”

But then, it clicked, “Oh . . .”

It really clicked, and you broke out into a wide grin, nodding up and down quickly.

.

.

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Dating

Agata

he was very nervous at first, and very, very clingy.

He felt as if he had to keep impressing you, and giving you gifts just to keep you around.

You didn't think much of it at first, but you drew a line when he arranged for a limosuine to drop you off at your agreed rendezvous point.

Where did he even get the money for a limo, anyways?

You called the date off, in favour of talking it out with him.

Though a part of you wanted to let Agata have it, the more sensible part just wanted to know why.

As the both of you stood in the parking lot of the movie theater, you noticed that several pairs of eyes were on you.

You grabbed him by the hand and, after a short walk, came to a more secluded area.

You sighed, and told Agata exactly how you felt.

In turn, he explained his side of the issue.

It wasn't planned for, but you both enjoyed the impromptu heart-to-heart under the stars nonetheless.

It was enjoyed so much so, that neither of you saw the black car which drove away, its scar-faced driver satisfied that Agata could handle things from there.

.

.

Miguel

dating Miguel feels as if you're hanging out with a dear friend — which you were, in a way.

Your dates are spent cycling around the district, dominating patronising the local basketball court and just enjoying the other’s company.

And then, you slept together.

It had been late, so, you told him that he could crash at your place until daylight.

Despite your insistence that he take the bed while you slept on the sofa, Miguel was adamant that it be the other way around.

You had shrugged your shoulders, and decided not to fight him on it further.

Come morning, you had successfully moved him into your bed— he looked mad uncomfortable on the couch, anyways.

To your surprise, Miguel awoke with a start, a hand over his chest and eyes wide.

He demanded to know whether or not the both of you had done anything the previous night.

You didn't know about his . . . fear at the time, but you knew that you had royally fucked up.

You promised not to do that sort of thing again, and the rest of the morning is spent in the other's arms.

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 10 - A Well-Deserved Rest

Me: "Now that we're reaching the end, the chapters will come a lot faster" :) Me now, a month later, sweating: "Okay so that was a lie"

My bad! Been pretty busy and I completely forgot to update this fic. Welp, hope you guys enjoy the chapter <3

________________________________________________________________

Stan’s awareness came back to him in little bits. The first thing he noticed was what his skin stung all over – like when he and Ford had gotten sunburnt on the beach, back when they first found the Stan ‘O War. It hurt when he moved his face. The next thing that came to him was the feeling of sticks and leaves and snow under his knees. His breaths were rasping in his throat, and sparks pitter-pattered to the ground before him. Ford’s fingers were digging into his arm and there was a triangle-shaped sunspot in his vision where the explosion had burned into his eyes. His heart was pounding, probably full of that chemical Ford talked about one time – ad-reny-lin?

“Oh mah lord!” Fiddleford’s voice sounded, muffled in Stan’s ears, high-pitched and breathless. “Oh my – are you two alright? Stanley, Stanford? Yer okay, right?”

“Um.” Stan did a quick mental once-over. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He tried to wriggle out of Ford’s grip but his brother was holding tight, breaths coming quick and fast. Stan managed to twist around to catch sight of Ford’s stunned expression. His cheeks and nose were a sunburned pink and he stared at where the triangle had just been with wide eyes.

“Ford, let me go.”

“What?” The scientist blinked, before quickly realizing who had spoken and bursting into action. “Stanley! Are you hurt? You were so close to the explosion-”

Before Stan could speak up Ford had adjusted his grip, grabbing Stan’s shoulders to scan him for injuries. Stan took the opportunity to look around. The whole clearing was kinda scorched, snow steaming where Bill had been only moments ago. The smell of burning filled his nose and he wrinkled his face up in displeasure, which only made it sting more.

And there was someone rushing towards them – Fidds! The thin scientist clutched the rifle to his chest with bandaged-up hands as he sloshed through half-melted snow.

Ford was still fussing, like their mother used to when one of them came home with a scraped knee or bloody nose. Stan pushed his hands away (one of which was bleeding through a temporary bandage, what happened to his hand???) “Ford, getoff! I’m fine.”

Ford snatched his hands back, a weird look on his face, before his eyes lit up as Fiddleford reached them. He grinned up at his old friend with something like amazement, and for a moment he looked kinda how Stan remembered him – a kid, all full of excitement and curiosity and shiny eyes.

“It worked. I can’t believe it worked!”

“Ah’m just glad I hit the bugger.” Fiddleford’s voice was still high and reedy – at least, more so than usual. “Look, I’m happy yer okay and all but let’s take this back to the house. Who knows what creepy things are hidin’ out here in the woods.”

Ford stood and the adults started talking about boring things. Stan did not get up yet. He took a deep breath and felt his heart rate begin to slow and suddenly realized that he was very tired.

It seemed kind of… anticlimactic, if Stan was being honest. He was expecting a huge showdown, during the pouring rain or a snowstorm, with fire in the background and maybe some lasers and explosions.

Instead he got a bully of a demon, scraped knees and Ford clutching him like his life depended on it.

Once Stan stood up, he quickly realized that those warm and fluffy boots Bill had created had disappeared alongside the demon, and his feet were numb again. It figured. He could probably walk back, but it would hurt like crazy. How long did it take to get frostbite? If he lost a toe or something it would be pretty cool. Babes loved scars, right?

Then again, seeing how every bone in his body felt like it was made of lead and his eyelids kept drooping shut on their own, maybe he couldn’t walk all the way back. He rubbed an eye with his fist and cast a glance at the two adults nearby – Ford insisting that the other man needed to go to the hospital to get his burns treated, Fiddleford retorting that he, in fact, did not. Fidds wouldn’t be able to give him a lift, not with how both his hands were injured.

Stan cringed. It was his stupid fault that Fidds had been hurt at all – he’d gotten burned trying to fix Stan’s dumb mistake. If Stan had just used his brain, not been such a moron, not messed with Ford’s experiments, then none of this would have happened in the first place. Why did he ever think he could help? Stan was just a no-good ignoramus like Pa always said-

“Stanley?” Ford was looking at him now, concern in his eyes, and Stan swallowed down his shame and instead reached out with grabby hands. Ford choked.

“My feet hurt.” Stan said flatly as a way of explanation. “Gimme a lift.” If Ford really felt sorry for saying all those mean things, then didn’t he owe Stan that much? That was how the adult world worked, right?

His brother had a confused look on his face, something that would have been funny if Stan was not falling asleep on his feet and feeling very cranky. “I – I don’t want to push your boundaries. I know I haven’t been fair to you recently, and if you don’t want me to touch you-”

“Ford I’m gonna get frostbite.”

“It’s – what do you – you’re not wearing shoes!”

 _______________________________________________________________

The doctors at Gravity Falls hospital were fairly used to Ford turning up with the strangest injuries. Of course, he only went there when Fiddleford insisted. The man was terrible at following his own advice though, so Ford had to bully him into getting his injuries checked out as well. The only qualified doctor there (he was assuming the pixies that worked out of the hospital’s parking lot didn’t have valid medical licenses) took one look at the party and waved them in with a sigh.

While Ford and Fiddleford faced their treatment, Stan refused to be awake. The child had fallen dead asleep on Ford’s shoulders soon after they left the scorched clearing, and proceeded to snore in his ear the whole way to the hospital. After a quick examination (made more difficult by Stan sleepily waving away the annoyed nurse) he was declared just scraped up and ‘sunburned’. Ford, on the other hand, was subjected to the time-wasting procedure of getting stitches. Honestly, the wound wasn’t even that big! Sure it hurt, but a few painkillers and he would be back at peak condition.

Stan did not wake up on the way home. He also did not wake up when Ford placed him into his bed and tucked the blankets up to his chin. Fiddleford, hovering behind Ford anxiously, peered over his shoulder at the snoring boy.

“Is – is he okay? He’s sleepin’ awfully heavy there Stanford, are ya sure he didn’t hit his head at all?”

Ford let out a snort, fiddling with the bandages wrapped around his injured hand. “Are you kidding? Stan always sleeps like the dead. He once slept through an explosion when I messed up my chemical formulas in high school. His bed had ash on it. When he woke up the next morning he asked me where my eyebrows were.”

Fiddleford quirked an eyebrow. “Well, I guess we don’t need to worry about wakin’ him up. Come on down to th’ kitchen now – I think we need to have a talk.”

“…about what?”

Fiddleford fixed him with a stare and Ford wilted. “How about the demon ya summoned? All that junk with the portal? How yer brother got turned into a kid and ended up havin’ to shoulder all this? Or about watchin’ me go half mad and not thinking that, just maybe, the whole portal deal was dangerous?”

Ford winced. Fiddleford patted him on the shoulder, lightly – an olive branch extended across the yawning chasm between them. Ford didn’t know how to begin breaching that gap.

“O’ course, you didn’t deserve what happened to you either. So for once let’s put aside the pride and stubbornness and just talk.”

His friend’s eyes were pale blue and determined, and his hands were still shaking, and Ford didn’t deserve this kindness. He nodded.

“Okay.”

 _______________________________________________________________

Stan woke up and immediately wished he was still asleep.

His skin stung all over, his face hot and itchy against the pillow he was curled up against. His feet ached and there was a crick in his neck, like he’d been thrown around on a rollercoaster. The sound of light scritching filled his ears – the scratching of a pen on paper from somewhere close by.

Being awake was overrated anyway. He tried to ignore the stinging and burrowed deeper into his blankets.

…nope, he was awake for good now. Darn it.

Stan peered up sleepily, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Ford’s room again? This felt weirdly familiar, like when he’d first woken up in the future. And like that time Ford was across the room at his desk, scribbling away in his fancy journal.

Stan rubbed his eyes and slung his legs over the edge of the bed, carefully dropping to the floor below. It was cold on his aching feet but he could stand, which was a plus! So he probably didn’t have frostbite.

Stan yawned and headed across the room to where his brother was frantically journaling.

“Mornin’, Sixer.”

“Oh! Good morning, Stanley.” Ford clicked his pen and looked around. Stan muffled a shriek.

“Oh geez! What’s wrong with your face?”

Ford’s face was green and shiny and very not normal. The scientist rolled his eyes and explained as though it was obvious, “It’s just a burn gel. I developed it to be far more effective than the regular medicinal kind. Now that you’re awake, you should put it on too.”

Stan let out a nervous laugh. “Uh, no thanks, I think I’m all better now-”

Ford caught him by the shirt before Stan could bolt. He kicked and complained as his brother produced a tube of gel.

“Don’t you dare put that on me, it looks like snot-”

Ford smeared a bit on his cheek.

It… actually made the pain go away. Stan stilled as the cool gel took effect, numbing the stinging of his skin. Ford let him go and offered him the tube. Stan wanted to smack it out of his hands just to stop Ford making that smug face, but his skin really stung…

He took the tube.

“Better now?” Ford said, annoyingly smug. Stan poked his tongue out. “Very mature, Stanley.”

“I’m not the adult! I’m not supposed to be mature.”

“That’s very true.” Ford turned around in his chair and continued writing.

Once Stan was done covering his face in gross-looking gel he stretched up on his tiptoes to see what Ford was doing. The nerd had one of his journals and he was writing in a new entry, a bunch of crumpled-up pieces of paper littering the table. Even if Stan had been good at reading, he doubted he would be able to understand Ford’s loopy scribbles.

“Where’s Fidds?” Stan asked after a moment. Ford reached the end of the page and flipped over to a fresh one.

“He’s gone home to see his family. Now that Bill isn’t a threat anymore he wants to mend bridges, so to speak. I… also need to do that.”

Ford looked around to meet his eyes and ugh, he was going to say something sappy wasn’t he? Stan reached up to try and pull himself onto the desk, but he didn’t quite have the upper body strength and ended up kicking in the air. Ford sighed, brushed his journal to the side and lifted Stan into its place. He swung his legs awkwardly.

“…I have an apology to make.” Ford said eventually. Stan tilted his head. “Listen, Stanley. I’ve recently come to terms with the fact that I – well, I haven’t been fair to you. I let anger cloud my judgment for years, I valued that anger more than my own brother. I’m sorry.” Ford lifted a head to rub at his neck, eyes darting around the room but never landing on Stan’s face. “We’ve both made mistakes, obviously, and neither of us is without blame, but… ugh, that’s not how you apologize.” He seemed to pull himself together and try again. “What I’m saying is that I was unfair to you. I was hurt so I hurt you, and I think I may have ruined your life-”

Stan burst out laughing.

He didn’t mean to laugh, honest, but the sight of Ford’s nervous, sincere expression covered in green goo was just too much to handle. He tried to stifle his giggles with his hands, caught sight of Ford’s shocked face, and burst out laughing again so hard that his ribs hurt.

“I – this is funny to you? I’m trying to apologize-”

“No, it’s not that!” The hurt in Ford’s voice made everything a little less funny. Stan opened his mouth to explain, choked on his own spit and went into a coughing fit. It turns out, it’s hard to speak when you’re hacking your lungs up. Ford seemed to take pity on him and thumped him on the back until Stan could breathe again. “It’s just-” Another cough. “You look so funny, Poindexter.”

Ford’s eyebrows furrowed, and Stan pointed at his own green face to demonstrate.

“We look like ogres and you’re choosing now to be all sappy and sorry. I mean, you gotta see that it’s a bit funny.”

“…I suppose.” The corner of Ford’s mouth lifted and he didn’t look mad, so Stan took that as a win. He paused, trying to understand everything that Ford had just thrown at him. Most of it was just confusing, and Ford really seemed to have decide that the weird dreams were memories even though Stan didn’t get most of them. He wasn’t dumb though. That science fair thing actually had happened, with Stan ruining Ford’s project and getting kicked out. Reaching out to his brother and having the curtains being closed in his face – that had really happened.

As for the rest, all those dark and depressing ones, he kinda hoped they were just dreams. If they weren’t, if they were real, he wasn’t sure he wanted to live through them.

…no, wait. He already had lived through them, hadn’t he? He just couldn’t remember it. Because these were memories he’d lost and was getting back, Ford said so. Stan wondered what kind of person he’d ended up being. Probably cool and badass. With a sword. No, knuckledusters, those were way cooler! And maybe an eyepatch.

He got the sense that a grown-up him with all those memories and experiences would be angrier, but he couldn’t imagine any version of himself turning their back on their brother.

“I mean, I don’t think you ruined my life.” Stan reasoned, making Ford blink. “It was Pa that kicked me out, right?”

“But it was my fault-”

“And probably mine too. I make plenty of mistakes. You remember that time I kinda accidentally stole Pa’s medallion because I broke the case and panicked?”

Ford let out a little laugh. Stan reached out to punch him in the shoulder.

“Look, I dunno, I’m a kid. You gotta talk to grown-up me. But I’ll always forgive ya, Ford. Otherwise I’d be a hip-oh-crit.”

“The word is ‘hypocrite’.” Ford muttered quietly, and Stan could have sworn his brother’s eyes were pink and shiny. He decided to be very cool and nice and not mention it.

“But!” Stan pointed a finger at Ford’s nose and the man went cross-eyed looking at it. “I’m still mad about you being a jerk. You gotta make up for that.”

“…what do you want me to do?”

Hm. Stan hadn’t thought this far ahead. He paused as he thought. “You have to… take me on an adventure! And I get to ride on your shoulders and be tall whenever I want.”

Ford opened his mouth to argue, and then closed it again. Stan fist-pumped triumphantly.

“Yes! No takebacks! I wanna go beat up those unicorns!”

“Sure, Stan.” Ford let out a long-suffering sigh, but not the serious kind – the joking kind that meant he was having fun. It felt nice. It felt like coming home.

[spartanguard]

untitled monster loving fic (1/?)

Summary: A mysterious event ten years ago left a number of people in Boston with unusual abilities and physical attributes...whether they like them or not. Killian Jones is one of them; so is Emma Swan. Are these things curses, or blessings? Will finding each other help them decide?

rated (eventual) M | 2.4k | AO3 coming at some point

A/N: So full credit for this idea goes to @thesschesthair and her ramblings on The Deep while watching The Boys. And since it’s spooky season, and monster f***ing is a thing, ideas started spinning and....this happened. I’m not sure where exactly it’s gonna go and ngl, I definitely borrowed a plot point from Static Shock, but...it’s here. (And there will eventually be some monster loving for real.)

The door rattled in the frame as Killian Jones slammed it shut; frankly, he was surprised he hadn’t shattered it, flimsy as it was. He’d probably do it yet one of these days, but not tonight—not when he was already making a beeline for the bathroom. He needed to get out of these stifling clothes once and for all.

Granted, all clothes did that to him, so this wasn’t a new occurrence, or born of any particular stress or lengthy day. He supposed he should be used to it after all these years, but not yet. 

He tossed his jacket...somewhere, probably the sagging sofa, on his way across the flat, and kicked his shoes off equally haphazardly. There was no door for him to open to get into the restroom, and muscle memory told him where the switch was, filling the tiny space with dingy light. Only three of the four sockets above the vanity worked, and he’d been meaning to replace another burnt out bulb for...well, months. But less light meant it was harder to see the cracks in the ancient tile.

The one nice thing—the only nice thing—about this place was the tub; he probably could have afforded a slightly (very slightly) nicer apartment, but they only had stall showers, and he needed the tub. The squeaky knobs and the thud in the pipes as hot water poured out the faucet were familiar sounds. 

He almost forgot to put the stopper in the drain, but managed to get it in there before losing too much; hot water was a precious commodity, considering the water heater was older than him. He wiped his hand dry on his threadbare jeans, wondering in passing why he bothered, but forgetting it.

Like he did every night, he took stock of himself in the age-spotted mirror. He supposed he was still what would be considered attractive, even if he mostly kept to himself nowadays. Dark hair, blue eyes, a bit of stubble; lean, muscular frame. The front he gave the world still looked like the man Milah fell in love with, before...everything. The shadows under his eyes and the weight of painful memories resting on his shoulders were more recent acquisitions, though.

His tshirt was mostly clean and in decent shape; like most of his clothes, he bought it second hand and it was a couple sizes too big. It had to be. He couldn’t stand the feel of anything touching his upper body—but at the same time, couldn’t be bare. Wouldn’t dare.

He wanted to tear it off, but first had to work off the mechanism that held his prosthetic left hand on. His fingers methodically knew what to do, even if the bit of webbing between them hindered his dexterity to some extent. Once it was off, he carefully set it on the counter—the only possession of his he treated with any sort of care—and then reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it up over his head.

For the first time all day, he found relief, and was able to take a deep breath. He closed his eyes at the sensation of finally breathing freely—partly to revel in it, and partly to avoid looking in the mirror. But then another breath made him twinge, recalling the hit he took to his side while working on the docks earlier, and he had to inspect it. 

Sure enough, there was a bruise—right on top of one of his gills. 

No wonder it stung when he breathed.

God, but he hated to look at them—they perhaps weren’t as monstrous as they were right after the accident, but they were far from pretty. Deep slits arced on either side of his abdomen, the longest one sitting just above his waist and running parallel to his rib cage; subsequently smaller ones followed up his sides, ending just below his pecs. There were times he laughed at how well they framed his body hair, but those were few and far between. Scar tissue surrounded them from where the skin had healed when it first split, and he could feel the stiff skin move with every breath. It...fluttered, almost, rippling along with his muscles and lungs. 

He shuddered at the sight and turned away, continuing to strip until he was naked. The tub was full, so he shut off the flow and stepped in. He sighed again as he sank down into the warm water; it was a balm on his aching muscles. He sometimes wondered if that was another side effect—after the accident, after everything, they’d gotten a lot denser, it seemed, and he was certainly stronger, his muscles more defined. But it also meant that he was always tired, always sore, always in some sort of pain, and he only knew of two ways to deal with it. He didn’t have the cash for rum right now, so a hot bath would have to do.

Unnecessarily, he took another deep breath, and slipped below the surface of the water. His lungs quickly adapted to the change, and he was hyper aware of the constant movement coming from his gills as they worked. He exhaled and started to breathe normally—at least, as normally as was possible underwater.

He couldn’t drown, but maybe his demons could, just for a bit.

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

Emma Swan would never understand why the landlord kept locking the door to the roof; she’d just pick it again later. Besides, she was the only one that ever went up there, and unless the dude wanted to install a camera and evict her, she’d keep going. 

She had planned on taking a long, hot bath when she got home, but some asshole had used up all the hot water. It was probably just as well; she kind of didn’t feel like dealing with the inevitable mess. That’s why she had her dollar-store spray bottle, right?

It had been dumb of her not to bring it up here, though; she could already feel the itch forming between her shoulder blades, making her shift uncomfortably beneath her leather jacket. It was definitely time to get that off. (The July heat certainly didn’t help in that regard, but she could bear the discomfort; she could stand that easier than the alternative.)

She easily slipped off the red leather and let it fall on the cracked concrete of the roof, leaving her in a well-worn long-sleeved tee; it was the only way to make sure that puting the jacket on was as easy as taking it off. Plus, an extra layer helped keep things under wraps. Just one of the many things she’d learned about her situation in the last 10 years. 

(“Situation” seemed like the best term for it. Someone might call it a blessing; some might prefer curse. Honestly, it was more of an annoyance, so she figured it was best to use as neutral a term as possible.)

This was the part she both loved and hated: taking off her shirt. She knew it’d feel good to remove it, but it always hurt in motion. Oh well—like ripping off a bandaid. Quickly, trying to ignore the thousands of pricking and tugging points across her back and arms, she pulled it up over her head and let it fall on top of her jacket.

Now down to just a cami, she rolled her shoulders back and flapped her arms a few times. Yeah, flapped; what else was she supposed to call it when they were covered in feathers?

The biggest ones extended from her triceps and forearms, with smaller ones covering her skin from shoulder to wrist and between her shoulder blades. The tiniest ones blended in with her natural peach fuzz; the rest varied in size from a few inches to a couple feet and layered on top of each other like...well, like a bird’s wing.

She had wings, okay? But not like the kind you’d see on an angel in a Christmas pageant—freaking swan wings where she’d once had normal human arms. Even her hands vaguely resembled talons, but thankfully, it was easy to pass off her thick, dark nails as a really good gel manicure.

A few feathers drifted to the ground as she stretched, and she stared at them in annoyance, trying to determine if they were indicative of an oncoming molt or just incidental. She was incredibly close to catching a high-paying skip; she didn’t have time to be laid out with a molt for a week.

(Those were the weeks she did label it a curse. Last year, it had overlapped with her period. To make a long story short, she was now banned from ordering at the pizza place down the street due to some things she may have said to the teenaged delivery driver.)

She shook her arms again, watching in disdain as a few more feathers came loose, confirming her fears; damn. She did not need this right now. 

A breeze blew in from the harbor, ruffling her feathers. Some foreign bird instinct leaned into it, holding her arms out behind her to brace against it. For a minute, she let herself forget about everything—her finances, her schedule, her ever-present loneliness, the constant weight of whatever this was—and let her feathers float on the wind like they were meant to.

Fuck it. She needed to fly. 

Quickly, she undid her ponytail and threw her hair back up in a messy bun as she took long strides to the edge of the roof. There, she unlodged a loose brick, revealing a small hidden compartment below containing a white mask. It wasn’t anything fancy—the kind you could get from a party store any time of the year—but it did the job, so she slipped it on. It was best to hide your identity when you were one of the local cryptids, she figured.

(Maybe, one of these days, she’d meet another one; she somehow hadn’t in 10 years, but they had to be out there. They had to.)

Without any further hesitation, she stepped up onto the ledge, spread her arms wide, and jumped.

There was always a bit of fear that it wouldn’t work this time, that the pavement would meet her hollow bones and crush them—but then she caught an updraft and rode it up over the next building.

For at least a few hours, she could pretend to get away from everything, before the inevitable weight of her baggage brought her back down to the ground.

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

Ten years prior

The explosion came from nowhere. Not that most explosions ever gave warning, and if it was going to happen anywhere, a seemingly abandoned waterfront warehouse was as likely a place as any.

The official report said it was a gas explosion; that was true enough. 

Two fatalities were listed: the building owner, one Mr. Gold, who was inside when the blast hit; and his wife, Milah, who was just outside.

[She’d asked Killian to meet her there—he didn’t fully know why, but she’d asked, and he was at her beck and call. He didn’t care that she was married; he loved her, and she loved him.

She was scared; it was visible in her darting eyes and hunched-over position. But she immediately relaxed when he rounded the corner of the building and ran to him, immediately wrapping her arms around him.

Frantically, she started to say something about her husband—that he was inside, she was worried about him and her son, and she wanted to go somewhere—anywhere—when suddenly there was a deafening sound, a wall of heat, an acrid stench, and Killian was in the water, fire at the end of his left arm and in his lungs and Milah—where was she?

It took far too long to break the surface of the harbor, only to be greeted by a scene from a war film—and the undoubtable form of Milah’s lifeless body, under smoldering debris where the building had once stood.]

The number of casualties was unknown; only one person went to the hospital, due to losing their hand in the explosion. 

There were more people in the area, within the radius of the damage, but most fled as quickly as they could.

[Emma still wasn’t sure why Neal had wanted to wander down by the docks; most of his deals went down in other parts of town, but she didn’t think too hard on the change of venue. The salty brine of the ocean was and oddly refreshing scent, compared to the typical smog and gas of the parts of the city they usually haunted.

It was kind of romantic; they were walking hand in hand, snacking on the Pop-Tarts they’d just nabbed from the corner store. She’d had a pretty intense craving for them lately and he’d been all too happy to oblige.

They took a turn down what looked like a row of warehouses in varying amounts of use; he seemed to know where he was going so she followed, taking note when he was starting to slow. She was about to ask what they were doing, but then a deafening roar screamed from the building across the street, immediately drowning them in dust and debris, and something that smelled like gas, but also not?

It didn’t matter; they needed to get out of there. They immediately sprinted off in the direction they came, not stopping until they were sufficiently out of breath. They didn’t dare linger in case the police wanted to talk to them. No thanks.

But, ugh, she’d dropped her Pop-Tart.] 

The smell of the gas lingered—though it was only labeled as such because none of the experts could place it. It was more than natural gas, more of a chemical note to it—but it didn’t match any other known chemicals. Gas was easier to explain, so that’s what they went with.

Besides, that was the only thing that got hot enough to completely disintegrate human remains; what other reason was there to explain why they couldn’t find Mr. Gold’s body among the melted, charred remnants of the building?

The site was razed, but never rebuilt. But urban legend quickly grew to talk of a mysterious figure rising out of the shadows there, said to be his ghost.

(Or possibly something worse.)

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

thanks for reading! I know this is weird so let me know if you’d rather not be tagged: @kat2609 @optomisticgirl @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa  @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @killian-whump @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis​ @scientificapricot​ @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook​ @therealstartraveller776​

[reincarnated70sbaby]

nail polish

jimmy page x reader

word count: 889! - ¡short for once!

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warnings : fluff! slight insinuation at the end, you can decide what for 😏

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Setting the box of nail polishes down on the couch, you placed a smooth navy cushion over your crossed legs. Jimmy was strumming his guitar across the room in the armchair, mind completely elsewhere.

Humming a tune you heard on the radio, you began to paint your nails a deep red colour. It complimented your skin tone nicely, and you wanted to have a manicure as it had been awhile since you did one.

Gliding the gorgeous rouge coloured polish onto your long nails, unbeknownst to you, Jimmy had heard your soft humming and paused, lifting his head up to where you were perched.

He saw you peacefully painting your nails, engrossed in getting them all perfect. He found it attractive, to see you so concentrated in a simple task. That had been happening to him a lot recently, falling even deeper into love that he thiught possible. Your long tresses was beginning to fall in front of you face, leaving a curtain of hair hiding your face.

Placing his Gibson on the guitar stand beside the armchair, he raised up from the chair and stood over you.

“What’tya doing?”

“Sleeping, why?”

“Haha funny” Jimmy said with a sarcastic smirk. You two were nearly always sarcastic with eachother.

Jimmy sat beside you and began inspecting your box of nails polishes, which you had began collecting for years. Most of them were probably sticky anyway.

You finished up your first hand, doing it with your dominant hand.

“Hey do you think you could help me with my other hand, I normally get the polish all over my fingers and I don’t have any remover left”

“Uh, yeah, ok I’ll try” Jimmy replied, not really sure how to do it. Sure, he could play a guitar solo for 30 minutes, and was one of the most talented musicians of his era, but painting nails was a completely different gig.

“It’s really easy, just one stripe in the centre, then curve it around the edge and one stripe for each side, then repeat with the other side of the nail”

Jimmy looked at you as if you had just spoken gibberish. Seeing your hopeful grin spreading across his face, he decided to try his best. His favourite hobby to do, apart from being with you, was his job, and so, not being a virtuoso at a new task was a bit foreign to him.

“Ok yeah, lemme just try I guess”

He began with your middle finger, oddly enough. He stroked a stripe of red in the centre of your nail, brows furrowing when he accidentally went to far and painted the top of your fingertip. Determined to do better, he took it slower this time, curling the dark gel around the edge of your nail, just about missing the cuticle.

Finishing the hand, he was thoroughly impressed with his work. It was similar to painting, but was a lot more small scale, and it dried a lot quicker than paint on a canvas. Stretching your hand out on front of you, you were very surprised at how uniform they all were. Sure, there were a couple bits and blobs here and there, but they would fall off eventually.

“Woah jimjam, you gotta a nail polishing talent on you. Maybe you should start up a salon” you commented with a grin.

“Hmmm, yeah maybe if the world famous guitarist and successful band thing doesn’t work out, certainly. You could be my assistant maybe, I’m not too sure yet” he commented, returning your grin.

“Oh get off it” you scoffed. Noting him staring at tou nails, you decided to offer him a manicure too. His nails were getting a little bit long as well too.

“How about i give you a manicure Hmm? I think some black polish will look good on these fingers? They also need a bit of a trim huh?”

“Yeah sure, I don’t see why not” Jimmy replied, thanking whatever deities that you offered. He did, in fact want a manicure, but didn’t know how to ask. It’s as if you read his mind.

After trimming his left hand nails with scissors, you were about to do the same to his right hand, but decided to keep them long for laughs.

Finishing up his nails, you instructed him to keep still and wave his hands through the air to dry them. It was a quite amusing sight to see him handle not begging able to use his fingers for 5 minutes - something he obviously hadn’t dont before.

Seeing his nails painted black sparked something in you. You of course, always had a thing for his stroking hands, especially playing guitar, but seeing them painted in a slick noir colour was something else. You simply couldn’t take you eyes off of him.

Looking up from strumming his acoustic guitar, he saw you staring at his hands. He wondered if you found his painted nails attractive. If so, he would be sure to paint them more often to surprise you.

“What are you staring at love?”

“Oh uh, just your fingers, they look cool while you play the guitar” you snapped you eyes away from his fingers, not realising you had been staring so long.

“Why dont you come over here and we can put them to good use Hmm?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

thought of this while painting my nails today 😏

also, tried a new perspective in this one, do we like? I kinda prefer writing 3rd instead of first, i think it makes the story a lot less one sided (duh)

chapter 2 of starcrossed will be up tomorrow !!!

make sure to leave any one shots ideas in my asks of comment them down below !!

tag list : @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @princesspagey

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

How they act around their crush: GD edition

[This one’s for @glass-grapes​. I saw your submission and am completely psyched that you love my blog! I know that I’ve only recently had it kick-off with a few posts, but I have been wanting to start one of these since January. Hope this is to your liking! (p.s I didn’t know if I should do pre or post time skip, so I did a little dabbling into both]

Claude:

We all know Claude here is both a go-getter and a tease 

If he finds you interesting then there’s no reason for him to hide it. A  battle of wits never hurt anyone, and boy do you two fight well

He is s a s s y. If you’re chatting with some other students he might stick his nose into the conversation to toy with you. It’s all in good fun, right? Just a little mini-game on his way to achieving bigger things  

That’s what he tells himself 

Some days he finds you a bit too alluring, and can’t help being self conscious of the other people around

Fiddles with his braid when you throw him for a loop

Will pay extra special attention to you in battle, and makes excuses to the prof. for why you should be near him. He really is a snake 

Post-Timeskip he hides his bias even more. Not enough to fool his close comrades, but enough to avoid you receiving any extra attention from the enemy  

Sometimes slips items in your room to distract from the stress. Tea, a new blanket, etc.

During the five year gap he keeps track of your whereabouts. After Garreg Mache fell he decided that his dream would take priority as planned, but also believed that one day you would be at his side 

Wasn’t surprised at all to see you at the reunion, but that familiar urge to tug his hair returned too  

Judith and Nader have already heard about you prior to your meeting. Much to his dismay they view his buried feelings as open range comedy

Lorenz: 

We all know how Lorenz acts when he finds someone of interest. The guy is a huge flirt which causes the professor wayyy too much stress 

He’s not as in-tune with his sense of romance as you would think. In the early stages he’ll treat you the same as all the other ladies: a potential partner for house Gloucester.

Date offerings, frilly words, gifts, acts of kindness. Ah tis but the duty of a noble, yes? 

No. 

One day he lets that stubborn side of his personality slip out, and you come back at him with just as much fire. He becomes so angered after it, but somehow hearing the words from you hurt more than if someone else were to say them

That’s when he knows that he’s in deep, and from then on he treats you more gently. He’ll watch his tongue around other women, and sets his sights on only you. His mannerisms are the same as before, but now he tries to learn more about you as a person vs. just the cold hard statistics

He’s a blusher. He has a naturally light pigmentation so it shows. 

After the time-skip he’ll watch you like a hawke. Do you like his new hair cut? Surly it’s an improvement from before sorry bro it’s not

Sets his dignity aside to request that you be given a hexlock shield during battle, or placed near him. Claude won’t let him live it down

Ignatz: 

He m i g h t avoid you, but please don’t take it the wrong way. That’s just how he is, you know?

Young Ignatz isn’t that confident in himself. You’re...well ‘you’. And he’s...well, ‘him’

Oddly enough he confides in HIlda of all people. It originally began with wanting to see if she was still on stable duty with him, but ended up with him working and her talking

When you’re nearby he chooses not to speak unless spoken to. If you didn’t know his tells he’d come off cold, but one look at his hands wringing together just proves he was nervous 

Byleth puts you two on cooking duty together: que panic. He legit grovels at their feet to pick someone else. They don’t, and that evening he sketches a wonderful picture of you sifting through different seasonings 

On your birthday he struggles to give you the gift he prepared. It ends up with Lionie giving you it while he watches from afar. 

When you’re older he is much more verbal with his opinions 

More often than not he lets those honey-coated words slip out, which usually end up with him excusing himself quickly 

Invites you to join him during downtime at least once a week. Every day could be his last, and goddess forbid yours. He wants to spend time with you even if he isn’t the most graceful companion never mind that he’s a smooth-talking mofo

Raphael: 

If there’s one thing Raphael is good at, it’s showing that he cares 

The boy is a giant muscular teddybear. He will carry your things, he will spar with you, he will eat anything you cook without complaint, and he will hug you; hard. 

Unlike everyone else he’s pretty open with his feelings. Life is short, you know? 

If you make him particularly bashful he’ll laugh loudly. More so to cover up his own embarrassment than because he finds the situation actually humorous

Adopts this habit of constantly asking if you need anything. The guy loves to dote on people, and lookie here you’re the perfect target 

Remembers all important dates like a pro. On your birthday he drops a gift right on your desk first thing in the morning 

Goddess forbid anyone gives you trouble. Without the smile on his face he looks the murder type, and the guy uses it to his advantage. He will happily escort you anywhere you need to go 

Once his sister is settled he might honestly stick with you during that five year gap. He’s made his feelings painfully obvious, and you haven’t chased him off. Why not stick around? 

Hilda: 

Yo she’s clingy 

She knows you have to be a catch and a half to steal her heart, so who knows who else that you’ve smooth talked 

Just like everyone else she’ll still get you to do her bidding...but, maybe a smidge less 

She feels guilty, but won’t show it 

Hilda will do all in her power to not let the news reach her family. The last thing she needs is Holst sending her more letters, or worse: showing up at the monastery

Y’all she will don her best perfume for you. She will push all her work onto Cyril and drag you to have lunch with her. This is normal Hilda behavior so she has no reason to be shy 

Will flirt openly and proudly. If you recuperate she’ll go gossip to Marianne about how you’re ‘totally smitten’ with her

Post-skip she’s not much different. Most of her time is spent doing what she can for the cause, but when you see each other she’s more bold. 

Like always she doesn’t like to have expectations pushed onto her. She does have one for herself though, and it’s to stay by your side. 

Marianne: 

During the academy years she tends to admire from afar 

Her favorite memories are of when the professor signed you both up for choir practice. She loves your voice, and it was a time where there wasn’t any pressure for conversation 

As time passes she’ll become less adverse to talking. Quiet greetings will be whispered when you cross paths, and occasionally you two have lunch together 

Marianne is not as reserved as people assume her to be. She’s just had a rough time, and if you take things slow with her then she’ll gradually have a stronger presence in your life. She hopes that this comes true for you two 

Eye contact hasn’t always been her forte. She does try to maintain it with you though 

Her feelings remain at a stalemate through most of the academy days. Only when she bypass’ some more personal-issues does she let her emotions go free

About halfway through the war period she changes. Her stance is more vertical, and she becomes the one to take initiative in your relationship 

She’ll still blush upon any physical contact, and in some cases she’ll lose her breath when you talk. Don’t take the momentary silence as a bad thing, she’s okay. 

Occasionally she’ll be restless and unable to sleep, worrying about the future she now has in her grasp. You might find her scouring for a cup of chamomile late in the night 

Lysithea: 

She’ll deny herself immediately. For Lysithea the future is an anomaly. One of which that no amount of studying or research can uncover.

It’s painfully obvious that there’s a spark between you two. Anyone can see it, and Hilda has pestered her many times regarding confessing 

If the situation was a bit different, she would. Lysithea is no push over, but she also doesn’t want to invest time into something that will bear no fruition 

She keeps her cool around you for the most part...or at least until you’re out of hearing distance 

Then she completely loses composure. Did someone say clammy hands? Because hers get slicker than lorenz’s hair gel 

Leads to stress eating, not gonna lie. There are many late night trips to the mess hall, and many angry cooks over the missing sweets  

Times are different post-timeskip though. She’s a bit more reluctant to let these feelings go 

Occasionally there’s some open flirting on her part. If you recuperate then it becomes more frequent and less forced. The sassy banter between you two becomes the deer’s free entertainment

Leonie: 

She’s commonly been viewed as ‘one of the guys,’ for her personality. So she’s very insecure about getting friend zoned 

It’s not like she was actively searching for romance. It just happened, you know? One day something just struck a chord 

She never took the time to picture sharing a life with someone. Most of her life has been spent worrying about her village, or working hard to attain some kind of recognition from the Captian 

For a split second she considers going to Byleth for some advice. Now isn’t the time for school-girl crushes. Now is the time to be forging a path to the future

Decides to completely ignore the ache she feels when you’re nearby. Just...lets it go. 

She’ll put hella distance between you two. The only time she’ll initiate contact is during sparring 

After the timeskip she stays this way too. Well, until HIlda calls her out on her bullsh*t (if you haven’t noticed from all these. Hilda is a perceptive little cookie)

Just like anyone she’ll go through the moral dilemma of deciding to confess or not. She instead chooses to just let her feelings do as they please, and if something happens then it happens 

[siarlas-does-words]

Toshi x G/N!Reader

A/N: So this woke me up one weekend at some hour which I barely accept when I have to get up for work. It wouldn’t leave me alone until I got up, got on the computer, and then wrote for, I think, the next two hours. I don’t know why it was so insistent. And now it’s been bugging me to post it for the last few months. So here it is.

This is a younger Toshi.

In the span of about a month, Toshi had saved me five times. Of course, I didn’t know it was Toshi then. He was All Might. The Symbol of Peace. The Number 1 hero. It wasn’t my fault of course. Wrong place, wrong time. You know what it’s like. Living in a world where powered heroes and villains are the norm.

I never had one of those celebrity crushes on All Might. Not like most of the other girls in the office. And a few of the guys. All those muscles did nothing for me. And that corny line he always said when arriving on the scene! What was up with that?? Ok, so the first time he saved me might have… well, I may have developed a little crush. I mean, the guy carried me away from the villains in one arm. I’m not light! The second time, he came out with another corny line. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, ma’am,” he said.

“Not a ma’am,” I grumbled. More than a little red that the Number 1 hero would use such a cheesy line on me.

“My apologies,” he said with that irritatingly humongous smile. “What should I call you?”

“It’s y/n. Just y/n.”

“Well, Just y/n, try not to get in the habit of having me save you!” With his signature laugh, he leapt away. 

I stood there staring after him angrily yelling that I wasn’t doing this on purpose.

The third time, he winked at me. That arrogant little shit. Ok, he’s obviously not little, but YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN! This was getting frustrating.

That night, he turned up at my house. I don’t know how a seven-foot whatever tall muscle-bound idiot can look so small and sheepish, but he did. I was about to yell at him for following me and slam the door in his face. Well, I would have if his hand wasn’t on the door stopping me.

“I uh… I had… my umm…  my assistant do a little research. Um… I-I uh, I just wanted to make sure that you uh, that you were ok,” he said while rubbing his neck.

Was All Might blushing? And stuttering? What happened to all that confidence?

“Uh, yeah. Peachy.”

“I don’t… I mean this isn’t…. Shit… I don’t normally do this! Believe me! It’s just...well… today was the third time and I know this isn’t your fault and I suppose in this city there’s probably other people I’ve saved more than once but I usually don’t notice with all the saving and the villains and the fighting and saving…”

“You said saving already”

He stopped rambling and stared at me. “Huh?”

“You said ‘saving’ twice.”

“Oh… well…”

I had to take pity on this poor idiot. “Would you like to come in?”

Ok, now The Symbol of Peace is just standing, stunned, on my doorstep. I think I might have accidentally short-circuited something in his brain. With a sigh, I reached out for his hand and led him inside. He barely fit. His… what do you call those things?? It’s a fringe, but not a fringe… those two ridiculous bits of hair that stick straight up almost touched the ceiling. Does he use an inordinate amount of gel on them? Why? For what purpose?

As I stared at the not-fringe things, All Might seemed to regain some of his composure. There was a slight tint to his cheeks.

“I apologise for being so forward, y/n. I just wanted to get to know you. Talk to you. Maybe over a coffee?”

Wait, what? Did I hear that right? “Are you asking me on a date?” I asked. Completely in disbelief. Do Pro Heroes date??

“Well, seeing as you invited me into your house, I thought we could just have coffee here and talk, but I’m quite happy to take you on a date. Unfortunately, I don’t think we would be able to get much talking done. I seem to attract a lot of attention.”

Was that a smirk? That bastard is smirking. I’m red, aren’t I?

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

Not knowing what else to say, I went to the kitchen to make our coffees. After checking how he took his, I sat us on my couch. I didn’t think my poor chairs would handle his… size. They were just old wooden ones. They creaked even with just me on them.

We ended up spending hours talking, moving from one topic to the next without even realising it. About our work (his is way more interesting than mine!), hobbies, family, friends, movies, books…. He was so easy to talk to, I hadn’t realised just how late it was.

It wasn’t until I yawned, that All Might stopped mid-sentence to frown and ask what time it was. Taking out my phone, I saw that it was after one in the morning. We’d even missed dinner.

“Goodness! (who says ‘goodness??) I’m so sorry, my dear (wait… what did he just call me??) I didn’t mean to keep you up so late!”

As he got up from the couch, he took my hand to… I guess to help me up? I was still repeating ‘my dear’ in my head.

Walking us to the door, he opened it before turning back to me.

“I’d like to do this again if that’s ok? Work permitting of course”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

He quickly leaned down and kissed my cheek.

He was gone before I could even register it in my brain.

The fourth time, he got me away from the danger first. After planting me a safe distance from the action, he cupped my face with his, quite honestly, huge hand.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said as his thumb gently rubbed my cheek.

“You too,” I said smiling up at him.

“Wait here for me?”

I nodded and he was off. Back into the action.

I’d never actually stuck around and watched any of the heroes take on the villains before. Not like a lot of others.

He was beautiful to watch. Even if he did come out with those ridiculous phrases.

After the villains were defeated and handed over to the police, All Might walked over to me. At least he tried to. Like he said, he attracts a lot of attention. I think I found a new source of entertainment. Watching All Might get flustered. It was adorable really. I can see he loves his fans even as he tried to extricate himself from them. So many wanting an autograph or a photo while he tried so hard not to be rude.

After watching this for about ten minutes, I decided to turn the tables.

Walking over, I maneuvered my way through the throng of people and positioned myself in front of All Might, facing everyone else.

“Ok, everyone. All Might needs a break after that fight. He’s very appreciative of all your support, thank you.”

I grabbed his hand and led him over to a cafe I’d noticed when I was waiting.

Thankfully his fans were respectful and let us through. I did notice a few holding their phones toward us, taking photos I presume,

Taking in the look of relief on his face, I remarked, “Looks like it was my turn to save you.”

He let out a booming laugh, “Yes, I suppose it was”

After a coffee, he offered to take me home. Let me tell you, his way of travelling is freaking terrifying! He basically leaps, propelling himself to afford a sort of temporary flight. As I clung to him for dear life, my face buried in his chest, I could feel the rumble of his laugh. It was a comforting feeling. So much so that I could almost forget that we were quite a way off the ground. Almost.

Back on my couch, tea in hand, we were talking about the recent fight before moving on to other subjects. After some time of this, he paused and reached out to move some of my hair back behind my ear. This guy was going to be the death of me. I may or may not be a little touch-starved and all these little gestures were slowly killing me.

“I’d like to show you something. I like you, y/n and I think if I want to keep seeing you, I think you should know.”

I’m pretty sure I just stared at him with my mouth open. All Might wants to keep seeing me? All Might likes me?? Next thing I knew, steam was coming off of him. “All Might! Are you…”

In the blink of an eye, he changed. Still tall, , still built, but nowhere near as bulky as All Might… I mean, himself…. Other self?

“What the fuck??”

“This is me. What I truly am. All Might is my powered-up form.”

“So does this form have a name?”

He chuckled. I was really learning to like his laughs. “My name is Yagi Toshinori. Most just call me Toshi.”

“Toshi, huh. I could get used to that.”

And then he kissed me. I may have let a little moan out. He was so warm and soft. I could feel his smile. Pulling away from him, I slapped him on the arm. Holy geezus that’s some hard muscle there.

“Stop that!”

“I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to… I got ca…”

“Not the kiss you idiot. I felt that smirk!”

“Does that mean I can kiss you again?” He had the biggest grin on his face.

Yup, I was definitely red.

We ended up ordering home delivery and cuddled up on the couch watching a movie.

Semi-consciousness came with the morning light. I felt warm and fuzzy and had a grin on my face as I snuggled into the blankets. Remembering what happened last night, I opened my eyes to find myself in bed and a note on my bedside.

You’re adorable when you sleep.

(0422) 75-3765

Goddammit. Reaching for my phone (which I presume he thoughtfully left next to the note), I saved his number before sending a quick text.

[y/n]: I’m so sorry for falling asleep on you!

Then I added:

[y/n]: Also, not adorable 😛

Grumbling, I got out of bed (still in yesterday’s clothes. Obviously. What a gentleman) and headed for the shower. Hooking up my phone to the speaker, I choose one of my favourite playlists.

While absorbed in whatever random thoughts were running through my head, I heard the message tone interrupt the music. Then another a minute later. Then a third one.

With a sigh, I finished up my shower and checked the messages while drying off.

[T] Very much adorable

[T] It’s not a problem. I liked having someone so pretty in my arms

[T] Dinner again? I can pick you up from work?

Definitely going to be the death of me.

[scullysexual]

*Prompt request for AU where Mulder gets Scully pregnant in high school and they are “forced” to marry but fall in love.*

A Baby Is Forever: Part Two. 

Read Part One Here. Part One is also on AO3. Part Two will be joining soon.  I’m really enjoying this. Warning for teen pregnancy. @today-in-fic

- - -

“Just fireball him!”

“No, it will kill him.”

“Good. That’s what we want to do.”

“No, it’s better to take him hostage so we can find out there the others are.”

“What makes you think there are others?”

“There are always others,” Mulder says. 

Dana approaches the door to the classroom. Her hunch about Mulder being in the games room was right. He’s there along with Langly, Frohike, and Byers. She knocks against the open door, not wanting to intrude but needing to speak with Mulder.

They all turn towards the door and Mulder’s face lights up when he sees her.

“Scully!” he shouts, standing up from his chair and heading towards her, all long-limbs bashing against chairs along the way. “You want to play?” he asks.

Dana takes her head. “I need to talk to you actually.”

“What about?”

She glances nervously at the Gunmen who sit staring and listening in. This isn’t something she wants them to know yet.

Mulder, realising, turns back to his friends. “I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Once out of the doorway and tucked away in a corner, Dana feels like she can finally tell him. 

“So, what is?” he asks.

She does one final sweep of the corridor, making sure that there was nobody around and sighs. Mulder waits expectantly, all hunched over, unused to his lankiness, hands in his pockets and leaning against the wall, eyes boring into hers. 

Could they do it, Dana wonders? By some miracle, could they raise a baby and do it well? Part of her thinks maybe they could.

“Mulder…” at the last second she pulls her eyes away, focusing upon something on the floor. “I’m pregnant.”

There’s a pause. Dana slowly moves her eyes back to meet his and she catches the moment the floor drops from beneath him, the way his own eyes widen as they move to her stomach. 

“You’re…” He frowns, thinking. “And it’s…It’s mine?” He meets her eyes and Dana nods. She’s 100% certain of that.

“But…we- I pulled out. You said…How?”

“There’s always that chance,” Dana says.

“A baby…” A small smile breaks across his face. “What are you gonna do with it?”

“I’m keeping it.” 

Perhaps she’s a little too quick, a little too certain, but this is her baby and nobody is taking it away from her.

“Okay,” says Mulder, nodding.

They stand in awkward silence for a moment, neither one knowing what to say next.

“So…” Mulder begins.

“I just thought you had a right to know,” says Dana, cutting him off.

Mulder nods again. “Well, …thanks.”

She smiles more awkwardness.

“I should probably get back before the Gunmen decide to kill the Sorcerer,” he says.

Dana nods, amazed at out he’s just going to go back to his life even after this surprise. She guesses he has that option unlike her.

“Have fun,” Dana says.

Before he goes, however, he asks. “Scully, will I be apart of the baby’s life?”

Dana thinks for a moment before answering as honestly as she can. 

“I don’t know, Mulder.”

Mulder nods and they both part their ways.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

There will be no white dresses. No months of preparations, no handwritten invitations. She wouldn’t even be married in a church.

It was a lot to take in at first, just as everything concerning this pregnancy has, but Dana understood, it was a marriage of necessity, and Dana knew better than to argue.

Ahab hadn’t been pleased. The moment Maggie called him he was getting on the first flight back home. When he got home, he took one look at Dana and disappeared upstairs. A few hours later, he came back down with an action plan: Dana was getting married in November, no objections were to be made.

She sits in her living room; she sat on one couch, Mulder sat on the other. Muffled voices drift in from the kitchen, an occasional rise of a voice. Dana plays with her fingers in her lap. It was strange not to be apart of a meeting that concerned you.

“My parents were shocked when I told them,” Mulder says. They had been sat in silence, for the most part, only now choosing to speak. “They thought I was joking.”

Dana smiles slightly, a quick movement of her lips before her expression resumes to how it was.

“Mine was just disappointed. They still are.”

Mulder smiles sadly. 

They fall quiet once more. They weren’t that close but there had been an equal attractive before, that is was lead to this after all but then it fizzled out, they made a promise that it wouldn’t happen again. Yet, now they’re having a baby, now they’re to be married. What does that mean for their relationship? For any future relationships? Dana doesn’t want to think about it…

“I have a doctor's appointment on Thursday,” Dana says.

Mulder looks worried. “Is something wrong?”

She smiles. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s just a check-up. We get to see the baby, too.”

“We?” 

Dana nods. “I want you to come with me.”

“Really?” he almost sounds surprised.

Dana nods again. She decided soon after telling him about the baby that she did want him to be apart of it. Somehow, they’ll work it out. It’s as much his baby as it is hers and she shouldn’t keep it away from him.

Mulder looks to the floor then nods. “Sure,” he says smiling.

The kitchen door opens, with the Mulders exiting first looking unhappy about whatever they’ve just been speaking about. 

“It’s for the best,” Dana’s father says. Mr. Mulder just hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Mulder grabs his bag, says goodbye to Dana with a promise that he’ll be there Thursday and leaves with his parents. Once gone, Dana looks towards her father who smiles.

“They agreed to the marriage,” is all he says before disappearing off.

It’s happening.

.:.:.:.:.:.

He wonders what he’s supposed to wear to these appointments.

Does he dress up nicely or just as he normally would? Should he make a good impression? They’ll be judged because they're young, he shouldn’t make it worse by turning up looking like a scruff. Should he leave his glasses? They make him look younger than he is. But if he does that he might not be able to see the baby.

Mulder stops.

The baby. Their baby to be exact. It still makes him giddy, still has a big grin forming across his face at the thought. He had gone back into the games room with a massive smile on his face after being told the news. The Gunmen had looked at strangely, asked what was making him so happy, but Mulder couldn’t tell them so he made some lie up.

Scully said she liked me.

It wasn’t that far from the truth.

But a baby. An actual little human growing inside Scully that belongs to him. He could laugh.

He wasn’t so cool on the marriage. Some warped arranged marriage that he only ever heard happen in History way back. People have babies unmarried all the time, right? Why couldn’t that just apply to them, too? But if the marriage was to happen then he’d do it, for the little human.

He’s scared, though. Imagines Scully’s probably even more scared. They’re really about to be responsible for a human. Of course, that’s if Scully allows him to even be involved. He has his hopes, supported by being allowed to go to this appointment with her. He doesn’t want to mess it up. Doesn’t want to do anything that will make her think that he isn’t ready. He wants to be ready. He wants to do this.

.:.:.:.:.:.

The doctor is nice enough. If she knows, she makes no comment about their ages, she just smiles at them when they enter and waits for Scully to climb onto the chair.

Mulder has no idea where he’s supposed to go. Mrs. Scully sits on the only other chair in the room and Mulder’s left to stand awkwardly in the middle. He thinks he should stand near the wall, be out of the way, and goes to do that when the doctor begins speaking to him.

“You can stand next to her,” she says.

Mulder looks to Scully, seeking her permission. She nods and he moves towards her chair.

With both hands holding onto the inside of the armrest, Scully’s arm lays on the armrest beneath his wrists. He’s mindful of their skin not to touch as the doctor prepares the gel.

“It might be cold,” she says. Scully jumps when the gel makes contact with her skin and laughs slightly.

Mulder’s eyes flick down to her stomach. She had been wearing baggier clothes recently, Mulder had wondered if it was to hide the bump or something but when he looks down he sees that her stomach is still mostly flat. Maybe it’s because she’s self-conscious or something but Mulder wants to tell her she’s beautiful, carrying a baby or not.

“There it is,” the doctor says.

Scully’s hand grips his. His focus is taken from her stomach to her hand holding his. Briefly struck by the image he forgets about the scan until Scully’s squeezing his hand and his eyes move towards the screen.

And…he sees nothing. He squints and still sees nothing.

“Where’s the baby?” he asks.

The doctor- and Scully- laugh.

“It’s too early to see anything yet but it’s in there.” She points to a dot on the screen.

“Oh,” says Mulder. “When will we see the baby?” 

“Come back in twelve weeks, there should be something to see.”

Twelve weeks, that was ages away.

“And we’ll get a picture?” He remembers the pictures. He saw pictures of Sam.

The doctor smiles, “Yes, you’ll get a picture,” she says. 

They leave the room shortly after the doctor has told Scully (and him) that the baby is fine, everything is where it should be. 

Mrs. Scully walks slightly ahead of them and Mulder takes the opportunity to grab Scully’s hand and pull her to the wall. He’s seen the baby now, knows that there really is something growing inside of her, something that they have made together.

He holds her hands in his own, his thumb absent-mindedly rubbing her knuckles, his head bowed down close to hers.

“I promise I’ll do anything for you and this baby,” he says, really trying to mean it. “I’m not going anywhere. I want to be there every step of the way. Every appointment, every moment, I want to be there. I don’t want to miss anything.” He has no idea where this is coming from but he means it, he really, really means it with every word uttered. “And even after, when the baby’s born and it won’t sleep, I want to be there.”

Scully looks up at him, her big blue eyes wide and trusting, believing every word he’s saying.

“I don’t want you to do this alone, Scully,” he whispers.

[elexica]

Second Chance Christmas {{ December 22 }}

Holiday shopping, Christmas cookies, and a movie marathon... and maybe a touch of actual communication?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/68577144#workskin

Full chapter under the read more. 

Joey wandered downstairs at seven in the morning.  He was surprised to see Kaiba inspecting the to-do list on his fridge in between long swigs from his KC branded mug.

“You haven’t finished holiday shopping?!” Kaiba’s panic-whisper sounded like he was really concerned about whether Christmas was ruined.  His eye contact was almost frenetic.

“I thought I’d leave the kids with Serenity while I do the shopping, she’s supposed to be working the Christmas day shift at the hospital, so she was going to have a couple nights off… I mean it’s not…” Joey looked at the ceiling, as if he could avoid conflict if he didn’t meet the burning blue flames in his ex’s eyes.  He steeled himself with a deep inhale.  “It’s not as much of a production when you’re not here.”

The KC mug hit the kitchen island with not-insubstantial force.  The fruit dish shook with the vibration, bananas swinging from the hook, and Joey tore his eyes from the ceiling to see the drops of black coffee that had hit the granite.  

“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” Kaiba asked, or rather hissed, without a questioning lilt in his voice.

Joey cracked his knuckles involuntarily.  Instead of letting his fingers ball into fists, he jerked open the refrigerator door and yanked out the carton of orange juice.

“You’re a smart man.  I’m sure you can guess.”  Joey didn’t look away from the task at hand.  He militantly focused on pouring orange juice into a tall clean glass.

And there was that sinister “Kaiba” gravel, every bit as menacing as it had ever been as he hissed over the kitchen counter, “Enlighten me.”  He sounded like Yugi’s troubled teen nemesis again.

Joey flipped around, gripping the orange juice to keep himself from saying too much that he would regret.  “Things are more mellow, now.  It isn’t about going overboard to prove a point.”

Kaiba blinked, clearly expecting a harsher phrasing. “Is it now?”

“Yeah.  When I was a kid I didn’t have much for Christmas and I came out just fine…”  Here it comes, Joey thought, trying not to show the hesitation in his voice as he finished, “They don’t have to be spoiled rotten.”

Joey smirked as he said it.  Commenting on their different parenting styles was a low blow, but it had been just too much fun.  Joey thought regret would drop into his stomach, but it never hit.  Instead, his heart jumped a little, the thrill of getting a rise out of Kaiba as seductive as ever.

“Spoiled?!” Kaiba’s voice lowered in volume and tone.  Joey didn’t even try to suppress his mocking grin.  Instead, he chugged the rest of his orange juice, slammed down the glass and bolted from the kitchen.

“Get back here!” Kaiba said.  Tonally, it was a shout, but volume-wise?  Neither of them wanted the kids to wake up quite yet, even though there were probably only minutes left on the clock in that regard.

Joey slid on his socks as he ran down the hallway, drifting as he took a sharp turn.  Kaiba sprang to life, suddenly in hot pursuit.

Kaiba was fast, with those long, toned legs and that Terminator-like determination.  But he hadn’t spent the last three years wrangling toddlers and chasing after Alexis, who just loved wandering off at the most inopportune times.  Plus, while Kaiba had memorized the floor plan at one time, Joey was recently and intimately familiar with it.  

The tie breaker was the stairs—with a carved bannister that had seen better days, days before Atticus had been allowed poster paint and before Alexis had taken a tap class.  Finally, Joey’s socks gambit came to bite him in the ass as the smoothness of the glossy wooden stairs and the lack of traction from the socks caused him to slip.  And that wave of tripping Joey collided into a scampering Kaiba, and the two of them tumbled down the stairs.

The resulting clatter woke the kids up.

. . .

The mall was a zoo—minus the organization.  Children were everywhere, and somehow all screaming at once.  Everyone looked stressed, perhaps the employees most of all.  And Joey realized that he didn’t really have a strategy.

Leaving the kids home with Kaiba was a luxury, and he had sort of forgotten how nice it was to have back up childcare that wasn’t molded around Serenity’s shifts as an RN.  It was sort of strange too, because it was one of the few things that was completely new.

Before they separated, Kaiba never watched the kids alone—they had a full staff for that.

Would they all have a miserable time?  Joey smirked to himself as he strolled past another festive display—a family of mannequins in matching flannel pajamas. Being outnumbered by the kids could be quite a problem, and although Alexis had lone wolf tendencies, when they combined forces the two were quite powerful.

Joey idly imagined what sort of hell they might put Kaiba through as he shopped for some small things to put in their stockings. He was knocked out of his reverie by eyes fell upon a yo-yo display at the toy store.

After picking up a few small trinkets—and decidedly no yo-yo’s, Joey approached the cash register.

He was not pleased to find an unfamiliar credit card in his wallet.  When did Kaiba even have the time to slip that in?  Joey ran his thumb over the raised letters of his own name.  Did Kaiba just have these lying around? In any case, Joey steadfastly refused to use it, tucking the heavy black card back into the recesses of his worn leather wallet.

He contemplated, momentarily, throwing it in one of the trash bins that he passed by, overflowing with spent holiday Starbucks cups and overly long receipts.  But if someone did get ahold of it, they might ring up some charges that could look like Joey was actually using the card.  It would ruin the integrity of the refutation.

But the little rectangular siren was hard to keep from his mind.  Every time he made a purchase, there it was, tempting him to draw from an unlimited account.  Snap shut the golden handcuffs again, the card whispered. Make everything easier.

But Joey Wheeler was a determined man.  Detractors might use the phrase stubborn, but it didn’t matter which one was more accurate.  When he had a plan, he stuck to it.  To the bitter end.  So even though he was pushing the admittedly fragile budget to it’s limits at the music store and on Cyber Angel card packs, it remained sealed away.

Until he passed a very sad looking fundraiser.

Joey considered, as he lingered past the charity drive seeking toys for a group home for teens in the Bronx, that he might put the card to use.  He realized he seemed a little off, staring down the charity workers, who were dressed as unconvincing elves, with the big collection boxes.

Joey had a timetable.  He had a not unimpressive list still remaining.  But that fucking card was burning a hole in his pocket.  It was practically radiating heat.

But he caved.  He lost the battle with the black card when he emptied the local game shop’s entire stock of new model-duel disks and donated them.  Joey was trembling as he signed them over, what the name of the donor would be.

He settled on anonymous and determined that he would cut the card into fifty pieces the second he got home and scatter the shards through the trash.  The damn thing was too tempting.

By the time Joey pulled into the driveway and slammed open the front door, he was ready to fight about what had happened.

But his family wasn’t immediately in view.  The lights in the kitchen were on, and Joey could hear soft classical covers of Christmas music and he thought he could make out the sound of Alexis laughing.

The wind was knocked out of him when he turned the corner to see Kaiba’s black turtleneck splattered with flour.

The whole kitchen had taken a beating.  Flour hadn’t just tarnished Kaiba’s polished look—it had dusted the cabinets and part of the fridge Kaiba must not have realized how easily dry ingredients spray from the stand mixer if dropped in first.

The kitchen counters certainly were not spared from the ingredient massacre.  The entire kitchen island was covered in flour, some spilled food dye—which Joey could already sense would never come out of the granite—and a surprising amount of raw egg.

Upon further inspection, Kaiba was actually the one least impacted by the ingredient apocalypse.  There was sugar and frosting all over Alexis’s face—how, Joey might never know—and Atticus had managed to paint some of his hair blue with blue frosting.

“Alright.  Cookies are decorated and prepared for Mr. Claus, fulfilling your contractual obligations,” Kaiba said resolutely, as if he had not turned their living space into a warzone. “What is next on the festive itinerary?”

“First rule of Christmas: you must get munk’d!” Atticus announced.

Joey knocked on the boundary wall of the kitchen to announce his arrival.  He expected Kaiba to look much more surprised than he did.  Instead, Kaiba’s affectionate attention merely pivoted between Atticus and Joey.  It was warm and familial, and it sent a pang of heat and guilt and maybe something else down Joey’s spine.

“Next is getting this cleaned up, I think,” Joey said, finding himself in uncharted territory.  It felt weird to be the responsible one out of him and Kaiba.  He still wasn’t used to being the buzzkill parent, and he didn’t like it.

Kaiba could have said something mean—made some comment about would spoil the fun, but instead he nodded politely.  “Yes,” Kaiba surveyed the room.  “I think that would be the next step.”

While the kids groaned at the thought of helping with the chores component of the activity, Joey went to inspect the output.

Apparently, Kaiba had lead the kids through the process of making gingerbread men.  Four were set aside and logically decorated to be their family: a stretched out one with blue blobs for eyes and a little black gel icing frown, a slightly more squished one with yellow on top in some sort of approximation of Joey’s hair, and two smaller ones representing each kid.

They really did look like a family.

“You can’t eat those ones,” Kaiba instructed from over Joey’s shoulder.  Joey startled at the interruption.  He hadn’t realized his ex had gotten so close, and was looming over him properly.  

“I figured they might be a little special.”

“Frankly, I don’t know that I’m comfortable with Santa eating them.  I’m a bit worried he’d just bite my head off, and leave him as an example to the others.”

Joey laughed.

“I don’t think Santa’s supposed to leave death threats to the cookies, Kaiba.  But uh…” Joey reached for another plate which had not been as lovingly decorated.  He tore the little head of a random gingerbread man with this teeth, and noted the nice flavor.  Butter and molasses and a hint of cloves.  He placed the decapitated body of the gingerbread man back down on the display plate. “This guy’ll scare the rest of ‘em straight.”

. . .

After everyone had gotten cleaned up and changed into pajamas (and Joey had discretely moved the gifts into the master bedroom closet), the family reconvened in the living room.

“Oto-san, are you ready for the greatest movies ever made?” Atticus announced.  He seemed confident that his father wasn’t ready—and he was right. “Are you ready to get… ‘munk’d?”

Kaiba poked at his reading glasses and adjusted his laptop screen.  He had been working on some spreadsheets or something, but his interest was obviously piqued.

Joey smiled.  He knew exactly what Kaiba was in for, and he was going to savor it.

“Munk’d?” Kaiba repeated back carefully, as if he was worried it was a swear or a slur.

“Yeah!” Atticus grabbed the remote and deftly navigated the SmartTV through a few different apps before finding exactly what he was looking for. “It’s a quadrilogy.”

Kaiba slowly tiled his laptop screen down.  “That’s not a word.”

“I have an inventive spirit, Oto-san!” Atticus’s smile beamed forward as he continued to queue the feature film.  Without looking away from the screen, Atticus added, “Just like you.”

The soft smile that graced Kaiba’s features stung at Joey immediately.  And it vanished at the first pitchy note of the CGI Alvin and the Chipmunks warbling through Daniel Powter’s 2005 hit, “Bad Day.”

“See, they’re kids, but they’re also rock stars!” Atticus enthused.  Before Kaiba could get out any other response, Atticus cracked up at the vintage CGI creatures jumping into a muffin basket.

“It’s okay if you don’t like this one, Oto-san,” Alexis offered, hopping up on the couch on the other side.  “They get better when they introduce the Chipettes in the Squeakquel.”

Joey wished he had photographed the resulting look of horror on Kaiba’s face.

Joey leaned back in his own arm chair, nursing a fresh mug of hot cocoa.  “Quadrilogy, Kaiba.  That means there are four of them.”

After the first movie, the kids we already starting to wear down a little.  Kaiba had sat through the entire thing, undulating between puzzled and disturbed at the dated animation, the fact that the chipmunks had managed to get into and out of a dishwasher unharmed, and that the moral of the movie appeared to be that brothers should be very careful about who adopts them.

“This entire thing could have been prevented if the Chipmunks had just retained counsel before signing the relevant contracts,” Kaiba said dismissively.

Joey couldn’t help but laugh.  “It’s about family, Kaiba.”

Any further discussion was cut off by the raucous opening music for the Squeakquel and ninety-ish minutes later, Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked.

It was a true Christmas miracle that the kids passed out on the couch before the start of Alvin and the Chipmunks 4: The Road Chip.

Joey met Kaiba’s slightly tired eyes.  Admittedly, the ending of Chipwrecked was somewhat jarring.  Frankly, the entire thing was more of a fever dream mixed with memes from 2011 than a sensible film.  “Alright, I’ll take Alexis, if you can take Atticus?”

Kaiba nodded solemnly, accepting the delegation.

Alexis was usually pretty easy to get to sleep, though sometimes she was anxious from the day’s events, or too busy planning the next day to focus on getting to bed.  Joey was not at all surprised that Kaiba was taking longer to get Atticus down for the night.  He peered through the cracked door to see Atticus’s room illuminated by the little nightlight—shaped like a music note.

In the dim light, it was clear that Kaiba was sitting on the edge of Atticus’s bed.  Atticus was all tucked in, holding his Red Eyes Black Dragon plushie, and gazing up at his father.

“And every night when you go to sleep…” Seto prompted, sounding almost like a strict teacher.

“I am loved,” Atticus replied.

“And every morning when you wake up?” Seto started the second part of the call and response.

“I am loved,” Atticus answered, “Oto-san, you don’t have to say it every night when you’re around!  I know you love me.”

“It is important to me that you never doubt it, and never forget it.  Even when I’m not around.”  Joey’s heart could have melted in that second.

Atticus laughed.  “You’re so sappy, Oto-san.  I don’t know why Uncle Honda calls you a frozen bastard!”  

Joey could barely muffle his reaction.

Kaiba’s face whipped around to the cracked open door.  “Jounouchi?”  He whispered harshly.  But it was to no real effect.  Joey was already lost to laughter, and dashed through the hallway.  By the time Joey dared to retrace his steps back to Atticus’s door frame, Kaiba had vanished.  

. . .

It was not hard to guess where Kaiba had retreated to.  Joey pushed open the door of the study and was met with the increasingly familiar sight of his ex-husband in his oxblood leather chair, swirling a glass of expensive, aged, imported whiskey in his long fingers and staring at it like it held the secrets of the universe.

“I saw you with Atticus,” Joey offered, wandering into the study.  He looked more at the full shelves of books than at his ex.  Most of the volumes were in Japanese, but a select few were in English.  Warren Buffet’s autobiography was open on his lap, but Joey was fairly sure he wasn’t actually reading it.

“Yes,” Kaiba answered, flipping the page.   No, Joey was sure he hadn’t actually read it, his eyes never really left the swirling amber.

“And he musta overheard a call with Honda.  It wasn’t on purpose or anything.”

Kaiba nodded wordlessly.

“You really do miss them, huh?” Joey asked, trying not to sound as nostalgic as he felt.

Kaiba’s face remained stoic, but he took a sip of the whiskey instead of answering.  Only that asshole could make something so mundane utterly captivating.  Joey hated that he would wait for a response as long as he needed to.  Joey’s eyes searched the hand clasping the glass, and noted with a brutal sinking feeling, that the ring was off again.

“Why are you here, Jounouchi?” Kaiba asked finally.

“It’s my house, now.  I can go anywhere I want,” Joey announced.  Kaiba ignored this answer, and turned his head down to the book on his lap.  He flipped another page.

Joey considered whether he should just leave, skip out on the argument, avoid it all and properly give up.  Let his ex-husband drink his gross fancy liquor and read his boring book and luxuriate in the solitude as only Seto Kaiba could.

But it had been three years.  Three years of not demanding answers.  Three years with no clarity.  So Joey broke the silence.

“Why didn’t you fight for me?  For our family?  Even for a second?” Joey felt the heat in his own voice, burning the back of his throat.  That was how it was, fighting with Kaiba.  A never ending battle of fire and ice.

Kaiba was silent, and took a long sip of the Japanese whiskey.  He closed the book, which was more respect than Joey had anticipated.

“That’s what broke my heart, really.”  Tears threatened to fall out of Joeys eyes as he said it. “That I told you that it was over, and you couldn’t spare one shred of anger, or sadness, or anything.”  Joey hated the pleading tone in his own voice.  “It felt like you had already dumped me.”

Kaiba raised his glance from the book cover, the amber glass, and instead looked him dead in the eye.  Joey wondered if those blue eyes had always been so lifeless and hollow.  “So, you wanted me to argue with you?”

“I don’t know,” Joey answered, running a hand through his messy blond hair.  He hadn’t planned the whole argument out.  Frankly, he hadf didn’t expect any response.

“Our children didn’t need to watch that,” Kaiba said.

“Watch what?  A conversation?  An argument?  You think it would have been worse for them to hear their parents argue or yell once than… going through a whole fucking divorce?” Joey’s volume crept up and he was done controlling it.

Kaiba didn’t answer.  He looked into the glass again, but didn’t lift it.

“Or what?  What couldn’t they see?  You actually respect my time?  Respect me?” Joey wasn’t used to having the rhetorical upper hand, and he wasn’t going to waste it, gesticulating wildly.  “I got no respect my whole life, I wasn’t gonna let my kids see me treated like that too.”

For all the theatrics, Kaiba scarcely responded.

“Watch it happen again,” Kaiba almost whispered.  There was a ghostly quality to the statement, as if Kaiba neither meant to say it nor for Joey to hear it.  Kaiba cleared his throat and started again.  He brought his eyes back up to meet Joey’s.

“I learned that lesson a long time ago,” Kaiba’s jaw was clenched so tightly the words almost didn’t escape.  “I’m not trying to be loved by someone who doesn’t love me.” Kaiba’s fingers twitched, as if he wanted to fiddle with something.  But his control and focus wouldn’t let him give in.

For Joey’s part, he stood and tried to absorb these complete non-sequiturs.

“I can’t, and I won’t, try to force or trick you or anyone else into caring about me.  I have paid dearly for that miscalculation before.  I will not make the same mistake again.”  

For all of the “slow” comments he had been subjected to over the years, Joey caught up quickly enough to what Kaiba was referring to.  And he wasn’t going to let him play that card, get out of all responsibility because he had emotional constipation.

“You realize there’s a difference between someone asking you to be a better partner and… and not loving you anymore.  Asking you to adjust some things instead of… never wanting to see you again.  Things aren’t just black and white!” Joey answered.

“Divorce papers are black and white, Jounouchi.”  Kaiba finally downed the rest of the glass, the lilt of his voice the same as a “check mate.”

Joey hated to be the first to raise his voice but that door had already been opened.  He wasn’t going to be able to get the toothpaste back in the tube.

“Have you met you?! You wouldn’t listen to anything less!  And I tried!” Joey shouted, hands raised defensively.

“I wasn’t going to stay where I wasn’t wanted, and you made it very clear that you didn’t want to be with me.”  Kaiba didn’t answer with the same volume, but the intensity was raised and the harshness of his voice was jarring.  His eyes narrowed like a hawk eying prey.  “I didn’t change, for the record.  I did not degrade or fail or alter in any way.  No, I stayed exactly the same.  You simply decided you did not want that anymore.”

“You’re damn right, I was sick of being disrespected.  I spent a lot of time not wanting to feel that way anymore.  And you really wouldn’t take my feelings into consideration.  Was I supposed to tolerate that forever?” Joey’s volume increased with every clipped sentence.

Kaiba’s voice became more languid—as if he was more comfortable responding to the anger.  He sounded somewhat like he was pondering his answer as he said it.  Drunk on whiskey and a philosophical sense.  “Isn’t that what you promised you would do?  What unconditional love is supposed to be?  Unconditional: without conditions.  And yet, after years, suddenly you have conditions—"

“Excuse me?” Joey interrupted.

“You promised.  That your love for me, for our family, was unconditional.  And then, years later, you have a set of demands.  That is the very essence of a condition.”  Kaiba finished the glass with his scholarly speech, placing it next to the decanter.  He shoved the book onto the side table as well.

“There’s a difference between not loving someone and wanting to be treated like your damn husband.”  Kaiba’s tone rubbed off on him somewhat, as if it was a scholarly discussion about the terms of their marriage.  Like if he could just explain it clearly enough, he could talk his husband back into their marriage.

Kaiba kept his hands busy pouring another glass.  “Well you were right.  You’re doing better now, aren’t you?  Enjoying your work, the kids are fine.  You proved it—you don’t need me at all.  And you don’t want me.  In three days, I’ll be gone, and you can go back to your better way of life.”

“It’s not—I’m not better now!  I’m fine, things are fine, just different and—” Joey stuttered, hands defensively raised.  “And, and having you here has been... It hasn’t made anything worse.  It’s like you changed for the better.”

“I don’t change, Jounouchi.  I am who I am.” Kaiba said, the cruel air of finality sounding as much like a business decision as anything else.  

Joey’s eyes widened and he gestured wildly.  “Fuck, Kaiba… Then what’s this?!  You’ve made it for three days actually being… just, present.  For once.  Three years too late.  Why?  Why now and not then?”

Kaiba shrugged and looked away.

Joey closed the distance, looming over his ex-husband, perched in the chair.  “I know why,” Joey said, menace in his voice.  “It’s because you only respond to threats.  Consequences.  And now you know the consequences, so you’re getting your act together.”

Kaiba met his eyes, but looked brutally tired.  “I am trying to give you what you want for a few days, Jounouchi.  Call it a Christmas present to the father of my children.”

“You’re saying this is an act?”

He titled his head all the way back, eyes glued to the ceiling and thumb and forefinger pinching his nose bridge, just above the wire of his glasses.  “I don’t know what this is, Jounouchi.  Just be happy, or whatever, and leave me in peace.”

Joey really thought about leaving.  He wanted to.  But he wasn’t quite done, not really, and he’d been avoiding this fight for years.  Joey never used to back down from a fight, and neither did Kaiba.  It brought them to blows for years, and the avoidance of conflict had been more sickening than any gut-punch Joey had ever taken.

“I’m not gonna.”  Joey said, simply.  Hands on his hips, standing his ground.

Kaiba leaned up again, head snapping to attention, hand already on the crystal decanter.  “What?”

“Leave.  I’m not gonna do it.  You can try to make me.  I’m not done, alright?!  You’re obviously not done,” Joey pushed forward, grabbing Kaiba’s wrist and pulling his hand off of the decanter.  “Make it easy.  Say you’ll be better, Kaiba.”

“I won’t do that.  I don’t change, Jounouchi, because I can’t change.”  Kaiba did nothing with his wrist, except allow it to go limp in Joey’s grasp.  It was as if he was that confident in the strength of his words that he didn’t so much as care to tense a muscle.  “I will ask you once more, nicely.  Get out of my office.”

“No.” Joey dropped his wrist, and Kaiba retracted it into his lap.  “You can change.  You did.  You just didn’t notice.”  It felt good, Joey thought, being honest for once with this man that he used to love.

“I have work.”

“You don’t.  They can’t fire you.” Joey got up in his face, so close he could smell Kaiba’s shampoo.  Other than the soft sandalwood scent, it felt a bit like when he was riling up a rival high school bully back in Domino.  “Fight me!  Make me leave!  You want me to go so bad?  Then make me!”

Kaiba smirked, knowingly.  Then he leaned his head back against the chair.  His bangs fully eclipsed his eyes. “I won’t.  I’ll just sleep here.” There it was again.  The checkmate tenor.

“Fine!” Joey plopped down in the seat next to him, the velvet of his matching seat just soft enough.  “Then I’ll sleep here too.”

If Kaiba shifted his eyes to check, Joey couldn’t tell under the thick brown bangs.   In any case, the stubborn ass didn’t get up.  He didn’t storm off or leave.  He just stayed there, like a determined rock under Joey’s constant observation.

After about half an hour, Joey heard the even breathing pick up into a light snore.

In the morning, Kaiba awoke alone in the guest room, with no memory of how he got there.