#SECOND BECAUSE PAT LIKES INK AND *THEY COULD* WORK WITH THE FAMILY SITUATION
Note
What are Steve's wedding vows to Peggy?
Hey i wrote something since like Saturday. kinda proud of myself despite BAD anxiety over this.
--
“Are you ready, Steve?”
The question came from Edwin Jarvis, the man sticking his head in through the curtains to smile at the nervous Captain. Steve just held up the bowtie in despair, trying to hide the shake in his fingers.
“I can mull down hundreds of Nazis. I can fight Hydra to the bone and-and nearly be killed by a frozen tundra, but what defeats me is a god dang bow tie!”
Jarvis laughed as he stepped into the small side room, giving him a comforting smile. “You know,” he mused as he started to do the tie. “When I was marrying my Ana, I was so nervous I fainted right as we got to I do.”
Steve felt himself gap, looking the man up and down. He could picture that, not that he would say it. He felt like he might faint before he even got out to where Bucky and Colonel Phillips were waiting for him.
“When I came to, my head was in Ana’s lap and I insisted she was an angel. She practically is - not that I’ll ever insist anything different. She’s never let me live that down, that rascal. The point is, Captain Rogers,” the man smirked as he finished the tie and smoothed it out along Steve’s neck. “It’s okay to be nervous.”
“I’m...Captain America, I shouldn’t be nervous, I wasn’t nervous when-”
“Let me ask you something,” Jarvis spoke over him, patting the guy’s shoulders to get him to sit down. He pulled a comb out of nowhere and started to fix Steve’s mousy hair from his constant fingers combing through it. All Steve could do was look on in the mirror. “When you bulldozed through of Hydra agents or lead your Howling Commandos through countless missions or did whatever you did in what the reports do not say, were you nervous?”
“Of course not, those guys depended on me. I couldn’t afford to be nervous or second think my actions, someone might’ve died.” Plenty of people did, in ways Steve could’ve never stopped or predicted unless he’d been there, but he was one person.
Not that Jarvis was asking about this.
“Exactly. They depended on you. You needed to be ready for anything, to overcome anything Hydra would’ve thrown at you. Yet with Miss Carter, you’re nervous about your wedding? It’s practically a tradition to be nervous. Do you know what that means?”
“That I’ll fumble my vows or drop the rings and it’ll roll into a gutter, never to be seen again?”
Jarvis snorted and lightly squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “No, Captain Rogers, it does not. It means that you love her. You love Miss Carter with every fiber of your being. It means you, my friend, will have an amazing wedding and marriage. Even if you do fumble, you can do no worse than me and fainting.”
Steve covered his face, trying to stabilize his breathing. He did love Peggy - Jarvis was right. There was no doubt about that. He loved her. Loved her so damn much he might explode. He just...was nervous.
“Being nervous,” Jarvis continued as he put the comb away and tilted Steve’s head up to inspect himself in the black and white suit. “Being nervous is a tradition. It means you love her. I’m sure Miss Carter is nervous too.”
Steve’s mouth opened to counter, Peggy couldn’t be nervous - he’s seen her stare enemies dead in the eye and not miss a beat. He’s seen her let herself get shot if it meant saving the hostage. He’s seen her survive countless trails and still stand on top at the end of the day. There’s no way Peggy was nervous. Yet, the second he opened his mouth to say something, Bucky stuck his head through the curtain.
His hair was perfectly parted thanks to his mother’s intervention. He was sure the second his ma wasn’t looking, he would mess it up. The suit he wore was a little on the older side, insisting he got to wear his dad’s suit to this wedding.
“You ready, Stevie? That green isn’t a good shade, bud.”
Steve gently swatted at Bucky’s chest as he adjusted the suit once more, trying to take in a deep breath to calm down.
“Shut up. I’m just...nervous. How’s everything looking? We ready?”
“Ready as we’ll ever be. Ole Phillips is grumbling as ever. Dugan is waiting up there, Angie is ready. We’ve already had to stop the niece and nephew from throwing the flowers everywhere.”
“Oliver and Penny really like those roses, huh?” Steve’s lips twitched into a small laugh at the idea of the kids going haywire with those roses. “And Peggy? Is she…?”
“Ana and Rose and even Howard are in there, it’s alright.” Seeing his friend’s panic look, he smoothed down his suit again, the metallic hand glimmering in the dull light of the chapel. “Let’s get this party started and get you two crazy kids married.”
--
“Always knew you two would end up together,” Phillips grunted as Steve stood nervously, shifting from foot to foot. “From the second she laid eyes on that scrawny form of yours.”
Steve laughed, a more forceful laugh given the nervous state he was in. He watched Jarvis politely sit down after checking in on the girls, Rose already coming up to stand by them. Bucky clapped Steve on the shoulder, squeezing him too hard.
“Told you,” he chuckled. “You two were meant to be…”
“‘cept you shouldn’t have shown up in the bar when we were having your public funeral,” Dugan interjected. “Not the best idea, Cap.”
“You’re lucky Carter didn’t shoot you on the spot, coming up with a soiled uniform, and half that glass in your chest,” Phillips grunted.
“Wouldn’t have hurt as bad, if-”
Steve stopped the second he heard Ana playing the piano, turning on his heels and towards the door.
He watched Oliver and Penny run through with the flowers, throwing them everywhere but the floor. His little giggle and the laugh through the chapel made him relax a little, but the second he saw Peggy, everything was back in full force.
She was...beautiful, spectacular. A thousand words he couldn’t think to say. His mind nothing but a fine-tuned sound of buzzing as he watched her slowly walk through that door. Ana had worked perfectly on that dress, the trim, the lace, every down to the last details of the pearls knitted into the collar.
Steve could feel the tears burning in his eyes as she slowly stood in front of him, hearing in the corner of his mind, Phillips muttering about sap.
He loved her.
“You look…” Steve struggled with the word as he held onto her glove-laced hands, looking down at them and slowly back to those beautiful hazel eyes that he’d fallen in love with before he even knew what color they were.
“I know,” Peggy finished, squeezing his hands. “You look pretty dashing yourself. We-”
“How about we get this show on the road, huh?” Phillips asked, breaking the silence, and the music slowly melted into the background. “We all knew we’d end up here today. It was just a matter of time and if it was legal or not. I expected you two to just waltz into my tent one day and demand to be married, the laws and logic be damned.”
“Almost,” Steve mused, shrugging his shoulders. Phillips’ grey eyes were trained on him, brow rose as if to ask what. “I proposed to Peggy after she’d been shot during the hostage situation of ‘44.”
“Son.” The tone said all and the Howling Commandos laughed the loudest. Steve glanced over to see Peggy’s side of the family, most with pursed lips. They still weren’t pleased that their daughter was marrying a Yankee.
“We told him to do it,” Dugan interjected.
“Dared him, actually,” Jones added.
“Double-dog dared him,” Bucky said.
“Actually, we told him to do it or we would on his behalf,” Pinky reminded them.
“We-”
Phillips’ look silenced Falsworth on the spot, the man clearing his throat and stepping back in line. “We’re no longer at war, boys, you don’t have to keep defending your Captain under insane circumstances. I’ll never forget about the damn goat incident.”
--
It was only a few minutes later before Phillips cleared his throat again and nodded towards the couple. “The couple has written their own vows. Ca-Steve, would you like to go first?”
Steve blinked as he felt Peggy’s eyes on him, trying to calm his racing heart down. “Okay, yeah. Yeah,” he breathed, taking the paper Dugan had passed him. “I stayed up till 4 in the morning working on this. Mr. Jarvis had to eventually take the pen from me so I’d sleep.”
“And he didn’t accept my help,” Howard muttered just loud enough for Steve to hear, making the Captain flush.
“Okay, here it goes,” Steve breathed, unfolding the paper and trying not to let how nervous he was shown. His hands were already starting to shake and he was afraid sweat would ruin the ink.
Peggy’s hand gently closed around his wrist and offered him a comforting smile. “It’s okay, darling. Just us. Not a whole platoon of guys to play Star-Spangled Man With A Plan.”
If he wasn’t blushing then, he was now.
“Peggy, I…” Steve looked down at the paper and back up at her. He could hear Jarvis’s voice in the back of his head telling him that when he got up there, he’d know what to say. Fumbling or not.
“Peggy, I love you. I’ve loved you ever since I first laid eyes on you and I didn’t know it. I didn’t know what the color of your lips was or the color of your eyes or your hair or even your uniform. I didn’t know the true sound of your voice or the smell of the roses on your skin. I didn’t know much then - hell I don’t know much now -”
A few people laughed and Steve lowered the paper, looking dead into his wife-to-be eyes.
“I didn’t know much then. I just knew you were hell on high heels and damn anyone who got in your path. When you first knocked out Hodge, I felt my breath taken away. When you ran for the grenade too, I wanted my last sight to be of you, swore I was goin’ blow myself up to a million pieces. Our first conversation in that car might’ve been one of our lasts and I was glad it was with you, someone who understood me. Understood what it was like to be discriminated against because we’re us… Because I was sickly and small and you were a woman, a girl, a-”
“You still don’t know how to talk to women, do you?” Peggy asked, blinking the tears from her eyes and making Steve give a wet laugh.
“I”m afraid not, how I managed to get you to fall in love with me is a wonder. The point is, Pegs, I love you, from the bottom of my heart. All through the war, we talked about what we wanted after. I insisted on a white-picket fence, a house in some neighborhood, that we’d build the perfect life together and well...you saw where that lead us. Me to a watery grave and you punching me out when I showed up at that bar. Even if I was late for our dance.
I just...I love you. Life has taken us on insane turns from clearing our friend’s name to-to living in LA for a few months. To...to here. To me finally getting the guts to purpose to you. Or more like catching my breath. I need you in my life and I’m lucky to have you. I’m more than happy to sit on the sidelines and let you work, to raise our kids or tend to a home, to do anything you ask. I’m more than happy to just be yours. I just...I need to be yours like I need to breathe. You are my life, Peggy Carter, and I’ll have no other but you. I’m lucky to be your husband, to be by your side through it all.”
Peggy didn’t bother to hide the few tears running down her face, thankful Angie had fixed her makeup just right to prevent the tear streaks from showing. She cleared her face off with the handkerchief Rose had given her and sniffled.
“Sap,” she laughed, shaking her head. “I stayed up late last night but not writing these vows. I...told myself I knew what I was going to say when I got up here, but I’m mistaken. I can only say I love you, Steve Rogers. You are my life. My soul. When I was young, I insisted I wouldn’t marry. I insisted my life was to slay dragons, rescue knights, be a pirate. To be anything but the lady my mother wanted me to be.
I insisted I knew what I wanted for myself. That I-I wanted to be a codebreaker and I was good at it. I-”
“And saved our lives with it,” Howard said, causing them to laugh.
“Yes, Howard, thank you. I am good at it. I’m great at it. I insisted that’s all I could do to help the war effort, to maybe consider becoming a nurse but my mother and Fred forbidden it. I insisted I loved Fred because my mother did. I insisted that I could do some good by staying home, being the good wife, and keeping my head down. I insisted on a lot of things but for myself…
It took Micheal’s death for me to see there was more for me out there. The SSR was life-changing for me. Getting to serve under Colonel Phillips’ here, getting to meet you, even if you were...different.”
“It’s okay, call him a shrimp like I did,” Phillips interjected, making Peggy give a wet chuckle. “Kid got that sandwich after all.”
He swore the man smiled at him - even if Steve wouldn’t admit it.
“You were different. You stood out from the rest and it was because of your good heart. Yes the grenade incident, but you helped the nurses around the base. You helped collect herbs for them when we ran out of pain killers, you remembered decades-old healing practices that your mother taught you. You gave some of the guys, even if they were bastards to you, advice on how to fix their broken shoelaces or how to even hide the knives better in their clothes. You were kind and sweet-hearted and I wanted you from the start.
Even after your serum, you didn’t change. You saved that kid. You saved me, even if I was quite upset about it.”
“You did yell at me a lot for pushing you out of the way,” Steve interrupted, remembering that chaotic day.
“You were running with no shoes on and shoved me out of the way of an oncoming car. I had to yell about something.” She smoothed down his suit and sighed, shaking the veil. “Even after that, Steve, I...I love you. I loved you from the start. During the war, that love only grew. I thought we hid it well.”
“No,” Bucky snorted. “No, you two did not. Everyone knew.”
“Yes, thank you, James,” Peggy huffed, giving her friend a roll of her eyes. “That love for you grew and I’m only sorry we didn’t act sooner, that we didn’t kiss more or-or risk it to just touch each other in blatant public when we needed the comfort because it was a war. I am sorry that it took this long to get here - but we’re here. Look at us. We’re here, sweetheart. We’re getting married after all in a setting of our choice, with our friends and family. It’s worth the wait.”
“You’re always worth the wait,” Steve whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“I love you,” Peggy whispered, squeezing his hands. “I loved you then, to now, and forevermore. I’ll never stop loving you, no part of my soul will be complete without you. You are my light, Steven Grant Rogers, as I am your compass, your true star north. You are my light and I want nothing more from you than a life that we paved together.”
There was no dry eye around them, even the grisled Colonel was sniffing slightly and wiping at his eyes. He squeezed the book in his hand and gave the couple a warm smile. “Aren’t you two kids sweet? Why don’t we wrap this up so you two can kiss like how you did in the supply closets?”
Steve felt his ears burn, turning back to Peggy and holding her hands. He wasn’t sure how he survived the rest of the ceremony. Of Bucky bringing the rings to them, his ma’s old ring that Howard had cleaned up and engraved with their wedding date on it. Peggy’s father’s wedding band.
He wasn’t sure how he barely got the words I do our before Peggy was jumping on him to kiss him and Steve’s arms found a way around her frame to pick her up and kiss the life out of her.
The wedding they dreamed of and feared that they never had.
A life yet to come with many memories down the road.
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Alright, time to work on tying up loose ends ish. i think there’s like... 2 chapters left after this? idk, I’m still writing!
@petrichormeraki @helleborusangel
While most everyone wanted Grifter dead, the fact that he was the only way to free Xannes made them keep him alive. They did manage to get the Listener to let him out, but at the same time, he let his own family out as well before disappearing with them. Fortunately as they left, the world rolled back, undoing all the damage as well as leaving Grian rather grumpy that his hard work was gone.
Shortly after that, everyone had to keep Grian and Techno apart when the avian tried attacking him for being near Grum, who to Grian’s annoyance seemed perfectly fine around the warrior. He reluctantly accepted it, only to get piled on again as he tried to make a second nest.
Xannes hacked them all out of the castle, at least those he could. Kristen and Joe followed on their own a few moments later, everyone soon at the quartz mansion. Grian was immediately after as many blankets as he could obtain, Tommy laughing, but quickly helped out.
Kristen stayed for a bit, long enough to officially say hello to Grian once he was lucid enough, but stayed longer after Grum clung to her leg and refused to let go. Eventually she relented and got pulled into Grian’s blanket nest, Grum running off to drag Techno in next.
“So… how have you two been?” Kristen asked, before correcting herself. “Besides this whole mess that got me involved.”
“It’s been pretty pog since I found Grian. We didn’t even know we were related until, what? A week ago?”
“I’m sorry. I honestly had no clue.” Kristen apologized, but Grian shrugged.
“I don’t blame you. I ended up in a world that death didn’t seem to exist in, at least not really. People who died showed up as ghosts. So even if I did remember your job, I wouldn’t have blamed you there. Then there were the Watchers, and then apparently Zed’s been dealing with things in Hermitcraft. I- are you two related?”
“Yes, we’re siblings.” Kristen replied, shocking both Grian and Tommy.
Zedaph, who was nearby, stepped closer. “Why do you look so shocked? I thought you knew, or at the very least I thought Grian knew.”
“Is that why you acted so casual when you asked me to kill myself?!” Grian balked, making Kristen whip around to look at Zed.
“You asked him to what?!”
“It was for a game! I asked a number of hermits to see who could kill themselves the fastest for a prize! Honestly, I don’t see what the problem was since he started Demise a year later.”
“That was sort of my last shot to find anyone. I thought so much death would make Mum show up.”
“Well, as far as I know, she wasn’t even showing up for Phil after you left, so not like there was much hope there.” Tommy shrugged, though he said it in a joking manner. It still made Kristen frown before Tommy elbowed her. “Hey. It’s fine. I mean, we’re meeting you now and not before we found each other again, so that’s pretty pog too.”
As the two of them chatted, Grian managed to find some paper and ink and started putting together a quick family tree before handing it to Techno to fill in the blank of Fundy’s mom. “Alright, so Wil, Techno, Tommy and I are the kids of you and Phil. Wilbur’s got Fundy with someone named Sally?” Grian quickly looked to Techno who nodded. “Sally. Mumbo and I built Grum and Jrum, meanwhile Techno and Tommy don’t have any kids.”
“Yeah I’m still looking for the ladies.” Tommy jokingly boasted, getting some chuckles from those nearby.
“And I don’t see the point in relationships.”
“Aro, got it.”
“I prefer fireworks. I don’t need arrows.”
Grian stifled some chuckles before continuing. “You’re siblings with Zed, who’s currently with Impulse and Tango, which I’m not going to go further into for my own sanity. And then you and Dad are immortal or something, so who knows about your parents.”
Kristen nodded. “Good, but you’re forgetting your uncle.”
Grian showed off the chart. “What? No, I’ve got Zed there with Impulse and Tango. If you’re going with the misconception that Worm Man is related, I’ll have you know that Poultry Man has assured me that’s not the case. Plus Zedaph has an interview with Worm Man and they are definitely in the same place.”
Kristen half nodded. “Oh, I’m sure that’s very much the case. However, I’m talking about Phil’s brother.”
“Mum, I’m glad to meet you and everything, but could you have waited like another week to drop that on us too?” Tommy asked as Grian looked like he was on the edge of a breakdown.
“So, should I not mention he has-”
“Nope! Not now! And we’ll ask dad ourselves.”
“I was just a hermit a week ago. I was technically still an orphan. I had the hermits as a family. Now some of them are really my family. Why? Why? Why is this happening?”
“Okay G, time to go to bed.” Tommy said, pulling one of the blankets out of the nest and throwing it over Grian’s head, hoping the darkness would kick in Grian’s parrot brain and get him to calm down.
It was just at the right time too, because the door opened with Phil coming into the building. “How’s everyon- Kristen?!”
From there, all of the family currently in that world - other than Zedaph - ended up in Grian’s blanket nest. They chatted a bit before Kristen eventually had to leave, though she made sure to let all of them know how to call her if there was an emergency. Zedaph finally joined to take her place, getting glared at by Grum of all people. “You doing alright there?”
“I’m upset I didn’t know you were my uh… great uncle?”
“Grunkle has a better ring to it.” Zedaph smiled, but Grum just pouted and crossed his arms before being pulled into a hug from Grian. “But yeah, I’m sorry Grian. I can’t believe I never noticed you didn’t know.”
“No, it’s fine. I had a crazy enough story with my family growing up, what’s five more.”
“Five?” Phil asked, raising an eyebrow.
Grian started counting on his fingers. “Finding out that Tommy was my brother, the whole situation Techno caused, finding our Zedaph is related to me, finding out you’ve got a brother, and then Mum mentioning there was more to that.”
Phil sighed. “Oh, she told you about that? Okay first off, we’re half brothers, so that’s normally why he’s left out of things. Plus, he’s been doing his own thing for a while. I haven’t really heard from him since his letters about Minecrack.”
Grian paused, processing that new information before grabbing one of the blankets and screaming into it, Grum patting his dad on the back.
“Is he okay?” Phil asked, making Zedaph shake his head.
“Some of the hermits used to live there, so one of them might have met your brother. Sorry, half brother.”
“Ah, good to know.”
Grian slowly put the blanket down. “Okay, obviously talking is just making things worse. How about we all shut up for like… ten minutes while we still have some peace? I’m scared if we try much else, something else will come out of the woodwork and make things worse again.”
“Ugh, normally I’d hate not talking,” Tommy piped up with an agreeing groan. “But for once, you’ve got a point.”
“For once?!”
Tommy didn’t say anything else, just mimed zipping his lips up, locking them, and throwing away the key.
.
.
.
Grian woke up, glad it wasn’t from a nightmare. He, Tommy and Grum were the only ones left in the nest from before, but he smiled upon seeing the empty space had been given to Tommy’s friends. Ranboo seemed to have been dragged in based on his awkward position, likely by Tubbo and Michael who seemed much more comfortable.
Looking around, it didn’t seem anyone else was in the room, voices coming from elsewhere in the building. Grian carefully moved Grum closer to Tommy, the bot happily clinging to the teen instead. He then pulled himself out of the nest, doing his best not to wake anyone in the process.
He was glad to see everyone looked calm and nothing immediately seemed concerning. The closest thing was what looked like a living diamond walking around, but the fact that no one else was concerned made it less worrying. “So, who’s the new… person I think.”
Phil looked over to where Grian was standing now. “His name’s Skeppy. When the world got repaired, the people that weren’t already revived showed up. It also fixed my wings.” And he let one of them open up so Grian could see.
“Good to know. Nothing bad’s happened yet?” Grian asked, and Phil shook his head. “That’s good. Once Grum and Tommy are away, I’m going to be taking them home. I mean, unless Tommy wants to stay, because he might want to see people again, but Grum still needs repairs. Plus I need to talk with Mumbo about something I found out.”
“Anything bad?”
Grian shook his head. “Not necessarily, just something we need to be aware of.” Then Grian was quiet for a while before speaking up again. “You know, ever since I found it again, I’ve been taking care of the castle.”
“You mean… back in-?”
“Yeah. The place I grew up in has way too many bad memories attached. Evo’s gone and my building world is lonely. Hermitcraft is the closest thing I have to a home, but being able to take a break and go back there helps.”
Phil smiled. “Well, you’ll have to show me what you’ve done with the place.”
“Yeah.” Grian smiled. “I’ll try to visit with Tommy plenty. I’m sure you want to stay here now that it looks like things are calmed down. I’m sure you’ll want to visit us, or at least someone will, so I’ll look into that.”
“Just don’t go silent for eighteen years.” Phil joked, making Grian whack him in the back of his head with a wing.
From there, the two of them chatted, catching up. Both of them avoided the more unfavorable topics, which was a bit tricky, but they managed. At least they did for a while. “Hey… I’m sorry. I know I screwed up with Tommy.”
“Can we not talk about that?” Grian said, ruffling his feathers. “Enough has happened. I don’t want to talk about serious stuff right now.”
“Well who knows when we’ll get another chance.”
Grian sighed. “Fine, but I’m making it quick. Since you’re not going to be around, I’m just trusting you’ll maybe do better. I can check in any time I want, so just know if you screw up, there’s a good chance I’ll see it. There’s a good chance I’ll break down your door if I heard more stories from Tommy, but for like the next week or so, you’re safe. Is that good enough?”
Phil hesitated for a moment before responding. “Alright, sure.”
As soon as he responded, Grian went back to the other room, glad to see Tommy was awake. When Grian replayed the options to Tommy, the teen thought it over before deciding he would stay behind for a little bit at the very least. He didn’t want to disappear while Ranboo and Tubbo were both asleep. Grian made sure Tommy still had NPG’s old comm so that he could call for Grian to pick him up again.
Grian carefully picked Grum up, the bot clinging to his chest, then he opened a portal to take them home.
.
.
.
Grian was glad that the repairs ended up being mostly his job to fix. The redstone seemed unharmed, save for right near the trident wound and Grum’s buttons. Technically the buttons themselves were mainly aesthetic anyway, but some redstone was close by so they needed to be careful.
Once everything was fixed, they plugged Grum in to be safe and then Grian started explaining what he had learned. Mumbo was surprised and excused himself briefly to try contacting people for information. For the most part, he was able to get help, but in terms of whatever glitch the bots had, the information was too vague for anyone to get a good guess.
Grian got Xisuma to take a look, but unfortunately the admin couldn’t figure anything out. Neither could Xannes, but that was affected by NPG wanting to go home soon and check in his aerbunny.
With no other options, Grian was ready to use his Watcher magic, but he was quickly interrupted. Suddenly Grifter was there and threw himself into Grian’s arms, leaving the Watcher struggling to hold his double up before just dropping him. “What are you doing here?”
“Hiding?” Grifter answered innocently. “I kinda messed up, though Dad did too.”
“What did you do?” Grian growled as Grifter stood up and dusted himself off.
“Okay, so dad wanted me killing Nightmare. That’s cool, I did that. He just kinda let it slip his mind that he didn’t tell Punch. So now until Dad talks him down, I’m hiding here! Also watching for spies. Who knows where they could be hiding.”
Grian half groaned, half sighed. “How do I know you’re not going to destroy the place?”
“Uh, because that would make it obvious I’m here, duh. Look, just tell me what you want and I’ll do it. I mean, if it’s something other than leaving. I’m sticking here because if I get seen here, he’ll assume it’s just you. Wait, I’m going to need to get out of my new look. That’s no fun, I really like th-”
“Okay shut up for like five seconds. I don’t have the patience for this today. You said there was something of a glitch with my kids. Tell me what it is or fix it or something and you can stay for a bit. If you cause any trouble, you’re out though.”
“Oh yes of course!” Grifter responded, hugging Grian. “Okay, so the problem is kinda pretty simple. They aren't completely connected to this world so other data is being used to check where they’re from. If everything’s just within this world, it’s fine, but it fucks up their respawn if it’s not.”
“That’s… that’s it?”
“Yup! Just tell your admin and I’m sure he can- OH FUCK! Gimmie your bowwwww!” Grian suddenly started doing his best to climb Grian, having little luck with them being the same height. Grian did his best to keep his balance before seeing what exactly was freaking his hels copy. Nearby, a chicken had walked into view, and apparently that was the problem.
Grian gave a deadpan look before killing the chicken, which immediately calmed Grifter down. “You were scared… of a chicken?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I said he could be sending spies!”
“And… those are chickens?”
“Yes! Of course!” Grifter exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Grian wanted to sigh in exasperation, but then he realized that this was good news. If for some reason Grifter acted up, well, a certain hero could help save the day.
“Alright, maybe this might not be the safest place for you here, but you can stay.”
“Why? Why isn’t it safe? Are there lots of spies?”
“Oh, we have the worst one yet. His name is Poultry Man. Have you ever heard of him.”
“I have! I thought Xannes was lying! He’s really real?!” Grifter asked, trembling, making Grian have to hold in laughter.
“Well, he hasn’t been around for a while, but who knows? If - you said Punch? - if he’s looking for you, Poultry Man might show up.”
“Oh no! Do you have anything to stop him?”
Grian couldn’t help the sly smile that got onto his face. “Well…”
.
.
.
Grum watched as Mumbo looked through a bunch of books. He had gotten fixed up, but his daddy said there was still something they needed to figure out, so Dad was out doing that. But he had left a while ago and sitting in one place for a long time was getting boring. “Daddy, how much longer do I have to wait here?”
Mumbo jumped slightly before looking up from his book, which just made Grum frown. Obviously he had been forgotten about. “Um, well, I suppose that depends on what your dad does.”
“But I’ve just been sitting here for ages.” Grum crossed his arms.
“I know, but apparently there’s a bug in your system and until we can identify it, we want to keep you safe. You’ve already been through a lot, I’m sure you don’t want anything more happening.”
“But Daddy I-”
“Grum, this isn’t up for discussion.” Mumbo cut the bot off, who flinched back at the harsh tone. “I know. I don’t like it either. But sometimes the harder options are the better ones.”
Grum was quiet again, just thinking. Mumbo started to look at his book again, but then the bot spoke up once more. “Is it about Console? Or my chat in general?”
“What?” Mumbo looked back up, confused.
“Well, Jrum’s not here, so it has to be something that’s just me, correct? That would likely involve when the admin was using me as a console or the fact that I have gained a chat like Techno, Phil and, based on conversation, Dad.”
“Oh, you mean MFDD? At least I’m still pretty sure that’s what we said it was. I’d have to go digging for my old books again. And Grian might have them at this point.”
“What’s MFDD?” Grum asked, tilting his head.
“It’s the abbreviation for the condition we’re pretty sure Grian has. But it’s a condition that last I checked, was still in a sort of odd state, and I’ve been in Hermitcraft since school, so I’m not updated on it.” Mumbo glanced over to Grum, who just looked confused. “Right. Well, the simple version is that’s what the real name of your Dad’s ‘chat’ is. MFDD. But based on what he told me, that’s not what you have.”
“Oh. Wait, I don’t?” Grum asked, sounding worried and slightly panicked.
“Don’t worry, it’s fine. It’s nothing bad. I’m sure we’ll need to get it properly diagnosed, but the fact that you seem to have what’s like… multiple people in your mind and they can sometimes be in control, along with the fact that it happened after… stressful events. That all likely means it’s DID. Which essentially means you have multiple personalities.”
“And is that good or bad?”
Mumbo rubbed his mustache. “Well, I don’t think it’s necessarily good or bad in and of itself. I wish I knew more about this… In short, it’s at the very least not bad. Or at least not bad if you don’t let it be bad.”
“I still don’t understand.” Grum frowned, leaving Mumbo to try and figure out some other way to explain.
“Hmm… It’s. Uh… Well let’s see. Well it… no that wouldn’t make sense. It’s… Oh! So, when you’re building, say you make a house. And the house has a bunch of rooms. It’s all one house, but there are different rooms and um… well each one has its own person.” Grum nodded along, mostly understanding. “And well, you own the house even though others live there. Because you own the house, you’re in charge.”
“But sometimes I’m not. Like Console and Eyes decide to be in charge or I let them.”
“Well, sometimes something… happens. Like maybe you’re busy… cooking? And so if you’re doing that, someone else gets to be in charge. Or maybe you just want to… sit on the couch?”
Grum’s digital mustache twitched in thought before he nodded. “Okay, I think that makes sense.”
Mumbo nodded, turning back to his books before sighing, glad that what he made up on the spot worked.
“Mumbooooo! I’m back! I figured out what’s wrong! We need to take the boys to Xisuma!” Mumbo jumped from Grian arriving, then was confused to see two of him.
“Why is Grifter here?”
“Long story, it’s fine for now, we need Xisuma. Let’s go go go!”
Mumbo just stared for a moment before sighing and shrugging before going to get Jrum. It didn’t seem like anything bad was happening, so there was a fifty fifty shot it really was fine. Maybe less since there were two Grian’s involved, but it was something Mumbo came to expect with Grian in general.
#hermit!tommy au#hermit!tommy#hc x dsmp#grian#watcher!grian#grian xelqua#avian!Grian#tommyinnit#xisuma#xisumavoid#evil xisuma#mumza#mumza as death#zedaph#philza#technoblade#grumbot#hels!grian#mumbo jumbo
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I Found You
I have no excuses for this one except I’m a dirty dirty Overhaul fucker.
On the real though, this one was very loosely inspired from Yagami Yato’s plot lines for Dabi and Overhaul. These routes inspired the Underground and Dabi and Kai’s occupations, otherwise everything else was just me being a simp.
⤞ Pairing: tattooed!Reader x Former Villain!Chisaki Kai
⤞ Word Count: 16,850. Yes you read that right.
⤞ Warnings: language, arson, awkward questions, reader smokes, I shafted Dabi again and made him the best friend...again, slightly vivid gore, mentions of death, male masturbation, daddy kink, age difference, breeding kink (ish), dirty talk, dom!Kai,
I’m sorry this is so long. Just kidding, no I’m not. I love writing really long fics. Honestly, I’m trying to see how much I can push the boundaries of my writing and how long I can keep one idea conhesive and consistent and how much I can flesh out. Eventually these longer oneshots will be cross-posted to my AO3, I just really need to do my paper. Also Tropium Tattoos is pronounced as Tro-Pie-Um.
The color of fire always burns in accordance to temperature as well as the material that it’s burning. Watching the local Underground clinic slash orphanage burn not only red, but an almost ethereal green from the copper couplings and details of the building felt like an early Christmas warning—like the Underground was a target and the rest of the hidden city would soon follow by the holiday. That warning was only followed by disgust at the thought of someone feeling the need to go after a free clinic and orphanage in a city built out of a hollow sewer full of exiles for whatever fucking reason.
Your heart is an amalgam of aching and sorrow and anger as you watch the flames burst through the windows of the shoddy building from a safe distance. From where you stood outside of your tattoo parlor only two blocks down, you see a crowd beginning together. Much to your surprise, most of them were only kids with one adult herding them—a man you recognized to be the owner of the building currently meeting its demise.
The doctor of the clinic is as calm as ever, or rather trying to be, quietly attempting to do a headcount of his children. It seemed that concentration was alluding him, given the situation, because he swears up and down that he knows he has nine kids. Yet, he seemed to be unable to count past eight. He’s trying not to panic, but one of the kids speaks his greatest fear into fruition. “Daddy, Eri’s not here!” Golden eyes widen until the sclerae are fully round, pupils constricting in fear. This ‘Eri’ was special, you realize as you observe from a short distance away. The doctor is looking back at his children who are all in some form of tears and shambles then back at the burning building like a ferocious game of ping pong. Chisaki Kai can’t just leave his kids out here—not when he is almost certain that this attack was premeditated. But his daughter, his eldest daughter at that, was still inside potentially being engulfed by flames.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Your body moves without a second thought.
Your body moves, ignoring the screams from other bystanders for you not to go inside the burning clinic as you burst past the dilapidated red door. Upon entering, copper decor and steel support beams had fallen from the ceiling, sparking flames that were separating you from the stairwell that led up to the orphanage. There was no way you would be able to find this Eri person through the wreckage—not alone at least. Maybe your dumb quirk was good for something.
You didn’t even realize you had a quirk until the age of twenty when you had gotten your first tattoo. It wasn’t anything crazy—a traditional-style three-eyed wolf’s head on your arm—only to wake up the following morning with no soreness, no tenderness, and no ink on your body. The wolf laid beside you, curled up in your bed, somehow manifesting into real life. At first it was terrifying, of course, but after learning how to return the creature back to your body you realize it might not have been a total waste of money. Your quirk, something you jokingly called the Magic Pencil quirk in reference to a Spongebob Squarepants episode from your childhood, was officially registered through the government on the Surface as Life Canvas. Again, it was a pretty dumb quirk unless you knew just what to utilize. Now your body was littered with dozens of creatures, weapons, hell even a telephone just in case you might need it. But the wolf was your favorite, as it was your first, and he was just the one to call for in this situation. Activating your quirk, you pinch at the ink on your forearm until it begins to peel off before setting it down on the ground. The line work stands on its own before the ink fills out into a three-dimensional mass and a now recognizable creature.
“There’s a child somewhere here. Help me find them,” you implored your creation, cautiously climbing around the shambles while it did the same, though much nimbler than you. Fragments of the stairs were missing, some of railings were in flames—it was hard for you to get anywhere at the moment. A scream rips through the walls, a young girl you realize. She’s probably now seeing your large and somewhat creepy three-eyed wolf. Maneuvering carefully, you find spots that have yet to burn until you see a little girl cowering away from flames in her bedroom and away from your quirk. “Take my hand!” You try to scream, but the way building was going down was deafening. Instead, you cross a patch of fire to scoop the frail child in your arms and trapping the both of you behind a brazen wall of flames. Patting the wolf on the head, as if deflating it with your magical hands, it flattens back into a two dimensional drawing and returns to your body to grant you the ability to switch out to a manifestation that would prove to be more useful in this situation. You repeat the process, this time with a Phoenix from under your bosom that emerges just outside the window closest to the two of you. “Hold on tight,” you tell her as you pull her flush against your own body before smashing through glass to land the back of the Phoenix, covering her head to make sure the shards didn’t mar her skin. With a gentle descent, you place her feet first on the concrete with her family.
“Eri!” The doctor of the clinic calls out in relief, arms wrapping around his daughter tightly. Your lips purse in a small, tight smile before you’re off on your way again, riding off into the horizon on the back of your strange creature. And for a moment, Chisaki Kai is torn between going after you to thank you while Overhaul wants nothing more than cleanse his children and you for touching his precious daughter with a vile quirk. He settles on the former, golden eyes watching your back disappear into the dark cavern of the Underground city.
Weeks had passed since the fire burned down the orphanage clinic. Tabloids were published trying to figure out who the mysterious hero was, though most of the articles feared that an actual Hero was among the residents of the Underground. The Underground welcomes Heroes like the human body welcomes the plague—they tried to be eradicated and killed off. Not to say that quirks themselves weren’t welcome, no. It’s just that most of the residents were quirkless and those that did have one were all registered in a public database, separate from the government mandated one up on the Surface, so that quirk wielders were no secret.
All but you, anyway.
One of these well-known resident holders was Chisaki Kai. Quirk: Overhaul. Local doctor and caretaker of the orphaned, quirkless kids. Though, whether their powers had yet to manifest or he had removed them himself due to his vile distaste for the genetic mutation was unknown to the public.
Another was the leader of the Underground: Dabi. The Cremation user who was presently lounging in one of your dingy, beat up sofas of your tattoo shop. “You know, most of the people just want to know who you are,” he supplies, flipping through the most recent news article. Instantly, he knew it was you that had rescued the little girl from the burning building, knowing full well of your quirk regardless of how rarely you used it.
“And half of them want my head because they think I’m a Hero,” you spit the last word out as you finish tidying up your workspace. Your last client of the evening had just left, leaving you to close up shop while Dabi came to bother you as you did so. Not that you complained considering he had been a close friend for a long time. “Like I would ever be a Hero.” Heroes were the reason you and many others here in the Underground existed in this hidden sewer metropolis. Whether the Heroes had destroyed their livelihoods, their families or, in your case, accidentally killed your parents while you were still a teenager and you had nowhere to go, they were at fault for the creation of this cozy, dingy city.
“Says here that Eri wishes to personally thank you,” Dabi adds, turquoise eyes flickering in your direction as you stop at the mention of her name. “We could hold some little rally, get you a medal—“
“Dabi, no.”
“—or you could just stop by town hall with me. Overhaul and the kids have been staying there while the clinic gets rebuilt.” You mull his words over in your head while capping all your ink bottles and putting them away in their respective drawers. Dabi takes your silence as a gesture of you thinking, even more so as you aggressively sanitize your client chair. “Come on, [ name ], she’s just a kid.”
“Yeah, but I hate kids.”
“Then stop acting like one.” With that, the leader leaves your shop, bells tolling as he exits. You weren’t being childish, you internally bite, silently and stubbornly. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t want to just announce that the lone tattoo artist of the Underground had a quirk that the public didn’t know about. It wasn’t your fault that your body moved without thinking. And it certainly wasn’t your fault that you rescued the daughter of the most notorious quirk hater in the city.
Chisaki Kai was not quiet when it came for his distaste of quirks despite having one himself. Rumors floated all around the Underground that all of the children in his care had their quirks removed by his own hand, Eri included. What kind of monster did that? To his own child, no less. The thought made you sick to your stomach, only reaffirming your initial decision to not meet with Eri.
But thinking of her brings great sadness to you. She was merely a child—a child who probably didn’t understand her father’s distaste. A kid who just wanted to thank the woman who saved her and nothing else. A sigh passes your lips as you head up the stairs from your shop to your attached apartment, turning off the lights to Tropium Tattoos. It’s not fair to deny her, you think.
Maybe you’ll just sleep on it for now.
The following morning was quiet, as it was every morning in a city built out of a sewer. But eerily...too quiet. The sound of chirping nature and wildlife was a foreign concept now, especially years later. But there were no sound of bikes or clunky old cars passing by or arguing neighbors—if noise was present at all, it was in the form of faint crackling and crinkling of papier-mâché but somehow on a grander scale. It was new. There’s a grotesque smell in the air; a cross between a stale bonfire and rotting wood and warm smoke.
Oh no.
Oh fuck.
Panic fills your veins, throwing your nearly bare body out from under the covers. Ripping open your bedroom door and flying out the narrow entryway that led to the stairwell, you’re met with orange flames burning the wood of your staircase leading down to your shop. There’s no time for you to think about anything other than retreating back to your living room, to where the flames had yet to enter the threshold. Glancing out the large bay window behind your couch, you debate how steep of a drop it is from your second story down onto the cold pavement without sparing a second thought to how you could break your own fall. Contemplation wears down at your time to escape, you realize, as the fire is now entering your living space and burning brightly like a firework and catches onto the wooden console table in your entryway as well as the walls. Without another moment’s hesitation, you throw yourself through the window, bracing for impact from both the glass and the inevitable shattering of at least one bone.
“[ name ]?!” You hear Dabi yelling over the sound of collapsing support beams from the inside of the building. All that’s on your mind is pain—throbbing pain and an ear-splitting cry as you try to cradle your probably broken arm from the back alley of your shop. Dabi calls out your name again, running over towards you while still trying to be somewhat mindful of all the shards of glass in fear of accidentally kicking more in your direction. Between rapid breaths, a few heavy coughs escape your lungs, no doubt from smoke inhalation. “I got you,” he murmurs as he picks you up gingerly. Another groan leaves your lips—your whole body hurts and were you more coherent and not in shock, you probably would have realized sooner that you’d broken more than just your arm. “Find who did this and bring them to me,” Dabi snarls at the small squadron behind him attempting to put out the fire that was destroying your livelihood as he makes his way back to town hall.
It takes everything in Dabi’s body to not stamp his entire way back into his living quarters and the only reason he isn’t is because he’s carrying your busted body. This is the fourth fire in two weeks with no discernible pattern. All he knows is that it started with Overhaul’s clinic and now has somehow reached your quaint and quiet tattoo shop. As a leader, it makes Dabi want to tear his hair out. As a friend, he’s just pissed off.
He’s thankful you’ve passed out just so he doesn’t have to deal with you bitching about how gruff he’s being. Though, it certainly dawned on him that you had probably fallen unconscious from the sheer agonizing pain of breaking multiple bones simultaneously. He sets you down, far from gently, in the residential living room upstairs of the Town Hall building. “Overhaul!” He bellows out, not even caring if the children heard his angry tone right now.
“I told you to stop calling me that,” the doctor appears from around the corner, a clearly agitated look on his face, even beneath a simple black mask. The irony isn’t lost on Dabi despite his composure—he remembers once upon a time when Kai only went by the name of his quirk. Funny how years go by. “Her again?” Overhaul all but sneers, looking at your limp body that was covered only in a thin tee shirt and a pair of panties. Ignoring that little fact of seeing so much painted flesh, he notices the distinct smell of burnt wood and swelling under the skin where the breaks were. “What happened to her?”
“Someone set [ name ]’s tattoo shop and apartment on fire. She jumped out of a window to get out.” Dabi is absolutely seething, little sparks of blue flames leaving his nostrils as he lets out tufts of air. “Idiot had no idea how to break her fall and busted her shit. Can you help her?”
“I suppose that would make us even.” The doctor snarks back thoughtlessly, but he can’t help but wonder why you didn’t use your little quirk to save yourself as you had with Eri.
“Good. I’m gonna go find this fucker.” With that, Dabi storms out of the living room and out of the town hall building, leaving Kai with the woman that saved his daughter’s life. At least maybe now, Eri could say thank you like she had been asking to do. He could say thank you.
Chisaki adjusts you on the couch so that you’re entirely flat on the cushions, mindful of the glass that’s embedded in your skin. If anything, he should probably remove those first. With gloved hands, he picks out all the shards he can see with his golden eyes while his mind wanders as he looks at the lines and colors of the tattoos that covered your body. From neck to toe, there was ink on nearly every inch—even the one dragon-snake hybrid on your face that wrapped around your temple and cheekbone. Despite your [ hair color ] locks matting your skin, Overhaul found all of your tattoos rather intriguing to look at; almost as if it weren’t flesh because the contact wasn’t causing him to break out in hives. Like your body told a story without you even needing to speak.
After getting all the glass cleared up, Kai gently pushed on your arms and legs, checking for any signs of bones out of place from where they should be or cushioning and swelling to protect the damaged areas, outside of the very obvious ones that nearly looked like softballs. Two breaks in your femur, four in your ulna from what he could feel—nothing that Overhaul couldn’t fix. Though, he had to make sure that everything had set the way it was supposed to and that you were able to use your limbs after he did the repair. That meant he would actually have to speak to you, and he comes to the realization the two of you never actually had the chance to speak to each other before. Maybe he shouldn’t be as judgmental of the fact that you had a defect—maybe you were like him and abhorrent at the fact that you had a mutation to begin with.
After using his own quirk, Overhaul checks for a pulse on your neck with two fingers, making sure you at least had a heartbeat before patiently waiting for you to regain consciousness. In the meantime, he continues picking out the fragments of glass that escaped his initial sweep—a task made slightly easier when the shards caught the light contrasted the dark lines embedded in your dermis. For a brief second, you stir against his touch before your eyes snap open. “Holy fuck, what happened?” You all but howl when you come to. You let out a deep gasp for breath, suddenly aware of the dull throbbing in your arm and leg as you attempt to make sense of your surroundings.
“Can you tell me if this hurts?” The doctor to your left says evenly, emotionless even, as he holds your wrist between his thumb and middle finger, moving your arm in all sorts of ways. A sharp inhalation sucks in between your teeth as it twists in ways you weren’t sure it could before. A grimace touches his lips underneath is plain, black cloth mask—maybe he didn’t set the bones correctly? Overhaul lays your arm flat, ready to make his adjustments, but as his gloved fingers padded closer, you found yourself retreating further into the depths of the couch cushions.
“I-I’m good,” your words come rushing out, desperate to dodge his touch. Why did you wake up with Overhaul over you? Did he take your quirk away? You’d have to investigate further when you were alone, test it out in private. Ignoring the dull hums of pain coming from your arms and legs, you manage to sit up, slumping over your knees before you realized where you were. “Town hall?”
“Yes. Do you remember anything?” You shake your head—you remember waking up to smelling the smoke in your apartment. You remember the fire creeping up the stairwell and the way orange painted your once tan walls. You remember jumping out the window, but everything else after is met with a blank slate. “You broke your arm and legs in a few places—I reset them with my quirk.”
“Oh,” is all you have to say. “Uh, thank you.”
“Speaking of thank you,” Overhaul palms his knees before pushing off of them from the wooden stool he’s sitting on, standing at his full height and smoothing out his black dress shirt and slightly creased slacks. “My daughter would like to thank you for rescuing her a few weeks back.”
Dammit.
It wasn’t like you could just say no to Eri’s father when it was only the two of you—that would just make you look like an asshole or worse; he could just kill you and say you died in the fire. It was even more difficult to decline considering the young, silver-haired girl was peeking her head from behind a partition, wide-eyed when her dad mentioned her. With your own eyes softening at the sudden contact, you offer an awkward smile that you pray comes off as welcoming. Overhaul beckons her to come closer, holding one hand open until the young girl is tucked underneath his hip.
“U-Um, t-thank you for saving me,” a squeak spills past her dry lips before she runs out of the room as quickly as she came. You didn’t blame her. Even if Overhaul is her father, he gave off an intimidating air that surely would frighten any child. It made you wonder how such a man ran an orphanage. But to your surprise, Eri returned, though this time not alone. A flock of children was accompanying her, each of them with bright eyes and big smiles adorning their unique appearances.
“Thank you for saving our sister!” They chime in unison. The sight made your heart swell and soften, even if only slightly. Eri steps forward cautiously, pushing through her own trepidation as she stands before you and throws herself at you, hugging you tightly with arms around your neck in gratitude. As if triggering a domino effect, a few of the other children felt the need to express the same sentiment. An uncomfortable laugh bubbles past your lips as you awkwardly wrap your arms around the gaggle of kids—you may not like them, but you weren’t that much of an asshole to deny them a hug.
Kai’s typically hard, cold expression mellows at the sight. It’s heartwarming, he gave it that, but a part of him cannot stave off the tiny bubble of envy he feels seeing his children so ready to embrace you when they initially had such a hard time adjusting to life with him. He loved these kids—and it was quite clear you felt the opposite—so why hadn’t they gravitated towards him like they did you? Underneath his mask, he grimaced before internally shaking his head. They were his children, they loved Kai regardless and he knew that. “Alright kids, why don’t you go play and let [ name ] rest? It’s been a rough morning for her.” The use of your name shouldn’t have shocked you, or maybe it was fear that crawled up your spine at the doctor’s endearing tone. You weren’t aware that he knew who you were. The kids let out a collective groan before listening to their father and exiting the living room. As soon as each of their little, youthful heads is out of sight, you breathe out a sigh of relief.
“S-sorry,” you mumble out, suddenly reminding yourself that it was probably rude of you to make a sound as such and you wanted to make sure you did nothing to insult Overhaul to his face. A huge part of you felt that one wrong word out of your mouth meant the end of your quirk or your life.
“It’s alright, I know they can be a handful. Though, they seem to be quite taken with you.” His tone is still rather polite, you notice, and his voice is entirely different than what you’d thought it would be in a one on one interaction. You thought it would be deeper, as whispers and rumors of Chisaki Kai being an incredibly cruel, bitter man painted a different picture in your head. But the man standing before you looked every bit as broken as you felt on the inside—as if a part of him had an empty chasm residing in his chest that could not be filled by the nine children in his care.
“I can’t imagine why,” you reply.
“Neither can I,” he says without skipping a beat, his tone still airy and light. Before you can rebuttal with your quick wit, Dabi storms in with his eyes locked on to your now conscious body. Gesturing with his head, over exaggerating the folds of his damaged skin, he encourages you to follow him downstairs to the mayoral study. Silently, you sauntered off behind him, leaving Overhaul alone in the living room, while you could feel the internal flames burning within Dabi. Pissed didn’t even begin to describe the look on his face.
In the office, photographs of burnt down buildings, rubble, and the skeletal framework of Underground businesses were littered across the large, maple desk. All the while, the leader of the Underground was grumbling to himself repeatedly while tugging at his raven locks in frustration. Not only had someone burned down local businesses in the city, let alone a close friend’s business, but it seemed that someone was attacking his city from the inside. “I wasn’t able to save Tropium.” You offer no response, mostly because there isn’t one to have. You felt anguish over losing your home, sure, but knowing how hard Dabi worked to protect the Underground, you can’t quite imagine how he’s feeling.
Instead, you respond with, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I should be asking you that. Your home is gone, [ name ].” He had a valid point. Perhaps you could find a few local contractors and give them some work—it wasn’t like you didn’t have the money to spare. But that would probably take some time considering, from photo evidence, the place—all of them—was going to need to be built from the ashes. “Stay here while you figure it out. It’s the least I can do.”
“Don’t you already have Overhaul and the kids staying here?” Maybe Dabi didn’t notice the way your voice trembled as you spoke his name, even more so after having woken up to him by your side. But the thought of you, a quirk wielder that kept that little fact hidden from the public, temporarily boarding with a man who was vehemently against the abomination of quirks gave you severe anxiety. Additionally, there was the nine little children that also were a factor and the thought of one of them waking up in your temporary residence and intruding on what little privacy you would have—
“And?” Dabi asks, pulling you from your reverie. “[ name ], I know I don’t say this enough, but you’re one of my closest friends. I don’t feel right not giving you a place to sleep.” His quirk may be Cremation, but Dabi was a master manipulator when it came to pulling at your heartstrings whether or not he was aware of that. You let out a sigh of conceding, knowing you wouldn’t be able to argue your way out of this one.
“One condition, bud,” you hold up a single index finger, the black quill feather tattooed there standing erect, “find me some contractors to help rebuild all the buildings that were burned dow.”
“That’s gonna cost ya,” Dabi hums, as if contemplating. And he was, but rather in estimated cost as opposed to the proposal itself. Physical currency was a rarity in the Underground, as the city ran on a merit and bartering system. Real Surface money was only used for certain occupations. Realistically speaking, he knew money was no object to you considering the wealth, or rather hush money, you acquired from your parents’ death, so there had to be another reason. Knowing you as well as he did, it was probably the fact that the faster your homes were rebuilt, the less time you would have to spend sharing walls with Overhaul. Very smart, the leader mused. “You got a deal, doll.”
You lost count of the days that had gone by since you took over the project of rebuilding the structures that had gone down. While the orphanage project had already begun, you had hired two additional bodies to help the progress go faster so that Dabi could return to his duties without the addition of eleven more mouths to feed. Simultaneously, you had been at your own construction lot from metaphorical sunup to sundown, helping contribute and manage the two men that were hired for your location.
You weren’t avoiding Overhaul, you told Dabi repeatedly when he asked where you’d been all day.
This project was an opportunity for you to set up shop in a reimagined way—to be able to design both your studio space and your living space exactly to your tastes. It had sort of become your baby and you wanted to be as hands on as possible.
You weren’t avoiding Overhaul, you kept telling yourself.
Tropium’s new store front was stunning, albeit a bit ill-fitting with its new modern style in contrast to the Underground’s more rustic, steampunk look. But the charcoal grey stone walls with chunky white trim filled your heart with a sense of pride that your business would hopefully rise from the ashes much like that of the Phoenix tattooed under your bosom.
Currently, you were upstairs with the tiny team of contractors while going over the floor plan of your currently bare apartment. Given the space of the empty building, you managed to enlarge your rooms at the cost of downsizing your entryway and living room. It still felt homey and, with the addition of a small office that served as a spare bedroom, you figured on nights that Dabi hung out and didn’t feel like going home, he had a space too. After laying out the floor plan and going over schematics with the team, you ventured back downstairs to continue sanding down the counters for your studio space.
“So, this is where you’ve been spending your time?” Oxygen freezes in your throat as you’re met with Overhaul’s golden eyes and black mask. Albeit he wasn’t in his normal dress shirt and tie for once, but rather sporting an oversized hoodie and tight denim jeans.
“W-what are you doing here?” Is all you can say back. You aren’t sure if you’re moving or even breathing at this point. The pressure you feel from a man whose face is half-covered is terrifying—liquid gold was dull in comparison to the intimidating eyes of Chisaki Kai.
“Dabi told me about your little deal,” his voice rolls like honey straight from the dripper as he makes small flits toward you that subconsciously leave you retreating back up the stairs one step at time. A deep groan rumbles in his chest when he sees your reaction—not that he blames you in the slightest. Overhaul is more than aware of his notorious reputation both in the real world and in the Underground and is accepting of strangers’ reluctance to be around him. He knows he’s partially to blame for not trying to quell the stigma around him by formally introducing himself prior. maybe not being such a condescending jackass when he first officially met you would have helped as well.
But he can’t squash the little bouts of jealousy that filled him seeing his children flock to you like dragonflies in search of water that almost make him bask in your trepidation.
“Take a walk with me,” Overhaul adds, torn between offering you a gloved hand as a metaphorical olive branch or simply turning around to see if you follow. He opts for the latter merely for the fact that you’re covered in dust and paint from your days’ work. Bounding after him, you stuff your hands into the pockets of your loose overalls as you try to catch up while bearing in mind to keep a short distance between the two of you. The two-block walk is brief and silent as you end up at the construction site of the clinic. Perhaps your memory of the building you never visited beforehand was skewed, but it you were certain it was much larger now. “Feel free to look around. After all, you’re paying for this.” There’s a twinge of malice that paints his invitation that isn’t lost on you, but you decide to forego the welcoming regardless.
Passing through the threshold cautiously, you’re greeted with what looks to be a regular, two story home. The skeletal structure foreshadowed a kitchen, dining room, living space, and a hallway leading to two rooms. One staircase that lead to a basement, one that lead upstairs—it was strange to see the clinic become more of a home than anything else. “Where are you putting the clinic?” You ask meekly, careful not to touch. Just because Overhaul invited you to check out the specs, doesn’t mean he wanted your lingering fingerprints ingrained in his space.
“Basement. I figured it would be better for the children to have majority of the space.” A pregnant pause takes over the conversation once again, leaving you to roam around the new space in appreciation. A part of you was pleased with the work the contractors did for this family, a large part even, but there was a small nagging voice in your head that was still telling you to retreat back to your own project. “Why did you do it?”
“Do what?” A brief chuckle that is muffled by his mask dances on his lips. He’s not sure which of his theories he wants to start unraveling first. So he starts with the one he believes to be most ludicrous—the conspiracy that you or somebody you worked for was trying to take this children away, or Eri at the very least. If people on the Surface knew about her and her quirk, Kai doesn’t doubt a bounty would be on her head. But truth be told, he knew this seemed unlikely. You had never bothered to even engage with him or anyone else in his family until recently, despite having come to the Underground shortly after its establishment.
“Rescue my daughter, for starters.” Of course he starts with the question you don’t have an answer for. To which you can only respond with the truth—your body moved on your own when you saw the panic in his eyes. Also knowing he had to watch his eight other children and ensure their safety prompted your body to act automatically. “You used your quirk to save Eri, but not yourself. Why?” Your eyes narrow slightly in both suspicion and out of confusion. It was strange that Overhaul kept demanding answers and logic and reason for things you did as a knee jerk reaction. Considering you’d only discovered your quirk just before going to the Underground, it wasn’t exactly what you would call a natural reaction. Plus, weaving through danger for someone else wasn’t as simple as just running in and out of the building as it was to jump out your bay window. Judging by his silence, it seemed he accepted that answer. “And the contractors?”
“I just want all of our lives to go back to normal, including Dabi.” It wasn’t exactly a lie—rather just a short omission of the truth—and it wasn’t like you could tell him that you couldn’t stand living in such close proximity with him due to fear. But Overhaul had a knack for pinpointing a fib like a honeybee in search of something sweet.
“You’re lying,” he bites. You shake your head almost violently, as if the movement will deter your mouth from telling him the truth in its entirety. There was no way you could admit the fear he instilled in your bones or the anxiety you felt standing close enough for him to touch you. Sure, you may have felt that your quirk was less than impressive but that didn’t mean you wanted him to take it away or worse, your life. Knowing that he knew about it too, while the public didn’t which was a requirement for living in the Underground, only reaffirmed your worries. “Do you fear me?” Overhaul asks, making note of the way your fingers were trembling and way your eyes constantly averted his.
“Yes,” your voice comes out as a mere whisper, barely rising above the hammering and drilling of the construction workers. A part of you wished that your admission made you feel better—like it felt like a weight lifting off of your shoulder rather than making it feel like you were denying some greater truth—a part of you just wanted to run and hide and pretend this interaction wasn’t happening.
It shouldn’t have hurt Kai as much as it did to hear you say it out loud, considering you were nothing but a stranger. But you were a stranger that his children were so utterly enamored with and all he wanted was to understand. Yet, the feeling of disappointment is a dull thrum in his chest, long forgotten with a wide array of other emotions and coming only second to his envy. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, though the monotone voice almost sounds insincere.
Perhaps, his jealousy is misplaced, he thinks. His children may be drawn to you, but at least they didn’t tremble or wrack their bones with trepidation the way you do when you see him. If anything, his jealousy is replaced with empathy. Despite your clear distaste for youth, you got along swimmingly with his kids and they clearly wanted to be present with you. It must have been difficult for you to be near them, even more so considering you trembled in their father’s presence. The two of you stand in silence with you looking away pretending to soak in your surroundings of the plastered walls. Overhaul is observing your nervous ticks—the way your twitching fingers are exaggerated by the ink in your skin or the way your knee bounces impatiently along the hardwood.
“Daddy, daddy, daddy, come look at my roo—oh! [ name ] is here too!” Bounding down the unfinished staircase was one of the orphans in Overhaul’s care; Shura, if you remembered correctly.
“Just stopped by to see how the place was coming,” you offer in addition to a sheepish wave. Before you know it, Shura is grasping one of your hands with both of his while guiding you up the stairs.
“Come see our rooms, [ name ]!” Overhaul watches with curious eyes at the way one of his sons is so overzealous to include you in their little world. The appeal makes no sense to him—you were just a stranger with skin like a Monet painting that had made little to no effort for these children outside of rescuing Eri and allowing them to shower you in their affection.
Why did acknowledging that their enthusiasm to include you hurt Kai even more so, knowing you were afraid of him?
Trudging behind, Overhaul peers through the open doors upstairs to see each of his kids decorating their freshly painted walls. In Shura’s room, you were sitting on the floor with your arms wrapped around your knees while the little boy explained to you that he wanted his room to be decorated with narwhals. The excitement he had, and the knowledge of even knowing such a creature existed, was quite charming. “[ name ], are you gonna join us for dinner this time? Dabi says you’re always working, but daddy always makes you a plate just in case!” Your eyes glance over to Overhaul and his leisurely pose as he rests one arm on the door jamb. For a moment, your mouth open and closes repeatedly as you try to stutter out some semblance of an answer.
“Just in case,” the doctor adds, as if to add more pressure to his son’s convenient question. The golden orbs you normally deterred from swirled with an intensity that, much to your surprise, didn’t wrack your nerves like they normally did. It was as if they were filled with remorse rather their typical bitterness, maybe sympathy even, imploring you to consider Shura’s inquiry.
“I should go finish my work for today then so I can be home for dinner,” pushing yourself off of the freshly carpeted floor to stand. At some point while Shura was giving you the grand tour of his room, your legs had fallen asleep, causing your first step to hobble and throw you off balance and trip.
“Careful,” Overhaul chimes, bemused at the way you flail to recover from your stumble. To your surprise, he’s pushed himself off the door jamb, crossed through the threshold of Shura’s room, and has his arms locked underneath yours to keep you steady. “Drink some water before going back to work.”
“R-right,” you stutter out, hyper aware that his hands are touching you. He feels the way your tendons bunch together in your arms at the contact, even more so when your pupils lock into his. It untangles one more thread in his theories, one he figures he’ll push on later because it’s a theory just as farfetched as his last one. “I’ll, um, see you at dinner,” the last syllable rises in intonation as you squeak, flitting away and ignoring your numbed legs and blood burned cheeks. Meanwhile, Overhaul chuckles as he watches you scurry away, the blush painting your cheeks burning into his mind just as well. The way you moved was reminiscent of when he had reset your bones and the way you recoiled thereafter. But through thorough observation, he knew that reaction wasn’t fear this time around, no. Fear made you quiet, not nervous or jittery or force your pupils to dilate.
This was something else entirely.
Something else entirely to the point where Chisaki Kai is unsure if he even wants to entertain the possible theory that maybe, maybe, you’re the slightest bit infatuated with him.
“How nice of you to join us,” Dabi sneers teasingly when you set foot into the private entryway of town hall’s attached home. The makeshift family of ten is already seated at the extended dining table, an empty seat awaiting you on Dabi’s left with Overhaul on his right. Each of the children that you had come to be familiar with over the last few weeks had lit up like your presence was a treat—a strange feeling, considering you’d done the most to avoid being in the temporary residence.
“Go wash up, we’ll wait for you,” you had never seen Chisaki Kai without his mask, let alone heard his voice so clear. The angelic lilt rivaled expert fingers rimming crystal glasses, hypnotizing you to do as he said without so much as a fight. Entering your room, you immediately discard your dirty work clothes and shower hastily, scrubbing off flecks of dried paint and dust. In seven minutes and nineteen seconds, you’re out of your en suite bathroom and shucking on leggings and a long sleeve tee before joining everyone else at the dinner table.
To your surprise it felt quite...normal. Was this how families had dinner together? You were unsure, considering your parents had never been one to have the three of you gather together for a meal—they were always too busy working until the day they were killed nearly a decade ago.
It surprised you how natural the flow of conversation was, even with nine children ranging from ages four to seven. Even more to your shock, Dabi was more than willing to indulge the kids in their stories. But the creme de la creme was seeing maskless Overhaul smiling and laughing and attempting to get his kids to eat their vegetables. Was this the real Overhaul? Had his notoriety preceded him so greatly that you feared him for no reason at all? Your intuition tells you no and, perhaps, to some degree it’s right. There was still a dangerous air that encapsulated Chisaki Kai, but it wasn’t one that made you instantly retreat like touching a cake pan you’d recently pulled from the oven with a bare hand. If anything, it was alluring as opposed to intimidating.
The kids were so happy you finally joined them all at dinner. Rapid fire questions from any one or even two of them made you hesitate to answer but you did your best to keep your face even and amused. Children may not have been your favorite, but however the heck Overhaul was raising these ones, especially all nine of them, was truly wonderful. Throughout conversation, Shura and even shy little Eri had scrambled into your lap with each one of them taking a leg while the three of you ate. Initially, Kai had scolded them both, saying they were being rude to which you only shook your head and allowed them to stay, much to his surprise.
After dinner, the children cleared the table. Those that were able of the younger ones brought stacks of dishes to Eri and Shura whom were in the kitchen washing plates and silverware—their duties as the eldest of the nine. Dabi has pardoned himself after thanking the family for the meal to hole himself up in his office. According to the leader of the Underground, the investigative team was still working around the clock to unearth who was responsible for the fires. You had found yourself in the garden of Town Hall, tablet and digital pen in one hand with a cigarette in the other. Drawing was the only leisurely activity you indulged in when not working on rebuilding Tropium.
Typically, Dabi would join on you on these evenings with stacks of papers and a cigar between his lips as he bounced ideas off of you to figure out potential perpetrators. Needless to say, it surprised you when Overhaul enters the makeshift garden that was really just a manmade pond with lily pads and rose bushes aligning the sinkhole. “Hi,” you offer meekly, averting his gaze by keeping your own glued to your tablet screen.
“Hi,” he returns, twisting up a shapely brow at the cigarette between your index and middle finger. For a moment, he’s torn between asking what you’re working on or if you had any ideas to who burned down both of your homes or even how the rebuilding of Tropium was coming along. But he can tell by the way the filter of the cigarette squeezes between your fingers that you’re tense, that you can sense there’s a reason for his presence and decides to forego small talk. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” his voice is small and unsure and drastically different from the Overhaul you were used to. Nonetheless, his statement catches your attention and pulls it away from the screen of your tablet.
“I’m more afraid of what you can do,” you admit quietly, “I don’t want people knowing about my quirk. Dabi was the only one who knew and now your entire family knows and—“ you pause for second, hesitating on whether or not you should continue. But Overhaul was brave enough to tell you had what been bothering him, even if only a minuscule issue, you figure you owe him the same. “And I don’t want you to take it away.” The broken syllables leave your lips bare above a whisper, reaffirming at least one of the theories the doctor had about you. Of all the conspiracies, it made sense that this one was the most likely to explain your reactions to his presence, no matter how much he had hoped it to be some strange, magnetic attraction.
You had bought into the whispers of the Underground that said Chisaki Kai’s life mission was to overhaul the population and remove quirks.
Dejection fills his chest as he lets out a sigh. Maybe this was being too honest, his inner voice argues as it debates on his next words cautiously, but he feels the need to burn clean. “[ name ], what do you know about me?”
“That you were a Yakuza leader and you think quirks are a plague that need to be eradicated.” Overhaul closes his eyes languidly, peeling them back open at a snail’s pace while the warm, golden orbs stare off into the never-ending tunnels of the Underground.
“I became the leader of the Shie Hassaikai when I married my wife at twenty-three and took over for her ill father. It was a quirk marriage, but a happy one, nonetheless. At twenty five, my wife had Eri and while most children’s genetic code didn’t activate the gene for a quirk until a few years later, Eri was born with her quirk activated,” you listen deeply, soaking in every word leaving Overhaul’s maskless lips. His eyes drop down to stare at his gloved hands before burying his face in them for a moment to swallow his guilt quietly. “Eri can rewind time on living things and the first person she used it on—“
“—was her mother,” your voice barely vibrated past your lips as you made the connection. Bile rose in your throat, threatening to spill the contents of your gut not out of disgust, but rather an overwhelming surge of sorrow.
“I lost my wife when I was twenty-five. The rate that she was being rewound at was too much for her body to handle and I had to overhaul my own daughter at birth just to get her quirk to deactivate so she didn’t destroy everyone she touched,” had Chisaki Kai not come to terms with the truth a long time ago, he would have shed at least a single tear recounting these memories he had buried. Either that, or almost hurled recalling the way his wife’s body had imploded until chunks of skin and muscle tissue and blood ended up spewing all over his chest and face. There was a reason he constantly wore gloves and a mask—the smell of cooking carcass and burning meat never left him and the exaggerated mask stuffed with lavender was the only scent that eased him. “I was angry at the world for a long time.”
“I am so sorry, Over—“
“Kai,” he interrupts, “or Chisaki, at the very least. I don’t go by that name anymore.” After a bout of silence, Chisaki continues further. Eri never grew up with a mother or siblings and after things had gone south on the surface, he wanted to raise Eri in a place where people didn’t know the truth about her or the mother she never had the opportunity to meet. So he fled to the Underground with Dabi; he started helping tend to the ill and taking in quirkless children who had lost their parents on the Surface to Heroes.
In a moment of vulnerability, you felt the need to offer the olive branch and share your own story with this man after he bared his soul to you. And so, you tell him about the accident. How, while in pursuit of a villain, the small mom and pop diner that your parents frequented on Friday afternoons was accidentally set on fire by Endeavor and trapped and killed of the patrons inside. You were in your first year of high school at the time—fourteen and preparing for university until you realized you would need to work full time in order to continue paying the bills until the settlement from Endeavor came. University was down the drain. It took years for the dividends to be decided and the lawyer managed to get you a considerably high amount thanks to emotional damages, but riches and wealth would never quell the resentment you held towards the then number two pro Hero for being so reckless. That was nine years ago. Somewhere along the way, you’d met Dabi and he granted you a home and space to continue to hone the craft of tattoo artistry that you had picked up from working part time in a parlor, as recompense for his father killing yours. Though, you’d left that last little tidbit out, unsure if Kai knew of Dabi’s lineage. “I’ve been in the Underground for the last three years, give or take.”
You had always been rather indifferent to the concept of heroism until that day. Even more so when you had met Dabi—a man who was wanted and was supposed to be a villain. Yet he extended warmth and welcoming to you, offering you refuge in a new city he had created for the exiled and wandering.
The grey areas only widen with this conversation with Chisaki Kai. A notorious man, an infamous man, known for causing utter chaos on the Surface both as the leader of the Shie Hassaikai and as a super villain, was sitting across from you and sharing the most intimate moments of his life.
Maybe the concept of heroism was skewed to begin with, you think to yourself as you put out the cigarette in the ashtray in front of you. Maybe Dabi and Overhaul weren’t the real villains—only designed that way because of the way some omniscient creature in the stars that you couldn’t see.
“I remember when you first opened Tropium,” Chisaki hums bemusedly, “the children said you looked like a coloring book.” The only fitting response you have is laughter. Neither of you thought laughter would be something the two of you would indulge in together. But the way your cheeks cinch together at the corner of your eyes or the tufts of air leaving your nostrils in a short snort and the somehow smooth staccato of your chuckle sounds like holiday bells after the first snowfall. It was a peace that Chisaki Kai hadn’t known for some time now. It was a peace he didn’t know he needed, and it makes him wish that his magnetic attraction theory had some truth to it. “Your secret is safe with me,” he says finally after the laughter had died off.
“Thank you, Chisaki,”
You started coming home for dinner every night, figuring the two contractors didn’t need you there to micromanage them, until you stopped dropping into the worksite all together. With a full house, Dabi was out more frequently, preferring to be in the field to investigate the fires as much as he could. This left you with Chisaki and the kids more often than not. On occasion, you would run to the local market with Eri and Shura or had even done arts and crafts with some of the younger ones. As a sort of inside joke, you had bought each of the nine coloring books.
Currently, the kids were playing volleyball in the makeshift garden while you and Chisaki supervised. It was no longer tense between the two of you, a sort of bond forming since that one night. You should have seen the inevitable question coming. Though you more so imagined it would come from Dabi in the form of some snide comment with sexual implications regarding how close you and Overhaul had become. Never did you anticipate his oldest son asking, “[ name ], are you going to be adopting us? Are you going to be our new mom?”
“I-I—“ you were a deer in headlights and the question was a freight truck gunning in at ninety. Looking over at Chisaki for help, who seemed almost unwilling or at the very least unsure on how to, you shake your head before staring back at Shura’s big blue eyes. These children had begun carving a special place in your heart due to how they came to be in Chisaki’s care, sure, but you still had your reservations about kids in general. Not that the doctor blamed you—maternal instincts didn’t necessarily apply to every female. “I-I don’t wanna take you away from daddy, he works so hard to take care of you all and he does such a good job,” for a second, Shura’s expression becomes crestfallen.
“But we all like having you around, [ name ],”
“I’m not going anywhere, buddy, I promise,” the seven-year-old boy promptly wraps his arms around your neck, squeezing tightly as if you were going to dissipate into the air in front of his very eyes. Without hesitation, you hug back briefly before telling him his siblings were waiting for him to start the next set of volleyball. “Was that okay?” You ask quietly, looking over to the doctor. From underneath his mask, you can see the twists of pain coloring the dusty gold hues of his irises and the way his jaw tenses. When he remains quiet, you anxiously reach for an e-cigarette—a fruity one that wouldn’t alert the kids or burn Chisaki’s nostrils from the scent—and pull the tip to your lips. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that to Shura, you think as you exhale a large cloud of smoke.
But Overhaul’s stomach is twisting and churning, and he crosses his legs over the knee to squeeze his legs together tightly. He’s thankful for the black cloth mask that covers majority of his facial features as he bites his lip and his nostrils flair while he tries to control his breathing. Think of anything else, his mind snarls. Think of the days in the Shie Hassaikai, think of the children, think of literally anything but the way you called him “daddy” and how the blood rushed from his brain and straight to his dick at an alarming rate. It was so innocent—there was no reason Kai should even be thinking of it in any other way—but primal instincts were taking over, twisting into a delusion in his brain into hearing you repeatedly call him daddy while he fucked you from behind.
“Can you watch the kids?” Chisaki chokes out, standing up abruptly and fleeing inside the temporary home. He doesn’t even have the chance to hear you ask if he’s alright as he’s rushing upstairs to his en suite bathroom. Entering his room, he rips off every shred of fabric covering his body before turning on the shower to the coldest temperature he could tolerate. But there wasn’t enough cold water in the Underground or gruesome thoughts of his wife’s sudden death that could stave off the erection he was currently sporting. “Fuck!” He snarls out viciously, mind running rampant with salacious daydreams. Out of sheer need, Overhaul wraps one hand around his cock, the other bracing himself on the shower wall while the cold water runs down his spine.
Chisaki Kai is livid—raging over the fact that he is reduced to such actions over a simple word that he hears multiple times on a daily basis. It wasn’t that he was abhorrent at the thought of masturbation in the slightest—he was a human with natural human needs, after all—but this desperation that filled his gut and fueled his hard on was less than desirable. But he can’t stop the aching he feels to hold onto that blip of memory of you calling him daddy. He savors it like the first bite of a meal and indulges it in the same way he’s trying to coerce his own orgasm.
Throaty groans and grumbles wrack in Overhaul’s throat as he fists his angry, weeping cock, twisting and turning it as he prays for reprieve. It’s not enough; it’s not your mouth or any other oriface he would rather be shoving into, but the friction rubbing against his veins would have to be enough. He’s far from gracious at this point. Cupping and massaging his balls with one hand while thrusting into his enclosed other at ferocious speeds was all in the name of merely getting off. “Fuck,” he hisses out once again as he feels the very start of his orgasm. As much as his natural instinct is just telling him to sit back and enjoy the ride, his common sense tells him otherwise, tells him that he’s filthy for doing this and he doesn’t deserve to indulge in these thoughts.
But he needs that extra push to satiate his natural instinct.
Succumbing to his deeper, carnal desires, his imagination wanders back to you. With golden eyes screwed shut, he pretends it’s you he thrusting into, that it’s you stringing together languid profanities between your lips; that it’s you begging for daddy to fuck you harder.
That it’s you begging daddy to fill you up and make you into a mother.
“Oh, shit,” Chisaki is gasping for breath as he cums on the shower walls—the last thought to flood his mind serving to break the dam. He licks his lips and swallows hard, his skin becoming dry despite standing in the cold shower. After his ragged, uneven breathing returns to some semblance of normal, he peels his heavy lids open and stares at the fluid coating the shower wall. For a moment, shame washes over him because he feels pathetic and small. But the moment is brief before it was replaced with a dull burn of hunger that may never be quelled.
Pathetic, Kai thinks again as he scrubs his body clean, before exiting the arctic shower. Never before had he been in such a state, even at the ripe age of thirty-two, to masturbate to the mere thought of another person. Perhaps he was that touch-starved, all things considered.
He can’t bring himself to gaze at his reflection as he gets dressed. Adorning grey joggers and a red zip up hoodie, in addition to his usual mask and gloves, he maneuvers his way back to the makeshift garden where the children are still playing with together. But rather than you sitting alone at the patio table as you were, Dabi had joined you in the seat directly across from you.
Both of you were sporting matching cigarettes in your respective hands with matching distressed looks on your faces.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” you say in an almost indifferent tone, a departure from the way Kai had heard you in his mind seconds ago. It was a sentence typically accompanied with some sass, but your eyes were devoid of emotion at the moment. Cautiously, Chisaki took a seat beside you at the patio table, propping an elbow on the armrest closest to you before resting his temple on the same closed fist he had just used to beat himself off. You pay it no mind, how close he is to you, but rather put out your cigarette on the ashtray on the table as a courtesy to him. “Dabi,” your tone is thoughtful as you say your best friend’s name, making a hand gesture that signifies him to speak.
The leader of the Underground opens the manilla folder that was harboring the photos of both of your burnt down homes as well as the two other destroyed businesses. “It’s been a challenging investigation, but after eyewitness accounts and working with local law enforcement from the Surface, I’m pretty sure my bastard brother was behind this shit,” Dabi grits out.
“Brother?” Kai asks, confirming your suspicions of him being unaware of Dabi’s genealogy and family tree. To this, the leader pulls out a mug shot of Todoroki Shouto. The face wasn’t entirely familiar to Kai, save for the small resemblances to Dabi. Same jaw shape, same blue eye with the same dead look.
“Why us?” You ask, flipping the photo over. While it had been awhile since you had resided let alone visited the Surface, you knew that there was some rumors in the air about the start of a war, but what possible reason did Todoroki have for going after the Underground when everyone kept to themselves? For Chisaki, who ran a free clinic, and his children? What about you—why go after you?
Outside of Dabi, hadn’t the Todoroki family tortured you enough?
The city leader takes a deep breath, exhaling smoke as he extinguishes the dead cigarette on the ashtray. According to the patchwork man, Todoroki had confessed that he was selected for a covert mission from the Hero Association. The primary goal was to eradicate any and all quirk wielders within the Underground so they didn’t procreate further, so no overpowered quirks would mutate in the next generation of Underground born children. Overhaul lets out a scoff at the explanation—leave it to the Heroes to act so recklessly and selfishly.
If quirk mutation was the concern, only him and Eri would have been targeted, maybe Dabi as well. Probably Dabi as well. But they burned down Tropium Tattoos, the home of you whom had the legally registered quirk Life Canvas up on the Surface. They burned down a farm whose owner had a quirk that could manipulate light and sunshine—whose farm fed the patrons of the Underground. They burned down the house of the guy who had a weird magnet quirk. It sounds more useless than he actually is—Dabi ended up capitalizing on his manipulation of magnets to create magnetic elevators up to the surface for supply runs and other necessities.
This was about population control.
It was a form of genocide that Overhaul himself was all too familiar with.
“Well that’s fucked,” you sneer, reaching for one more cigarette, “the fuck is wrong with your family, dude, and why are they all trying to kill me and my family?” Chisaki turns his head in curiosity, no longer resting on his knuckles. The only time you had brought up your family, around him at least, was when Endeavor killed your parents—
Oh.
He pretends he doesn’t feel disappointment when he realizes you weren’t implying he and the children were your family.
“Why the hell do you think I left, [ name ]?” Chisaki almost feels as if he shouldn’t be present for this conversation; like it was meant to be private between the two of you. But he can’t bring himself to leave your side, not with the way anger is crinkling in the form of crow’s feet at the corner of your eyes. Dabi excuses himself after a long bout of silence, leaving you to stew in your bitterness while Overhaul directs the kids to wash up for dinner. You don’t realize all nine of them had left the garden until the doctor is standing over you, despite the small wisps of smoke billowing from your cigarette with a hand extended towards you to pull you from the patio chair. You’re sure to extinguish the stick, knowing how the smell often offended him before taking it.
“Why don’t you go rest inside for a minute and wash up while I make dinner?” He offers quietly as he pulls you to your feet. The entire time, Chisaki maintains eye contact, his golden orbs unwilling to break their trance with your form. But thanks to the distress and the rapid pace that your brain is moving, you aren’t even aware of your surroundings or the way Chisaki is just standing in front of you until you’re running into his broad chest. Instinctually, you recoil away from him. Not out of disgust or fear like before, but rather respect, knowing how he is about touch and physical contact.
“Sorry—“ his arms are nestling at your waist to keep you in close proximity and you’re suddenly reminded of the time your legs fell asleep at the orphanage and you had stumbled trying to walk. Chisaki had been there then too, holding you steady much like he was now. There was something drastically different to the scenario now compared to back then. The doctor didn’t shy away from the contact anymore, didn’t draw his hands back like he touched a freshly stoked lump of coal or break out into itchy hives. If anything, his gloved hands lingered just a little bit longer—too long even for Chisaki—before gingerly patting your head and retreating inside the home.
And maybe if you weren’t trying to process the fact that the Surface was attempting to start a war with the Underground, you would have dwelled more on the warmth and security coming from Kai. The poise he held coupled with the fire and desire in his eye would have been enough to reassure that everything was going to be alright.
Dabi never came back that night. Rather than leaving his head seat at the dining table empty, Chisaki sat to your left with his daughter filling his space temporarily. You sat directly across from Eri, the girl who was once too timid to thank you now smiled brightly every time you looked at her. Other than your best friend’s absence, dinner was relatively average. Conversation went on as normal, sharing laughter and smiles between all of you—it was a nice delusion that for a moment, you were all a complete family and you weren’t so enrapt with the heartbreak of knowing these ten humans were targets to the surface.
The children cleared the table as they always did, but rather than having the two oldest do the dishes, you offered to clean up instead. “Why don’t you kids gather up in the living room and have daddy put on a movie for you?” Clearly excited from the reprieve of duty, the orphans all head off, touting something along the lines of Frozen versus Tangled. But your back is already turned away from the family, getting started on putting away leftovers and scraping away scraps on plates and entirely missing the way Kai’s eyes drain from gold to a murky mustard. It misses the way his jaw clenches tightly as he settles the debate for his children, turning on Tangled—the clearly more superior film—before he returns to the kitchen.
The sleeves of your ragline tee are pushed above your elbows as you hum an unknown hymn, unaware of Kai stepping cautiously toward you. Despite having just eaten, the doctor is filled with a renewed hunger entirely as his grip finds limp purchase on your hips much like they had before dinner. “You know, I think we need to have a talk about you calling me ‘daddy’ in front of the children,” he murmurs hotly against the shell of your ear, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. Your blood is torn between running cold from the predatory drawl in his words and boiling from the sudden close contact.
“I-I’m sorry, should I stop?” Kai licks his lips before running his teeth behind your ear and down your neck, suckling on the flesh as he mumbles a response.
“Do you want to?” You contemplate his question in full, though it proves to be a challenge with the way he’s pressing warm, open mouth kisses to your neck and shoulder and the way his hands are kneading at your hips. “Are you afraid of me, sweetheart?” He asks again, his voice a low grumble yet somehow is louder than thunder as it isn’t hidden behind a mask. Had this been months ago when he had asked you an identical question when you were perusing the reconstruction of the orphanage, you would have said yes again. But this wasn’t fear—fear wasn’t a word you associated with Chisaki Kai anymore.
Warmth. Strength. Dedication. Resolve.
Love.
Those were the words you associated with him now.
“No,” you finally respond, shutting off the water before turning to face him. It was a rare, momentous occasion when you got to gaze upon his bare face outside of having meals together. His golden eyes swirl with elation, even more so as your painted fingers brush stray locks that fallen just over his brows. Despite a rather simple appearance, especially in comparison to yours, there’s something elegantly charming about Chisaki Kai that had never gotten the full appreciation he deserved.
Tentatively, you nudge him closer to you from the back of his neck until your lips are pressed against his. For you, it’s an experiment just to feel him in such a manner. For Kai, it’s torture in every sense of the word because it’s a tease after all of the salacious thoughts that have marred his imagination. Taking a leap of faith, his arms tighten around your waist, pulling your body flush against his because right now there isn’t enough contact in the world that would satisfy him.
The once delicate, experimental kiss becomes hungrier at his hand as he’s exploring your mouth with tongue, groaning as he does so. The scent of smoke and fresh cotton wafts into his nostrils between his sharp intakes of breath as he refuses to break contact. It’s as if he’s trying to commit the moment to memory, to burn it into his brain.
As if this was never going to happen ever again.
“Kai,” you whimper out his name, his true name, between pants of breathlessness for the first time. Just as gingerly as before, your fingers are cradling the man before you by the temples. You’re gazing at him fully, unabashedly, as you run a thumb just below his distinct lower lashes. Chisaki’s head dips a bit further into your brief touch before you skip away from him.
“Wait, where do you think you’re going?”
“Come on, let’s go watch the movie with the kids,” you chime, holding a hand out to him as if he didn’t just have you all but pinned to the kitchen sink.
“I was serious when I said we needed to have a talk.” Despite his verbal protest, he takes your hand in his, trailing behind as you saunter off towards the living room where the children are fully invested in the film. Plopping down on an empty space on the couch, you bring Kai with you until he’s nearly resting on top of you. For a moment, he releases your hand, opting to wrap an arm around you to pull you closer. “Back to avoiding me, angel?” The doctor grumbles into your ear, low enough so as not to alert the little ones.
“Figured it would be better to not risk being interrupted,” you whisper back, smirk twisting your lips. Chisaki’s licks his own dry plains, tugging you even closer so that you’re sitting on one of his thighs instead. That predatory miasma that surrounds him on a day to day basis is seeping out of him tenfold, but intimidation when it came to Kai was now a foreign concept to you. It brought back that same seductively dangerous feeling you’d felt the first time you had dinner with the family or, thinking back further, to when you went to scope out the renovations. A part of you wonders if that fear you once had was displaced as soon as you knew he was going to keep your quirk a secret. Displaced with an attraction to him that was easily confused with fear.
A part of you wonders if you ever really did fear him at all.
Maybe you didn’t.
Your mindless thoughts wander to anything other than the screen, casually leaning back so that your head settled on Kai’s clavicle. The doctor looks down at you with a curiosity that is replaced with a warmth that temporarily quelled his lust. As much as he had been fighting his day dreams of fucking you, having you in his arms surrounded by his kids stoked a different fire inside him.
He didn’t want this domestic moment to end.
He hopes that desire translates into the simple gesture of his lips pressing into your hair.
Chisaki Kai was finally caving into his wants and being honest with himself. He doesn’t want this makeshift family to go back to normal when you finally returned to Tropium or when his family returns to the Underground clinic. There isn’t a single cell in his body that believes having you in his lap and curled into his chest feels anything other than right. He’s overwhelmed with the idea, the fantasy, of you moving in and being with the family. Your family—in the collective sense—with Kai by your side with your nine orphans.
During the lantern scene of the film, he presses another kiss where the roots of your hair meet your forehead, lips lingering a little longer than normal. In response, you look up at him curiously to find his muted golden eyes staring right at you. There was a plethora of different things that Chisaki wanted to say to you, especially with the way you look so heavenly in his arms. But he settles with the murmur of, “I don’t want things to go back to normal.”
��Neither do I,” you whisper, gracefully accepting the way Kai’s lips mould over yours almost lovingly. In a sense, it’s your way of finally admitting to yourself the feelings that worked and wriggled their way into your chest. The thought of returning to your lonely little two-bedroom apartment by yourself just seemed daunting now, despite the initial rush to get to work on the remodel. No more waking up to bright eyes at the table for breakfast or coloring with the kids; no more having Kai cook a delectable meal or having him accompany you in the garden for a smoke. It broke your heart just thinking about all you would be missing out on when life returned to somewhat normal, war aside.
The doctor sucks gingerly on your lower lip, nipping slightly with his canines as his tongue wholeheartedly dances with yours. The kiss is full of longing and desire and it made his brain go fuzzy with strange thoughts. A part of him can’t remember ever feeling this recurring surge of wanton lust and infatuation when Kai would kiss his wife and, in regular circumstances, he would have felt guilt over it. But this warm, wet entanglement of your tongues is more loving than he was accustomed to and it excited him. Than you were even accustomed to.
“So stay with me, sweetheart,” the nickname he’s given you sounds almost patronizing. But the admiration that seems to be laced in with it sends a shiver down your spine and leaves the hairs on your arms standing at full attention as the film comes to an end. “Time for bed, children. We’ll be by in a little bit to check on you,” Chisaki calls out to his protesting kids, though making no motion to move from his planted position on the sofa. When he’s certain that all nine of them are out of earshot, he adjusts you in his lap so that both of your legs are draped over his thighs. You call out his name, pulling him from his thoughts that take him far away from the present.
“You said you wanted to talk,” you remind him. A part of you is afraid to start conversation because you aren’t sure what direction he wants to take this. Chisaki could have an entirely different meaning of returning to normal than you, but for you...
You didn’t want to wake up every morning without him being nearby. In the rawest form, that was the only way you could piece it together into a coherent thought. But even more than that, you felt as if there was so much more you wanted to see from Chisaki Kai. He was becoming more open with touch, no longer breaking out into hives when he touched others and even going so far as to hold you, albeit very languidly as he was now. Another part of you wanted to know if he would be beside you when it came to the impending war with the Surface.
Mostly, you just wanted to know if he wanted to be by your side too, even if logic wanted to tell you this was a bad idea.
“Will you stay? With me?” Kai implores quietly. His eyes are locked with yours, the gold shining brighter than ever.
“You say this after I renovate our homes?” A short, lighthearted scoff leaves his lung in lieu of laughter at your attempt of a joke. Because, despite him echoing your own deeper, innermost thoughts, a part of you refused to believe this was reality. As if reality was actually playing a prank on you.
Of course he had thought of that little fact. It was the longing desire he felt in his bones to have your presence that he hadn’t taken into account, but that need burning at the pit of his stomach had outweighed any semblance of logic that urged him to keep his thoughts to himself.
“The kids will grow up eventually and need their own space away from the orphanage. We could always save it for them.”
Answers you were expecting from Chisaki Kai: not that.
Had he invested that much into the idea? To the point where he planned on you still being a part of the orphan’s lives until they were adults?
“‘We’?” You ask. “And what if “we” don’t work, have you considered that?”
“No,” Kai’s voice is clear and calm as ever, exuding the very confidence that once made you tremble, “I want you in every sense of the word. I’ve already said my vows and had my shot at forever. I want that sort of permanence with you and I know that some part of you wants me too.” At a loss for words, you opt to brush the backs of your nails along his cheeks endearingly, trailing them down until your hands find purchase around his neck to bring him close enough that you can feel his lashes tickle your cheekbones. The silence between the two of you was deafening and damning, yet welcoming as it’s broken with him pressing his lips fully against yours.
For a moment, it feels as if the hunger stirring within his gut is satiated—satisfied with the even the tender, loving gesture of pulling you closer still until you’re straddling his lap. As if you were trying to fuse your bodies together because there was no such thing as too much physical contact right now. Kai encircles your waist with his arms, hoisting you up as he motions to stand and causing you to wrap your legs around his midsection. You don’t ask where you’re going; partially because your tongue is too busy just indulging in a private dance with his, partially because it doesn’t matter where he takes you. You’d go with him anywhere, no questions asked.
It’s a challenge and a half maneuvering up the stairs with you anchored around him so tightly—even more so that with every step he took ended up grinding your pelvis along his ever-growing erection. Kai felt liberated this time around, shamelessly rubbing against you this time rather than scurrying off for a cold shower and a five-minute session with his hand. Your eyes open as he unceremoniously tosses you onto the plush blanket of your borrowed bed. Immediately, you’re greeted with the sight of Chisaki Kai hastily shredding off his tee shirt and lounge pants, leaving the doctor in strained boxer briefs.
Briefly, you’re blown away by the sheer beauty of him—like a statue of Adonis come to fruition before your eyes. Even with the uncomfortable twinge in his golden orbs from your unnerving gaze. It was different, to say the least, to have you gawking at him with such adoration when he felt he was the only one doing so. “C’mere,” your voice comes out as a near broken whimper, a call to which Kai heeds graciously. The bed dips as he kneels at the edge, crawling closer until he’s hovering above you. Gingerly, your fingers trace over the smooth skin of his cheeks, tracing down his lips and neck until they ghost over his collarbones.
“Sweetheart,” Kai groans out, snatching your hand in his as it continues to trail further down his bare skin. “As much as I want to bask in the romance of all of this, you called me ‘daddy’ earlier, and I think it’s time you suffer the consequences.”
“Yeah?” You sneer sardonically, pushing into your elbows until you’re both touching nose to nose. “Like it when I call you that?” His breath is hot as it fans over your features, the wanton lust tangled within the golden hues of his irises becoming overwhelmed with feral desire. Kai’s hand that isn’t supporting him over you grips tightly at your baggy tee, pulling harshly to tear at the fabric keeping your bare body from him. For a moment, his breath becomes caged in his chest upon seeing your semi-nude form for the first time. But the moment is flitting as he’s reminded of his aching, hard cock twitching underneath his undergarments.
“Hands and knees, baby,” the slow, torturous movement you give in reply grates at Kai’s nerves, prompting a resounding smack to the ass of your joggers the moment your bottom is visible to him. “Daddy’s already impatient, dear,”
“And what’s Daddy going to do about that?”
Similar to the treatment he gave your shirt earlier, Kai dug his fingers into the waistband of your joggers. Though he did not have nearly as much luck tearing off the thicker material, the gruff motion is enough to expose you, leaving your bare, pulsing core in plain sight while the cloth gathered at your knees. His chest presses against your back, his skin searing hotter than hellfire, as he places languid kisses along your shoulder. “I promise, I’ll spoil you with attention later. But right now, I need you,” his voice is something reminiscent of begging, only amplified by his suddenly bare cock dancing along your slit and smearing pre-cum along it before cautiously slipping the head in.
Throaty groans leave both of your lungs simultaneously. Kai swears up and down that this was heaven manifested into reality. Part of him thinks this is all a dream, the way your walls are squeezing him to tightly as he pushes in centimeter by centimeter. “K-Kai,” you whimper. The calling of his name awakens something gutturally primal within him.
“Uh uh,” the doctor tuts, ceasing his movements. “What’s my name, baby?” In lieu of a response, only pants of shortened breath escape your slackened jaw. There was no way Chisaki Kai was human, you decided. Not with the way his words sent every cell in your body into overdrive or the way his fat girth stretched you so deliciously without even entirely plunging his engorged cock. Not with how, despite his notoriety once proceeding him, he was often blatantly honest with you and certainly not with how utterly enamored he was with you and vice versa. “Say my name, baby, and I’ll give you a reward,”
“D-daddy, please,” you whisper in between breaths. Abiding by his word, Kai works his thick length into you, albeit still slowly, until your bones presses into his pubis and his whole cock carefully bottoms out inside you. His right hand trails up your tummy and dances along the skin of your sternum until his fingers encase your throat gingerly. Keeping still within you, the doctor tugs at your throat until you’re only resting on your spread knees as his lips ghost along the outer shell of your ear while he gives slow, deep, steady thrusts.
“You like having daddy’s fat fucking cock in you, angel? Feel so fucking good around me, yes you do,”
A real poet, Kai was.
Turning your head to face him, your fingers lace themselves in his messy locks and pull his lips to yours in a kiss that is entirely devoid of lust. He can bring the heat all he wants—it was your mission to make sure he understood that you wanted him in more than just sex. Even if the slow torturous withdrawing of his cock was absolutely divine.
And he felt it too. Even with his hand delicately cupping your throat or the way his pelvis greets your plump ass with every thrust or the way your wet walls clench on him as if trying to expel his cock from inside of you. Kai can feel it in the way your nails are digging into the flesh of his arms or in the tufts of breath that leaves your nostrils because he leaves you absolutely breathless. He feels the love, and he wants to bask in it.
Now that he’d quelled his hunger slightly, Chisaki pulls away from your endearing lip lock while simultaneously withdrawing his length from you. A small whimper leaves your lips at the loss before Kai turns you over, pressing your back against the mattress and sliding home once again. The passion and intimacy he feels is overwhelming, boiling his skin through every pore as he bears weight on one arm while the other caresses your cheek. “I meant it, you know,” the murmur dances like air along your own lips, warm breath inviting. “I want you in every possible way. I want to wake up next to you in the morning, experience every season that doesn’t pass for us in the Underground with you.”
“Kai...” in return, you seal you mouth along his, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer and coaxing him to move. Slow and steady, he withdraws himself from within you before snapping his hips once again until he’s fully sheathed. Each thrust feels like thunder. “M-more,” you choke out, breaking apart your kiss momentarily to beg. His focus shifts down to where you’re connected—where each vein of his throbbing erection greets and becomes acclimated for every crevice within your cavern. Angling his hips along with your own with the assistance of his hand, he manages to welcome that spongy weakness that makes your knees buckle and regurgitate a scream in response.
“Right there, princess?”
“P-please!” The hand under the small of your back moves to hook around your knee, it’s twin mimicking the gesture and leaving you entirely at the mercy of Overhaul whose mission at the moment is to rearrange your insides in an entirely different sense. Pinning your knees to the bed, Kai is at the perfect angle to ram into your g-spot over and over at a rapid, even pace until you’re clenching around him deliciously, silently coercing his orgasm. “Oh my fucking god,”
“Mm, you’re so tight, baby. Ya gonna cum? Gonna cum nice and hard for me? Cum for daddy,” his words are almost enough—almost. And it was as if he knew the filthy, slopping sound of his cock reaming you wasn’t enough. Though whether enough for you or him remained a mystery, his thrusts are becoming erratic as he’s panting and grunting an unabashedly as he chases his release and oxygen. “I love you,” Kai’s voice is broken, “love you so much, just wanna fill you up over and over until your body only knows the taste of me.” And you aren’t sure if it’s his nasty, vile words or the way he is utterly knocking away at your g-spot that is causing you to convulse around him—that brings you over the final hurdle and over the dam. Screams rip past your lungs as your back arches as much as it can from it’s confines while your fingers twitch out of necessity to grip something—anything.
You’re granted no reprieve in that regard, but it matters not with the way Kai is still smacking his hips into yours, dragging out your orgasm even longer while in pursuit for his own. There is no amount of physical contact in this moment that is enough for him, even as he slats his lips over yours and slides his tongue inside your mouth to greet yours. Hips beginning to stutter, Kai is fighting every fiber in his soul—torn between the dichotomy of wanting to cum and stave off his orgasm because he wants to feel the welcoming, convulsing walls of your pussy forever. And though you’d already came at least once, the pressure was building again rapidly from the stimulation of the uneven rhythm of Kai’s hips. Part of you is thankful his tongue is hungrily dancing with yours to keep your screams muted so as not to wake the children down the hall. But the rumbling in his chest from his own throaty groans become overwhelming, forcing him to break away to and let his grunts and slew of curses fly from his mouth freely.
“I love you, Kai,” the moans are just as bad coming from you, but those four words coming from your lips are what do the aforementioned man in. And he can tell there is no lie dripping from a silver tongue here—you mean every ounce of these four little words. For everything that is Chisaki Kai—the former Yakuza leader, the former villain, the doctor, the father—you loved the man before you.
“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna cum,” he wails, the rhythm of his cock head tamping against your womb matching the pacing of his broken speech, “daddy’s gonna cum so fucking deep in you, gonna make you mine forever, angel.” Another hissed out string of profanities pass through as his dick twitches almost violently, shooting out ropes of seed and painting your walls white. You can tell he meant what he said, even in his lustful spew, by the way he leaves his softening erection inside of your spasming cunt and sealing his emission inside until he was almost certain his claim held permanence.
“I meant it too,” you mumble into Kai’s sweaty neck as he collapses on top of you. Though he’s boneless at the moment, having spent all of his energy, you feel the breath of his questioning grunt beside your ear before his face is attempting to look at you while half buried in your pillow. Gingerly, he removes his now flaccid member from you, adjusting himself so that his form molds around you and wraps his arm securely around your stomach.
“You know,” Kai starts off slowly. The rich timber of his voice is thick with exhaust but is warm and welcoming all the same. “I was jealous before.”
“Jealous? Of what?”
“My children love you—a woman who was nothing but a stranger who doesn’t even like kids. They warmed up to you so easily, much easier than they did with me,” there’s a brief pause between his statements, causing you to adjust under his grasp until you’re touching nose to nose with the doctor. His eyes are closed for a moment, his long and feathery lashes greeting the tops of his delicate cheekbones. “So I tried to understand. Tried to figure just why they gravitated towards you.”
“And what did you find?” Peeling back his eyelids, Kai’s rich amber eyes bore into your own. Irises swirling with admiration before the view is flooded with a sudden closeness and the press of his plush lips against yours in the most loving fashion.
Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how to answer.
He had found determination and independence, qualities of a strong woman that his daughters looked up to. Free and proud and brave, he thinks, are the reasons his sons admired you. But there’s something more. There’s a love and warmth that you bring to the family, yet a sternness that doesn’t allow them to run rampant (not that they would under Overhaul’s upbringings) that spoke so motherly to each of his nine children. And somewhere along the way for the last six months that the Clinic had been under remodel, Kai found himself gravitating to all of those exact qualities in you, the envy transforming into an admiration of his own. It was an error in his initial magnetic attraction conspiracy theory; he thought that your fear had changed to attraction when it was his all along.
But Kai’s not always the greatest with words, and the thought of spilling his deepest thoughts of you seems a daunting task that he’d rather replace with kissing you instead. Considering you asked a question, however, he did feel the need to respond with something—anything.
“I found you.”
“Honey, I can still help, you know,” you whine for the umpteenth time, folding your arms over your chest as you stand in the mayoral office of Dabi with your partner. It’s been a year since Todoroki Shouto had burned down Tropium Tattoos and the Underground Clinic and tonight was finally the night that the Underground had planned on mobilizing their forces. It had taken a full year of investigating, planning, building alliances with those on the Surface, and patience for the citizens to finally strike back.
Enough was enough.
All of you had been exiled at one point or another, but now the Surface was trying to exterminate all of you.
“Angel, no,” Kai chides sternly, igniting the twitch on the leader’s face. Granted it had been six months since you and Kai had first declared this little relationship of yours and, as your best friend, Dabi was still slightly hesitant on the idea. Not that his opinion had much weight considering—
“Kai, I am only three months along. I can still fight!”
“Hell no,”
“Absolutely not,” both men snark simultaneously. Best friend or not, personal opinion aside, there was no way in the ninth circle of hell that Dabi was going to let you go to war while you were pregnant. And with Kai being the father, the chances of you getting your way in this moment with him were even slimmer. The doctor pinches the bridge of his nose underneath his black cloth mask with his thumb and middle finger before letting out an annoyed rift of air. “Dabi, I’m gonna take [ name ] home before we go over invasion plans. Do you mind?”
“Nah,” the leader waves his purple and nude hands in dismissal, “besides, we should wait for Hawks to get here before we start all that.” With that, Kai grabs your wrist with his gloved hand and drags you away from the office. He knows you want to fight, and he knows you want to protect your family—all eleven with himself and the embryo included. But as a father with another—biological—one on the way, Chisaki Kai just can’t bring himself to allow you to put yourself in harm’s way.
“Sweetheart,” he calls out, stopping just outside of the currently closed Tropium. The grey and white building looked crisp and clean and everything you wanted it to be but you often found yourself closing up shop early and coming in late to spend more time with your nine children at home. At the very least, you were grateful that your parlor was only a block or two away from the clinic. “I need you here where you can keep our children safe in case anyone slips through the cracks.” Even with his mask on, you can tell that Kai is trembling ever so slightly. The thought of someone making their way into his home and hurting his kids, hurting you, was enough to unleash the beast within.
“I know,” you respond quietly. Using his grip on you to your advantage, you pull the doctor towards you until he’s towering over you and looking down directly into your eyes. “But you know me, always ready to jump headfirst into the fire,” his amber eyes soften, thinking back to a year ago when you had saved Eri from the burning clinic. To think that a year later, you would be living with him and carrying his child and occupying nearly every cell in his brain.
“It’s your turn to watch the kids,” he jokes pulling down his mask below his chin to slat his lips over yours lovingly. It’s only half a joke—he knows better than anyone you would do anything to protect them. He’s known that since day one.
“You better come back to us,” your demand is quiet and breathless and laced more with concern than it is with threat. The thought of Kai dying while on the Surface has plagued you for the last six months, even more so when you found out you were pregnant. He knew it too, knew how much worry and panic had disturbed your sleep when the realization that war was an option had settled in. Despite the knowledge that he carried about different afflictions and ailments; Kai had been at a loss for how to quell your anxiety. He hopes that circumstances aside, him reaching into the right-side pocket of his heavy, army green coat and pulling out the small black velvet box is the correct move. Gingerly holding up said box until it’s in your line of sight, he takes a step back before peeling back the lid to showcase a single, solitaire diamond set in a simple gold band.
“I promise you I will come back. And when this is all over, we can finally enjoy our life in peace, so long as you’ll have me.”
#samwrights way too much#I'm so sorry it's so long#overhaul#my hero academia#my hero academia villains#bnha chisaki#kai chisaki#mha chisaki#overhaul x reader#soft!overhaul#shie hassaikai#kai chisaki x reader#chisaki kai#my hero academia overhaul#dabi my hero academia#bnha dabi#dabi is a todoroki#slight mention of hawks#villain!todoroki#conspiracy theory#fan theory#yagami yato#the underground#thank you for 2k#samwrights hit 2k
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We are not alone in the dark with our demons, Chapter 17
In which Caleb buys a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, becomes a professor, learns to be a person separate from the trauma that shaped his life for so long, and begins the arduous process of preventing what happened to him from happening to anyone else. It gets far more personal than even he could have anticipated.
Content warnings: Caleb's backstory (especially references to abuse and grooming), referenced deaths of family members, near-dissociation, near-panic attacks
Chapter summary: Caleb tries to make some positive decisions for himself and reaches out to Felix to teach him a spell (and help him cope).
Chapter notes: Chapter title is from Silhouette by Sleeping At Last
*****
Chapter 17: It must be so hard, in the mess you’re always cleaning up, to believe in the ghost of unbroken love.
Caleb and Essek dropped Caduceus at the Grove after breakfast the next morning. They would be picking him up again the day after next, along with the rest of the Nein, but any time he could spend with his family was to be treasured.
They then teleported into Beau and Yasha’s side of the house in Rexxentrum. Caleb had begun the process of putting a new teleportation circle in his laboratory, but it would take time, even with Essek’s help.
Yasha peered out from the kitchen. “Hello! You just missed Beau.” She looked at Caleb, who had slept poorly until he had given in and polymorphed himself into a cat, and swept both him and Essek into a tight hug. He liked this side of her, less concerned about making a social fuckup and just doing what felt right.
Essek awkwardly patted her back. “Hello, Yasha.”
She let them go. “Oh, Caleb! I’ll get the note. Give me a moment.” She ran upstairs, thundering around the upper floor.
Essek set a pouch of Xhorhassian spices and fried bugs from the region on the kitchen table; he had gotten lucky at the market yesterday. The peaceful conclusion of the war had freed up trade, allowing a better variety of goods to be found, especially in port cities such as Nicodranas. This also meant Essek had been able to stock up on a few hair and skincare products that were hard to find outside Rosohna. He had insisted on picking up a few products for Caleb as well. Caleb was still a little unused to being clean, let alone having a skincare routine.
Yasha pelted back downstairs and passed Caleb a little scrap of paper. “Here.”
“Danke.” Feeling the high quality of the paper between his fingers, Caleb suspected Nico had torn this piece from his own spellbook. Caleb made plans to leave some paper and ink lying around downstairs in case Nico came again while everyone was out. For now, he committed Nico’s handwriting to memory and stashed the note between the pages of his new journal. Then, he reached into his pocket and handed Yasha its twin. “For you. I thought… maybe it was time we collect happier memories.”
Yasha accepted the leather-bound journal, slightly smaller than her old one so she could keep it on her person with ease. His was identical. “Thank you, Caleb. This is a lovely gift.” She held the leather to her nose and inhaled deeply. She chuckled. “It smells like the ocean.”
“Ja, for now.” He hadn’t told the Nein what his old journal had held. But, if nothing else, the soft look on Yasha’s face confirmed she understood it was tied to his past, much like hers had been. He wasn’t sure he would ever tell the Nein, aside from Essek, what he had truly planned with the letters and the T-Dock. He was sure Beauregard suspected, and possibly Veth, and he was certain the rest, especially Caduceus, had caught on that he was headed down a self-destructive path. But Caleb had made the decision not to pursue it. Unveiling that now would upset them, and he had upset them enough. And Caleb preferred to keep that chapter of his life shut, lest he fall into temptation again.
It was time to look forward, as much as he was capable. As much as the current circumstances would allow him. The past would always have a hold on him, but he could choose to let it guide him towards making things better instead of breaking the world to undo what had already been done.
On that front, he had promised to pay Felix a visit, and Essek had burned his teleportation spells so Caleb still had his free for the day.
***
Caleb landed alone in Blumenthal. His breath still seized in his chest at the sight. He pressed a hand to his sternum and gulped down air until the world stopped spinning. He wondered, a little frantically, whether this would ever get easier. And then the panic passed, and he could breathe again.
He checked in with the gravekeeper, who confirmed they were holding off on the Baumanns’ funeral for a few more days in case Nico was willing and able to attend. He passed on the news that Nico had made a small amount of contact, and Caleb willed himself to exude what quiet optimism he could manage.
The gravekeeper was an elderly widow who had been tending the Blumenthal graves for as long as Caleb could remember. She knew him, of course, and that was unnerving as always. But he was trying to stay calm about the people of Blumenthal knowing the professor visiting Felix had once been Bren, son of Una and Leofric Ermundrud. It was hard, though, knowing there were at least a few neighbourhoods who could make the connection between what happened to the Baumanns, and what happened to the Ermendruds. They had not stated outright at any point that Nico had killed his parents, but the more people who knew about what happened, the more people were likely to suspect the truth. And, of course, the Schneiders knew. Caleb didn’t want the townspeople to think of Nico that way; he was going through enough. Caleb wasn’t sure how he felt about himself, only that there was a weight in his guts that intensified whenever he thought about it too much.
Caleb made one last stop before meeting Felix. He was here anyway, and he had not visited his parents since he had buried the letters with them. So he picked his way through the winding cemetery. It was easy to find his parents again, now that he had been here once.
“Hallo,” he said quietly, kneeling in the grass before their paired gravestones. His last visit hadn’t been that long ago, really, but he had been so swaddled in his grief that it had been hard to think straight. He pulled out the new book and rested it on his knee. “A lot has happened since I last came. I have a house now, in Rexxentrum, and a job teaching at Soltryce Academy. I’m going to stop what happened to me, and the both of you, from happening to anyone else. Best I can, anyway. Mixed success so far.” An inappropriate chuckle escaped him. “It’s… strange. Seeing these young boys, Felix and Nico, who had been set on the same path I had walked. We stopped Felix before he could… but I wasn’t fast enough to save Nico’s parents. I am… doing what I can now. They are both so young. Children, really. And, well, you know children that age rarely feel like children. I didn’t. I think Trent exploited that.”
He let the quiet wash over him. A light, fresh breeze played against his face. Most residents of Blumenthal were probably hard at work right now. This was a farming town, after all.
He remembered the journal on his knee. “Oh, and I have a new book now. This one is for happy memories. Nico left me a thank you note; I suppose that’s the first one. He’s not… he needs time. But I am starting to believe we can help him. I’m… I think that scares me. I understand what he’s going through better than most, but… this is a huge responsibility. I hope I don’t fuck it up. Sorry, mother. I would blame my new friends, but, in truth, I’ve always had a mouth on me. My friends are very cool, though. I think you would have liked them. Well, jury’s out on Beauregard, but she grows on you. Maybe I’ll tell you about our adventures next time I visit. Well, some of them. From Trostenwald, to Xhorhas, to a floating flesh city, to a Rexxentrum courtroom... we had a big year. And it’s because of them that I can bear talking to you like this.”
A tiny thought, right at the back of Caleb’s head, suggested he should bring the Nein next time. Or maybe one or two of them. Nine people clustered around a pair of graves sounded like a lot.
Caleb wanted to stay longer, but he had to check on Felix. He sighed, and pushed himself to his feet. “I will return, I promise. I will not leave you for as long as I did the first time. I love you both.”
He stepped away while he still had the will to do so. The grief was there, but he felt in control of it. For now, at least. And there was a family that needed him.
***
Louise Schneider was tending the vegetable patch in front of the house, while Friedrich knelt by a wooden cart, replacing a damaged wheel. Caleb fought off nausea at the sight of the cart; it looked just like the one his parents had owned. That… was fine. He was fine. Blumenthal-standard cart. The things were everywhere.
Louse set her trowel aside, sitting back on her heels. “Hallo… Caleb?” She was, evidently, struggling a bit to figure out what she was supposed to call him.
“Ja, hallo.” His voice was a little rough, but steady.
“Felix is in his room.” Louise wiped her brow with the back of her glove. “He’s been a little… reclusive.”
Sensing this conversation was going to take more than a few seconds, Caleb sat in the grass with her. “Okay, talk to me. How is he? And how are the two of you?”
Louise huffed a short, rueful laugh. “It is hard to tell how your child is feeling when he barely talks to you.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Caleb said, as gently as he sensed she would tolerate. “My situation was not like Felix’s, but I can understand a little. It’s… not a comfortable feeling to know that all the love in the world is not enough to… to…” He breathed. “All I know is that I have grappled with the guilt of my actions for a long time, and the fact we were able to get to him before it went that far… it does not erase the shame. It is an ugly thing, to face yourself, to face the person you have become, even if you were manipulated and abused and brainwashed to become that person.”
“What the fuck are we supposed to do?” she whispered.
“Love him. Show him you are there for him, in whatever way he can bear.”
Louise gazed back at the house. “But if love wasn’t enough…”
“It takes time,” Caleb told her. “You can’t measure it, or count it. Time looks different for all of us. But with your support, it will be easier for him to come to terms with what happened to him, and to understand he is not a bad person for the things he was persuaded to do, and almost did… easier than it is for me. You have to remember, Frau Schneider, that those of us in the Volstrucker program thought we were serving our country, and we were honoured to do it.”
“We thought the same,” Louise murmured. “When Felix was chosen for the program…” She sighed. “I told Master Ikithon to do whatever it took to help him be what the Empire needed.”
The ground was unsteady beneath Caleb, and he was relieved to be sitting down. “My mother and father felt the same, if Ikithon spoke true. He usually does.” A wave of pettiness overcame him, and he chuckled. “Did. That is why it is so difficult to process. He rarely lied to us outright. And we thought we had a choice. We did, to a degree. We chose to serve, and we thought we had to endure what he put us through and what he asked us to do… so we could serve our country.”
“What do you now believe?”
“I believe there are good people in the Empire,” said Caleb. “There are things worth preserving. The child abuse and murder of innocent Empire citizens are not among of them.” He was getting distracted, so he steered his thoughts back in their original direction. “Now is the time Felix needs you most. The biggest thing that has helped me is knowing there are people who care about me and value me, even when I don’t care about myself.”
“We’re trying,” said Louise. “Thank you. He should be in his room, if you’d like to talk to him.”
“Ja, I will. He has been working on a Transmutation spell, which happens to be my specialty.” Caleb pushed himself to his feet, straightening his coat. “And, Louise?”
“Ja?”
“We were children a long time ago,” he said. “And my memories of Blumenthal are too… complicated to linger on, but I remember your kindness. And I have seen your love for your son. You are a good mother. Remember that, and extend that same kindness to yourself, ja?”
Louise picked up her trowel, her movements slow as if through water. “Danke.”
Caleb moved towards the house, exchanging a wave with Friedrich. The front door was open, so he stepped through. The house only had one storey, so he moved past the living area to a short, thin hallway. One door was open, revealing a wide bed for two people. He knocked on the other door.
“What?” said Felix, voice tinged with adolescent irritation that brought back a fuckton of memories for Caleb, of studying in his bedroom until his mother interrupted to coax him down for a meal. It ached, but bearably so.
“It’s Caleb. May I come in?”
“Ja, I guess.”
Caleb turned the knob and slowly pushed, poking his head through first. Felix was sitting on the wooden floor, beside a low bed made from a rough timber frame. His spellbook lay on the floor in front of him, but it was seemingly open to a random page, and Felix’s hair was mussed as if he had just been lying down. On the floor, if Caleb were to guess.
“Would you like some good news?” Caleb said, stepping inside. He shut the door, leaning against it while he awaited Felix’s response.
“That would make a nice change,” Felix said flatly.
Caleb sat on the floor in front of him and pulled out his new book, removing Nico’s note and handing it to Felix. “Nico visited my home while it was empty the other day. He left this.”
Felix scanned the note with careful, controlled slowness. He passed it back, staring sightlessly at the pages of his book.
“He also responded to a Sending,” Caleb continued. “Only to tell me he did not wish to talk, but that is progress. Has he spoken to you?”
“Nein,” Felix said quietly. There was a heaviness to his posture, and he seemed to lack the energy to express himself with his face or voice. Aside from that singular spike of irritation when Caleb had knocked.
“Well, it appears he is listening. If you can bear it, I would suggest you keep talking to him.”
“Ja, okay.” The Felix in front of him was a far cry from the Felix in his messages. Exhausted, flattened… defeated, in some ways. Beaten down and ready to give up. Caleb knew the feeling well. It was why he had been messaging Felix so frequently, knowing that he had no one else who could understand what he had been through. What he had almost done.
It would have been easy enough to talk about the Fly spell and let him have a distraction, but they had things to discuss first. It was better to end their meeting today on a positive note, rather than give him a reprieve now and drag him back to earth later.
“I spoke to your mother,” Caleb said, sitting with the guilt of not giving Felix the distraction he sorely needed. Not yet.
Felix huffed quietly. “Was it a useful conversation? Mine haven’t been.”
“I have the luxury of not being family,” Caleb replied. “I can tell her things that you never would.”
Felix snorted. “Right.”
“She says you’re becoming a recluse.”
Felix shrugged.
“Why is that?”
“What am I supposed to say?” Felix muttered, and Caleb got the sense he probably would have snapped at him, had he the energy. “I know they’re afraid of me.”
“I don’t think they are, Felix.”
“Doesn’t matter. I was going to kill them, and I would’ve succeeded. I know that. They know that.”
“I don’t think they’re worried about that right now.”
“Then they’re stupid.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say about your parents, Felix.”
“Murder also isn’t nice, but I was going to do that anyway.” Felix flipped through the pages of his spellbook until he landed on one Caleb recognised: the formula for Fireball. “Push the cart in front of the door, throw one of these fuckers into the house, or maybe a Lightning Bolt would’ve looked like a freak accident.” Having not expected this, Caleb had to fight a wave of nausea and grasp tightly to the present, and hoped it didn’t show on his face; this wasn’t about him or his bullshit. “Hadn’t decided. Whatever. If I aimed right, it would be over quickly. If not… it would be over eventually. Nico had similar plans, which apparently worked.” Felix’s fingers spasmed on the page, as if resisting the urge to tear it. “If my mother and father do not fear me, they have deluded themselves into thinking I’m innocent. Makes a certain kind of sense, I suppose. I never could tell them what Trent had us do. I have nothing to say to them. I see no point trying to comfort them when they should be afraid of me. They should not want me here.”
Felix was spiralling. Badly. Caleb was out of his depth, and his brain was not turning as efficiently as it usually did, on a knife’s edge of whether to stay present or dissociate entirely. But he had to do something.
“Would you like to guess where I have been today?” Caleb asked. “It’s here in Blumenthal.”
Felix shrugged. “I hate guessing games.”
“I visited my mother and father. Spoke to them for a while.”
Confusion furrowed Felix’s brow for a moment, before he looked up, understanding. “Can’t imagine they were very talkative.”
Caleb’s laugh surprised both of them. “You’re not wrong. Rather one-sided. But maybe they can hear me.”
Felix continued to take the bait. “Fine. I’ll bite. What did you talk about?”
“Life updates. I have only visited once before, a few months ago, and that was more… intense. And, well, since then, I’ve hit several personal milestones I wanted to tell them about.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I am about to guilt-trip you into speaking to your living parents.”
“Oh, fuck you.” There was no aggression behind it, merely exhausted resignation, as if Felix already knew Caleb had the upper hand.
“I am not expecting you to bare your soul to them,” Caleb said. “I understand the impulse to hold back and I do not wish to deny you your privacy. But, it is very easy for people like us to get caught in our heads, and it can be difficult to pull ourselves out of it without help.”
“And if I don’t want to have to look at them and remember I was going to fucking kill them?”
“You seem to remember that well enough without seeing their faces.”
Felix shoved his face into his hands, sighing loudly. “I don’t know what I would even talk about. We have nothing in common anymore.”
“I’ve always found admitting I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing is very helpful.”
Felix snorted.
“And I do not agree that you have nothing in common.” Caleb didn’t try to make Felix look at him. If this were one of the Nein, he probably would have gotten obnoxiously in the way until they couldn’t ignore him, like Jester, Veth and even sometimes Essek had been known to do for him. But, with Felix, his words would have to be enough. “You have told me you love them, and they clearly love you. There is a lot of common ground there.”
“What common ground?” Felix curled more deeply inward with the gravity of defeat. “I cared more about some bullshit Trent put in my head than how much I love my parents.”
This was far more familiar territory to Caleb. “You are not alone in that, Felix. I loved my mother and father. And I killed them just the same. Trent exploited our patriotism to isolate us from our families and tie our worth to serving the empire, to serving him. And by having us kill our families based on a lie, one of the only lies he ever told us, he could ensure we had no one else to support us. That we would not believe we deserved better, even if we learned he had modified our memories. He wanted us to have nothing else but him. Did he pull that ‘we are family’ bullshit with you?”
Felix dropped his hands, snickering bitterly. “Ja. All the time.”
“Creepy, ja?”
Felix kept laughing quietly.
“He invited me to a ‘family reunion’ with him, Astrid and Eadwulf a few months ago,” said Caleb. “My friends came with me. Do you remember Caduceus?” Felix nodded. “He told Trent he was a fool, and that no one loves him.”
Felix scoffed. “You’re lying.”
“I am paraphrasing. He did call Trent a fool, but what he said about love was… wait, let me quote this exactly. I have this burned into my memory forever.” Caleb cleared his throat, and did not attempt to mimic Caduceus’s voice because he was awful at accents, but he quoted: “He said, ‘I think it has been a long time since anyone has pointed out to you that you're a fool. Pain doesn't make people, it's love that makes people. The pain is inconsequential. It's love that saves them. And you would know that, but you have none around you. You said so yourself, you surround yourself with lies and deceptions. And I wish for you, in the future, to find someone who will mourn you when you are gone. Respectfully.’ And then Trent left.”
“Okay, two things,” said Felix. “First of all, Caduceus is cooler than you. Second, your memory is terrifying and I am rethinking every word I have ever said to you.”
“Caduceus is very cool, ja. And the memory is a blessing and a curse for me and everyone around me. I also have a very good sense of time, and I have used it to annoy the shit out of my friends.”
“Nerd.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Fuck off.”
Caleb chuckled. “Back to my original point. Trent is a piece of shit. He wanted us to believe we chose to follow him, ja, but the choice was false. He wanted us to believe we did not deserve better. Even now that we are free from him, it is not easy to break that conditioning. Our minds are more fragile than we like to think, ja?”
“Ja, I guess.” The momentary brightness faded from Felix’s expression, and the heaviness returned.
“And an important step in countering that is to reach out to the people who care about you.”
Felix slammed his spellbook shut, hiding the Fireball spell from view. “And if I don’t want to?”
“Let me ask a question in return. What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you so sure you do not want to repair your relationship with your parents?”
Felix groaned softly. “Did you have to word it like that? Of course I…” His voice dropped to a murmur. “Arschloch.”
“Then, is the problem less about what you want, or don’t want, and more about what you think you deserve?” Caleb had far too much experience in feeling that way.
“Fuck you, Caleb.” Felix scrambled to his feet, hugging the spellbook to his chest. “Are you going to teach me this spell, or did you just plan on lecturing me all day?”
Ah. There was the limit. “All right, I’ve said my piece.” Caleb got up. “You said you’ve transcribed the spell?”
“Ja. I just… it’s not an easy spell to practice.”
“I know. Shall we go outside? We will need space for this.”
#shadowgast#caleb widogast#critical role#cr2#fanfiction#my fics#the pomegranate's professor widogast fic
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Hii~ so I was wondering if maybe you could do a scenario or hc with whoever you desire meeting their s/o's friends, specifically the gremlin friend whos been dragged into the public by the crackhead friend?
Sero Meeting the S/o’s Friends
Pairing: Sero Hanta x reader
T/W: Obscenities, slight touch of body insecurities
Taglist: @sunset-novice-writer @goatsenpaiultimate
A/n: Hiiii- So i hope it’s to your liking. I assume the reader had two friends so if it’s not what you wanted then I’m sorry 🥺 But I hope you really like it!❤️
Sero’s ears picked up on a high pitched commotion downstairs. Mass squealings split through the air of Height Alliance drawing the curiosity of the few inhabitants. When he planted both of his feet on the lounge room floors, his eyes wandered to the leader of the Bakusquad, who was finishing work on the kitchen with a ferocious grip on the pen and scribbles on the verge of ripping the paper. Then his gaze traveled to the three on the floor. Under the pile stock laid you, who was squealing at equal volumes as the two on top of your body. The scene was both quite comedic and cute which ruptured a chuckle loud enough for (Y/n) to hear. She craned her neck to Sero’s figure before smiling even more widely at the boy.
“Sero! Baby!— Get off of me dumbasses! Hi baby!” You rose from the floor to jump into his arms, him easily catching you before you both could be sent to the ground. All the noise and happiness finally got to Bakugo as he slammed his notebook shut, grabbed all his supplies and marched himself up to his dorm room, grumbling under his breath and glaring at your smile as he passed. His nerve bulging from his temple throbbed harder as you smiled even wider at him. As soon as Bakugo left the room you whispered in Sero ear. A giggle passed your throat at the secret.
“I told him if he is nice when my friends are over, I would ask my family to send a bunch of Adobo and Goya seasoning for cooking.” Sero chuckled along with you and gave you a high-five.
“Good bribe babe.”
“Thanks, I learned from the best.” You fluttered your eyes at him before you both broke into laughter.
“So we’re just supposed to stand here while you guys make lovey-dovey eyes and shit?” The giggling only continued on both sides and you introduced your friends to the Cellophane quirk wielder.
“My apologies, your royal highness, this is Suki, short for Itsuki and he’s a royal pain in the ass.” Just as your hand was laid out to introduce him, he bent down and nipped at your palm, which allowed you to reflexively withdraw and chop him at the band of his neck. A whine came from his throat.
“Wassup.” You glared at him before introducing your other friend.
“And this is our pint-sized friend, Aaryell.” You laid your hand in front of her only for the little one to slap it away.
“Thanks for the introduction but I’m sure your boyfriend already knows I’m fucking short.” She, in turn, glared at you before smiling sweetly at your boyfriend who’s trying hard not to burst out laughing.
“And y’all know this is Sero… Just Sero.” You patted his chest and attempted to move away from him only to be squashed straight into his figure.
“Hi, nice to meet ya! I’m Sero, the ever-loving boyfriend to some chinchilla named (Y/n).” His turn to embarrassed you left your two friends howling at his introduction. Your laughter followed theirs as you snuggled further into Sero’s side. Suki took the time to talk to the prospective hero.
“Well, it’s finally nice to officially meet the chinchilla’s boyfriend. All we see through the phone are elbows and levitating hands feeding our gerbil friend.” All three begun to laugh again until you swipe your hand across his shoulders, eliciting a whine from the beanstalk.
“See what we’re not gonna do is make these rodent nicknames a thing.” His hands rose up to surrender. Sero pulls his physically aggressive girlfriend to his side for the second time.
“So what do you guys wanna do?” The new pair looked at each other. A goofy smile challenged a glossy snarl, both not giving up until Aaryell shouted.
“We are not going into the city!” Suki put a hand at his heart and let out a dramatic gasp.
“Why I wouldn’t suggest such a thing?! But can we?” The shortest one of the group grumbled under her breath about the insolent giant beside her, asking herself why is she friends with “this dumbass”.
(Y/n) smiled at the duo before looking up at Hanta. His quirk didn’t need to be telepathy to know what she wanted.
“I don’t see why not, plus we can avoid Mineta from stalking our business because a new girl is around.” Aaryell shuddered at the possibility of seeing Mineta, recalling the facetime chats you guys had talking about the times Mineta tried to look under your skirt and failed harshly. She grabbed everyone’s hands before stepping to the exit.
“You had me at Mineta.”
The sky acted as a caterpillar going through metamorphosis. Cloudy blue surrounded the city, encouraging all the citizens of Musutafu to be outside. The streets were congested with middle schoolers, high schoolers, and even business workers alike. So, Itsuki took the initiative of being the beacon, using his height to ensure you all weren’t lost in the sea of very pushy people. It wasn’t until you and Aaryell almost got washed away by the human riptide that Itsuki demanded a duo system. The two taller ones of the group took one of the vertically challenged. Itsuki’s quick decision of picking Aaryell as his duckling and the reddish hue on her brown cheeks did not pass either you or your boyfriend’s eyes. A simple glance between you and Hanta had decided what the goal of today would be: Operation Best Friend To Lover is on the go.
However, all the attempts had failed. Your idea to check out an arcade with a new VR zombie game flunked completely, resulting in Aaryell whopping Suki over the head with the controller due to his tries of whispering in her ear and poking her body.
Sero’s was even worse, his idea in going to a photo museum resulted in Itsuki attracting a mass of middle and highschool girls, gushing about his physique and face. He took it all in and a half as he interacted happily with his growing group of ‘fans’. Aaryell stood in discomfort picking at her stubby fingers and plush thighs before you declared that everyone was leaving. By the time you and Sero’s plan of going to a botanical garden came up, the sky’s second stage of metamorphosis had begun. The once azure shade tinted to a dark gray, the sun entrapped in its cloudy cocoon. Big droplets of rain clattered noisily against the street and pedestrians scattered to find shelter. Sero spotted an underground cafe before everyone could’ve been completely soaked.
The cool ventilation inside riddled your skin in goosebumps. Before you could say anything, Aryell spoke up.
“Jeez, it’s kinda cold in here.” She rubbed her arms to smooth out the texture on her skin and spark a little warmth. Her shoulder met with the weight of a jacket too long for her stature. Itsuki looked down at her with a smile.
“Here you can have it until you’re warmed up.”
You nudged Sero in his side to observe the scene in front of you. However, cellophane quirk wielder was already grinning at the two as Aaryell blushed then punched the giant in the shoulder, resulting in a whine and a “your sadist side is showing again.” By the time the two went to the counter to order the food, you and Sero took refuge in one of the booths to analyze the situation.
“Okay so Sero, give me the stats.”
“Well your arcade date didn’t work and mine did.” A gasp broke through your throat at his harsh comment.
“Mine wasn’t a complete flob! She started rubbing his head after 15 minutes of cursing and pouting, so that’s good.” Sero rolled his eyes, not budging from his argument.
“So like how Bakugo would beat the shit out of Kirishima in practice then throw a cold towel at him when no one’s looking.” You huffed in admittance. Your plan failed but his wasn’t better.
“Yeah well, at least mine didn’t result in making Mr. Adonis’ head swelling and Adonia insecure.” Sero shoulders slumped slightly, knowing that his plan hurt a new friend.
“Yeah yeah, I apologized about making her uncomfortable while you were chewing out Itsuki.” You smiled at your boyfriend proudly before reaching over the table and pecking his lips, eliciting his usual smile back to life.
“That’s why I’m proud of you, baby” He pecked your lips again before addressing the situation at hand. With a coordinated effort, the evening was spent with the duo blushing and laughing at each other’s jokes while you and Sero smiling and fist-bumping like fairy odd parents.
The party of four finally decided to part ways as the orange and yellow inks spilled on to the sky, looking like the wings of a monarch butterfly. You and Sero waved as the two walked toward the train being boarded, giggling as they secretly, but not so secretly, linked pinkies. Just as the two of you turned around, you turned to Hanta.
“I bet all the Super Smash Bros Ultimate skins you have that they’ll text me tonight declaring their crush for each other.”
“Hmm, I bet they’ll text you after 12 and one-thirds of the snacks your family sends you, the spicy stuff included.”
“Deal.”
[Extended clip]
#hanta sero x reader#bnha sero hanta#bnha sero#sero hanta x reader#sero hanta scenario#hanta sero scenarios#sero x reader#bnha hanta#bnha sero x reader#bnha sero hanta x reader
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Ch. 1
Pairing: Arthur Conan Doyle x Mina Van Gogh x Charles Henri Sanson
Tagging: @plumpblueberry @starry-starry-night24 @youreawizardharr (please let me know if you want to be tagged)
A/N: First new oc of the 12 Days of OCmas! Eventual poly-ship. All the Van Gogh siblings will make appearances in this fic!
The dark sky shielded all light from reaching the path outside of the city. Steady rain fell into her soaked form, seeping its cold down into her bones. Trudging along the cobblestones with water pooling in her boots, the young girl shivered. Winter weather wrapped in a rainstorm was not ideal for the long walk.
She exhaled, like dragon’s breath spilling from her mouth, it hung in the air. Mina’s steps sluggish with the numbness spreading across her frigid limbs. This was the only opportunity she’d been given to escape and get this close to the mansion.
Hesitating at the large double doors, she cast a worrying glance behind her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic to fear that someone might be following her. That’s how overprotective her eldest sister was, or rather, how controlling. If she found out, Mina didn’t know what punishment might await.
“How long are you planning on loitering at the door?” The harsh voice paired perfectly with narrowed violet eyes and an annoyed frown. He held the door at a crack, opposed to letting her in.
Mina only paused for a second. “I’m looking for Vincent.”
“Why?”
Why was this man so concerned? Perhaps she should admit that she was also a lesser vampire, but she chose not to. “I’m a friend of his. He’ll want to see me.” That was only half the truth, but it was enough to get her entry.
He demanded that she wait there, muttering under his breath as he walked away.
Alone, Mina investigated the entrance. The whole room warm and bright, like a real home. Not like the place that she lived, which was empty and dark. A stark difference. She let out a soft sigh, brushing her wet bangs away from her face.
“I heard we had a guest. What a pretty little skirt.” The curious man descended the stairs, sauntering up to her as if she were solely there to see him. A wicked grin grew on his lips. “Hello there, love. I’d be delighted to know your name.”
He was very close. Mina found it impossible to look directly at him. If she stared into those blue pools too long, she might absolutely drown. “I’m Mina.” Her voice failed her, barely above a whisper.
“Mina, I’m Arthur. It’s lovely to meet you. What brings you to our humble home?” He asked. She was nervous, pulse racing. Her gaze couldn’t settle. But no, he found no ill intent.
“I- well-”
“Broer, you shouldn’t meet with strangers. I can handle this.”
“It’s alright, Theo. They came all the way here. It must be important.”
Oh, she was not prepared.
All her psyching herself up sizzled out completely.
Arthur observed her behavior with mild curiosity. How interesting. “You’re familiar with Theo and Vincent, are you?” He kept hold of her hand, brushing his thumb gently across her knuckles. It must have been them that brought her here.
“Oh, Arthur, you’re here, too. Mozart said there was someone here for me,” Vincent said, his protective little brother right behind him. No one received visitors, so he’d been quite surprised.
Mina stiffened at his voice, one that she had terribly missed. But her fears overtook her. She needed a moment to calm down, that’s all.
“Oi, is that her?” Theo’s gruff tone did not aid in soothing her nerves.
She was so very grateful that neither of them could see her. Mina reached out a shaky hand to clutch Arthur’s jacket. Her head shook slowly. “I- help-please--” Her voice just loud enough for the mystery writer to hear.
He didn’t quite understand what was going on, but who was he to deny a lovely maiden in need. “I’m not sure,” Arthur replied to the brothers, tugging Mina forward protectively into his arms. “But this sweet skirt is here for me, and you’re frightening her terribly, Theo.”
“The hell did I do?” Theo asked, irritation laced in his voice.
“Well, I suppose it must not have been that important. I’m sorry we interrupted,” Vincent replied.
It hurt more than she realized. The dull ache in her chest turning sharp. Only once they’d gone could she breathe fully again. A gloved hand rested atop her head as a silent comfort. “Oh, I’m sorry-” She pulled away, heat flushing her cheeks.
“Let’s get you some dry clothes and then you can tell me all about why you’re here.” Arthur said, arm falling around her small shoulder, guiding her to his bedroom. What a curious situation he’d found himself in.
Only when the door to his bedroom close did Mina relax. My apologies, luv, but this is the smallest I could find. The clothes in her hands would be baggy, but she cared little when soaked to the bone. However, the trousers staying up would be quite the problem.
“Hmm, let’s try this,” Arthur said, still snickering at how tiny the woman looked in his clothes, and the hint of pink on her cheeks at his teasing was adorable. She’d be thrilling to play with, he thought. But first, he produced a pair of suspenders, clipping it to the front and back of the trousers and adjusting the length.
Mina was hyper aware of his hands occasionally brushing against her body. “Th-thank you. I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” She apologized. How embarrassing. He must think her some kind of coward.
The writer plopped on the chaise, patting the space beside him. “There’s no need for that beautiful face to have such a sad expression. I helped you because I wanted to, so there’s absolutely no reason for apologies. I am curious about your business with dear ole Vincent.”
His hypothesis currently was that she was a long-lost child. Her bone structure similar, and eye color the same cerulean blue. Physically, save for the raven locks, she fit the part. The only missing piece was that the author couldn’t fathom the gentle Vincent having a fling.
“No, I...” Mina couldn’t draw her gaze away from his, as if he were holding her there to peek at her darkest secrets. Besides, after all he’s done for her, lying would be rude. “I’m Willemina Van Gogh, the fourth child and youngest sister of the Van Gogh family, and I’m also a resurrected vampire, like my brothers and you.”
Arthur searched her but found no lies. She surely believed that she was a vampire, and it would account for how she managed to come to this mansion unimpeded. Most humans didn’t know this place existed. But what fun would it be to simply accept her word. A sly smirk spread across his lips. “Alright, then why don’t you just give me a little bite? You must be parched, after all.”
Mina flushed, surprised by his proposal. Since vampires were a well-kept secret, of course she couldn’t just say it was so. Something about his cheeky tone lit a fire of determination in her. “Alright. If you want proof, then I’ll bite you.”
“Ah, grand! No need to be shy,” Arthur teased, tilting his head to the side, and tapping his neck with his index finger. She was to do it, which absolutely thrilled the writer.
The room’s temperature rose. Mina leaned in slow, convincing herself that she’d be quick and not drink his blood. He smelled of ink and fudge, a strange but alluring mixture. A streak of smudged black ink showed some frustration from his work.
Deep blue irises studied the woman. “Something the matter, luv?”
She jumped at the sound of his voice, his adam’s apple bobbing as he spoke, drawing her in. Mina didn’t answer with words, instead sinking her fangs in. His warm blood coated her tongue, and a low moan escaped from the author’s lips, only making her desire to hear it more.
Mina could lose herself entirely with only a sample of his blood.
But she maintained self-control and pulled away, licking the last drops of the delicious nectar off her bottom lip.
Vampire bites were meant to soothe human prey. They stung, and then spread pleasure in order to subdue them into submission. It affected vampires similarly, except it tended to only make them crazed for each other.
Arthur was buzzing with desire. His features flushed, throat dry, and body burning with need for her blood. He hooked an arm around her waist, hauling her into his lap. Her cerulean irises begging for him to continue.
If only he’d locked his door before he’d begun this little game.
“Hey! Who the hell are you?” Theo had thrown the door open hard enough to knock it from its hinges. He’d heard from Mozart that there wasn’t two women in the mansion, only one.
Mina jerked back from Arthur’s embrace, falling promptly onto the floor. “T-theo!” She yelled in absolute embarrassment, forgetting entirely that he had little idea of who she was. All that swam through her mind was that he’d seen her so intimately with a man.
His eyes narrowed, trying to puzzle out why she knew his name.
One gentle but shocked voice covered all the others. Vincent hardly needed an introduction as he recognized her straight away. How could he forget his darling little sister of whom he’d been so close to?
“Will? You’re... alive?”
#ikemen vampire#ikevamp#ikevamp vincent#ikevamp theo#ikevamp arthur#ikevamp charles#ikevamp mina van gogh#ikevamp oc#new oc!
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Can I please request a loona hanahaki scenario where yves and jinsoul are in a relationship and are really happy together altought both know the other one is also in love with Haseul but would rather not say anuthing because they think she has too much on her plate unaware that haseul is also in love with them and gets hanahaki disease and decides to hide it and distant herself because she doesn’t want to get in the way of their relationship? Angst with Happy ending please
now playing: taillight
content warning: a little “gory” descriptions of the hanahaki disease at haseul’s part, blood.
---
Jinsoul notices it first. How they barely see Haseul around anymore. She feels like it had been months, but she knows it'd been barely two weeks.
They'd usually meet for coffee after their internship, abusing a little of Sooyoung's mom's generosity and getting one or two chocolate cookies for free - as it was her coffee shop, anyways - after the stressing hours working hard. Many beautiful smiles thrown around the comfy table, happy giggles and innocent looks of the blossoming friendship showing thorught the bubbly atmosphere
The second she notices as well, Sooyoung is confused. She's also scared she had done something bad for their short best friend. She wonders if something happened between Haseul and her, now, girlfriend. Even if the black haired woman was her girl now, Sooyoung knew she - they both were - was in love with the shorty.
The last time they had seen the youngest, was the day they revealed their little secret.
"She seemed fine, after we told her," They didn't have in mind that Haseul is an incredible actress. "Maybe she just wants to give us more time alone!" The Ha wasn't sure of that. Although she and Jinsol have been really happy together, having fun dates and everything... It just wasn’t the same without Haseul; for neither of them.
If Jinsol knew Sooyoung well, Sooyoung could literally read Haseul like an open book. They even met each other at kindergarden, like life is a beautiful childhood friends' story gone wrong.
"Sol," Sooyoung's eyes were glistening - she was scared, - worry, sadness and regret filling her lone tears. "We need to find her. Now"
/---/
Haseul would be lying if she said she did not know where it all started. The day she saw blonde and dark brown hair contrasting the cloudy sky above them in high school, Haseul knew she was in deep. It was somewhere around sophomore and junior year; with a nerd turned blonde and a dancer turned nerd.
She met Sooyoung in kindergarden, puffy cheek and charming moles drawing the attention of a 5-year-old Jo Haseul ever since. Then, they met Jinsol in high school - big glasses, messy ink black hair and nerdy hobbies.
It all escalated from there; shy feelings turning into cravings, dreams turned drunken realities. Although forever hidden, thoss feelings were never gone.
Jo Haseul kissed Jung Jinsol and Ha Sooyoung when they were all 18 and a few too many drinks into a high school party ,and, hell. The youngest of the girls knew from then, she wouldn't be able to picture herself with anyone else.
/---/
Maybe she still had a bit of hope inside her - maybe she hoped one day she'd confess and have Jinsol's and Sooyoung's lovs just for her. Although hidden, her feelings were hopeful.
She was wrong.
Just that weekend, her best friends dropped the truth on her - they were dating. God, Haseul thought the feeling of your heart shattering into the tiniest pieces was just an exaggerated way of telling stories, but she felt it. She felt it like her whole being was porcelain, and the air the strongest of the hammers.
It hurt, but nothing would ever compare to what was still to come.
The first time it happened, was during the late evening of a Monday. Haseul’s throat itched and hurt endlessly, until the hardest cough gave place to a little, yet painful, sunflower petal.
The yellow looking flower somehow painted with red, blood droplets, fell to the floor along the silence despair in the Jo’s eyes. She knew what it meant - her family had a history of an hereditary, ancient disease that affected the Jo women ever since centuries ago. She didn’t think destiny would chose her.
The days and nights came slowly, the painful flower blooming inside her lungs as if it was the most fertile soil it could have. Tuesday, she’d cough up seeds and petals. Wednesday, she’d feel the flowers sucking the life off of her. Thursday, Haseul threw up a whole Helianthus flower, blood dripping out of the corner of her lips.
The flowers grew too quickly - she’s sure they were holding back these symptoms since high school. It wouldn’t make sense otherwise.
By the next week, the girl could barely get her tiny frame out of bed, petals all around the pillows and floor.
/---/
It hurt so bad. When Sooyoung and Jinsol managed to get into Haseul’s apartment; the several yellowish petals scattered around the floor were the first thing they saw. Their friend had told them before, the disease she was born with. They knew what could have happened - or was about to.
Jinsol walked in further first.She was scared, but wanted to help as soon as possible, even if it meant to run into the worst of the scenarios.
“Wait, Sol. Please.” Sooyoung grabbed the younger’s hand, stopping her mid step. The oldest was terrified - anxious even. She didn’t want to think too much.
Jinsol stared at glossy, anxious eyes. With her own orbs shaking, she held her girlfriend’s hand tighter.
“She’ll be okay, Soo.” She heard the phrase echo on her mind several times.
After that, everything was kind of blurry - finding your best friend and first love bleeding like that wasn’t something Sooyoung, out of all people, could quite handle. Jinsol took care of most of it, cleaning the floor, the bed sheets, and the Jo herself, only asking of Sooyoung to hold the youngest girl and watch if she’d cough or wake up.
“Soo?” The girl on her arms called, faint voice and eyes barely open. Somehow feeling better just by being in the presence of her beloved Sooyoung. “What are you doing here...?” She tries to get up, but the older’s towering height over her small frame doesn’t let her.
“Seul,” Teary eyed, hugging tightly the tiny girl. “Don’t ever leave me like this again.” Sobs fill the silence the last girl finally enters the room; Sooyoung is crying loudly, and although feeling weak, Haseul still manages to pat her head reassuringly.
Jinsol also wants to cry at the sight, but she doesn’t. She is really emotional - but for Sooyoung, she holds her crying just to be the thinking head of the situation.
“Haseulie,” She pauses. The Jung is not sure how to word the question. “How... What happened? Isn’t this disease caused by... one-sided...”
“Yeah,” Haseul starts to answer, still lying on the oldest’s lap. Deep breathes once, twice, before continuing. There’s no use in hidding anymore; they’d find out anyways. “I’m in love with both of you.”
The older girls can’t believe it. Haseul has been suffering because of them. Unfairly so,
“No, I won’t remove it. If it means forgetting you two... I’d rather die.” Hearing the morbid tone of a over-reviewed option; the two older girls knew their friend went through her choices over and over again- and yet, she choose the far worst one.
“NO!” Sooyoung yelled, voice cracking mid word. “Seulie, please, no, don’t ever say this again,” Sobbing intensified hiccups, not even Jinsol could hold it anymore. It hurt. “You don’t have to go, no, no, this is unfair. The disease is for one-sided love! I don’t understand! I’ve been in love with you ever since we were in middle school, Jo Haseul!”
Wide eyed, the youngest wasn’t fast enough to say anything.
“Jinsol, too! I knew it, when we kissed in a high school party! I know she can’t stop thinking about you. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t be suffering, it’s not one-sided! Please...”
“Sooyoung, please calm down...” Jinsol kneels in front of the couch the others were, patting Haseul’s hair and trying to control her own tears. She leaves a kiss on the younger’s cheek, kissing where once was growing a sunflower.
“Y-You...” Haseul’s voice cracks. “You love me back?”
Both girls stare at each other, sharing a little, close mouthed smile through the still falling tears.
“We do, Seulie.”
#cookiewrote#loona hcs#drabble#angst with a happy ending#angst#hanahaki#i wont tag the members bc its a bit gory i dont want anyone to get triggered bc of it :c
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The Wizard and the No-Mag
Chapter 5
Masterlist Series Masterlist
•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•
Walking up to the shop, Fred dragged a hand through his hair as mixed feelings of excitement, relief, and nervousness washed over him. As he stepped in and made his way to the counter to start his day, he spotted his twin in conversation with Harry – who soon saw Fred and waved him over, “Hey Fred, Where’ve you been?”
Before he could get a word out, George quickly answered for him, “With his girlfriend.” He replied smugly as he crossed his arms and leaned on the counter.
Harry grinned in amazement and looked back to Fred, “Oh, really?” He teased, turning to face him properly, “Who’s the lucky girl?”
Blushing against his will, Fred cleared his throat, “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He scratched the back of his neck anxiously – did everyone really have to know everything about his love-life?
“Don’t know the name,” Harry responded, scratching his chin in thought, “Did she go to a different school?”
Fred was about to come up with a perfectly composed answer, explaining why Harry didn’t know her and simultaneously giving away very few details so Harry couldn’t possibly figure out any more than what he wanted him to know. But, yet again, his brother beat him to it with his own answer. “She’s a muggle,” he replied plainly as he sipped his luke-warm tea, “from America.”
Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, standing a little straighter. “A muggle?” He repeated, “From America?” The twins nodded as Fred shuffled his feet sheepishly. Harry let out a laugh, “How’d you come across this one then?”
“Met her in muggle London, di’n he? Spent all bloody day with her, came home at gone midnight! Dirty-stop-out he is, took me ages to get him to tell me anything about her.” By this point, Fred was starting to wonder if he was even a part of this conversation – ‘Would he let me get a bloody word out?’
“And how long have they been together?”
“Well, he met her in August, right? Then he asked her out in early September – came home all love-struck like he’d just proposed.” Fred stood there awkwardly as they talked about him, feeling awfully left out as Harry asked questions and George answered. Until one particular question caught his attention.
“So how’s that gonna work?” Harry implored, “y’know, with her being a muggle and all?”
Both pairs of eyes looked to Fred, awaiting an answer that George couldn’t give. He took a breath as he nervously played with his fingers – unsure of how this was going to go. “Well… I er… I actually already told her… everything.” He paused as the men stared at him in shock and disbelief. “Last night, actually.”
There was a silence; Harry looked both shocked and pleased with his wide eyes and growing smirk; George, however, seemed completely bewildered and maybe just a little bit impressed.
“So…” George started, clearing his throat and setting down his mug, “so it’s actually… like… serious then?” He asked awkwardly.
Hesitantly looking up from his shoes, Fred nodded shyly as his cheeks burned redder than his hair; stood before his brothers, the young man had never felt more like a little boy.
Harry was the first to crack, his face breaking into a humorous smile as he started to laugh. “Oh man, I can’t wait to tell Ginny.”
“Wait! N-no, y’can’t tell her!” Fred interrupted with eyes bulging from his head.
“Why?” The brunette frowned in confusion – George looking up at his twin incredulously; Harry tells his wife pretty much everything – of course he would tell her about her brother’s girlfriend.
Sighing, he leaned against the counter, “Because… if you tell Ginny, then Ginny’s gonna tell Mum. And if Mum finds out, then everyone will find out, and they’ll ask loads of questions and then I’ll have no privacy. Not to mention the fact that Mum’s gonna want to meet her pretty much immediately – I don’t want her freaking (Y/N/N) out! It took long enough for her to process this from me – I-I don’t want Mum scaring her off and—”
“Whoa whoa,” George stopped him and patted Fred’s shoulder. “You’re really overthinking it, mate. I mean, yeah Mum might find out, but she’s gotta find out eventually anyway.” He persuaded; besides, he couldn’t wait to meet her himself, with the way Fred talked about her.
“I suppose,” Fred grumbled, still hesitant at the idea of his mother finding out; ‘Oh Merlin she’s gonna embarrass me’.
“Great!” Harry exclaimed, beaming at the new gossip he could tell his wife. “Well, I’ll be off then, gotta run, I’ll see ya later though!” Giving a quick wave, he apparated away excitedly – not at all helping to settle Fred’s nerves.
George clapped a hand on his shoulder roughly as the front door opened to let in their morning customers, “C’mon then, Freddie – just because you’re all high on love doesn’t mean I’m letting you off work again.”
•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•
“So, my mum wrote me a letter,” Fred admitted as he sunk into the sofa next to (Y/N), having just apparated into the apartment.
(Y/N) jumped and held her heart, almost throwing her laptop across the room in the process. “Jeez, don’t do that!” She cursed as she glared at him harshly.
Ignoring her, the wizard continued with his point, “It’s only been three days – barely a week – and she’s already going on about it.” He held up the folded parchment with excitedly scribbled letters covering almost all of the page, barely a spot of white behind the ink. “It’s all ‘When did you get a girlfriend?’, ‘Is she really a muggle? Your father would love to meet her’, ‘When were you planning on telling me about her?’. Honestly she goes on for three pages – front and back!” He groaned as he littered the pages onto the coffee table.
Biting her lip guiltily, (Y/N) took the letters to read; despite Mrs. Weasley seeming so enthusiastic, she couldn’t help but feel bad about the situation. “Sorry, you shouldn’t have had to go through all this trouble.” She said, putting the letter back.
Fred’s eyes widened as he began to protest, “No no – that’s not what I meant! No, I just meant that… well it’s just my mum. I don’t regret telling you or anything, or even that she found out. It’s only that… well… she’s just gonna tell all my brothers, and all her friends, and my friends, and everyone she meets, then they’re all gonna start asking me things and gossiping and stuff and I just…” he drifted off, cheeks reddening slightly from embarrassment.
She nodded in understanding, laying back next to him as he slung an arm around her and tucked his head into her shoulder. He sighed deeply and pulled her closer as he closed his eyes; George had made him make up for a few hours at work, which mostly included doing any paperwork that his brother had procrastinated. (Y/N) leaned back and Fred followed, resting on her as he resisted the urge to fall asleep. She combed her fingers through his ruffled red hair comfortingly and kissed the side of his head, letting him have a moment to relax. He tried not to pass out, knowing he probably wouldn’t move until morning, but (Y/N) proved to be making that difficult for him. As he neared unconsciousness, his mind started to wonder to his mother’s letter; when would they all meet her? Certainly not too soon, while (Y/N) was still getting used to magic; he didn’t want to overwhelm her. But he’d quite like her to meet his family – and he was sure they’d all love her. She could come over for dinner one day maybe? Or he could take her to Diagon Alley to meet George, surely if anyone in the family would like her it’d be him. Or maybe some time in December? A month should be enough for her to get used to it all, right? Christmas maybe? Yes – definitely.
“(Y/N/N)…?” Fred mumbled into her neck, earning a ‘hmmm?’ in reply, “D’you wan’ spend Chris’mas wi’ us?” He slurred tiredly as his breathing started to get deeper, “B’cause your fam’ly’s in ‘Merica.”
She took a second to think it over; spending Christmas with his family? That’s a whole new step forward in their relationship – not to mention his family is full of wizards and witches! Would it be weird? Her not only being a ‘muggle’ but also from another country, surely it’d be a little awkward, at first at least; but she’ll probably have to meet them some time anyway, why not at Christmas when she’s got nothing else to do? Looking down at her boyfriend, (Y/N) checked he was still awake (just barely) and gave him her answer: “Okay…”
•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•
“You what?” George exclaimed, throwing his hands up.
“I invited her over for Christmas,” Fred repeated nervously as he scratched the back of his neck, unsure if he had made a good decision or not.
Slowly, George let out a low whistle and sunk back into the sofa. “Well…” he started, “you’re gonna need backup,” he stated matter-of-factly and combed a hand through his hair.
Furrowing his brows, Fred looked to his twin in confusion. “Backup? What d’you mean, backup?”
“What I mean is,” he explained, going over to a scrap piece of parchment and writing something down, “You're planning on introducing your girlfriend - your American muggle girlfriend - to our family, to our Mum. Mum’s gonna be practically obsessing over her and Dad’s gonna be asking loads of questions about muggles and America and who knows how the others are gonna be. Believe me, you’re gonna need it.”
“So, what are you writing?” H e asked as he peaked over his brother’s shoulder.
“A letter.”
“To who?”
“Hermione.”
“Why?”
“Because,” George said, folding the letter into an envelope and taking it to their owl, “she’s gonna be about sixty-percent of your backup.”
“I thought you was gonna be my backup?” Fred tilted his head in confusion, still feeling nervous about this situation.
“Well yeah, but let’s face it, mate… we need Hermione.”
•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•
[[Hey, I'm still writing the ending so there will probably be a delay on that but let me know if you want to be tagged in the last part(s)]]
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Berry’s Little Secret
Blue, or Blueberry as he was nicknamed because of his color scheme and chub, was quite the fighter. When Blue skipped, yes he skipped instead of walking or running, onto the battlefield those who did not flee were handed their asses on a shiny silver platter as Blue extended a hand of friendship their way. It got to the point where Underswap was protected by Blue and Blue alone, people knowing how fiercely he protected people he didn't know, trembled at the thought of hurting someone he knew and cared for.
Error, the World Destroyer, respected the blue Sans. No one knew what happened, but during the period of time in which Blue was held hostage by Error, the Destroyer had gained a great level of respect for him, even letting him go and giving him a non-poisoned chocolate bar. Neither spoke of how this occurred, but the destruction of AUs slowed, but didn’t stop, and chocolate was plentiful in Underswap.
Despite his reputation, there was one skeleton considered his equal, Dust. Not as powerful, but his lack of control made the two evenly matched, and he was more violent, contrasting with Blue’s skill. The strangest thing was the sexual tension they had between them. Dust flirting with Blue and Blue flirting back, Dust drooling when Blue spun during his flips, and Blue often staring at the curves Dust had when the mad skeleton summoned ecto during their battles to tease his opponent.
“I swear Blue, are you sure you guys aren’t dating?” Ink joked after the artist once again drank himself sillier than he usually acted.
“As if I’d date a crazy murderer!” Blue said, crossing his arms and huffing.
“Then why do you flirt back? And we all have caught you staring.” Dream said, cleaning up the bottles of booze Ink had emptied while Dream and Blue were out on patrol.
“I decided to flirt back to mess with him. And I can acknowledge when a person is attractive, looking doesn’t mean I have a crush. I’ve told you two this hundreds of times.” Blue said, sighing. “I’m off to bed.” Blue said, walking off.
“See Dream, you *hic* scared ‘im off.” Ink said, blacking out.
“And I see you need to sleep. I don’t even know how you got so much alcohol.” Dream said, picking up Ink.
“Creativity!” Ink shouted as Dream teleported to Ink’s room and threw him on the bed.
Ink’s room was big, it had a king-sized bed in the center and paintings all over the walls, there were also sewing projects on the floor, a hot glue gun stuck to the wall, and a flute stuck in a flower pot. The floor was a fluffy carpet stained with paints of all types and the walls were rainbows.
“Goodnight.” Dream said as Ink passed out on the poorly made and horribly stained bed.
Dream headed off to his room, which had pale yellow walls and wooden floors. A large window taking up almost an entire wall was across from the door. His bed was white with fluffy blankets and a dresser in the corner with a small mirror on top.
“Why me?” He asked himself as he changed into pajamas and laid on the bed, snuggling into the blankets as he fell asleep.
Blue waited until midnight, making sure everyone was asleep. He packed a suitcase with many pairs of clothes, toiletries, and electronics. His room was small with baby blue walls and a white carpet with a small bed that had a few sheets and a fluffy pillow. Blue was nervous, he did this stunt weekly, but he was still nervous about being caught.
He sent a text and a portal appeared before him. It led to Nightmare’s hideout, which was a small cottage in a small corner of dark woods. It was very crowded, but it had a soul unlike the large castle Blue generally lived in when he was busy with the Star Sanses, which his AU was thankfully oblivious of.
“Dad!” A small voice cried out and Blue was embraced by his son, Sprinkle. They had a dark blue hoodie with a purple hood, a purple bandanna, cyan shorts with purple stars and had one blue eye with a yellow pupil and the other blue eye had a red pupil.
“Hello Sprinkle. How are you?” Blue asked as he entered the cottage and was greeted by the Dark Sanses.
“Hello there my beautiful husband~. How are you?” Dust asked as he kissed Blue on the forehead.
“Awesome.” Blue said as he sat down on the couch and removed his gloves.
His hands were scarred, held together by bandages, and a ring with an amethyst gem and silver band rested on his ring finger.
“Will you tell us how you hurt your hands?” Cross asked, and Blue shook his head. “Fine.” Cross said and went to the kitchen to get a chocolate bar.
Nightmare came in the room and glanced at Blue. “Welcome.” He said before walking away.
“He still doesn’t like you.” Sprinkle said as he climbed onto his dad’s lap.
“Can’t expect everyone to.” Blue said as he held his son in his arms. “Guess what?” Blue asked and Sprinkle blinked.
“What?” He asked, bouncing a little bit in anticipation.
“I’m staying for a whole week!” Blue said as he grabbed his kid and threw them in the air before catching them.
“Yay!” Sprinkle said as he embraced his dad.
“A week?” Killer said, and Blue nodded.
“I really wanted to hang out with Sprinkle, since based on Papy’s notes we might be in for a genocide or two.” Blue said and everyone shrugged, accepting Blue’s lie with ease.
“Let’s go set up your room.” Dust said, and Sprinkle followed his parents to the guest room and they shut the door.
“Why are you really here?” Dust asked and Blue sighed.
“Is Nightmare planning something?” Blue asked, and Sprinkle sat on the bed.
“Always scheming aren’t you?” Dust said, growling and Blue rolled his eyes.
“I want to keep as many people safe as I can. And I know Nightmare is planning something big, I just need to figure out what.” Blue said. “We both know Nightmare is planning on breaking the agreement. It’s only a matter of time.” Blue said, unpacking a few items, but keeping most of his stuff in the suitcase.
“Yes I know, he’s been looking at Sprinkle and making threatening gestures his way.” Dust said.
“And you haven’t planned to run away have you? Too afraid to take your child’s life into your own hands?!” Blue said, snarling as Dust rolled his eyes.
“Mom, Dad...?” Sprinkle said, and the two looked at him. “Can we pretend to be a normal family for this week? I know you two have your rivalry, but can we...” Sprinkle said and the two skeletons ran up to him.
“I’m so sorry, we can have some fun with each other, and if we play our cards right, we can get you and your mother out of this.” Blue said and Dust sighed.
“To keep you safe, yeah. You’re pushing me to redemption, you little bugger.” Dust said as he noogied his child.
“I got it from Dad!” Sprinkle said and Blue giggled.
“Naturally.” Blue said, smiling.
“I know you only got into this situation to keep me safe, but I do hope we can make it out of this in one piece.” Sprinkle said.
“I do too.” Blue said and Dust nodded.
A knock on the door startled them, and Cross peaked his head in, a chocolate bar sticking out of his mouth. He took it out when he saw that he had the trio’s attention. “Lunch.” Cross said and stuck the candy in his mouth before closing the door.
“It’s midnight in the base. But a midnight snack never hurt anybody.” Blue said, and Dust howled with laughter.
“Yeah. ‘Got to sleep! We can have breakfast in the morning!’ what changed your mind?” Dust asked as he grabbed the top of the back of Blue’s pants.
Blushing like the fruit he is named after Blue smacked Dust right across the face. “Since I started this gig up, and staying with you my sleeping and eating schedule has been a mess. Even more so since most AUs have their own separate clock.” Blue said, readjusting his pants from the intrusion.
“Fine. Just don’t tell anyone you said that.” Dust said and Sprinkle got off the bed.
“Are we going to be ok?” Sprinkle asked, and Blue smiled.
“You’re going to be just fine.” Blue said, and Sprinkle noticed how Blue didn’t guarantee himself and Dust being ok.
The table was set up with salads and a variety of fruits. Most of it being grown at or near the cottage. Blue was a little upset he couldn’t make tacos, but he could deal with it. Maybe eating edible food would help him think.
“Glad you like this. We’ve been trying to grow our own food for ages, it’ll keep us healthy and whatnot.” Killer said as he chomped on a carrot.
“Or maybe it’ll help you avoid social interaction besides each other.” Blue said and everyone laughed.
“Where’s Nightmare?” Sprinkle said, holding onto Blue’s leg tightly.
“He said to bring him some food, apparently he has a big project going on and doesn’t want to stop working on it.” Horror said, popping out from behind the door to the kitchen.
“Thanks Horror.” Blue said, smiling as he ate some of the juicy fruit.
Sprinkle clung to Blue as the Dark Sanses ate their food, and he saw Dust keeping an eye on him the whole time.
“You’re kid is cute. Maybe he can finally open up to us.” Cross said as he pat Sprinkle on the head, making the kid flinch, and Blue and Dust growled.
“Ok. Fine.” Cross said, raising his hands in surrender.
Blue and Dust lead Sprinkle to the couch, keeping him between the two and Dust tracking the locations of everyone in the room. It was silent as everyone ate, the clock ticking as the seconds went by, and the clouds covering the sun as the wind beat against the stone walls of the quaint cottage.
Footsteps were heard coming from upstairs, Dust held his child close as Nightmare showed himself. “Hello, Blue. I want to see you.” Nightmare said and Blue got up, kissing Sprinkle on his head as he followed his best friend’s arch enemy.
The upstairs was dark and dusty. Cobwebs littering the corners and the windows were blacked out. Mirrors lined the dark hallway as Blue followed Nightmare, he led his spy to a room at the end of the hall.
“How are you?” Nightmare asked, sitting at a desk when Blue closed the door.
“I’m good.” Blue said as he sat in a chair in front of Nightmare.
The room was dark, candles lined the walls, but Blue could only see Nightmare’s glowing eye and outlines of bookshelves on the walls.
“That’s nice. How is my brother?” Nightmare asked, smiling.
“He’s good. Though a little overwhelmed from Ink’s drinking habits worsening.” Blue said, unwavering in his eye contact with Nightmare.
“You did good. I would have never thought getting Ink addicted to alcohol.” Nightmare said.
“Forgive me but he is not addicted. He often goes days without drinking, but when he does, it makes up for it.” Blue said and Nightmare scoffed.
“Still, thank you. Any idea when it would be opportune to strike?” Nightmare asked, tilting his head.
“When I leave. Dream will be tired and Ink will have a hangover. It is also the day I am to return to Underswap. Attacking a well known AU around that time, I suggest StorySwap, would be best for you. Unless you have other plans?” Blue said, wringing his hands under the table and out of Nightmare’s field of vision.
“That is absolutely perfect. I was planning on attacking that area anyway.” Nightmare said. “Now for my favorite part, got any drama?” The King of all Evil asked.
“Red is planning on asking me out, Lust is flirting with Reaper and Geno is most likely going to murder Lust for flirting with his fiance.” Blue said, and Nightmare appeared to lick his non-existent lips.
“That sounds delicious. I can’t wait to eat those emotions up.” Nightmare said as he hummed in delight.
“Am I excused?” Blue said and Nightmare nodded.
“You can go back to your husband.” Nightmare said, picking Blue up with tentacles and placing him on the other side of the door he opened with another tentacle.
“Thank you.” Blue said as he walked to the stairs.
Next
#undertale#cross sans#killer sans#horror Sans#nightmare sans#dustsans#underswap sans#sprinkle#Berry's Little Secret
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When The Levee Breaks
Summary: It’s Freddie’s birthday, and of course he’s hosting an over-the-top costume party to celebrate. Brian has no idea what his costume will be, until you suggest he should dress up as a schoolgirl. You knew he’d look pretty, but something about seeing him in a skirt drives you crazy, and you can’t get enough.
Word Count: 3,512
Warnings: SMUT!! (unprotected sex, too) but also kinda fluffy in a way? LISTEN TO WHEN THE LEVEE BREAKS BY LED ZEPPELIN WHILE READING THE MIDDLE TO END. YOU WILL UNDERSTAND.
You always knew when Freddie’s birthday was coming up because he didn’t let anybody forget it. You had known Freddie long enough to know this, and that the first thing he did when he got a calendar for the new year was circle his birthday--September 5th— in bright red ink. Freddie had always enjoyed partying--the flamboyant outfits, excessive drinking, the outlet for sexual frustrations by one-night stands. But there was only one thing Freddie loved more than parties, and those were parties concerning himself. He lived for the attention, for showing up to his own get-together in an outfit that cost way too much money, for the gifts, for the freedom and youth it made him feel although he had grown one year older.
Three years prior, Freddie had begun a tradition for his birthday--to throw the most monumental costume party to celebrate. He would begin to plan for the next party as soon as the final drunken stranger from the last one was booted from Freddie’s flat, which he shared with his bandmates. This year wasn’t any different, save for the fact that Freddie hadn’t begun to plan as early as he had hoped, due to musical obligations, which he cursed Brian and Roger for, although Freddie was the one who had booked the relentless hours at the studio, fishing out hundreds and hundreds of dollars to do so. So, he was not only out of time, but broke as well--and he was showing the signs of distress.
“My birthday is one week away, and I have no idea what to do for the party!” He complained, throwing his hands up in the air as he paced around the living area, the static of the tv in the background casting an anxious glow on his skin.
“What do you mean, Fred? You do the same thing every year, I don’t see the problem.” Deaky replied, eating some cereal straight from the box.
“The same thing? Please tell me you’re kidding, John. You’ve got to be kidding me. If it were the same fucking thing, I wouldn’t be worried, now would I?” Freddie snatched the half-empty cereal box from Deaky’s grasp. “Also we’re not made of money, Deaky!”
“You’re overreacting, Freddie.” Brian countered, his hands squeezing your knee. You were seated on his lap, as there wasn’t enough room on the couch for four people. His arms were around you, his hands resting on your thighs, his cold ring making you shiver whenever it touched your skin.
“Yeah, Freddie. We’ll figure it out, it will be okay. Just calm down, do you want me to make you some tea?” You questioned, and Freddie looked at you as if you just slaughtered his family and took everything dear to him, one look of pure anger and disappointment embellishing his dark features.
“I swear to God, Y/N. You start fucking Brian and now you’re on his side for everything. Ridiculous! Before you got in his pants you would have never dared to disagree with me!” Freddie pointed at you and Brian, accusatory. Brian pulled you back into his chest and rested his chin upon your shoulder, barely-there stubble tickling at the skin.
Roger giggled because of Brian’s reddening face--and of the entire situation which was getting increasingly outrageous with every second.
“Is this funny, Roger? Are you glad my birthday is fucking ruined?” He hollered, looking into Roger’s eyes without faltering, darkly lined eyes wide and bulging.
Roger stopped smiling and looked up at Freddie, annoyed. You all were; Freddie had forced you guys to stay in the living room with him until he planned the party, but he wasn’t even trying to come up with any ideas, and he had shot down every thought which you had given.
“What is there to plan? It’s a costume party. Sorry Fred, but I don’t quite understand the urgency here.” Deaky mellowly replied, pulling a hoodie on as he cuddled into the couch next to you and Brian, closing his eyes.
“I don’t want the same boring people to come. I don’t want the same boring costumes! I need people to be fun, creative. Just for one night!”
“Freddie, that sounds great, but we can’t really control what people are wearing.” Brian feigned interest, picking tiny dust bunnies from the sweater of his you were wearing.
“Brian! I knew you were smart, but this is genius!” Freddie ran over to the couch, his bare feet pattering on the cold wood floor, planting a wet kiss on Brian’s forehead.
“What did I say?” Brian adjusted his position on the couch, confused as to what on Earth was going on in Freddie’s head.
“You said we can’t control what people wear, but we can! Somebody can be at the door and allow people in based on their costumes! It’s perfect!” Freddie clapped his hands together, flashing his band a toothy smile, before he got to work, illustrating a poster to advertise the party. He wrote the time, date and address in beautiful, almost calligraphic writing before adding a bold, “BE CREATIVE, DARLINGS!” in thick black marker. Freddie relished in his creation, and begged Brian to make copies at his university the next day. Brian agreed, and reluctantly grabbed the original copy. He technically was only allowed to use the printers and copying machines for school-related matters, but he would try to pretend he had an exceptionally long paper to print.
Brian copied way too many, and had no idea what to do with the extras. Papers were spilling from his willowy arms and he was unable to hold his bag simultaneously. So he handed them to anybody and everybody who walked by, hating the awkward interactions, but needing to get rid of the papers, for the sake of Freddie’s--and his---sanity. He left them on benches, weighed down with a jagged rock. He put stacks in the library, in a university café. He had no idea what Fred meant by allowing people into the party as if it were the gates of heaven, but really, anything Freddie said about his parties, went.
__
The party was two days away, and everyone was excited. People at the university would smile at Brian, giving him a thumbs up or patting him on the back as his tall figure walked past them on the streets. Plenty of people came up to him, worried that their costume ideas weren’t acceptable. They would tell him outrageous costumes: dragons, obscure movie characters--they told him everything. And Brian was beginning to get worried, because he had no idea what to be. He would have the blossoming of an idea, and then he would remember a peer of his at university had primed the idea in his mind, and he was right back to square one--with nothing.
He laid in bed with you, your head on his chest. He sighed deeply, looking up at the ceiling at the naked light fixture which was barely flickering, casting a warm glow on you which made his heart flitter in his chest, just a bit.
“What am I supposed to do? The party is in two days, and I have no idea what to dress up as.” Brian was overworking himself as he tended to do. “And I’m absolutely broke!” He added, petting your hair as you pressed a kiss to his bare chest, looking up at him. He looked beautiful, in the ambient lighting--his chest was tan and delicate, his collarbones curved along beautifully sloped, bony shoulders. His lips were plump, red from the remnants of the lipstick you were wearing earlier. His cheeks were glowing, his dark eyes barely lined--the residue of a past concert. His lashes fluttering did the same to your stomach. You pushed his hair out of his eyes and he gave you a smile, dizzy with love.
“You would make the prettiest girl, Bri.” You kissed his cheek, which was fiery hot beneath your llps.
“Really?” He asked, in disbelief.
“Of course you would! I can show you if you’d like. I could do your makeup!” You sat up, gently shoving his chest, and he giggled before his face contorted itself into the most pensive you had ever seen him.
“That’s perfect! I’ll be a girl for the party!” He shot up from the bed, kissing your forehead as he began to rummage through your closet, in search of anything that might fit him.
You gasped. “Brian, be a schoolgirl! I have a plaid skirt that you would fit in, then wear a button up. I can do your hair and makeup!” You both were so giddy, and you found the skirt in the depths of your drawers, wrinkled and cold from never being worn. “We’ll have to get you tights, too. You’re going to be so pretty, Brian.” You stared at him in awe, and those words made him shudder, blood running straight to his cock. He shifted uncomfortably from his spot on the bed, picking your skirt up and holding it over his legs which were clad in deep red briefs, the same color as the garment you had given him.
“I’m so excited,” you whispered in his ear, before tilting his head towards yours to give him a passionate kiss, which he moaned into, grabbing at your waist to pull you on top of him. You pulled away, kissing the tip of his nose.
“Let’s wait until the party.” You said out of breath, as he whined beside you, rubbing his hand against himself, eager to release the tension.
____
The morning of September fifth , the boys had to go to the pub where Freddie convinced the owner to let him have his party at--he said something about more revenue and publicity for his establishment. They set up banners and lights, picked out Freddie’s favorite records to have on queue, and set up the stage for their birthday performance--a surprise that Deaky thought of the night before. Freddie was still asleep, of course--he needed to be beautiful for his guests--his words.
Brian was exceptionally sleepy as he helped set up--he was designated to string up the yellow lights and pin pictures of Freddie and his friends all over the walls, random and haphazardly. But nonetheless, Brian was excited--despite his consistent yawning, almost causing him to fall off of the small step ladder from the back of the bar which was covered with band stickers.
“Jesus, Brian, you’re going to break your head open.” Roger nudged Brian’s leg to wake him up, handing him another string of golden lights, which warmed Brian’s cold fingertips. “What’s your costume, by the way? You never said anything.”
Brian giggled in response, his tight shirt riding up slightly as he reached to hang the lights. “It’s a surprise! How is Elvis coming along for you, Rog?” Brian changed the subject, adamant for his costume to be unexpected to everyone.
“Not excited about dying my hair black--even if it’s temporary. I don’t know about it.” He sighed as Brian climbed down from the tiny ladder, admiring his work. Polaroids hung across the wall--pictures of Freddie singing, smiling with his cats, angry, taken by surprise. Every aspect of Freddie’s personality was hung on that dirty pub’s walls, and the band nodded--it represented Freddie perfectly--as a dynamic man; unpredictable.
__
“Be still, Brian. You can’t move so much, or you’ll ruin it.” You tilted Brian’s head back, using a small brush to blend a deep eyeshadow into his eyelids. You had already added some black liner, which you smudged slightly.
Brian obliged, staying quiet, even though you were sat on his lap and touching him a lot, making him semi-hard in his pajama pants. “Now, mascara.” You twisted the tube open, a wet pop emitting from it, making Brian flinch.
“Relax. If you move during this, you’ll have it all over your eyes.” You brushed through his thick eyelashes with the wand, gasping as you saw how long and luscious his eyelashes were. “Amazing, if I say so myself.” You closed the tube and got to work on his lips, painting a reddish-mauve onto them. “Pucker up, baby.” He did, and you swiped another coat on, wiping the excess off with your thumb.
“Here,” You handed him the tube of lipstick, “You’ll need to reapply later. Now get dressed, so I can do your hair!”
Three minutes later, your boyfriend walked out of your closet in a button-up halfway buttoned, tucked into a plaid skirt with tight pleats, which was way too short on him. Underneath the skirt he was wearing sheer stockings with knee high socks, his legs shaven to complete the look. He wore his clogs--his feet were too big to fit into your shoes. You squealed as you spun him around, giving his ass a playful slap.
“Hold on, I have to take pictures.” You searched your drawer for your polaroid camera, a gift from Brian--he bought it for you months ago without an occasion.
You snapped at least ten shots of him--smiling, laughing, giving you a faux-sexy look as he looked back at the camera. “Okay, I have to do your hair, we’re running out of time.” You sat him down on the bed and fluffed his hair, which was silky but a little rough from not being washed for a few days, loose curls draped around his face. You clipped his hair back with bright pink hair clips, kissing his forehead softly as you admired the finished product. It was strange to admit, but he looked so beautiful, it was making you horny. The way he was fluttering his eyelashes, his cheeks which were perpetually pink from the blush--you were beginning to blush yourself.
“Are you guys done, yet?” Freddie pounded on the door, anxious to get going to his party. You and Brian hadn’t told anybody what he was dressing as. They all knew you were going as a figure skater--you were wearing an icy blue skating costume with white tights and white roller skates--you couldn’t wear ice skates to a party. Your hair was in a high bun, curled strands of hair falling over your eyes occasionally. Brian had been slyly hiding his erection since you had put the costume on hours ago.
“I’ve just finished!” You replied, grabbing his hands, his nails painted red. “Okay, guys, close your eyes.” You opened the door slightly, looking to see if the three men waiting outside were following your directions. Once you saw their eyes shut, you opened the door and ushered Brian out, quietly giggling. “Three, two one! Open your eyes!”
They all burst out laughing as soon as they saw him, especially Roger, who couldn’t get enough. “Who’s this hottie, where is Brian?” Roger teased, playfully slapping Brian’s skirt-covered ass, Brian blowing him a kiss in response, which Deaky caught, laughing so hard his eyes were crinkling, almost shut; Freddie wolf-whistled, a huge smile on his face.
__
The party was filtered by the bar’s bouncer, who was more than annoyed and even more confused by his job for the night. He had no idea what Freddie meant by “acceptable costumes only”, so he let everyone in who showed up--which was hundreds of people. Brian had distributed the flyers to seemingly everyone under the sun. There were eighteen year-olds, barely legal, all the way to forty year-olds--all of them showing up in ornate, elaborate costumes, as per Freddie’s wishes.
A slightly drunken pirate-Freddie cried as Brian, Deaky, and Roger climbed up on stage and sang him a very “Freddie Happy Birthday”, as Deaky called it, taking a long swig of beer before he began to strum his bass--the audience clapping to Roger’s beat, his leather jacket making him glow with a sheen of sweat as he hit the drum kit forcefully. As the lights shone on Brian’s lithe body, the partygoers in the audience whistled and hollered as they saw Brian’s costume. He nervously blushed as he played his intricate solo, wine-red fingernails shining from the spotlight as they fingered the frets, a beautiful grin plastered on his face, black eyelashes fluttering as his skirt wisped around him. His hair was bouncing as he leapt across the stage, his skirt riding up ever so slightly as he jumped, mouth agape from concentration as he sang into the microphone, his long fingers ghosting over the shaft of it. You were getting hot looking at him, and you didn’t understand why your boyfriend crossdressing was making you literally weak in the knees. As they finished their song, the bass was resonating through your whole body, the drums shaking you to your bones. Brian’s playing was flawless, but you could see the trepidation in his made-up eyes as he bowed, a large hand splayed across his guitar.
As he got off the stage, he smiled at a few random people who came up to him, gushing about his performance. He made easy conversation with them, words falling off of his tongue effortlessly, spewing out of his red-painted lips in his sultry accent, and you could feel yourself growing wet. He put his guitar in the case, buckling it closed before he hid it backstage where he always did--he was very protective of his guitar. Soon, Brian was behind you as you spoke to some friends. His hands were on your shoulders, his breath hot against your exposed neck.
“Y/N, we need to give Fred his gift.” He smiled at your friends, tangling is hand in yours as he pulled you away. With every touch you were growing hotter, and wearing the roller skates was becoming increasingly more difficult--you were high on arousal.
“I thought we were doing gifts later?” You squeezed his hand, looking up at him. His jawline was sharp like his nose, and the juxtaposition of the makeup and soft eyes with his harsher features was making you dizzy.
“It was a lie,” He pulled you into a booth table, abandoned in the back of the pub, in a corner where nobody was. “I’m so hard, Y/N,” he pushed your hand onto his cock, covered by your skirt and you squeezed lightly, breathing into his neck as you nipped at his skin, palming his dick. The stockings were still on, skintight--along with his briefs, and he was feeling restrained and impossibly hard. You straddled him, hearing muffled conversation approach, but you didn’t stop as you ground yourself against him.
“You’re so pretty,” You said, pushing your hand up his--your-- skirt, ripping the stockings, spitting into your hand before touching the head of his dick, which was red and leaking everywhere. You slowly stroked him, rubbing your thumb along the ridges of his head and he twitched in your hand as you called him pretty once again. You kissed at his chest, teasing him with your hand. His head was tilted back, mascara running down his cheeks as his eyes watered from the stimulation. You pulled him up by his hair, still clipped back by pink clips, kissing him hard as he whined into your mouth. His face was covered in lipstick--some from his lips, but most from yours, two shades of red overlapping on his desperate face. He ran his fingers over your ass and yanked your stockings down, pulling you down so your bare heat was against his cock, and he screamed when you began to grind against him harder. You had to cover his mouth, his eyes were glossed over, and he was whimpering loudly against your hand, as his own grabbed at your ass to make you move faster. Instead, you sunk down on him.
“Fuck, Y/N, it feels too good.” His mouth was wide open, breathy gasps escaping with every thrust. He met you halfway each time. “Please say it again,” Your hands were splayed on his chest which was marked with red kisses as you rode him, soft gasps leaving both of your mouths as you took in each other’s features. You knew what he meant, but you wanted to hear him beg for it.
“Call you what, baby?” You scratched at his scalp and pulled his hair like you knew he liked, his fingers tracing down your neck and chest before they rested on your hips. His hip bones were hitting against the backs of your thighs, the wheels from your skates hissing as they rolled from your movements.
“Please, Y/N, Please, say it again.” He begged, the hem of his skirt tickling his skin barely.
“You’re so pretty, Bri. So pretty.” He gasped, breathless, before his hips stuttered.
He came with a cry, and it spilled down your legs. He was still whimpering a minute later, and you grabbed his face and a napkin from the booth, wiping his face of the lipstick which was red, caked on his soft skin. He was almost catatonic, breathing heavily beneath you. You reached your hand into the pocket of his shirt, finding the lipstick you had put in earlier.
“I told you you’d have to reapply.” He took a deep breath and sighed, a blissed-out grin on his face.
___________
Taglist: @mercurys-bike @alexfayer @ledger-kaos @ma-ntequilla @discodeakky @richiethotzierz @thisloveisreal1 @heartsarecompatible @thelondondreamer5 @brian-may-brian-may @okqueenie @gailymlee @trickster-blr @bubblypenguin123 @queensdarlingg @soloosunflower @johndeaconisaqueen @fredthelegend @miez-lakatz @arrowswithwifi @mouse507 @mespetitestortues @yourstateofdreaming
#brian may#brian may fanfic#brian may smut#brian may x reader#queen#smut#gwilym lee#ben hardy#roger taylor#john deacon#joe mazzello#rami malek#freddie mercury#bohemian rhapsody#borhap
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Tumblr Milestone!
For whatever reason, Tumblr has chosen to keep me hidden from tags, searches, etc. So, I’m really, really thrilled to have finally hit a milestone of 100 followers!
Thank you, you 100 of the most beautiful, most excellent, most exceptional people, for finding me and for following me. An additional HUGE thank you for reblogging my posts (especially the ones that contain my fics) so others may find me too. You make me visible.
To celebrate reaching this milestone, I’ve written a short story, which I hope you read, enjoy, review and share. It was based partly on this gif:
The Troublesome Genius
Read below the cut, or on: AO3 FF
Rated: T
Pairing: ShikaTema
Other characters: Kakashi, Sai, Shikadai, Tonton
Summary: Shikamaru Nara maneuvers his way through the troublesome aspects of being a husband, father, and assistant to the Rokudaime.
The Troublesome Genius
“Come in.”
Shikamaru looked up from his task at the unexpected knock on the door to the Hokage’s office. The Rokudaime, however, continued to address the stack of paperwork in front of him. “You can add this one to the ‘Un-fun’ file,” he said as he handed the top sheet to his assistant.
“Good afternoon.” Sai’s polite monotone greeted them as he quietly closed the office door behind him.
“Hey, Sai. What brings you here?” Shikamaru lifted Tonton off a tall stack of papers to add another to it. He returned his gaze to their visitor and watched him set a large, earthenware pot on the Hokage’s desk.
“Ino asked me to bring this for your and Shikadai’s dinner this evening.” Sai finished with a smile that was more genuine than he’d been capable of in the past.
“Un-fun.” Kakashi handed another piece of paper to his assistant, and Shikamaru added it to the towering stack. “You have the whole village cooking for you this week Shikamaru,” the Rokudaime continued. “I’m jealous. When does Temari return?”
“The day after tomorrow. Shikadai and I should probably start cleaning the house up tonight.” Shikamaru chuckled to himself, thinking of the lazy week he and his young son had been enjoying in his wife’s absence.
“It’s been slow this week, you can take a half-day tomorrow and have one more evening to be kings of your castle. Ooh here's one for the ‘Fun’ file.” Kakashi handed the piece of paper he’d briefly checked to his assistant as he spoke.
“What’re you doing?” Sai asked as Shikamaru added the piece of paper he’d been given to the smallest stack upon the Hokage’s desk.
“Filing.” Shikamaru offered the succinct explanation as Sai moved the pot he’d brought further away from the growing piles of ‘organized’ tasks. Nara then returned his attention to the Rokudaime, “I appreciate that Kakashi, but are you sure? The ‘Un-fun’ stack is getting out of hand again.”
“And here’s another one to add to that file, but don’t worry, I’ll get around to it.” Kakashi waved his hand in a dismissive gesture once Shikamaru had relieved it of the ‘Un-fun’ document. “It’ll probably take you the whole afternoon to return everyone’s dishes to them. Besides, what’s the point of having fought so hard for this era of peace if families like yours don’t enjoy it?”
“Oink, oink!” Tonton added her two cents to the conversation.
“Well said, my dear.” Kakashi ceased reading to pat the head of the unofficial mascot of his office. Then he turned to his assistant again, “How’ve you two spent the last week with your house to yourselves?”
“In our underwear, mostly.” Shikamaru laughed, and even Sai joined him, understanding the joy of sharing such simple freedom with his own son whenever Ino left for a ‘Ladies Weekend.’
“Also, not doing the dishes,” Shikamaru smirked. His grin grew wider when he softly added, “I’ve started to teach him how to play shogi.”
“Ah, now that’s time well spent.” The Rokudaime displayed his smile through closed and creased eyes.
Eyes that flew open in the next moment when a woman yelled from the other side of his closed office door. “Where is he?!?!”
Shikamaru recognized that shriek, and before the door to the Hokage’s office was flung open, had just enough time to utter, “Don’t leave me.”
Temari stood in the doorway, her eyes quickly scanning the occupants of the Hokage’s office until they landed on Shikamaru and stayed there. The three men watched as a dangerous calm visibly settled over her face.
“You’re back early,” Shikamaru choked out, in what he hoped was a cheerful greeting.
Temari’s eyes narrowed in reply.
“How was your trip?” He attempted again.
“Shut up.” Temari folded her arms across her chest. “Please excuse my intrusion Hokage-sama, but I need to speak to your genius assistant about his genius son.”
“I was about to leave anyway,” Sai offered.
Shikamaru knew that Sai would be the first to betray him and was prepared for it. “Yes, to deliver that message for me, thank you. I’ve almost finished drafting it.” He grabbed the nearest piece of paper and quickly scribbled his plea where Sai could see him,
Find Shikadai-I don’t care how-tell him Mom’s home early, and he needs to wash all the dirty dishes. Now. Tell him I said to take out the trash too. Hurry.
Sai accepted the note and his mission with a nod. He took a step towards the door where Temari still stood, second-guessed himself, and chose to exit the Hokage’s office via the window instead.
Temari aimed her gaze at the Rokudaime next. “It’s his office, you can’t expect him to leave,” Shikamaru started.
However, Kakashi was already standing and gathered Tonton into his arms. “I think it would be best if I did.” He looked at Temari and continued, “Only for a moment though, it’s been a hectic week for us. In fact,” he turned to Shikamaru, “I may have to ask your husband to work this weekend to help me catch up, depending upon your situation of course,” he finished with a wink to his assistant before turning to exit.
“O-oink?” Tonton looked up at the Rokudaime as he carried her to the door with him.
“Exactly. How do you always know just what to say?” Kakashi replied to the pig as he walked around Temari and closed the door behind him, leaving the Naras to themselves.
Shikamaru stood still, carefully observing his wife. His previous attempts to get to the root of the problem had proven unsuccessful. He stuffed one hand into his pocket, found the lighter that had belonged to his sensei, and ran his thumb over it as his mind thought through the various possibilities for her foul mood.
‘Had she been home and found the mess? Maybe. She doesn’t look like she’s been home though, she’s still carrying her fan and her bag… Birthday? Anniversary? No, she wouldn’t have gone to Suna for a visit if that was the case. She ended her trip early and rushed back here-shit! Did Kankuro tell her about the stag party? No, no she said she needed to talk about my genius son-not our son, my son, and she called me a genius too, so that means…’
“What’d he do?” He asked aloud.
“Pulled the fire alarm at The Little Leaves Kindergarten Ninja Academy!”
Shikamaru felt his jaw drop at Temari’s exclamation. His eyes drifted to the window behind her in time to see Shikadai’s worried and tear-streaked face fly past on one of Sai’s ink birds in the direction of the Nara home.
His eyes quickly returned to Temari’s. “When?”
“This morning, while the kids were lined up to go outside for first recess. The school called me at the emergency telephone number listed on my parent contact card. I was so embarrassed taking that call, in front of everyone in the Kazekage’s office, Shikamaru!” Temari smacked her hand down on the Hokage’s desk in a show of her frustration. “I told them to call you, but the secretary said she couldn’t. Do you know why?”
Shikamaru gulped, as he suddenly remembered the forgotten, blank parent contact card sitting in his desk drawer at home.
Temari brought her hands up to her head and massaged her temples with her fingers. “I’m upset that this interrupted my visit with my brothers, I’m exhausted from rushing here by train, and I’m sick of being the ‘mean parent,’ Shikamaru.” She let her arms fall to her sides, exposing her face which was flushed from stress and emotion.
“Look, I understand that I’m not allowed in your and Shikadai’s boys-only club and I know that you two laugh at how strict I can be. However, I’d really appreciate it if you could see your way to completing more of the ‘troublesome’ tasks of parenthood so I could be part of the joke instead of just the butt of it.”
Shikamaru stood silent, his thumb running over the inherited lighter in his pocket. He began to realize how his behavior as a father had been inherited as well, and he considered the impact it had on the woman he’d asked to be his partner. He could only think of one maneuver to resolve the situation.
“You’re correct, and I’m sorry Temari.”
It appeared his wife hadn’t expected him to understand and apologize so readily and it almost pained him to see it. But she relaxed and replied in the gentle voice she reserved just for him. “Thank you, Shikamaru.”
He returned her soft smile with a sheepish one of his own. Then he sighed and ran a hand down his face, tugging a little at his goatee. “Why did he pull the fire alarm, though? I can’t imagine Shikadai doing such a stupid prank, it’s not like him at all.”
Temari chuckled, and it was Shikamaru’s turn to be surprised at his spouse’s reaction. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m sorry, it wasn’t funny to me at the time, even though the teacher was laughing when he told me.” Temari quieted her laughter long enough to explain, “Apparently, your genius son is learning to read faster and better than we thought. He pulled the fire alarm because the words, ‘please pull’ are stamped right on it.”
Shikamaru groaned, and Temari laughed louder at his reaction. “His teacher explained to me that it happens often enough that a request was sent to the Hokage’s office to have the alarms replaced.”
“It’s filed,” came the muffled voice of the eavesdropping Rokudaime from the other side of his office door.
Shikamaru looked at the leaning tower of ‘Un-fun’ paperwork and groaned again.
“Regardless of the reason, he still had to be punished and served detention after school today,” Temari finished relating Shikadai’s unfortunate day to his father as she opened the office door so Kakashi could reenter.
The Rokudaime still held Tonton while he sat in the chair at his desk again. Shikamaru had begun sifting through the tallest stack of documents, looking for a request from The Little Leaves Kindergarten Ninja Academy. “I think we need to rethink our filing system, Hokage-sama.”
“Yeah,” Kakashi reluctantly agreed, setting Tonton down on his desk.
“Well, I’d better go collect our genius son from school.” Temari sighed. “His detention ended fifteen minutes ago, but I had to cool off before I could pick him up. I’m sure he’s waiting for me now and dreading my reaction.”
Shikamaru smiled when Temari used the word ‘our’ to describe their son again, but then he recalled the image of Shikadai flying past the windows, as well as his instruction to clean up the evidence of the lazy week they’d had while his wife was away. “Wait—” his mind raced to cover up one last secret of the boys-only club, “as you say, he’s a genius. Shikadai will know to head home by now, and I’m sure he’s had enough trouble for one day. You must be tired after your unexpected trip back. Why don’t I take you out for tea and then we can pick dinner up on our way home?”
“I thought you two were having a ‘hectic week’?”
“The Rokudaime assured me he didn’t need me to get through the ‘Un-fun file’ himself,” Shikamaru quickly and subtly appealed to Kakashi with his eyes. The Rokudaime assented with a slight nod of his head.
“The what file?” Temari turned back to face the Hokage and his assistant.
“Besides, what’s the point of having fought so hard for this era of peace if families like ours don’t enjoy it?” Shikamaru recycled Kakashi’s words as he set aside his work in favor of leaving with his wife instead.
“Oink, oink,” Tonton approved.
“Oink, oink,” Kakashi concurred and waved goodbye to the departing couple.
The End
#tumblr milestone#fanfic#shikatema#kakashi#sai#tonton#shikadai#shikamaru#temari#my fanfiction#fanfic by ohayohimawari#ohayohimawari
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Outbreak 4
@bornoffireandwisdom had a few more ideas for Outbreak, so here we go again. This’ll probably be the last one.
Once more Scientific Journalist Murray Hill belongs to @circus-craze
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Somehow, Wally was still kicking. He’d been infected, yes, due all the scratches and bites Sammy had delivered to him, but he hadn’t yet succumbed to the ink. As such, he’d taken to pitifully limping after Sammy to make sure his friend didn’t hurt anyone else. Most everyone was infected at this point, so his attempts at protection didn’t serve much of a purpose. Except to make Sammy feel even worse about the situation. He was still essentially trapped in his head, watching as his body moved without his input.
“I know you didn’t mean to hurt anybody,” Wally said. Sammy had stopped moving for the moment, so Wally had slumped against a wall. He looked awful. Ink was dribbling out of his mouth and he was pale and sweaty. His breathing had been shallow for quite a while now and when he moved he had to do so slowly. The scratches on his arms and face were bleeding black, not red.
I’m sorry, Wally. I’m so sorry. Sammy sobbed from within his mind. He already felt bad enough about hurting the other employees. But Wally was his best friend. Wally had been there for him for the majority of his life. No matter what, Wally had never abandoned him. Even now, when he was slowly dying because of what Sammy had done to him, Wally still wouldn’t leave him.
“You’re not a bad guy, I know you’re not.” Wally continued. “This is all probably Joey’s fault.” He laughed weakly. “When crazy stuff happens, he’s usually behind it, y’know?”
He was cut off as he launched into a fit of coughing, hacking up some large blobs of ink. Sammy didn’t flinch at this, at least not outwardly. He’d seen others succumb to the infection before.
“Aw geez.” Wally groaned. “This is even worse than that time I got chickenpox.” Sammy didn’t react, continuing to stare ahead like a machine on standby.
“Man, you’re even quieter than you usually are.” Wally laughed once more, again interrupted by a coughing fit. He went quiet for a bit, coughing intermittently.
“I’m sorry, Sammy.” He finally said, looking up at his friend. “I never should’ve let this happen to you.”
I’m the one who should be apologizing. Sammy sighed. I did this to you. I hurt you. I hurt everyone. You didn’t do anything wrong.
“I mean, I know there’s probably nothing I could’ve done to stop it, but...Still...” Wally smiled. “You’re my best friend. I told myself I’d always keep you safe.” His eyelids were beginning to flutter now. His strength was ebbing.
“Y’know, I’m feeling pretty tired now.” He feigned a yawn. “I think...I think I’m gonna take a nap.”
No! Don’t go to sleep! Sammy tried to force the words out. You’ll die if you sleep!
“Just gonna...Take a quick...rest...” Wally mumbled, laying down. Soon enough, he was fast asleep. Sammy watched his chest rise and fall in a constant rhythm. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Leave it to Wally to fall asleep in the middle of an apocalypse. He’d always envied how incredibly carefree Wally could be.
“Sleep...Well...” He croaked, leaning down to pat Wally’s head.
.
Elsewhere, Joey had departed from level 14 to check up on Murray. He was in a particularly good mood after his successful taunting of Norman and wanted to check on Murray’s progress to further boost his mood. He was sure Murray had made some observations, especially since practically the entire studio was infected by this point.
“Mr. Hill, how are things coming along?” He asked, striding into Murray’s makeshift lab. The scientist was standing off a Searcher who’d been placed on a table, just staring into the creature’s eyes.
“Mr. Hill?” Joey stopped just behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Murray yelped, stumbling away from both the Searcher and Joey. He would have fallen into a small clump of Searchers (they’d formed a little lump, almost like they were huddling together) if Joey hadn’t caught him by the arm.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Hill?” Joey raised an eyebrow as he set Murray back on his feet. “You’re awfully jumpy.”
“Oh, um, I’m fine.” Murray laughed nervously, starting to visibly sweat. “What, um, what can I do for you?”
“I came to check on your progress.” Joey withdrew his hand, his expression remaining skeptical. “I do hope everything is going well.” There was an underlying threat to his words that made Murray whimper quietly.
“Everything’s going great!” Murray clapped his hands together. “The infection is progressing very well!”
“Do they have any lingering control?” Joey asked, casting a glance back at the clump of Searchers.
“I...don’t believe so.” Murray looked back at the Searchers as well. “They seem to lose all sense of self and individuality when the infection takes over.”
“And do they follow orders?”
“I haven’t tested that yet,” Murray admitted. “You’re the one they’re supposed to listen to, so I couldn’t really do it without you.”
“Well, I know at least one listens to me.” Joey smiled gleefully as a shape rose from the floorboards. It didn’t look any different than any of the other Searchers, but Murray figured it had to be someone important. Why else would Joey be keeping them with him?
“You’ve been remarkably cooperative, haven’t you, Miss Benton?” Joey cooed, patting the Searcher’s head. Murray’s stomach dropped.
“Miss...Benton?” Murray asked.
“Yes.” Joey gave him an eerie smile. “She put up quite a fight, but in the end, I won.” His glee was decidedly unsettling, cementing Murray’s belief in the inevitability of his own death.
“I still need to make sure the others are falling in line, though.” Joey’s smile vanished as he shifted to a more businesslike state. “We can’t have any pockets of resistance.” We. There was no we, Murray thought bitterly. There was only Joey.
He stood to the side as Joey began to test the obedience of the assembled Searchers. He smiled at the appropriate times, trying to hide his growing fear and unease. It was sickening watching Joey jerk these people around like puppets on a string. These were people he reminded himself. They weren’t mindless slaves. They had lives and feelings and dreams. And Murray had helped take all of that away from them. Joey’s voice broke him from his brooding.
“I must say, Mr. Hill, I’m impressed.” He said as the Searchers moved across the room. “Your virus has done everything you promised and more.”
“I’m glad you’re satisfied, Mr. Drew.” Murray smiled shakily. “But how do you know they’re following orders? All you’ve really done is make them move around the room.”
“I can see through their eyes,” Joey replied, a malicious gleam in his eyes. “Not just the ones in here. I can see through all of their eyes. Trust me, they’re following orders.”
“Ah.” The word was short and clipped as if he’d had to force it out. More a vocalization than an actual word, really. Just what on Earth was Joey making them do?
Suddenly, two Searchers entered. To Murray’s horror, the ink hadn’t covered enough of their bodies for them to be recognizable. It was Shawn Flynn and Grant Cohen. Both had very clearly transitioned into being Searchers, judging from their eyes and the bulging black veins across their bodies, but the ink was still consuming them. One of Grant’s legs had already been turned to ink, so he limped as he followed Shawn in.
“Oh, look, Miss Benton!” Joey pointed gleefully at the sorry pair. “Your friends are part of our family now! Isn’t that nice?” Murray felt sick at seeing Joey’s joy. Would Joey be that delighted at his demise? He felt as though he already knew the answer to that question. Even if he never wronged Joey, this was the fate awaiting him. Death and ink.
“Mr. Drew...Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Joey stopped what he’d been doing, essentially making the corruption on Shawn and Grant speed up, and turned to Murray.
“Not having second thoughts, are you?” He asked. His smile was sweet on the surface, but Murray couldn’t help but feel that there was danger lurking below that sweetness.
“No! Not at all!” Murray put his hands up in defense. “It’s just...Some of the employees have been, well, cursing me? And you?”
“Don’t pay them any mind.” Joey waved his hand dismissively. “They simply don’t understand.”
“Of course, of course.” Murray let out a high pitched laugh. “So, um, is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No, I think that’s enough for today.” Joey patted his shoulder. “Keep up the good work, Mr. Hill.” He gave him a wink before disappearing out the door.
It took Murray a moment or two to remember that he had to breathe after Joey left. He took a few deep breaths, leaning against the wall.
“What am I doing?” He murmured. He got no answer.
.
Jack wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. He’d fallen asleep and now everything was...weird. Not necessarily bad, but...weird. His head felt all fuzzy and he couldn’t necessarily remember what had happened to him that day. He was pretty sure he might have gone for a swim? He remembered a lot of liquid. Oh well, it was probably fine. Everyone was acting rather strange, though. A lot of people were crying and screaming, especially when they saw him. Some other people were also attacking the screaming and crying people. Jack stayed away from those people. He’d never really liked conflict.
He started to make his way through the studio, unsure of where exactly he was going. He just sort of wanted to wander. His songwriting area had been flooded, so he couldn’t really hang out there. He had to find somewhere else to go. Somewhere quiet. Jack had always liked the quiet. He was a rather shy person, so he tended to prefer staying away from large crowds. There were more crowds than there usually were. He wasn’t sure why everyone was clumping together like this. Didn’t they have work to do? Well, he probably had work to do too. But if Sammy needed him for something he could come find him.
He ended up in the Heavenly Toys area. It looked rather like a fight had happened. Cutouts were broken, there was ink everywhere, and some of the shelves had been knocked over. Jack frowned. What on Earth could have done this? That was when he heard the sound of someone crying.
“It’s okay, Alli, we’re going to be okay.” Another soft voice came from further in. It was coming from behind the shelves, through the door to the Alice Angel meet and greet area. Jack oozed through the cracks and into the room (although he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d done that) to see who was crying.
He found Allison and Thomas sitting on the ground with their backs against the window to Alice Angel’s area. They both looked exhausted. Their clothing was ripped and covered in ink, they had scratches and bites all over their bodies, and their hair was disheveled and wild. Allison was the one who was crying, although Thomas looked as though he was seriously considering it himself. Thomas had a pipe laying beside him while Allison had a sword propped up next to her.
Jack made a concerned noise, moving closer. Almost immediately, the couple’s attention snapped to Jack. Before he knew what was happening, they both had their weapons raised.
“What do you want?” Allison demanded, pointing the sword toward Jack. Jack whimpered, backing away. He’d never considered Allison to be an intimidating person, but seeing her with a sword that she very clearly knew how to use definitely changed that.
“Did Joey send you to finish us off?” Allison advanced on him, only to falter and almost fall. Thomas quickly caught her, gently lowering her to the ground.
“If you’re here to finish us off, do it.” Thomas didn’t even look at Jack as he spoke. “We can’t fight anymore.” Jack made another concerned noise, moving closer to put a hand on Allison’s shoulder. She jerked away and he withdrew his hand.
“Why aren’t you attacking us?” Allison asked, turning a bit so she could see Jack better.
Jack frowned. Why would he attack them? He wasn’t violent. The sound he made was indignant. At least, it was supposed to be. It was hard to communicate using only sounds. Why couldn’t he talk?
“He’s biding his time,” Thomas grumbled, although there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
“I...I don’t think he’s like the others.” Allison gently disentangled herself from Thomas and scooted over to Jack. “Are you hurt us?”
Jack fervently shook his head, almost dislodging his hat.
“You...really aren’t here to hurt us?” Thomas asked. Jack shook his head again.
“I think I recognize this hat.” Allison patted Jack’s hat. “Is that you, Jack?”
“Fain? The songwriter?” Thomas frowned. Jack nodded excitedly, clapping his hands together and making happy noises.
Allison’s expression softened. “It’s good to see you, Jack.”
Jack wanted to ask what had happened, but he felt like it would be rude to force them to relive whatever horrors they’d already gone through. Not to mention, he couldn’t really talk. So he stayed with them, providing silent companionship. Although Thomas was still wary, he allowed Jack to sit near them as they returned to their position under the window. There wasn’t much talking to be done. Jack couldn’t talk, and Allison and Thomas seemed too tired to talk.
“I guess we’re going to die here, huh?” Allison let out a laugh that failed to sound anything but mournful.
“I guess we are.” Thomas was stoic, as always, but Jack could have sworn he saw a faint tremble in the other man’s lip. Jack touched their legs as if to assure them that he was there.
“Thank you, Jack.” Allison smiled slightly and patted his head. “You’re a sweetheart.” Jack made a happy trill, perking up at her praise.
As the minutes slowly passed, Jack could hear the couple’s heartbeats slowly getting weaker. They were drifting in and out of consciousness, holding each other’s hands. It had only really just hit Jack that they were going to die. He’d heard them say it, heard them discuss it, but he’d just now realized it. He whimpered, curling up between the two of them. He didn’t know them all that well, but he didn’t want them to die. They seemed like nice people. Even Tom, for all his gruffness, didn’t seem like a bad guy. He seemed more fed up with Joey than anything else. Was this what had happened to the other people? Was this what had happened to him?
Eventually, the heartbeats stopped. Jack whimpered, prodding at their bodies. When prodding didn’t work, he started shaking them gently. He knew it wouldn’t do any good. But still...He hoped they’d jolt back to life. That Thomas would tell him not to get so close. But they didn’t. They just laid there. Cold. Still. Jack felt rather like crying. He’d never seen a dead body before, much less two. He’d watched them die. Dear gods, he’d watched them die.
It was a little longer before Joey appeared. Jack flinched away, whimpering. Joey was giving off an aura that he really wasn’t comfortable with.
“My my, Mr. Fain. Did you finish the deed?” Joey asked, striding in. Jack whimpered again, pressing himself into a corner.
“Ah, well.” Joey turned his back on him, grabbing Allison and Thomas by the ankles. “I have some work to do. I hope you’ll excuse me.” He departed, dragging the bodies on the ground. Jack stayed where he was long after Joey was gone. He didn’t know what to do or where to go. He wanted to go back to his safe place. He wanted to be safe again.
He disappeared into a puddle, going back to the sewers. He wanted to stay there. Stay there until the fears and memories went away.
#bendy and the ink machine#batim saudade au#fanfiction#jack fain#wally franks#thomas connor#allison pendle#joey drew#Murray Hill#sammy lawrence#tw: injury#tw: character death
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Red Queen: Chapter 15
So, last time I found a worthy target for some anger in an otherwise “meh” YA book. I mean, this book is really, really cliche on a level that even I can barely forgive, and I recognized that tropes are important to defining genre, but I hadn’t found anything yet that made me angry. Then Dickbag happened.
If you have a better nickname for him, please comment below.
Horse is startled awake by her servant, Walsh. I’m not sure I remember mentioning her before, but she has a servant who is a Red. And startled is an understatement. Horse almost downright Tazers the poor woman in shock.
Horse gets out of bed, trying to apologize to the woman because she’s not completely the worst, and Walsh just mouths “Rise, Red as the dawn” to her (because of course she does) before shoving a teacup of water into Horse’s hand.
“And at the bottom of the cup, a piece of paper bleeds ink. The ink swirls as I read the message, the water leeching it away, erasing any trace, until there’s nothing but cloudy, gray liquid and a blank curl of paper. No evidence of my first act of rebellion.”
Apparently the paper said “Midnight,” but that isn’t my gripe. She knows there are cameras in the room. Isn’t it going to be suspicious that she just stares into her teacup before setting it aside? Also, the thing with prisoners, especially if you have people serving her that might sympathize with her, usually trays and food are searched. So either the writer wants us to know that the king isn’t having her service checked for anything from the political dissidents running around that he knows about just in case they might contact her, or the writer is just not smart enough to think about that.
If you couldn’t tell by now, there are a lot of similar YA set ups involving political intrigue, but the writers don’t really think things through or do their research enough to make it convincing. In this situation, someone would need to dispose of the ink-paper trick in the room filled with cameras. So unless that ink is drinkable, and someone (Horse) drinks it, what is Walsh going to do with it?
Maybe I’m overthinking this. Whatever. It just feels stupid.
There is a new schedule on Horse’s nightstand. Horse now has training just as Cal said she would. She’s impressed that he worked so fast. As Lucas walks her to training (I’m assuming because the time line is awful at the moment) he warns her to be careful because the trainers are brutal. Then we find out he entered the army at nine.
Okay, what is with YA and child soldiers. Is that just another shortcut for Current Administration Bad? HUNGER GAMES did it to make a point, but here its just another thing for the writer - fuck it - Aveyard to be all “War is bad, m’kay?”
“But Lucas shrugs like it’s nothing. ‘The front is the best place for training. Even the princes were trained at the front, for a time.’
“‘But you’re here now,’ I say.... ‘You’re not a soldier anymore.’
For the first time, Lucas’s dry smile disappears completely. ‘It wears on you.’... ‘Men aren’t meant to be at war for long.’
‘And what about Reds?’ I hear myself ask.... ‘Can they stand war better than Silvers?’“
I’m just going to lay down right here and try not to start shredding this book. First, you train people before you send them to battle so they know what they’re doing. Second, how old are the princes? When did they go? They’re not even the age of a modern US enlistee (18). Like, what the fuck? Also, why would you stick the goddamn crown princes on the front line? Are you trying to destroy the royal lineage?
I have been reduced to rhetorical questions.
And then Lucas answers:
“... looking a little uncomfortable. ‘That’s the way the world works. Reds serve, Reds work, Reds fight. It’s what they’re good at. It’s what they’re meant to do.’”
Nice on the casual classism.
“Not everyone is special.”
I wish this book understood that more, what with 3 guys lusting after our lovely protag.
Horse gets mad at him, but mostly just brushes him off. Lucas notices her feelings and warns her that he if he doesn’t have the luxury of asking questions, than neither does she, even going so far as to use her new name.
Lucas will not ask questions. Despite his black eyes, his Silver blood, his Samos family, he will not pull at the thread that could unravel my existence.
This confuses me. Her italics thought bubble at the beginning feels more like a criticism than Horse’s realization that Lucas won’t do anything that will hurt her, even going so far as to try to help her understand how silvers Silvers think and how controlling their upper echelons are. I mean, its pretty clumsily done, but I get what Aveyard was going for. The italics double don’t work because this book is in first person. We’re in Horse’s head. We don’t need thought bubbles. The whole thing is a thought bubble!
Second, “Silver blood” or “silver blood?” I feel like it should be the second. Just saying.
Lucas also continues to sympathetic, making all the woman hate even more pronounced.
Le sigh.
At training, Horse is handed what sounds like a Lycra jumpsuit before entering what sounds like my university gym. Multi-storied, lots of equipment, dozens of baby-faced young adults in better shape than I am. Of course, all those college students are more mature than most of the people in this book, and mind their own damn business.
Unlike Polarity Princess.
The moment Horse walks in, PP drops what she’s doing to mock her. She is of course joined by her mean girl club in the process. We’re spared because Horse ignores her and immediately goes to find Maven. They talk a little, mostly about what their life will entail after they leave and the ball before they leave - which leads to dancing and how Silver girls are the worst.
Maven then asks how her visit with her family went. She tells him it was difficult because she found out one of her brothers was executed before they were all released. Mavey places his hand on hers, apologizes, and says he that he’s sure he didn’t deserve it because the guy Silvers aren’t shit heads.
Then for a moment Horse thinks he might be able to read minds, which leads to this little detail:
Few silvers Silvers inherit abilities from their mothers, and no one had more than one ability.
The low key misogyny is killing me.
And if Maven turns out to be the evil prince, he’s totally going to have his moms abilities. Watch. Or at least that’s what I would do.
Hey, I never said I wrote capital L literature.
We get some more description about powers. Shades can bend light around themselves for invisibility. Windweaver says exactly what you think it does, and that is probably the least lame power name so far, while also not belonging at all. Then you have eyes, which have limited precognition. You know, they can see the next 5 seconds or something. If I remember right (and my Teen Titan’s knowledge is rusty) Rose Wilson has that ability. I’m still confused what a silk is. They still sounds like a D&D Rogue. Or a hunska from Red Sister. (Go read that instead. It’s written by a dude and has 100% less misogyny and a 99% female cast.)
A soft voice orders them into a line, followed by an old man with Cal and a telekinetic boy. I refuse to call them “telkies.” It sounds like something I would put on a baby’s butt for diaper rash. The old man is her trainer, and apparently used to oversee executions. Turns out this was because he’s a null - he nullifies powers, or turns them off as the book puts it.
He can reduce a Silver to what they hate most: a Red. He can turn their abilities off. He can make them normal.
All that wealth and privilege, but removing their powers can make them normal. If only it were that simple. It’s almost like this book doesn’t understand power structures at all.
They begin to run laps. Horse is happy it’s something she recognizes until it isn’t when a piece of wall swings out and slams her in the stomach. She’s startled, but manages to keep up. And before you think this is some cool tech, the telekinetic controls the pieces.
Their powers return, and a gun barrel without the actual gun part rises from the floor.
Only the telky’s power makes it move, not some greater, strange technology. The abilities are all they have.
I thought they were defined by having power and Reds having tech. Why is this a new revelation to you? Unless this is book treating the reader like an idiot again.
Horse is called forward for target practice first, and again we hear about how special she is because she can create electricity despite bio-electricity being a thing. She misses the first target but hits the second. PP is a bitch who won’t clap. The instructor moves onto the next instead of patting her on the back. I can’t tell if this is supposed to be a bad thing.
The work out calls wore her out, but she’s still happy for it. Happier for the quietness of Julian’s class, even though the moving time means she’s closer to her midnight meet up. When she arrives, he has book labeled with years. Turns out they’re death records for the war. She knows her executed brother probably isn’t in them, and makes the lamp flick on an off in her distress. Julian asks her why, and she says its the new schedule. He says she did fine today, she gets cranky about him asking to be there, and he uses her power on her to calm her down.
Horse is upset he does this, and he explains he’s the last Singer. They can control people as long as they hear them. (Found the Bards.) Julian launches into how his sister married the king for love, not by Queenstrial, and how they could talk their way to the throne, but didn’t because they’re nice.
I don’t honesty hate this, but there are so many toxic women in this book that we see on a regular basis that it makes me sad that the one that sounds non-toxic is dead.
Horse relates to Julian, mentioning Shade and how he was executed. Julian tells her that they “removed” his sister too and will do it to anyone that gets in the way. He warns her that over-throwing them would take too much planning and luck, and to not get over her head. She knows that she’s already in deep, but doesn’t tell him this.
I actually kind of liked this scene because Horse behaves like a person. Even Julian just comes across as sad and lonely. I just wish that Julian was a woman so Horse could have a relationship with the same sex that wasn’t pure hate. We don’t see her family enough to matter. I think that’s one of the things that bugs me about this book the most. Most of the women are bad, and most of the men are good. Why? Just... why?
Next time, Horse has her midnight meeting.
#reader ramble#book review#chapter by chapter#red queen#victoria aveyard#mare barrow#reds and silvers#ya#fantasy#super powers#mareena titanos#her we go again#i'm going to finish it
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50. Labor of Love, Pt.4
Enchanted Forest. Past. Healer’s Hut.
(Rumplestiltskin and Fendrake sit next to one another in the hut. Fendrake hands Rumple a glass of a water.)
Rumplestiltskin: “Thank you.”
Fendrake: “How much does your son mean to you?”
Rumplestiltskin: “Everything.”
Fendrake: (Holds the potion out to Rumple:) “Then you can leave here with the cure.”
Rumplestiltskin: “But I-I-I-I don't have any gold. I've just got a knife.”
Fendrake: “There will be a terrible price to pay, but not in gold. If you're interested... we can make a deal.”
Rumplestiltskin: “I don't know much about deals, but... if I can save my son's life, I will trade anything.”
Storybrooke. Present.
(Henry is in Cruella's car, as she drives them somewhere recklessly.)
Henry: “Can you please slow down?”
Cruella De Vil: “Darling, you wouldn't be here if you didn't like a little danger. I mean, look at you... sneaking away from your family to bring me back to life. Such a naughty boy.”
Henry: “I just want to get this over with. What am I even looking for?”
Cruella De Vil: “A sign, signal, whiff of ink. Look, you're the Author. You're connected to that quill.”
Henry: (Sees a bright light and points at it:) “Stop! I saw something.”
(Cruella stops the car immediately, tyres screeching as she comes to a dangerous stop.)
Storybrooke. Woods.
(Cruella and Henry are now tracking through the woods, and Cruella isn't happy about it.)
Cruella De Vil: “Well, there's no ink here, just dirt and things that smell like dirt.”
Henry: “I swear I saw it.”
Cruella De Vil: “Well, then, move those little legs of yours and keep looking. Go!”
(Cruella shoos him off, before stopping and shuddering. Henry continues to make his way through the woods, stopping to look around, when a hand reaches out and grabs his shoulder, turning Henry to face them.)
Apprentice: “Quiet. We have little time.”
Henry: “I don't understand. You were a devoted apprentice to the Sorcerer your entire life. What unfinished business could you possibly have?”
Apprentice: “You, my boy. I am here to prevent you from making a terrible mistake. You must not resurrect Cruella De Vil.”
Henry: “So the Author can bring someone back? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Apprentice: “That was a necessary... omission. I saw no reason to tempt you. The dilemma you are currently in is why.”
Henry: “I'm not doing this for Cruella. I'm doing it for me. I just watched my mom become the Dark One. My other mom split her soul to save her, and I couldn't do anything.”
Apprentice: “You are the Author. As such, you should use the quill only to record the stories, not create them.”
Henry: “I don't care about the stupid stories anymore. I'm sick of sitting on the sidelines. I want to be a hero. I want to help my moms even if it means helping Cruella.”
Apprentice: (Sighs:) “In the Sorcerer's mansion lie all his great works of light magic, but, since the Underworld has been brought here, it is protected by a powerful spell. The sheriff took the key from me. Acquire that key and you may do as you wish.”
Henry: (Surprised:) “Wait, what? You're helping me?”
Apprentice: “This is your choice, Henry, but the only way that I can move on is if you make the right one. I trust you.” (He disappears.)
Hades’ Lair.
(After entering the library elevator, Mr. Gold descends into Hades’s lair to find the God of the Underworld waiting for him. Mr Gold tenses, prepared to fight.)
Hades: (Chuckles:) “Relax, Dark One. Or should I say, ex-Dark One. I'm not here to fight.”
Mr. Gold: “Yeah, well, perhaps I am.”
Hades: “Oh, even when I'm here to talk about a deal.”
Mr. Gold: “A deal?”
Hades: “For old time’s sake. Let's chat.”
Storybrooke Graveyard.
(Regina and Snow White are in the cemetery. Snow is reading off a map, as they search for Daniel's grave.)
Regina: “Thank you for coming.”
Snow White: “Of course. I couldn't let you do this alone. Two... I found him. It's okay, you can look.”
Regina: (Looks at Daniel's grave which is tipped, signalling he has moved on:) “It's tipped. He's not... here.”
Snow White: “He's moved on. He's happy.”
(Pats Regina's arm before walking away, to allow her some privacy.)
Regina: (Sighs:) “Daniel... I'm so glad you're somewhere better. But I'm also sorry I missed the chance to see you. You were my first love, Daniel, and you will always live in my heart. I just needed to know you were okay.”
Hades’ Lair.
(Mr. Gold and Hades are in Hades's chambers. Mr. Gold is sat in a red leather chair and Hades hands him a glass of wine.)
Mr. Gold: “What are you doing here, Hades?”
Hades: (Laughs:) “Storybrooke is mine now, hadn’t you heard? You know, I was a fan of yours. I mean, there were Dark Ones, and then there was you. You were quite the worthy rival to my hot throne.”
Mr. Gold: “So is this how you treat rivals?”
Hades: “Did I say rival? I meant supplier. You've sent so many lovely dead people my way. I mean, Regina does okay, but you've been at it longer, and she's gotten, you know, ugh lately. (Chuckles:) Now with you retired, fresh recruits are gonna be harder to come by. So what I really need is for you to tell your friends to stop doing their thing, because frankly, they piss me off.”
Mr. Gold: “You want me to ask the heroes to stop saving people? (Hades nods:) Well in case you haven’t heard, I like to consider myself a hero these days. Besides, surely you don’t need me, you can destroy them with the flick of your wrist.”
Hades: “I could do it myself, yes, but as your centuries spent as the Dark One will have taught you, manipulating others is so much more fun. So, are you a man I can do business with, or do I simply have to kill all of you?”
Enchanted Forest. Past.
(Milah is watching over Baelfire, who is slowly dying. She looks worried as she holds his hand. The door opens and Rumplestiltskin arrives home.)
Rumplestiltskin: “Milah! I got it!” (Holding out the potion to her.)
Milah: (Relieved:) “You got it?! (Takes the potion, unscrews the lid and lifts it Baelfire's lips allowing for him to drink from it:) Bae, drink it up. (She and Rumple chuckle, and she turns to look at him, happy:) You did it.”
Rumplestiltskin: “I just thought about what mattered.”
Milah: “Well, the healer... do we have to go back and hide his body? How did you leave him?”
Rumplestiltskin: “No, alive and well. Milah, this worked out better than we thought. I didn't even have to steal it.”
Milah: “Tell me more.”
Rumplestiltskin: “Well, I had him. He was half asleep, I had the knife at his throat, a-and then it came to me in a flash. I thought, i-if I kill to save my son, then my son grows up with a murderer, a monster as a father. Well, I-I couldn't do that.”
Milah: “What are you talking about, Rumple?”
Rumplestiltskin: “He gave me the cure because we made a deal. He wanted something else instead of gold.”
Milah: “What did you give him?”
Rumplestiltskin: “I signed a paper promising him my second-born child.”
Milah: (Horrified:) “You... you sold our child?”
Rumplestiltskin: “No. No, no, no. Th-That's it. I mean, I didn't. W-We don't have a second-born child. We just have to make sure we never do.”
Milah: “Because you sold them! You sold our future.”
Rumplestiltskin: “No.”
Milah: (Heartbroken:) “Our family. Rumple...”
Baelfire: “Papa?”
Rumplestiltskin: “Bae! (Makes his way to Baelfire, Milah following:) Oh, Bae!”
Milah: “Bae. Oh! Bae, you're all right. (Laughing:) You're all right.”
Rumplestiltskin: “You go back to sleep. Everything's gonna be fine. Oh, Milah. Bae can be all the future we need.”
Milah: (Angry and upset:) “Well... thank you very much... for deciding the rest of my narrow, little life for me. (Stands up:) I'm going to the tavern, Rumple.”
(She leaves.)
Enchanted Forest. Years Later.
(Fendrake is organizing his potions when a knock comes on the door. The healer opens the door to see to see no one there.)
Rumplestiltskin: (Already inside:) “Peekaboo! Some places never change, even after all these years. Wouldn't hurt to dust the chickens.”
Fendrake: “I know who you are, Dark One.”
Rumplestiltskin: “Well, I imagine you do.”
Fendrake: “You weren't like this before.”
Rumplestiltskin: “That's right. I was a mortal man then, and a moral one. A man in a desperate situation. And you took advantage, and I admire that a great deal. Full points. But I don't like carrying debt.”
Fendrake: “Unfortunately, Dark One, the contract is binding. Even if I wanted to change it, I couldn't. You owe me.”
Rumplestiltskin: (Giggles:) “I owe you! That's right, but... I can't owe a debt to a dead man. (Rips out Fendrake's heart:) Now, I don't like debts. But I do love a loophole.” (Crushes Fendrake's heart, killing him.)
Hades’ Lair. Present.
(Mr. Gold takes a sip of wine then places the glass on the table before standing.)
Mr. Gold: “Sorry Hades, not interested. You simply don’t have anything to offer that would cause me to betray the people I care about.”
Hades: “Are you sure about that? (Magically produces a glass ball:) Let's take a look at your Belle. (The ball shows Belle walking through Storybrooke, helping others:) So pretty. I mean, I've been watching her for hours, and she is simply darling.”
Mr. Gold: “Careful, Hades.”
Hades: “So virtuous, helpful, selfless. I could sense from here that she’s practically glowing with goodness. But then I did a little thinking, and I thought that maybe Belle was glowing for another reason. (Holds out the glass ball:) This is an image of your child... Your next child. Belle doesn't know it yet, but... she's pregnant. (Laughs:) And guess what. Hmm. (Magically summons Fendrake:) Remember him? You two had a contract. You tried to void it by killing him during a certain potentially baby-making liaison with your protege, the Evil Queen's mother, Cora. You rascal! (Chuckles:) Which seemed smart at the time, but it turns out death doesn't actually nullify a contract. Because here he is, as one of my flock. And... here's the contract. (Produces the contract:) Which he just signed over to me. So, just to be super extra clear, at any time, I can cash in the debt... and take your baby. All magic comes with a price... and now, hero, the price is... you work for me. And you will do everything I ask you to do... have I made myself clear?”
Storybrooke. Main Street.
(Snow and Regina are walking through the town when they hear a horse whinnying and they both stop.)
Snow White: “What was that?”
Regina: “A horse?”
(Looks around before noticing the horse laying down. It's Regina’s childhood horse, Rocinante.)
Snow White: “What's wrong with it?”
Regina: “Him. It’s Rocinante. I crushed his heart when trying to cast the curse. He’s hurt.”
(Uses her magic to heal the horse which then stands, winnies appreciatively and trots off, fading from view.)
Snow White: “Regina, your magic. You did it.”
Regina: (Smiles watching the horse:) “I did.” (Conjures a magic fireball.)
Snow White: “Regina, what are you doing?”
Regina: “Just checking. I'm back.”
Hades’ Lair.
(Mr. Gold leaves Hades’ chambers, despondent. As he calls for the elevator, he’s confronted by Milah.)
Milah: “I heard everything.”
Mr. Gold: “What are you doing here?”
Milah: “When have I ever let you have the last word in anything, Rumple? My unfinished business was never Killian.”
Mr. Gold: “Then why...”
Milah: “It's Baelfire. Our son. I should have been there for him. Not punished him because I'd... grown to hate his father. I was selfish. I thought if I could change that, do something generous... maybe I could finish what I need to.”
Mr. Gold: “So you want to move on.”
Milah: “Yeah. So I can... see him, and I can say to him, ‘Son, I'm... I'm sorry for... everything.’”
Mr. Gold: “He'll forgive you. I betrayed him, as well. As a grown man, he re-entered my life, and he forgave me. He'll do the same for you.”
Milah: “That's a nice thought. It's just... I really want to see him again. So that’s why I have to tell Belle. Tell your friends that you’re Hades’ puppet.”
Mr. Gold: “No, Milah, listen to me.”
Milah: “You haven’t changed, Rumple. You’re still the same sniveling coward you were when we were married. It took being the Dark One for you to grow a spine.”
Mr. Gold: “No, you’re wrong. I've finally become the man you always wanted me to be. The one who’s able to protect what he loves. At any cost.”
(Suddenly, Mr. Gold uses his magic to throw Milah backwards into the river of lost souls. He stares at the spot where she landed, thinking about what he’s just done. His eyes water with remorse before finally, he inhales deeply, and walks toward the elevator.)
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april 2030: silk pajama top
hello and long time no talk about a face to call home! this is a project i totally intend on finishing, so here is part seven! if you’re behind, you can catch up here. there are only three more parts left after this! thanks so much for still caring about heva! i think! if not, thanks for letting me still care about heva<3
“Harry!”
He was sitting at the dining room table with Maddie and Phoebe, supervising their crafting session to ensure that no markers or glue made it onto the table instead of the newspaper he laid down for them. Eva’s voice carried through the flat, though the two girls didn’t stop working. Harry grabbed the scissors, just in case, before pushing his chair away from the table.
“Girls, one second, your mum is calling,” Harry told them. They barely looked up from their crafts, continuing to color on their sheets of paper.
It was a Saturday afternoon and Eva insisted that she wasn’t going to go into the office, but she needed to get some work done at home regarding phone calls and sketches. He gathered the girls up and took them out for breakfast where he promised them they could do crafts all afternoon if they were good. Bribery seemed to work the best with them from time to time, though they hadn’t given Harry and Eva that much trouble yet. He wasn’t sure how that was going to change when their son was born the next month, but he hoped that they’d take on their big sister roles well.
When Harry stepped into his and Eva’s bedroom, all he could see was Eva’s arms in the air, her fingers flexing when she saw him enter the room.
“You alright over there?” he asked, walking towards her side of the bed.
“Why do you have scissors?” she asked. “Are you going to kill me? Now? This many years later?”
Harry looked down at the scissors in his hand, albeit a pair of scissors meant for kids that could barely cut through paper. “Sorry, the girls were doing crafts and I didn’t want to be the dad who left them with scissors that would become a crime weapon,” he explained. “Now, back to my original question: are you alright?”
Eva was laying completely on her back, her body almost parallel against the mattress aside from her head propped against the very bottom of a pillow. She tugged down the hem of black silk pajama top, concealing the bit of stomach that peeked out at the bottom.
“I’m fine, I’m just a little stuck,” she replied. “I was sitting like I normally do and then I got a little sleepy so I laid down and then I kept laying down until I was like this and now I feel like a turtle on its back.”
Harry fought the urge to snort at Eva’s explanation, keeping his face as straight as possible while she continued to lay helplessly on the mattress. “Aw babe,” he cooed, setting the scissors down on her bedside table on top of her closed sketchbook. “Come here.”
Eva held out her arms for Harry to grab, pulling her up carefully until she was sitting vertically again. She let out a deep sigh, her hands smoothing over her stomach, following the dramatic curve. “I am very happy that you are coming out next month,” Eva said quietly, looking down at her bump. “Mostly because then I get to meet you. But also partially because I want my body back.”
“I love you pregnant,” Harry said.
“You love me all of the time,” Eva replied, rolling her eyes. “I love what happens after being pregnant. And the first trimester is fine. I’m just getting antsy.”
“I know,” he replied, holding onto one of her hands while she started to take deep breaths. “I should really make sure that the girls haven’t started writing on the walls in marker.”
“Right, right, our children that I already popped out of my body,” Eva said, laughing at her own joke before Harry could. “Help me up, I think I’m already done working for the day and I’m really craving something.”
“What?” he asked, watching her cautiously as she started to shimmy off of the mattress.
“Not sure yet,” she replied, her feet dangling in the air as she sat on the edge of the bed. “I just know that I’m hungry and I’m really hoping it’s for something that’s in this apartment.”
Harry smiled, backing up to give Eva space as she hopped down from the mattress. He grabbed the scissors, holding the blades down as she walked behind Eva down the hall and back to the dining room. The girls were still sitting in the same places, silently coloring while their favorite playlist played softly in the background. Eva stopped for a second, watching Maddie and Phoebe as they exchanged crayons back and forth, sharing all of their art supplies.
Eva headed for the kitchen while Harry went to sit back down at the table with the girls, placing the scissors back down out of their reach. “What did I miss, Feebs?” he asked, patting down the curly ponytail that he’d managed to put in that morning without any fussing from her.
“I colored more,” she said, pointing down to her sheet of paper that was now covered in multi-colored scribbles. “Dad, do you like coloring?”
“Sometimes,” he replied. “I’m not very good at it.”
“Do you ever color those?” she asked, pointing as the tattoos on his arm. He looked down at the bare skin, covered in black ink that had started to fade to a charcoal grey.
“No, I don’t,” he said. “Should I?”
“I like them better without color,” Maddie said.
“You should put glitter on them,” Phoebe told him. “We have glitter glue.”
“I reckon that might wash off when I take a shower,” he pointed out.
“Then don’t shower,” she said, shrugging before she started coloring over her picture with a navy blue crayon.
“That’s not an option,” Eva said, walking into the dining room with a bag of crisps and a bowl of ice cream. She sat down across the table from him in the seat next to Phoebe, sneaking a peek at her drawing. “You have to keep showering or else I might vomit from the smell.”
Harry laughed, tapping her shin with the tip of his toe under the table. “For you, anything,” he said.
“Why does mum get to eat ice cream during the day whenever she wants?” Maddie asked.
“Because mum sometimes gets really hungry and the only thing she wants to eat is ice cream,” Harry tried to explain. “And your baby brother also really wants ice cream so she has to have it to make him happy.”
“Well, ice cream would make me happy,” Maddie replied.
“And me!” Phoebe added, perking up in her chair.
“What about us?” Maddie asked, staring at Eva from across the table.
Eva narrowed her eyes at Harry, quirking her brows while she waited for him to fix the situation. “Your mum wants to make you happy too,” Harry said, unsure of where he was going with his response. “But ice cream as a meal will just give you two tummy aches and those won’t make you happy, will those?”
“I guess not,” Maddie replied with a frown. “Can we have ice cream tomorrow? The good one with the fun flavors?”
“Tomorrow after dinner, sure,” Eva replied, digging her spoon into the mound of ice cream in her bowl before it started to melt. “Tonight Miss Ivanka is coming over with a couple of mummy’s friends from work, okay?”
“Oh crap, right,” Harry said, remembering Eva’s meeting with a few of her employees, the ones that were higher up in the company.
“Daddy, that’s a bad word,” Phoebe pointed out.
“I’m sorry, you’re right, I shouldn’t have said that,” he replied. “Ev, do you need me to take the girls somewhere tonight?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s okay, it’ll be during their bathtime and bedtime. Do you mind doing that solo tonight?”
Harry shook his head. “Of course not,” he replied. Eva had done plenty of things with the girls on her own, even with work all of these. Things with Harry’s career had slowed down exponentially, but there were still bouts of traveling that he was doing when Maddie was born and even right when Phoebe was born. He hated leaving his family, even just leaving Eva at home while she was working when they were married without kids left an ache in his chest until he was back in New York with her.
“Thanks, babe,” she said. “I know it’s weird doing it on a weekend but some of the Los Angeles team are going to call in, so hopefully it’ll be productive.”
“Is this about the transition?” he asked, trying to keep their conversation in front of the girls as vague as possible.
Eva nodded, averting her eyes away from Harry and down at her bowl of ice cream. After Maeve and Niall left the month before, the two of them had a talk more serious than the rest about their future and what was going to happen when their son was born. The idea of leaving New York City upset Eva, leaving her in tears after Harry even suggested it. She apologized for being so emotional, but he understood. Even despite the hormones, New York City was always her dream. Moving away from what she always wanted felt like she was losing part of her dream, even if she accomplished it.
Despite this, when Harry asked if she ever thought about living anywhere else, she admitted that Los Angeles would be the only other place she could ever live. Harry understood. Part of him knew when he married Eva that staying in the U.S. was most likely the only option for them and he was happy to be wherever she was. He didn’t push the conversation much further, mostly because the two of them were interrupted by Phoebe waking up crying from nightmares. The topic was dropped for the night, but Eva mentioned several times since things about her Los Angeles team and making sure that she prepped her four top employees at her New York office in case she decided to relocate.
Eva and Harry both knew that her New York team ran as efficiently as it could. Eva’s Los Angeles office was lesser established. It was a smaller, but still growing team that needed more direction. Eva could only fly out so often, especially because Phoebe was born soon after she finally got it up and running across the country. The timing wasn’t perfect, but it was still running as smoothly as it could. Eva wanted it to be like the New York office, but she knew that she couldn’t give it the time it needed when she was living in Manhattan still.
“Mum, Dad, look!” Maddie said, grabbing the corners of her paper. She showed both of them a drawing of a garden of flowers, each a different color of the rainbow. “I painted this for our brother’s room.”
Harry could see the tears welling in Eva’s eyes as one of her free hands fell to her lap, running along her stomach. “It’s beautiful,” Eva said, smiling at her oldest daughter. “He’s going to love it, Maddie. That was very sweet of you.”
“I hope he does,” she said, showing it to Harry one last time before setting it down.
“He will,” Harry assured her. “We’ll have to put that someplace special. We should get a frame for it so we don’t lose it.”
“Yeah!” she agreed, nodding excitedly. “Do you think he’s going to like us?”
“I think he’s going to love us,” Harry replied. “Especially you and Phoebe. He’s going to have the best big sisters anyone could ever want.”
“Like Auntie Gemma?”
“Just like Auntie Gemma,” Harry replied. “You know, Auntie Gemma is going to visit soon, right? After your brother is born?”
“We’re so excited,” Maddie said. “I already know what we’re gonna do when she’s here.”
“Do you now?” Harry asked. “What about when Uncle Frankie and Uncle Anthony come with Aunt Tara and Aunt Jeana?”
“I have it all planned up here,” Maddie said, tapping on her forehead a few times. “We’re all gonna have so much fun.”
“I bet,” Eva said. “Phoebe, what are you drawing?”
She frowned at her paper, dropping her crayon down. “I don’t know,” she replied. “It’s not good like Maddie’s.”
“It’s beautiful, Feebs,” Eva said, placing a hand on her back. “You know, I used to feel the same way. When I was in school, there were tons of other girls who I thought drew better than me. And you know how I make clothes? Well, I used to think all of the other girls were way better at that than me too.”
“Were they?” she asked.
“We’re all good in our own ways, Feebs,” Eva told her. “I love your drawing. Are you going to give it to your brother too?”
“No,” Phoebe said. “It’s mine.”
Harry couldn’t help it. He tried to stifle his laughter with the back of his hand, but instead he chuckled out loud, his cheeks turning redder by the second. Eva kicked his shin under the table, which made him laugh even harder. Phoebe didn’t seem to know what was going on and Maddie continued to color, starting on a new picture of an apple tree.
* * * * *
“I am exhausted,” Eva said, plopping down on the sofa next to Harry with a cup of decaffeinated tea. The girls had been asleep for over an hour and Eva’s team had left half an hour earlier, giving her enough time to shower and get ready for bed while Harry tidied the flat. “Were the girls okay for you?”
“Totally,” Harry replied, resting his arm around her shoulder. “Maddie read a little bit to Phoebe tonight, just a few pages, but still.”
“She’s so good,” Eva murmured, lowering the mug closer to her lap. “Sorry, the meeting ran a little later than expected.”
“That’s alright,” he replied. “How did it go?”
Eva paused, pressing her lips together while her fingers rapped against the side of the mug. “Really well,” she told Harry. “You know I’ve been talking with people at the New York office and the LA office and I think we’re at the point where everything here in New York is…running well. Really, the only time of year that it’s going to be crazy is around the fall and spring collections, but other than that…”
“Mhm?” Harry asked, urging Eva to continue.
“The team really thinks it’s time to focus on the LA office right now,” she told him. “It’s running okay but the goal is to get it up and running like it is in New York now.”
“And they need you to do that,” he said.
“Well, yes, in a sense,” she told him. “I could still do it from here, I would just need to step back from the New York office and focus more on LA.”
“Ev,” Harry sighed. “You know I want to be wherever you are. So if we stay here, that’s fine, but we can’t stay here. There’s no room for the baby. There’s barely any room for the four of us and our stuff.”
“I know,” she replied. “I don’t want to make this about me because that’s not fair and I don’t want to be selfish. It’s just hard because this is what I’ve always wanted, to be in New York and to make my fashion dreams come true. And they have. Everything I could have ever wanted came true, and not just with my brand or being here. Everything with you, with Maddie, with Phoebe, with our friends and family. I’ve been here for fourteen years and it’s been the best fourteen years I could’ve asked for.”
“So much has happened here. I somehow ended up with my own brand and that brand stopped just being a small independent brand and became global, which is insane. We got engaged here, we had our two daughters here, and we’re going to have our son here. A lot of big stuff has happened here and I just feel…really sentimental about it. But I know I won’t be leaving New York forever. I’ll still have work here and it will always have a special place in my heart. I just want to be someplace that’s good for us, Harry. All of us. Maddie, Phoebe, and whatever our little guy ends up being named.”
“I’m still pushing for Harry Jr.,” he joked.
“Jerk,” Eva snorted, dragging her knuckle under her eye to wipe away a few stray tears. “Look, I’ve already got myself crying. I’m such a mess.”
“You’re not a mess,” Harry said, pressing a kiss against her temple. “I would live anywhere in the world as long as I was with you and our kids. You know that, Eva.”
“Even a remote village in Poland?” she asked.
“I’ll start leaning Polish right now if that’s what you wanted,” he told her. “What are you thinking, Ev?”
She let out a heavy sigh, relaxing her body against Harry’s. “I think we really should start thinking about Los Angeles again. I mean, it’s closer to my family so you always have backup when I need to go to New York for long work trips You can still write out there. I have the office to take care of. It…it seems like a natural choice for us.”
“I agree, absolutely,” he told her. “You’re sure about this, Eva?”
She nodded. “I’ve been sure for a while, I think I was just in denial and emotional about leaving New York,” she told him. “But that’s not fair to you or the girls. And I think…I think LA is the right place for us, I really do.”
“Me too,” Harry replied. “I don’t think we should move until after the girls are done with school though. They finish up at the end of June so…mid-summer? End of summer?”
“Mid-summer. End of summer is too close to fashion week in September,” Eva told him. “We’ll just have to set up a crib in our room while we deal with this flat. Do you have anyone in mind to start looking at properties in LA?”
“I might have already asked someone to start looking a month ago,” Harry admitted. “I was just curious to see what was out there and…Ev, there are some amazing houses I could see us in. All of us.”
She nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder, her body molding against his as they cuddled closer on the couch. “I can’t wait to see them, Harry,” she told him, letting her eyes slipped closed. “Two big life changes in such a short period of time, huh?”
“I guess so,” he murmured, his eyes glancing down at her stomach. “I’m excited though. We can handle it. You can handle it.”
“So can you,” she replied. “We’re gonna be alright.”
“Absolutely, Ev,” he hummed. “Absolutely.”
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Seeking Help (Drabble)
Words: 764
Characters: Stanford Pines, The Shape Shifter (Shifty), Shelby Pines (my oc), Fiddleford McGucket (mentioned), Bill Cipher (mentioned), Lucina Evergreen (my oc, mentioned), Ma Pines (mentioned), Shermy Pines (mentioned), Stanley Pines (mentioned), Carla McCorkle (mentioned).
Summary: Paranoia begins to set in as Stanford went through the most devastating event of his life. Now, Stanford must figure out what he has to keep the family safe. He can’t do it without help.
A/N: Hey there, guys! Another short drabble fic written by me for @forduary for this third week’s theme: Paranoia. My characters such as Shelby and Lucina are part of a bigger story I have in the works for a fic series involving them and more. Hope you all enjoy!
Weeks after the portal incident….
How could you let her be the guinea pig for the test?! Now that she’s gone because of your greatest mistake, Fiddleford -- your assistant and best friend -- abandoned you because you failed to accept his reasoning suggestions! It’s all your fault, Stanford Filbrick Pines! It’s all your fault your wife is lost on the other side of the damned portal! She could be dead! Lucina Evergreen-Pines -- the mother of your sons and your second/beloved assistant -- could be dead because of you! There is no light now for you…. It’s gone; just like her, you ignoramus, blind, prideful fool. All because you were conned by a demonic triangle that pretended to be your greatest friend with all the knowledge he shared. It was all too good to be true, and you fell for it in your naivety. It could have been prevented if you’d just listen to Fiddleford’s chided warnings -- and the ones you should have caught beforehand. All is lost.
Ford ran those internal lectures over and over again in his mind against himself, not being in the best mental state at all as he does his best to stay awake, doing just about anything he could to be busy. Bill could take over his mind the moment he dozes off. The very last thing he wanted was Bill possibly harming his two young six and five-year old sons, Shelby and Shifty, with his twisted antics. He had to protect them from himself. Unfortunately, there were no other family members in town to turn to to look after them while he tries to find a solution.
As Ford scribbles down in his third journal with invisible ink at his inventing table, a little boy, with short black hair, medium toned skin, his mother’s complete heterochromia iridium as his left eye was blue while his right eye was brown, and hands likes his father’s, peeked around the corner with his adoptive brother, Shifty, right beside him in great concern for their father. Ever since Lucina was lost, things weren’t the same; especially the house where everything is dark and depressing, except for the small lights from the lamps. All of them being distressed, paranoid and wary of what may happen. But through it all, Ford does his best to care for his sons on his own, though he has been finding it difficult in the state he’s in; his children deserved better, he felt.
Ford’s hands shaking, eye hurting from the bleeding, as well as the bruises on his arms aching, and jumpy when his sons look at him with worrying eyes as one of them asked him.
“What are we gonna do, Daddy? Is the bad triangle man gonna come back?” Shelby spoke sheepishly.
Ford does his best to show a small smile to reassure his sons, “No… no I’m doing my best to make sure he doesn’t come back. You two know where to hide when he does?”
Shifty nodded, hinting a smile, “Yep! It’s a secret place but we can’t tell you. In case he finds out....”
“Good, good.” Ford can’t ask his mother to take them in, nor his older brother Shermy, he hadn’t told them the whole situation. However, his mother can tell him where his twin brother, Stanley, along with his wife and two kids, are currently residing; he hadn’t been keeping up where they are since losing Lucina. They were his only hope now for what he has to do. Ford pats both his sons’ heads, telling them, “Now you two head to your room, I need to contact your uncle, aunt and cousins to come over and help us.” With nods of confirmation, Shelby and Shifty head up to their shared attic room to rest and hide. Ford and Lucina taught them well in sneaking and hiding. He was also thankful him and his brother were keeping in touch since graduating college -- Carla and Lucina having been the ones to help them talk and make amends back then.
Ford goes and gets a blank Gravity Falls postcard from the drawer, then writing on it to send to New Mexico and the message being: “Please come help!!!” With that, he goes to the mailbox outside the cold snowing night, placing the postcard inside the slot and closing the little door to it. While shivering on the way back inside the warm home and getting himself out the cold, he could feel himself slipping into sleep. No matter how hard Ford was fighting to stay awake, unfortunately, he had to close his eyes and sleep.
#gravity falls#gf#gravity falls au#gravity falls fanfiction#vulpixen fanfiction#forduary#forduary 2018#week three: paranoia#stanford pines#ford pines#gravity falls ocs#lucina evergreen#shelby pines#shifty#vulpixen's ocs
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