the unending cosmic horrors of the universe versus A Song

kit fisto carpet artisan

thank you for reminding me.

So, the important part of the Kit Fisto carpet artisan au is that he leaves the Order to make carpets. The going theory among the jedi is that he had an uncle on Coruscant that left him a carpet shop and he decided to stop being a Jedi to carry on the dying trade, but no one knows but him, and he’s not telling. He also takes Nahdar, his padawan, with him. If Nahdar knows why Kit left, he’s not telling anyone either.

So by the time Anakin is sixteen or so, Kit Fisto, ex-jedi and carpet maker extraordinaire, has a bustling business just outside the senate district— close enough for any of the Jedi to visit. And oh boy do they visit.

Typically, when someone leaves the Order, it’s something only spoken about in hushed tones. There’s no gossip, nor speculation, because Jedi don’t gossip, and besides, they usually already have the reason— while no one is obligated to give a reason for leaving, it’s considered polite to do so. It’s not... dishonorable to leave, but a certain distance inevitably develops. Once someone leaves the jedi, they’re leading a completely different life, and most leave Coruscant entirely.

Kit Fisto is not typical. There’s no warning— not a single inkling that he might be considering leaving the Jedi. One day, he walks into a High Council meeting, declares politely that he’s leaving and taking Nahdar with him, and tells them all they’re welcome to visit him at his new address. (He also makes a point of leaving several of his belongings in his apartment, to give the more decorous members of the Order an excuse to visit.)

Come Monday, Yoda is on his doorstep, probing for answers. Kit does not give them, but he does give Yoda a tour and some tea. When Yoda comes back, cackling and pleased, everyone else takes this as the go-ahead to visit. The jedi visit regularly— only when he’s closed, and only when he has time, but they do come.

This is where the fun begins.

Anakin Skywalker, seventeen years old, very moody and very angry, has an appointment with Palpatine. Anakin Skywalker, seventeen years old, very moody and very angry, has been banned by Obi-Wan from using any speeders, bikes or otherwise, by an exhausted Obi-Wan. (Nominally, it’s because he started a fight in the salles two days ago, but if it keeps him from seeing Palpatine, then so much the better.) (Anakin knows what Obi-Wan is doing, and is furious about it. While perhaps justified, this does not help his case.) So what does Anakin do? He makes his own speeder from old parts. (If he’d thought to call Palpatine, the man would have sent a car for him, but since last time that happened he got a two lecture from both Windu and Obi-Wan, so he’ll just have to be sneaky.)

The problem with speeders cobbled together from old parts is that they have a tendency to break down, usually at the most inopportune moments. For Anakin, this is on the edge of the Senate district, since he was taking a circuitous route to see Palpatine in the hopes of avoiding anyone else he knows. Fortunately, Kit’s shop is nearby, and he’s been with Obi-Wan enough times to know the way.

Anakin walks into Kit’s Artisan Carpets, sopping wet from the rain that just started and looking like nothing so much as a wet kitten. Kit, who has all the grace and wisdom of a jedi master, does not tell him this, and instead offers him a towel and the use of his speeder when Nahdar gets back. In the meantime, he offers, would Anakin like to come see his workshop?

Now, keeping in mind that I know nothing about carpet making, and even less about artisan carpet making, I’m going to say that Kit shows Anakin how to do something simple that’s carpet related. And Anakin likes it. Anakin really likes it. He already loves working with his hands, but this is different. There’s no thinking involved, nothing but the repetitive movement of his hands. Normally, he hates being quiet, being still, but he’s so cold and tired that he’s able to just... drop into a trance. Before he knows it, it’s three hours later and he’s missed the meeting with Palpatine entirely.

Kit sends him back to the Jedi Temple more relaxed than he’s ever been, finally having been able to achieve a meditative state, and with an invitation to come back and help again whenever he’s nearby. When he gets back, Obi-Wan is amazed at how calm Anakin is, and forgets to lecture him on leaving the temple. Anakin does his homework, goes to bed, and when he wakes up, he doesn’t feel so awful.

The next time he comes back from Palpatine’s, riled up and wanting to scream, he stops by Kit’s shop and helps out with some repetitive carpet-related task. The dull motion helps lets his mind wander, but not too far— lets him be still without his brain beginning to scream. For the first time, Anakin is able to meditate without trauma flashbacks or overwhelming, near-painful understimulation.

Once again, he comes back to the Temple calm and slightly better balanced, once again, Obi-Wan doesn’t lecture him. The pattern continues.

Cut to two years later, when Anakin is having nightmares about his mother. Helping out in Kit’s shop lets him meditate on the visions, and Kit has been, well, really great to talk to about attachment. Palpatine is nice and all, but he doesn’t really get the Jedi— has never understood Anakin’s desire to be one. Kit, who knows what is like and is still more Jedi than most Jedi, in Anakin’s private opinion, does. 

Kit talks him through visions, helps him articulate his fears, and sends him to communicate with Obi-Wan. When Anakin says that he’s having visions— not just dreams, but solid visions— Obi-Wan promptly requests a sabbatical, and they go to Tatooine.

Obi-Wan helps him rescue Shmi from the Tuskens, and since Shmi is still alive, Anakin has something to focus on instead of his own rage. No Tuskens get murdered— hell, Anakin is so worried about his mom it doesn’t even occur to him to go kill them until after she’s safe. By that point, he’s not in the thick of the moment, so he has time to imagine slaughtering every single one of them before he does it. He thinks of how good it would feel, yes, but also of the screams, of the feeling of their dying minds against his own, and recoils.

When they get back to Coruscant, new fence installed and comm numbers exchanged, Palpatine’s plan is ruined— Amidala already has a jedi protector, no one knows what to do with the dart, and Anakin is much more well balanced now that he’s seen his mother, knows she’s safe, and she’s talked him through his emotions in a way that Obi-Wan can’t. 

Does Palpatine give up on Anakin as a lost cause? Absolutely not. He does, however, adjust the plan, leaving an even more obvious trail to Kamino. Obi-Wan still ends up on Geonosis, only this time Anakin is there too, and Padmé isn’t. And, here’s the kicker— neither of them managed to get the message to the Jedi Council, so they’re stuck in their little rotating columns while Dooku stalks around and lies blatantly, waiting for them to be rescued and for the war to start. But the rescue never comes.

After the fourth or fifth day of this, Dooku realizes that if Palpatine managed to mess up such a simple plan, it might not be a good idea to follow his orders. He defects, exchanging everything he knows (which is quite a lot) for amnesty. Obi-Wan agrees to the trade, and the three of them escape Geonosis to go face down Palpatine.

Anakin is predictably furious about this. He doesn’t believe Dooku, of course, and he’s raring to kill the guy, but he’s also pretty sure he can’t take on both Obi-Wan and Dooku and win, so he waits until they get to Coruscant to comm the council. (Dooku lets him do it. The backup will be useful and he thinks he can time it so Sidious is throwing Force lightning at them when Yoda shows up.) (He can totally time it right.)

Yoda shows up just as Palpatine whips out a red lightsaber, since Dooku went straight for the beheading without letting him talk, and Obi-Wan was holding Anakin back to see what would happen. Palpatine could have beaten each of them on their own, probably even two at once, provided Dooku and Yoda didn’t team up— but against Anakin, who could probably vaporize someone with his mind if he tried hard enough, Yoda, who’s seven hundred years old and still wins the jedi parkour championships every year, Dooku, who’s the best duelist the Order has seen in a long while, and Obi-Wan, who, while not space jesus, a prodigy, or seven hundred years old, is no slouch in any jedi department, especially the ones that involve keeping Anakin from doing anything stupid? Yeah, Palpatine loses.

They all stumble into Kit’s Artisan Carpets an hour later, smelling of ozone and repressed emotions just waiting to come out. Kit looks at them all, makes a pot of tea, settles Anakin at his usual carpet-task doing place for some much needed meditation, and locks them in the room to talk.

“So,” Dooku says to Kit the next morning, once they’ve sorted all the politics and some of the emotions out, “what possessed you to take up carpets?”

Kit tilts his head, considering, and answers. “I just felt like it.”

(”Really?” Nahdar asks later. “You’re not going to tell them?”

“Well,” Kit replies, “would they believe me?”

“I guess not,” Nahdar says, “but time travel is hard to believe in.”

“It was more of a vision, really.” Kit huffs. “Besides, I did feel like it. Getting stabbed gives one new priorities.”

“Tell me about it,” Nahdar agrees. “Tell me about it.”)

Just Sleep

Gif from this post by Ieroism Word Count: 2,523 words. (Oh look! It’s kinda short!) Category: Fluff. It’s supposed to be... Soft and snuggly? Warnings: None, really? Notes: ~ Title is from “Sleep” by My Chemical Romance.      I hate it when you wanna use a gif and credit properly but Tumblr doesn’t co-operate so you have to find a work around. Ugh. Hopefully this work around is acceptable. I mean, the credit is there and everything, so... Fingers crossed?      Anyway.      A little thing that wouldn’t really leave me alone until it was written, so here you go. It’s not quite what I thought it would be, but, the beats I missed will probably sneak into something else my brain nags me to write.       When I reblogged the above post, I added some tags to it: #no seriously - in college during lunch breaks my friends would regularly rest on me/my shoulders #I'm comfy apparently      All true. I used to end up with a friend resting on each shoulder during our free periods or breaks. I was very much the ‘mum/mom friend’ - affectionate, caring, cuddly and comfortable. Generally just a... Safe? person. Plus, there’s nothing... Nicer than feeling so comfortable with someone that you don’t mind sleeping around them.

- - - - - - - - - - “Oi.” Frank chucked the plastic bottle cap at their singer. “Get with it.” “Sorry,” Gerard mumbled, rubbing the side of his face. “Stay awake will you? Can’t perform with you asleep on your feet.” “Maybe you should head back and try and grab a nap,” Ray suggested. “We can practise without you, and you can feel more human.” “No, I should stay,” he tried to protest. “Don’t make us call the blonde,” Mikey looked up from tweaking the strings of his bass. “Not sure if that’s a threat or an incentive,” Frank grinned at the taller of the brothers, who just rolled his eyes. “Dude, she is the best sleep aid.” “Are you saying she’s boring?” Ray asked. Frank snorted. “No, anything but. She just knows all these little tips and tricks to send you to sleep in an instant.” Gerard tried to hide a yawn, only to be caught by Ray. “Back to the rooms, sleep, now.” Gerard knew better than to argue with Ray. He sighed, grabbed his bag and slunk back to where they were staying - a nearby cheap motel. But still, it was better than the bus for the most part. When he got to the room he was sharing with one of the others; they tended to rotate so he could be sharing with any of them that night, he patted his pockets for the key before looking in his bag. When he couldn’t find it, he sent a text to Ray to see if he’d left his key behind. While he waited for a response, he leant against the door to watch the world go by. It started to rain and he found himself grateful for the covering he was standing under. The rain got heavier as he received a reply. “I think so; I think Mikey has it. Just go and see the blonde until we get back.” He sighed, pocketed his phone and moved another room down, knocking on the door and waiting. He didn’t have to wait long, about a minute later the door opened and their tiny tour manager appeared on the other side. She smiled at him and stood aside to let him in, closing and locking the door behind him. “You don’t look surprised to see me,” Gerard said quietly. “Nope. I got a warning text,” Shelly wrapped her cardigan around her body a little tighter and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “From Ray?” He watched her nod. “So you know why I’ve been sent back here?” “I do,” she took his bag from him and put it on one of the chairs. “I feel like I’ve been set up,” he grumbled, letting her take his jacket off. “Yeah,” she hung his jacket up and ‘helped’ him out of the suit jacket he had on underneath. “Yeah honey, you probably were. I mean,” she smiled a little at the unicorn pin before hanging that jacket up too. “I think one of the others stole your room key.” Gerard groaned. “I’m going to kill someone.” The blonde tutted at him before shushing him gently, nudging him over to the bed. “Now now, you don’t mean that. You’re just tired.” He just grumbled to himself and sat down on the edge of the bed heavily. His grumbling got a little quieter when she stood in front of him and started running her fingers carefully through his hair. “That’s right,” her voice was low and smooth; a gentle tone she often used with him when they were alone together. “You grumble away to yourself. You know I’m right.” “I’m not sayin’ anything.” “You’re not sleeping honey?” Shelly asked, moving away for just a moment to grab a comb from her nightstand, resuming her position afterwards. Gerard leant forward and rested his forehead against her stomach, letting out a sigh when she started combing his hair instead of running her fingers through it. “No,” he mumbled. “How long?” “A couple of days.” “You haven’t slept at all or you haven’t slept enough?” Shelly stepped back, leant down and lifted his chin so she could look at his face. Gerard held her gaze for less than a minute before looking away. “Not enough I think.” “You haven’t been sleeping when we’ve been travelling either,” she said quietly, using her other hand to brush his hair out of his face. “Have you?” He shook his head gently, as best as he could with her still holding his chin. “No.” “Hmn,” she let his face go and studied him again for a moment, watching him fiddle with the hem of his t-shirt. “Alright. Shoes off. Nap time.” Gerard grumbled, but ultimately did as he was told. Shelly watched him for a moment before going to close the curtains and put one of the lamps on. “Anyone would think from all of your grumbling that you don’t wanna sleep with me Gerard,” she looked up from rearranging the pillows on her bed in time to see him blush and try and hide behind his hair. She giggled. “Oh, sweetie, it’s not like this is our first time.” “I wish you wouldn’t word it like that,” he muttered as he took his belt off, putting it on the floor with his shoes. “Oh, psh.” She shrugged off her cardigan, spread it over the pillows and settled herself on the not-awful motel bed. “It makes you blush, and you’re just so pretty when you blush.” “You’re very mean to me sometimes,” he grumbled, making his way up the bed to sit next to her, rubbing the outer corner of his eye again. “Yeah, I’m totally wicked. I’m the absolute worst,” Shelly giggled and grabbed at one of the blankets on the bed. “Do you wanna talk for a little bit first, or do you just want to nap?” Gerard carefully settled next to her, cautiously putting his head against her shoulder and collarbone area, feeling her arm settle around his waist as he wedged his body up against the side of hers. “I’m not sure,” he said, making sure that he was comfortable and then helping her cover them both up with the blanket that he knew was her own. To be honest, the familiarity of the blanket just added to the comfort levels. “Alright,” Shelly shifted, resting one hand on her stomach. “Well, you know I’m here to listen if you wanna talk about anything.” Gerard made a noise, just to let her know that he’d heard her. Slowly, his hand made its way up to hold the one that was on her stomach. She smiled into his hair when he held her hand, and she dragged the fingers of her other hand up his cotton covered spine until she could gently tug at the ends of his hair. He grumbled against the thicker strap of her tank top and she giggled quietly. “I know,” he mumbled, feeling her move her fingers up to start stroking his hair, instead of gently pulling the ends. Not that she’d been pulling his hair enough to hurt; it had been enough for him to know that she was doing it but it didn’t hurt. “You’re always there for me. For us.” “That’s my job honey,” she nuzzled into the hair on the top of his head, stroking his hair. “Yeah, maybe,” he glanced up at her and smiled when she ended up nuzzling his forehead instead of the top of his head. “But I don’t think your job description really involves this level of um…” “Intimacy?” He nodded, hoping that he wasn’t blushing too much. “Um, I guess that, yeah.” “Do you have any idea why you’re not sleeping?” She asked him after a moment. “Are you having nightmares?” “No, I don’t think so.” He frowned. “At least, if I am, I’m not remembering them.” “That’s a good thing, being unable to remember them,” Shelly nodded once and brushed his hair off of his face, out of his eyes. “Hmm… Are you getting too cold maybe? Too warm?” Gerard thought about this before shaking his head. “No. Well. I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.” “Okay.” She thought about it for a moment. “I’m not sure… We’ll figure it out though.” “I hope so,” he mumbled. “I really hope so.” “Oh honey,” Shelly said quietly. “We will. You can’t go on like this; you need your sleep sweetheart.” “I believe you,” Gerard hummed and nodded. “I’ll feel better if I know you’re helping.” Shelly nodded and hummed softly to him as he rested his head against her again. He stayed silent as she stroked his hair, listening to her humming to him. He was grateful that he was so close, because the rain outside was getting heavier and louder. If he had been further away, it would’ve drowned out her humming. Plus, being this close meant that he could feel her humming as well as hear it. Part of him hoped that maybe she might forget herself and start singing a little. He’d caught her singing to herself once or twice before - but she was always just so aware that if she even thought that someone was breathing in her direction, she’d just stop. He had to be sneaky to hear her singing softly to herself. “Frank reckons you’re the best sleep aid,” he said after another few minutes. “Hm? He does, does he?” Gerard nodded against her and paused for a moment before speaking again, in a soft and very quiet voice. “How does he know that?” “I gave him some advice,” she said softly. “And maybe a little bit of a cuddle.” “Hmmm.” Shelly glanced down at the singer who had shuffled up against her just that little bit more. “We didn’t snuggle like this though; we just had a little cuddle.” Gerard repeated the same noise he’d made previously and gripped her hand a little tighter, which Shelly noticed. She giggled. “Oh, Gerard, honey, are you a little bit jealous?” “No.” She could hear the small pout in his voice, in his too-quick answer, and it made her smile. “I think you might be,” she whispered, a smile taking up residence on her face. “I think you might be a little bit jealous that I’ve been cuddling with Frank.” Gerard grumbled, let go of her hand and snuck his arm around her waist, gripping onto her and holding her a bit tighter. “You’ve been sleep cheating on me.” Shelly laughed and he felt her body shake a little as she did so. This just made him nestle closer, in an almost possessive fashion, which she noticed and couldn’t find it in herself to mind about too much. “Oh, darling, hardly. Especially if you haven’t been sleeping.” He grumbled again and she giggled some more before humming and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Gerard, sugar,” she murmured. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I promise.” “No?” He glanced up at her again. She shook her head before going back to resting her cheek against the top of his head. She felt him nestle against her and she hummed for a moment, listening to the rain as she considered her answer. “Of course you don’t. Frankie sleeps better than you do. He doesn’t need this,” she gestured to them with the hand that he’d been previously holding. “Like you do.” “Hmmm…” “Besides,” she adopted a stage whisper. “You know you’re my favourite.” Gerard perked up a little at that, lifting his head to look at her. He must’ve had some kind of look on his face because she giggled softly and cupped his cheek with her free hand, the other still lightly tangled in his hair. She gently squeezed his cheek and smiled. “No need to look so wide eyed sweetheart,” Shelly said softly. “This shouldn’t be a surprise to you. You know you’re my favourite. You’re my best cuddle buddy.” He went a little pink and buried his face against her, getting a combination of skin and shirt against his face. “My best cuddle buddy and my favourite snuggler,” she kissed the top of his head again. “My favourite bed mate.” He hummed happily and she felt it against her neck. “Do you feel better?” Shelly asked him quietly, going back to running her fingers through his hair gently. “A little less jealous?” “I wasn’t jealous,” he muttered against her. “Yeah, yeah baby, sure,” she nuzzled into his hair and almost ‘purred’. “You’ve been using that conditioner, haven’t you? Your hair feels nicer. Softer.” “Yeah, I have. You suggested it, so I started doing it.” He shifted his position, moving a little bit lower and burying his face against her skin, sniffing a little. “You smell nice.” “Probably the remnants of the perfume I put on every day, a little sweat and maybe, if you’re really lucky, the tiniest leftovers of my shower stuff,” she kept running her fingers through his hair, slowly and gently, knowing the it would relax and soothe him - this was most certainly not the first time they’d done this. “Not sure what you smell like,” he continued quietly, feeling her pull the blanket back up to his shoulder. “Can’t pinpoint the flavours - ” “Scents,” she correctly gently and kindly. “Flavours implies that you can eat my bath products, and I wouldn’t recommend that.” Gerard chuckled against her. “Scents then.” “Better,” she whispered, cuddling him tighter. “I can’t pinpoint the scents,” he repeated. “I just know that you smell good.” Shelly chuckled and her breath tickled the top of his head. “Thank you.” “I think that’s why I like cuddling up with you so much,” he mumbled, starting to sound sleepier. “Because you always smell so good. You always smell so…” He yawned a little bit and Shelly felt it rush down her top. It tickled and she laughed softly. “Warm,” he continued. “Comforting. And you’re always so comfortable, and soft. And warm.” She giggled at his repetition and sleepiness. He snuggled a little closer, managing to rest his ear over her chest in a way that he thought he could hear, or maybe even feel, her heartbeat better than he had before. The blonde heard him make a noise that sounded… Pleased, after he had shifted a fraction. She wasn’t quite sure why he seemed so pleased but she wasn’t going to argue with it in the slightest. “And your hugs are so tight… Secure, even. Comforting. Again.” Shelly kissed his forehead, still slowly stroking his hair. She felt him grip the fabric of her shirt that was almost resting over her hip, as he nestled into her curves. She knew by him doing that particular action, that he was definitely getting more drowsy now. He hummed happily at her attention and affection before he continued speaking. “You make me feel…” Gerard murmured. “Like, everything’s going to be okay. Like nothing can touch me here.” “Oh, honey,” she covered him up a bit better and cuddled him closer. “That’s because everything is going to be okay, sweetheart. I’m going to make it so.” “You make me feel safe, Shell.”

The Prisoner - Part 4

I was on a roll after part 3 and had this cute little scene pop up into my head. Plus, Garn really needed a moment to rest and take a breath, he’s been through a lot these past few days!

Part 1       Part 2        Part 3

The ship was relatively quiet. Or at least as quiet as a ship can be while bumbling around in space. Perhaps the more appropriate description was that the ship was peaceful. Garn decided that he liked peaceful. He wasn’t sure he understood what it was that he was feeling at first, he’d had so few peaceful moments growing up and working under the Syndicate, but once he figured it out, he decided that it was quite agreeable with him. It seemed to be for Porter as well. His smaller human friend had been recovering quickly after their run-in with Maika the assassin back at the Tupiti Space Port. He could now walk on the leg, albeit with a noticeable limp. Thankfully, it hadn’t seemed to affect his bright and energetic personality, much to Garn’s relief.

Right now though, Porter was asleep. As was Embry, the ship’s medic of sorts. During his time on the ship, he’d been able to piece together a bit more information about his new companions. Embry, he’d learned, had never actually received a medical license. She had training but had never finished. When he inquired more as to why, Embry changed the topic and became much more curt with any further additions to the conversation. Porter was a lot more forthcoming with his backstory. The gist of it was that he’d taken part in some big trading agreement with a private Earth organization and a splinter group from the Bartu Sovereignty that went bad. There’d been some illegal business “under the table” as Porter put it, and he’d been set up as the “fall guy”. The fact that he was a weapons expert and many of the illegal going-ons had to do with the criminal trade of experimental weapons only helped solidify his “guilt” to the authorities that cared. Porter had spent a good part of an entire rotation explaining in great detail how he’d talked, bribed, and fought his way out of the hands of bounty hunters, angry crime lords, sneaking under the radar of law enforcement, and in general living life on the run before he stowed away on The Shasta, this ship, where he met Kaya and Tig.

Then there were those two. The elder human and the kloxan’s story were still a mystery to him. All he’d really gotten to know so far was that they’d been part of a Galactic Confederation crew together. Garn didn’t know much about the Galactic Confederation, other they were considered a continual, pestering antagonist of the Trinn-Har’rups. He’d guarded prisoners of the GC captured by the Syndicate before they faced an unknown, though likely grisly, punishment for the crime of standing in the Syndicate’s way.

Garn felt that among the ranks of guards and soldiers, the Galactic Confederation and those that aligned with them were thought of to be pretentious, power-hungry manipulators. He’d always been around that sentiment, so he never questioned it before. He’d had no need to. Now he was on a ship that had two of them as acting captain and first-mate. Granted they were former Galactic Confederation, so maybe that old profile didn’t fit them. After all, he was now a former guard of the Trinn-Har’rup Syndicate, the stigmas tied up with him probably no longer fit so well either.

And anyway, Porter stayed with them, so they couldn’t be so bad.

Garn rose from the small pile of blankets, pillows, and towels that was currently acting as his bed. Porter had Embry help him scour the ship for as many soft fabrics and items that could be spared to make a spot for Garn to sleep until they could install an actual bed for him. It was nice, but he’d never slept on anything so soft before. Comfortable as it was, between the unaccustomed softness and the overall unfamiliarity that surrounded him, he’d had a hard time finding sleep. As carefully and quietly as he could, he made his way out of the sleeping quarters and down the short hall toward the main hangar room he’d been in when he’d first entered the ship.

The ship was old, but he had to admit that it had been well kept and he’d almost say lovingly maintained. He gave a small half-smile as his eyes ran over the designs in and around the ship. They were outdated. He might even call them antiquated. He liked it though. It felt right and… well he wasn’t sure how else to describe it. Inviting? Warm? Graceful? It was… he felt… like he could belong here. And that made him all the happier.

As he shuffled into the main room, he stood for a moment before he sat down on a bench along the wall to continue processing his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there like that, listening to the hum of the ship’s engines and systems when he heard a small quiet grunt to his left. Snapping his eyes open, he searched in the darkness for the source.

His eyes caught a glint of movement from a chair. He felt his fur rise as he instinctively anticipated having to defend himself from an attack. None came though. His brain finally took in what his eyes were trying to see. There was no secret attacker, just human Kaya sitting in a very regal-looking chair. His fur dropped back down and he sighed a breath of relief.

“Sorry I startled you,” Kaya chuckled quietly. Garn could see her shoulders bounce slightly as she shifted in her chair. His eyes ran down her arm. Or where her arm had been. He’d been right earlier that day they’d first met. She hadd stopped what she must have thought was him going to attack Embry. The prosthetic he’d seen her wearing that day and every day since was now no longer attached. Her arm ended just above where her elbow should have been.

After a few tries, he was able to successfully look away. It was hard though. He’d heard humans were capable of surviving attacks or accidents even after losing a limb, but it had seemed like such a far-fetched tale that he wasn’t sure if he’d believed it. The shock alone of having lost a body part was enough to kill many species, but humans, as he now knew, were hardy and stubborn when it came to staying alive and continuing on.

“I… I didn’t realize you were here. I’m sorry I disturbed you,” he murmured as he stood up, feeling like he had intruded on something he shouldn’t have.

“You’re fine, Garn. Sit back down.” It wasn’t a command, it came out softer, like an invitation. He paused and considered that. An invitation. He slowly nodded and sat back down.

“Having a hard time sleeping too, huh?” the human sighed as she leaned further back in her chair.

Garn nodded sharply, then unsure how well humans could see in the dark followed up with a curt, “Yes ma’am.”

Kaya laughed again. “I told you before, you don’t need to call me ma’am.”

“Sorry ma-... uh, sorry. I will try to remember better.”

“It’s okay. I’m sure it’s what you’re used to. I, for one, know old habits die hard.” Her tone was soft and quiet. So unlike the interactions and reprimandings he was accustomed to in his life up to this point.

He settled down a little more, muscles finally starting to drop their worried tension as the two of them sat in the darkness. He eventually relaxed enough that he felt comfortable to break the silence.

“Are you… are you having a hard time sleeping ma- uh, human Kaya?”

She didn’t laugh this time, but Garn could hear the quiet smile in her voice, “We’ll get you through all your formalities yet.” She sighed and stroked her hand over where her left arm ended. “I am. Just some old phantom pains acting up again.”

“Phantom pains?” That sounded serious. Should he go wake Embry?

The worry in his voice must have been picked up because Kaya gently waved him back down as she reached to the counter and picked up a dark mug and sat back in her chair. “My arm may be gone, but sometimes my brain forgets. Sometimes it feels like my arm itches, sometimes it hurts, or at least my brain thinks it does. It doesn’t happen as much as it used to, but still more than I’d like. Especially when I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She sipped slowly from the mug in her hand. Whatever was in it smelled sweet and calming. Kaya noticed him watching as she lowered the cup and rested it on her lap.

“Mint tea,” she explained. “It helps. Or at least, enjoying a warm cup of it helps me take my mind off the pain.”

Garn nodded silently, not sure what to say. He wasn’t sure what the etiquette was for this situation. He couldn’t take his eyes off her arm and where it ended, but he also knew that for many species, staring for too long at a person could be considered a challenge to a duel, or at least considered rude. Kaya didn’t seem to notice though, more focused on the mug in her hand.

“I brewed it myself,” She continued. “We’ve got a room here on the ship that we’ve filled with plants. It helps keep the air fresh, takes a bit of the strain off the o2 systems. That and sitting in the room or taking care of all the plants helps keep star sickness at bay.”

“Star sickness?” Garn cut in, unfamiliar with the term.

“Void sickness, star sickness, planet separation anxiety, there’s a lot of names for it. It’s not so much a physical sickness, but a mental one. I don’t know how many space-faring races have to deal with it, but it affects humans pretty frequently. It can get pretty nasty too, if it’s not dealt with. I make sure Porter, Embry, and I each spend a chunk of time in the plant room pretty regularly. It’s grounding. And relaxing. Smells nice too. A lot of the plants are, of course, good at filtering the air of impurities, but quite a few of them smell nice. Like the mint, for instance.” She took another sip from the mug and chuckled. “Even Tig likes going in there sometimes. You would think he’d find the humidity levels a pain on the circuits, but he says it doesn’t bother him. I think he finds the plants interesting. Sometimes I notice him laser etching bamboo stalks on packaging scraps when he’s bored.”

Garn hummed and nodded. He’d seen the kloxan do that too. Thinking of him and the human next to him now, he again started wondering at how different they were than what he’d always expected of someone from the Galactic Confederation. Just even in the past few solar rotations, the hard, no-nonsense shell he’d immediately attributed to her when they first met was actually more just her being firm and strong when needed, but thoughtful and gentle at her base. He’d learned so much in such a short amount of time. The galaxy was such a bigger place than he’d ever thought, so much more detailed and nuanced. It had all been so cut and dry and simple when all he knew was what the Syndicate told him. He exhaled deeply as he leaned his head back to rest against the wall.

“That’s quite the sigh,” Kaya noted. “Got a lot on your mind?”

Garn grunted an affirmative. Kaya sat silently as if waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she leaned her head back to rest against her chair and they both sat silently for a while.

Garn’s mind was racing, and at the same time, it felt like it was stuck in a sticky zawki pit. His thoughts were starting to run into each other and stretch or slow down until nothing was making sense anymore. Maybe he should return to the sleep quarters and try again to get some rest. He looked over to the human who also looked like she was having trouble with her thoughts.

“If I may ask,” he asked quietly so as to not startle her, “what made you want to leave the Galactic Confederation?”

Kaya tilted her head down to consider him a moment. Even in the darkness, he could see the lines around her eyes pull.

“I left,” she began and thought about it a moment, “I left to find my partner.”

Garn wasn’t sure what that meant, so he waited unmoving until she finally continued. Her voice was slow and deliberate, like she was carefully picking through every word.

“We… we were on a scouting mission and there was… an accident. We were separated. I was, well, I was recovered, but he wasn’t.” She paused again and looked down into her mug. Or maybe at her arm, Garn wasn’t sure. “I tried to convince them to go after him. They said he was gone. I appealed. I appealed again and again to higher and higher powers, but I kept getting nos. They told me he was gone and that trying to… recover him would… that it wasn’t worth the risk. He was a good man.” She frowned and looked up sharply. “He is a good man. I think he’s still out there. He survived. I can feel it. And I decided I was going to get him, by myself if I had to. Tig was on our crew as well. He’s been... a dear friend. Both to Ahmad and I before, and now. He believed me. He came along to help me find Ahmad.”

She looked back up at Garn. “Since we left the GC, we’ve found evidence that we were right, that he made it out alive. We just need to find him. And along the way, we’ve picked up a few other lost souls.”

Garn matched her gaze as he listened and thought on the information. She was on a mission. He, well, he was now for all intents and purposes, a fugitive on the run. Other than staying alive, he had no real plans, no goals. What was he going to do now? He must have spoken his question out loud before he realized it, because Kaya cocked her head and gave a small chuckle in response.

“What are you going to do indeed, dantum? I think that’s what everyone has to figure out. Until you do, though, I suppose you can tag along with us for a while.” She took another sip of her tea before she set it back down on the counter. “After all, it’s not like we’d be able to get rid of ya any time soon. Porter’s gotten attached.” She smiled and gave a short hum, “and I think you’d make a decent enough late-night conversationalist. Granted, you do need a little more practice.”

Garn felt a flicker of surprise and returned the smile. He’d like that. Here on this antiquated but cozy ship, surrounded by terrifying but welcoming aliens, he thought he’d really like that.

Fears To Ease And Flesh To Mend

Ranboo and Tubbo find out that unzombifying a piglin is a bit different from unzombifying a villager, and they start off parenthood with quite a few complications and in a little over their heads. For the sake of their child, they may need to put awkwardness aside and ask for help.

[Sick fic, canon divergence, Phil and Techno meet Michael, lots and lots of piglin lore headcanons] ~20,000 words per chapter

Chapter Four of Four

     Michael runs from the window to tug on Ranboo’s pantleg, and speaks in an accent that’s half-breathy, half drawn-out drawl. “Meeturrr Oo-itch eetch heerrr!” He says, which Ranboo, dedicated parent, understands to mean “Mister Foolish is here”. Between learning english for the first time and being, well, a toddler, his speech was actually coming along pretty well. Techno had assured them that the thick accent would ease up over time since the new sounds (mainly the ones made in front teeth and lips that gave him trouble) could be learned better since he was so young. “Oooh is he? Thank you Michael!” Ranboo patted the toddler’s head and received a high-pitched squeal of delight in return.

    Ranboo does a quick once-over of his son. His ear infection cleared up fast and left surprisingly little hearing damage, to everyone’s relief, and scar tissue had quickly started forming over the entire right side of his face. It still needed to be covered, but even the worst of the infections on his face and ribs had cleared up by now. There wasn’t a single bit of green or any other sickly color on him, and his fur was clean and healthy. Turns out, having a rotating team of very dedicated specialists, and loving parents-- (himself and Tubbo having very awkwardly asked Phil and Techno to help out regularly, who obliged)-- meant a very fast recovery for the little piglin. He was looking the best Ranboo had ever seen him, and appeared to have quite a decent amount of energy. “You wanna come down with me and say hi?”

    Ranboo hoisted the very eager Michael into his arms and went carefully down the ladder, then opened the door to let Foolish in. “Hey Foolish, come on in!” He greeted. Foolish gratefully stepped into the warm house out of the snow, eyes immediately landing on the piglin in Ranboo’s arms. “Hey Ranboo! Oh, and who’s this?” Foolish asked to Michael, feigning forgetfulness. Michael snorted out a giggle; Foolish had stopped in to say hi quite a few times during the month or so Michael had been healing after Ranboo and Tubbo had figured out rather quickly that the playroom, however cute, was too cramped for a growing kid, and hired Foolish to build a bigger house.

    “I’m Mikuh!” Michael introduced himself proudly. “Michael! Of course! You look like you’re feeling a lot better today.” Ranboo smiled, and set Michael down, who proceeded to scramble all over everything. Luckily, the trapdoor to the basement was sealed off and chests weren’t high enough for him to fall off and hurt himself from. Ranboo sighed a very parental sigh as he monitored the toddler out of the corner of his eye while he and Foolish talked. “He is looking a lot better,” Foolish commented. “Seems like he’s a fast learner, too.”

    “He is so smart,” Ranboo agreed, attempting to not puff out his chest with pride of his son. “And we’re consulting with some of the villagers both here in Snowchester and around where I live to see what the best material for a prosthetic eye would be. We’ve already got a leatherworker working on a prosthetic ear too-- he had a prototype but apparently he didn’t like wearing it ‘cause it felt weird. That’s what Techno said he said, at least.” Foolish seemed a bit surprised at that. “Techno knows about Michael? And about… you and Tubbo?” Ranboo nodded, recalling that particular conversation.

---

    “Ah, Ranboo, just the person I was hoping to see. Come in, come in,” Techno said as Ranboo stood at the door. Ranboo obliged, and stepped into Techno’s house. It was cozily warm, and Steve was taking up the only corner of the house that had a draft. Techno looked like he’d been either tidying up or searching for something before Ranboo had knocked on the door, and he busied himself with continuing whichever it was while he spoke. “I had these ah-- I had these golden carrots I think Michael might enjoy-- here, you can have some.” Ranboo gratefully took the bag that Techno had been searching for and put it into his backpack, thanking Techno a few times. 

    “I also wanted to thank you for what you mentioned earlier too,” Ranboo said, “About to not let him near shiny things until he’s a little older. I’ll make sure he doesn’t look too closely at the carrots, too.” Ranboo let out a small chuckle and Techno nodded. “Of course, of course,” he said, but then he paused his movements awkwardly, turning to face Ranboo. Ranboo involuntarily took a sharp breath in. He knew exactly what this conversation was about to be. Hopefully-- hopefully-- the gift beforehand was an indicator that it wouldn’t crash and burn and go completely terrible, right? It didn’t seem like it would make very much sense to give a gift in that case. Still, Ranboo waited for the weight to drop.

    “Phil and I have been talkin’,” Techno started, “And we’ve come to a conclusion. Well, I think Phil had his opinions about it a bit differently than I did but-- we reached the same conclusion.” Ranboo let him continue. “Y’see, I believe that people can change. When I went into retirement, I had changed-- until I was hunted down but still. Tubbo, he might’ve been the unelected figurehead of a power-hungry nation--” Ranboo bit his tongue, knowing Techno had every right to feel that way-- “But Snowchester is just some village. He helps maintain it, but he’s not, like, some dictator or somethin’. So what I’m sayin’ is, I’m down to believe that Tubbo has changed.” 

    Ranboo let out the breath he’d apparently been holding the entire time Techno had been talking. “Thank you, Techno,” he said, and it surprised Ranboo when it came out a lot more ragged (yet relieved) than he’d been expecting it to. Techno, ever averse to appearing soft for too long, continued talking. “Besides, I did some digging into what you mentioned about Quackity and it all seems to be true. Apparently he also tried to frame Eret-- the king-- for a bombing? You may wanna watch out for that guy.” 

    “Oh. I did not know that,” Ranboo admitted, taking mental notes, and then, on second thought, taking physical notes in his memory book. More importantly... “But does that mean-- about Tubbo and I’s marriage--” Techno raised an eyebrow. “Well I’m assumin’ you eloped and didn’t just not invite me to the wedding, since that would be rude.” Ranboo let out a full laugh, relief finally allowing itself into him. “Yeah, yeah we kinda really just eloped. We didn’t have a ceremony or anything. Oh god, hopefully Phil doesn’t feel the same. You both definitely would be invited if we ever do have one,” He added. 

    Techno made a dismissive handwave. “Ehhh I think Phil’s biggest issue was that he’s an old man and was grumpy about you two making a shotgun wedding decision or somethin’ like that. Like he was just salty about not having more intel on the situation beforehand. He’s got the same feelings about Tubbo that I have for the most part, especially after I told him about Quackity kinda running things from the shadows or whatever.” Ranboo nodded, smiling. It was honestly pretty heartwarming to hear that as the reason behind Phil’s apprehension. Hopefully now that they were all living in relative peace, Tubbo and Techno could both start to move on.

---

    “Honestly it surprised me too,” Ranboo admitted to Foolish. “But Techno’s problem is with government and oppressive systems of power and Tubbo isn’t a part of either of those things, so.” He shrugged. Foolish nodded. “I see I see. That makes sense, though, yeah. Well, I’m glad he’s helping you with that sorta stuff then! It definitely seems like it’s doing good for Michael.” Ranboo grinned. “Yeah. What’re you here about, by the way? Payment for the next section of the mansion?” Foolish shuffled around sheepishly. “Well… sorta. I was hoping I could get the trident next? I kinda lost mine in an accident the other day.” Ranboo raised his eyebrows, knowing full well there was a whole big story behind that. They got to chatting as Michael enjoyed the running-around space of the downstairs room.

---

    “Nite Uh-oh. Nite Ranoo.” Michael said with a small yawn, snuggled into his bed and blankets. He was very fond of the color yellow-- they’d made a lucky guess with that one. Tubbo and Ranboo smiled fondly at him as they dimmed the lanterns in his room. “‘Night Michael!” They both answered, before heading down the ladder for the night, closing the trapdoor as quietly as they could. There was a small moment when they’d both reached the ground floor before they burst out into small, quiet giggles. “I like that he calls me ‘Uh-oh’,” Tubbo said with a bit of a wicked grin. Ranboo laughed. “Mhmm. I know it’s just because he has trouble with words that start with soft sounds, but it really fits you.” Tubbo nodded sagely. “It does, it does. It’s an accurate descriptor of my general status.” They giggled a tiny bit more.

    “Honestly,” Tubbo said, “I’m still shocked that Techno’s just. Okay with this whole thing. The whole marriage and kid thing with you I mean. He is right, I’m a different man now that I’m not president, but I woulda thought he’d be a bit more hesitant about it.” Ranboo thought about it for a moment. “Mmm. I think it’s a good thing, though. I mean, he’s changed too, y’know? Maybe this can be a fresh start for all of us.” Tubbo sighed at this, but it wasn’t his usual, world-weary sigh; it wasn’t the sigh that held the weight of a nation or war or problems with power. It was the sigh of a weight, however small, being lifted off of him. “That’d be nice, I think. I’d like that. And I’d like Michael to grow up in that world, too.”

    Ranboo couldn’t think of a better way to say it himself, so he hummed in agreement and leaned up against his husband affectionately. “I think… I think things might be okay,” he said, cautiously, optimistically, but gaining strength the more he said it. “I think that Michael will be okay. And I think that we’ll be okay. And I think that, if Techno and Phil and you are willing to set aside the past and focus on the future, the future might be something new.” A wave of nostalgia suddenly washed over Ranboo, and he was reminded of one of the very first conversations he’d had with the then-president that would become his husband.

    “Do you remember… do you remember the conversation we had when we talked about elections?” Ranboo asked, and when Tubbo chuckled Ranboo could feel it in his arm. “Oh god. That was ages ago. I do, though, I think I do.” Ranboo continued. “You said you didn’t need control, and that if I wound up elected, I should make things better.” Tubbo hummed thoughtfully, leaning in turn and bonking himself affectionately against Ranboo as he continued. “I think that maybe, that’s what this can be. We can’t change the things we’ve done in the past, but we have a chance to move past that and do something different.” The two husbands paused, just for a second, listening to the gentle snoring of their healthy son in the bedroom upstairs. “Yeah,” Tubbo agreed, sounding more hopeful than he had in a long time. “We can make it better.”

Fluff Alphabet- Asmodues

Full Alphabet (because I’m weak)

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Your personality! Asmo adores everything about you, but your personality is what truly draws him in. You fascinate him. You aren’t like the demons or witches who only show interest in him for pacts or for sex. You genuinely love him. And he finds it curious. The little facets of your personality draw him in, he finds himself learning new things about you every single day you’re together. In turn, he learns new things about himself, too.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Ask me what ISN’T his favorite part, it’s a harder question. He encapsulates love for you, he loves your whole body. If he has to pick something, he would choose your eyes. They truly are the windows to the soul. Your beautiful soul (I beg you, listen to the song Beautiful Soul by Jesse McCartney). Your eyes have so much light and life, they reflect your feelings so well. They’re something he finds himself getting lost in. 

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Asmo can be a real cuddle bug. He likes holding you and being held. He’s only like this if he’s actually in a committed relationship with someone. His ideal way to cuddle is you both laying face to face, your leg draped over his hip and one of his legs between yours. His arm is draped over your waist, fingers able to trace against your back. He can see your stunning face and give you kisses and watch as you fall asleep. And think every day how lucky he is.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Shopping dates! Asmo likes to make full days out of your dates. A date with him includes shopping to both your favorite stores, eating at a cafe for a nice break, more shopping if you’re feeling up to it. Getting massages or manicures together. He likes wrapping things up at home, though, with a nice bubble bath together after you put your things down. It’s dimly lit, smells soft and floral, and the hot water is relaxing for your muscles. His perfect way to end an ideal date.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

He has to learn to be open with certain emotions. He’s been treated like his sin for so long that sex and flirting is how he knows to communicate. But he has so much to express, he just isn’t given the chance to. In a relationship with you, he learns other ways of expression that he likes. He loves to give you gifts. He loves sitting in the same room, not even doing anything together. He becomes very open with outright telling you how he feels about things because he doesn’t want to keep you guessing. If he needs comfort, he asks for it. If he is happy, he shows it.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

I’m not sure if Asmo is really a kid person. That’s not to say he dislikes kids, I don’t think he really wants them for himself. He can’t see himself as a dad. He prefers the freedom of not having children. But he does want to marry you. He wants you to be his. If he does change his mind about children, he would express it to you outright. If he changes his mind, it would be quite a few years into your relationship. I do think he’d love kid’s clothing and baby clothes.

“Look at how small and cute they are!” 

He’d actually be a really good father if he decides he wants children with you. But that’s for the distant future to decide.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Asmo gives you gifts constantly. 

“Oh, my darling star, I saw this in the shop and thought of you!”

He will do this a lot. He sees things that make him think of you or that he thinks you will like and buys them to give to you. His two love languages are gifts and touch. You will just get presents regularly. He does enjoy getting gifts, too! He is always thankful and appreciative. 

“Why, of course you bought me a gift. I am the dazzling Asmodeus after all~!”

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He didn’t think he liked holding hands much until you. He thought it felt sweaty and gross. And then you two held hands for the first time while shopping. You weren’t even dating at the time. His heart skipped and he knew he was done for. Now, he takes any chance he can to hold your hand. He likes to swing your hands, too. It’s childish and cute, very playful.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Asmo himself has enough self control that he would never hurt you. He’s like Mammon in that he would not even use his demon form against you, ever. But if he did accidentally hurt you, this demon boy would feel so horrible. 

If another demon hurt you, he would use his power to force them to leave before taking care of you. He is protective of his sweet honey. You will be catered to until you are healed again.

If you get hurt because you’re clumsy, he’ll laugh as he helps you up. He’s clearly checking you over for serious injury and taking you to get cleaned up if needed. He reminds himself to catch you next time you trip or stop you from running into things.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

His jokes are usually about himself. He loves himself, he is a king of self love after all. I think he plays up being a “narcissist” and uses it for joke material. I personally hate the whole “Asmo is a narcissist” thing because that isn’t what a narcissistic personality is. Loving oneself like he does is vanity but not narcissism and we need to stop calling vain people narcissists. 

Anyway!

He does like to pull pranks on and with you. You two can get engaged in prank wars a lot. Usually little things. Never, ever, mess with Asmo’s products though. If you do something that temporarily dyes his hair, he will come at you full force with his next prank. Don’t fucking do it.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

He loves kisses! All the smooches for Asmodeus! But he has a fondness for kissing your neck. Maybe the thought of marking your neck makes it more appealing. Maybe it’s the fact that the throat has a pulse point that he can feel under his lips. He just loves trailing kisses up the column of your neck and to your jaw and lips. His kisses get real sensual real fast. Not necessarily sexual. 

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Physical affection and gift giving! As stated before, these are his primary love languages. Holding your hand or linking arms or hugs or cuddles. He loves touch. He craves physical affection and giving it to you is one way he shows his love. Giving you gifts is the other. It shows how often you are on his mind, how much he thinks of you when he’s doing things.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

That first time you ever held his hand. You two weren’t dating at the time. You were out shopping and got excited. It was crowded, though, and you didn’t want to get separated from him. You grabbed his hand, fingers linking together to strengthen the hold, and it was like his heart stopped beating for a moment. Everything seemed to slow down. That was when he knew he was in love. No one’s touch had ever made him feel like that before. He has photobooth pictures from that day in his wallet.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

His worst fear is that you will tell him that you’ve been using him for sex the entire time. That you don’t really love him. He doesn’t want to be reduced down to his sin by you. You, the person he loves so much. The person who proved that he was more than his sin. If you came out with that, he doesn’t know what he would do with himself. He’s expressed this fear openly to you, to which he needed to be held because he was beginning to cry while telling you. Reassure him that your love goes far beyond sex. Please, don’t just be using him. He’s far more fragile than one might think.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

He is very particular about matching colors. With everything. If things don’t match, Asmo will not be happy. Even coordinating outfits with you is important. He doesn’t want to wear colors that clash with what you’re wearing. It’s important for things to look good together. That includes you two as a couple.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Oh he has a whole fucking list of pet names. He rotates through them routinely, it never gets boring. Sweetie, sweetheart, my dove, my darling, honey, my sweet honey, darling star. sunshine, starlight, darling love, love. It never gets old with Asmo. He loves cute pet names. Please call him by pet names, too. He doesn’t use babe or baby because he feels they’re overused.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Asmo, while he loves going on dates, enjoys just being in a room with you. You can be doing your own thing while he reads a magazine or paints his nails or scrolls through Devilgram. He doesn’t care what either of you are doing, so long as you are together. You don’t even need to talk. He likes having you in the room. But please, let him paint your nails. He will die if he gets to match your nails with his.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Beautiful Soul by Jesse McCartney and I will die on this hill

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

Asmo doesn’t keep secrets from you. He doesn’t see much need to. He’s pretty much an open book.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Once he realized he was in love with you, not too long. He slowly pushed his boundaries with you to gauge reactions for the next few weeks before making a very romantic and heartfelt confession to you.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He tries to find out why you’re upset. He wants to help you. If you let him, he’ll give you a full body massage to help you feel better. He’ll run you a bath and let you soak, sitting by the bathtub if you ask. He will do anything he can to help you feel better. And he’s a great listener for when you’re ready to talk.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

Oh, Asmo will show you off all the time. He loves getting to flaunt the fact that he has the most perfect partner. If you don’t like being shown off, he will tone it down. But he’s proud of you. Proud to be with you.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Asmo isn’t a fan of the idea of you being in serious fights. Especially with demons. He would fight for you in that case. If it’s a little cat fight, he is totally the boyfriend that would yell “kick her ass, sweetheart!” and hold your stuff for you while cheering you on.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

I feel like emotions are very connected to his sin. He can read you better than anyone. He can tell when pushing things is a bad idea and will leave it be. He can tell when you need space or need to get out of a situation. 

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

Asmo would have to make something of it. It needs to be perfect and romantic. But very much a private affair. He doesn’t want to put you on the spot in public, he thinks that’s tacky and crude. He would beg to be able to propose to you in the human world. You go to Japan when the cherry blossoms are in full bloom, The area is secluded, no one is around. There are cherry blossom petals dancing in the breeze when he kneels down and pulls out the ring to ask you. He even had Satan’s help writing his proposal like a poem. All for you.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

He feels calm when doing self care routines with you. Sometimes you just need to sit back, relax, and put on a face mask. It’s even more relaxing to do it with someone you care about. It doesn’t have to be a quiet kind of relaxing for him. He feels calm when getting to sit back and giggle with you, showing each other pictures you find while waiting on your masks to dry.

A Jedi for a Clone Pt. 2 // Captain Rex x Reader

pairing: Rex x Reader

If you haven’t already, read part 1 here!

Summary: Rex sits down and is determined to talk to you about some unpleasant things that happened on Umbara — you’re ready to slice his head off. 

a/n: Thank you all so much again for the feedback on the first part! They definitely boosted my confidence a lot and as a result I picked up writing regularly again after a long pause. A lot of you wanted a second part and I also wanted to go a little deeper into their relationship so here we go! I hope you all like this one just as much. 

taglist: @starflyer-104​ @mangoberry43​ @kaminobiwan​

“Master I did it! You saw that right? Mention it to Master Luminara when we’re back in the temple! I heard Barriss when she was gossiping about me and I want her to know that I improved.” One moments negligence and you landed flat on your back with one of your lightsabers flying upwards, before falling down and crashing with your nose and landing next to your head. “Ouch!” You managed to catch the other one before it fell on your face as well. It was worth it since you had dodged the blaster hit but in the end you had landed on the ground anyway.

Master Krell had put up this exercise for you, which required you to stand on a bunch of unstable crates that got continuously smaller, the higher you got to practice your physical balance as well as your ability to control the force while reflecting blastershots. On top of that of course you had to do it blindly.

You pulled the blindfold down your face while extending your hand into the direction your lightsabers were lying and wrapped your fingers around each of them.

“But that’s not fair. I thought the last one had hit the blasterdroids main computer... it shouldn’t have been able to function anymore!”

Your Master was sitting a few feet away from you, his legs crossed and his eyes closed – potentially trying to meditate.

“Didn’t sound like that now, did it.” You frowned, sitting up and facing him, unintentionally mimicking his pose. “I’m tired. I’ve been trying to balance on that pyramid of junk half the day now.” “Patience, young padawan. Experience is your greatest asset.” Your Master hadn’t opened his eyes yet. “I don’t need patience when I wield the force.” You gripped your stomach the moment it started growling quietly. “But maybe I need some lunch.”

Master Krell opened one of his eyes and smiled. “How about this. If you manage to meditate with me for at least 10 minutes without any interruptions I will take you to Dex’s Diner.” Your eyes widened in disbelief and excitement. “Really? Okay!” Shortly after you rose to your feet and took a few fast steps forward before swiftly falling to the ground right next to your Master and adopting the same position he had. “Remember Padawan. Patience.” You smiled back at him. “Yes, Master.”

Your lightsabers shined brightly as you polished them for the 4th time in a row. They had not even been dirty in the first place. Maybe some light dust had settled on their surface when your shuttle had landed on Arami and the wind had blown up dirt from the ground. But it was certainly a good distraction and an even better way to calm yourself. You sat far from where the rest of the battalion had set up their campfires. 

The Clones sat around several fires in their own little groups and your enhanced hearing allowed you to hear the conversations they were having. Half of them were about missions, attacks they had used, stunts they had pulled, people they had flirted with. Normal clone-talk you assumed. The other half of them were about you. And you had to admit it was almost cute how they thought you could not hear them, or that you were too occupied with cleaning your sabers to pay attention to your surroundings. Because of course they thought like that. How could simple minded beings like they were understand how a Jedi’s mind worked. Maybe they didn’t even care.

Your movements slowed down and you stared at your shiny reflection on the metal of one of your sabers for a brief moment. Then your eyes shot up and landed on a particular clone with bleached blonde hair. You didn’t like how he had been able to sneak up on you earlier. Nor had you liked the way he had observed you in the tent when you were discussing battle strategies with Skywalker. 

Speaking of the Jedi General... Out of politeness Anakin had sat next to you and talked to you – you of course not saying a word but that did not seem to bother him a lot. He had excused himself earlier to take what he called a very “important and unpostponable” holocall. The blonde clone, Rex, had risen to his feet immediately and asked if he needed his help. Skywalker had glanced your way for a second and assured him that he did not. Reluctantly Rex had sat down again.

Now, almost 20 minutes later he hadn’t returned yet and you were sitting alone, watching Captain Rex. Most of the clones had taken off the upper part of their armor, so they were sitting in their blacks, seeming relaxed.

Your eyes trailed down for a second, noticing how the clothes outlined their muscles. You wondered how many scars the fabric hid. And where those scars were.

It didn’t take long for Rex to notice the stare you were sending his way and he shifted around a little before looking back to you.  Unlike you he couldn’t hold it out for too long. It kept shifting into other directions and back to you. 

One of his brothers with a goatie was telling a story to some shinies, a wide smile on his lips. Something about dominos. Whatever he meant by that. The goatie-guy stopped talking only for a second, when Rex leaned towards him and said something not audible enough for even you to hear. Shortly after goatie shrugged his shoulders and continued talking. Rex however stood up. Your eyes narrowed into slits before widening slightly. No no no. Had you sat in the dark too long and your eyes were deceiving you? Or was that reckless bastard actually walking towards you?

You gripped your lightsabers tighter, the closer he got and finally lowered your gaze. You did not need to see him to know where he was. One or two steps were left when you ignited both of them, a bright luminous blue hue falling over your features and lighting up the area around you. Rex stopped dead in his tracks and you noticed him shaking slightly, before composing himself again. A dozen pairs of eyes turned towards you, half of them were smart enough to look away again and pretend they didn’t see anything.

Your gaze was locked onto the bright blue light. “What do you say, captain?” His title left your lips with a hint of venom. “Are they clean enough?” With that your eyes wandered up to him and stared back right into his. Rex gulped. This was an awkward position. Although he was the one looking down on you, the power was in your hands.

An uncertainty crossed his mind. Would you be bold enough to hurt him? In front of his brothers? He knew they would not hesitate to defend him and stand up to a General – not after Umbara. But he was also convinced you could take them all on. He had heard your stories. And General Skywalker was nowhere near to help.

“Yes, General.” You didn’t turn off the lightsabers. Nor did you speak. But you stared at him and held him frozen with your gaze. This time, he told himself, he would not fail though. He was gonna speak to you one way or another. “Would you...like to join us, General?”

You sat in silence for what felt like minutes before furrowing your brows.

“What did you just say?” You could tell he was getting more nervous by the second. Very slowly and almost intimidatingly you swung your lightsaber, while tilting your head ever so slightly to the side. “I didn’t hear you.” His eyes followed the blade of your weapon and you could see a pearl of sweat roll down the side of his face.

“I asked...If you wanted to join my brothers and I. At the campfires I mean. It seems cold and lonely here.” He was getting braver, the longer he stood there without you mutilating him.

“We also have spicebrew if you would like some.” Your gaze was merciless. “Drinking the night before the mission, Captain?” His eyes dodged yours, looking to his right side, then his left, then the ground and then his right side again. “Uh...No I mean yes. But. We would enjoy it, if you just sat with us. It’s an honor to work with a Jedi…” Your other lightsaber rotated clockwise in your hand – his eyes followed the motion. “Quite like you.” “Cut the flattery.” The surprise made him look right into your eyes. “I’d rather meditate.” 

The next thing he did surprised you to say the least. Rex sat down opposite of you. “Then do you mind me sitting in your company?” Now he was the one looking up into your eyes, as you were sitting on an old log. Your eyes narrowed once more. “What are you trying here, clone?” Before he knew it one of your lightsabers was pointing at him, resting inches from his chin in front of his neck. “Don’t mistake my professionalism for kindness. I don’t trust your kind.” 

Rex, though trying his hardest not to move, seemed weirdly calm about the situation. As if somehow he knew you would not kill him on the spot. “Can I ask why that is, General?” He almost whispered, as he was too scared to strain his vocal cords too much. The fear of them being sliced by the jedi weapon still present.

Your eyes were burning now. “You’re asking me that? You’re actually asking me why?”

Now he had done it. You were angry. So angry. Who did this guy think he was? He was surely trying to provoke you. Where the hell was Skywalker? “Need I remind you it was one of your kind that murdered my Master in cold blood? Did you forget that already? Maybe your cloned brain doesn’t hold enough capacity for that.” Rex bit on his lip. He would not let your words get to him. Besides him and his brothers were pretty much used to distrust and mistreatment from the republic and its organic citizens.

“Who told you...about what happened on Umbara, General.”

“The council of course.” You lowered your lightsaber when you realized the other clones slowly stopped their conversations. Seeing the deadly weapon not in lethal proximity of their captains head anymore had a majority of them pick up their talking again, though many eyes continued to linger on the two of you.

“Did they leave out the part where he told us about abandoning the Jedi to join the new order he thought would rise to power?” For the first time since Rex had looked back at you from all the way over at the campfires it was you who looked to the side. Not wanting to look into his eyes this moment. “Master Krell was confused. The light would have surely found its way back to him.” Your features hardened. “Not that the council would have let him try…” you mumbled, more to yourself, than to Rex.

“But who are you to judge about that, clone.” Your eyes landed on Rex again. They still burned with hate but he was a lot calmer now that he had seen the glint of vulnerability in your eyes and was a little more certain that you would not try to harm him. Rex stood up and your eyes followed his. You did not move when he walked over to you and sat down next to you on the log. Your lightsabers, though, were still ignited and if it came down to it you would still be able to slice his head off clean.

“Did they tell you about the way he had us kill our own brothers?” You stared at the blue hued ground in front of you. That’s not quite what they had told you. 

A mission gone wrong. False Calculations. A deception of soldiers and an unlawful decision by Master Krell that had led to a horrible string of events which obliged the soldiers to act on their own. That’s how the council had worded it. 

“Surely you know General Kenobi. The 212th is his battalion. Many good men I knew. Waxer he...was a good man. Always tried to do the right thing. Always followed orders. The last time I saw him I watched him bleed out. on the ground of enemy territory.” You noticed him grip his left wrist in his right hand.  He was nervous. And scared. But you had not killed him yet, neither had you screamed at him to shut up. So he continued. 

“The betrayal he must have felt in that moment…” Rex rubbed his face. “General I know you don’t like us. Not a lot of people do. But we have each other and that gives us strength. We’re bred for war. And we fight without complaining. But we’re no tools. We still feel. And sometimes...sometimes I wish we wouldn’t.”

Waxer cried in his last moments. Knowing the few people he trusted had fought him with the intention to kill him” He looked away, then towards you and you turned to face him as well. His eyes were...sad. “General Krell ordered this attack on both sides, knowing fully well what was gonna happen. I hated him for what he made us do. I hated him and I wanted him dead before he could hurt any more of us.” You tensed up at the images of your Master being shot. “And I achieved that. I was the one that killed him, General. I didn’t enjoy doing it. And I am sorry about it. Not because he is dead, but because he was important to you. And you lost him because someone else made the decision that he did not deserve to live.” By now tears were building up in your eyes.

“He could have…” You couldn’t even finish your thought. He was right. They weren’t tools. And if anything they deserved their free will. Master Krell had taken that from them. But were you ready to admit that? The Master Krell you knew was kind and compassionate. The Master Krell you knew had let younglings climb onto his 4 arms and swung them around like they requested, while they laughed. The Master Krell you knew had taken you to Dex’s Diner because it was your favourite and had laughed when you told him he’d probably look like Dex himself if the Order hadn’t trained him.

But then he was forced to fight in this stupid, seemingly endless and catastrophic war that raged across the galaxy. Was that enough to change a person? What if the Master Krell you knew was nothing but a memory.

We’re bred for war. No one had given the clones a choice when the war had started. You didn’t notice it but Rex did. The eyes you were looking at him with now were not filled with rage, nor hatred. They held empathy and maybe – confusion. 

“You have every right to hate me. But forgive my brothers. None of us ever wanted this.”

None of you said a word but what could you have possibly said in this moment. So you stayed silent and so did he. The more you looked at him the more you started to notice how genuine he seemed. How desperate for you to understand. And how beautiful he was.

You tightened the grip on your lightsabers once more before you stood up and turned them off. Silly thoughts. Looking over your shoulder back at him you looked him over once more. This man had killed your Master. And your Master killed his brothers. “I’ll decide that myself.”

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a/n: Again I wanted to include so much more in this chapter but after reaching 2000 words I told myself to stop lol So I definitely have a third chapter planned out where I wanna get into a more romantic vibe! I’m so sorry if this feels too dragged but I didn’t wanna feel like I was forcing something too quick (I mean even that “how beautiful he was” felt kind of rushed ahh) 

Healing (pt.1/3)

Yandere Chisaki Kai/Overhaul x quirkless!f!Reader

Part 2︱Part 3

a/n: please do not read this piece if themes of poor mental health are upsetting to you. i am in no way attempting to romanticize these issues, having dealt with them in the past and knowing all too well how serious it is. i have never endorsed the harmful actions of people in my work and never will. please take care of yourselves and read at your own discretion. also this is a repost because it disappeared from the tags for some reason?

warnings: mental health problems, injury

4.2k words

_____

This is for your own good, he said.

The world is a disease ridden place, and remaining in it has left you broken.

You weren’t broken, you were fine. Sure, handling the pressures of simply existing as a result of being born without a quirk were tasking. People had not exactly been kind to you growing up, and that may have affected your health significantly. But you were handling it just fine.

While you couldn’t disagree with the fact that people did seem to enjoy using you, whatever had developed as a result of him discovering this reality wasn’t better in the slightest.

He said you needed time to heal, both physically and mentally. You could trust him, he was the only person who saw how faultless your existence was.

At some point you felt like you deserved to be mistreated by everyone around you, given how common of an occurrence it was. So when the yakuza leader came to you himself, going on about how unfairly you’d been handled all your life, it was hard not to trust him.

Now, you realize just how big of a mistake doing so was.

To be fair, he did live up to his promises. Kai said he wanted to help you heal, and what better way to do that than to move in with him. He had all the necessary equipment, and more than enough money to provide for you during your rehabilitation process.

However, he failed to mention the lengths he was willing to go to ensure your ‘good health’. Thinking you would stay with him until you got better, and then go back to living on your own once any pre existing issues had been taken care of slowly started to become an unattainable dream.

Upon arrival at the yakuza’s base, Kai instructed that it’d be in your best interest to not leave the premises. There was plenty of courtyard space for fresh air, and anything you needed would be picked up for you. Your room had been spacious enough, luxurious almost. Aside from the underground network of facilities, you were permitted to have free range of the base. The only condition was that you kept an escort with you at all times. Generally, these terms didn’t seem too bad.

It wasn’t until you sat down in his office to go through the rest of your new living plan that you realized just how committed he was to seeing your health improve.

Everything was planned to a T. When you’d wake up, take medication, bathe, eat, go to bed. He had taken into account any intolerances or allergies and developed a comprehensive meal program that catered to them. The most important element was the checkups scheduled twice a week to monitor your physical health.

While you didn’t enjoy the idea of being examined so regularly, you couldn’t argue that you’d neglected many problems over your lifetime. Sure, blood tests and vaccine administered supplements weren’t fun. But for the sake of rehabilitation you supposed that it was just another necessary evil.

What was concerning was his policy on electronic devices, specifically for recreational use. According to him, having a phone would only hinder the process, and therefore it wasn’t something you needed.

“Should you require anything you need only to ask either myself or a subordinate. Seeming as you should always have an escort there will be no issue with the matter of not being able to contact anyone.”

Kai truly had everything covered, and with how reassuring he was it became hard to see any flaws in the plan.

And so you took up residence in the leader’s base, grateful for the opportunity to live without being weighed down by society's corrupt expectations.

_____

The first few weeks went fairly smoothly, using the time to learn the layout of the establishment. Not that you could ever get lost, with one of his subordinates trailing you in case you required assistance. You quite enjoyed the company of Chisaki’s underlings, along with that of the man himself.

Every day you’d spend time in the courtyard, or go for a walk along the path against the inside edges of the base. Oftentimes Kurono would accompany you, and the two of you would make small talk over menial subjects. Later on you’d return to Kai’s office where you’d sit on the sofa positioned to the side of the room, reading a novel he’d selected while he worked at his desk.

Generally, your experience went fairly smoothly. The distance you’d put between yourself and the reality outside those tall concrete walls had done a lot of good. However, not everything can be solved with simply removing yourself entirely from a bad situation.

Although your living quarters were comfortable and welcoming, there was something unfamiliar about it that was off putting. To combat this, you decided a quick trip home to pick up a few belongings couldn’t hurt.

It’d only taken you roughly twenty-five minutes to travel back on foot to your small, cheap little single floor house on the edge of town. Another ten to gather some items, and then you walked back to the base. However, upon returning you’d come to understand how badly you’d messed up.

It was early in the morning before you’d left, and there were no examinations scheduled either. Not wanting to bother anyone with your needs, you had left the base alone without notifying Chisaki.

That was your first mistake.

He was waiting for you at the front entrance, arms crossed with an aggravated look on his face, although it was hard to read given the mask hiding a good half of his facial features. But if that didn’t give away his anger, then the death grip he placed on your forearm as he dragged you to your designated bedroom did.

He practically threw you inside the room, slamming the doors behind him. He only took a second to compose himself before speaking. “I thought I made it very clear that you were not to leave the premises, let alone by yourself.”

You knew Chisaki was quite the stern man, seeing first hand once or twice with how he treated his subordinates. But this was new, he’d never gotten mad at you, let alone get physically aggressive.

“I didn’t think it’d be a big deal, I was just grabbing some things to make my room a little more comfortable.”

“Did I not tell you that whatever you needed would be picked up for you?”

His demeanour suggested that the question was not rhetorical. “You did, I know. I just didn’t want to bother Kurono or anyone else to go with me so early.”

Something about your open concern for others seemed to pacify his rage, letting out a sigh before moving to sit on the short couch next to him. Leaning forward, elbows propped on his knees, Kai responded. “Staying inside the base is a crucial part to your healing, I can’t let you leave knowing the danger you’d be putting yourself in without protection. You should refrain from doing something so reckless moving forward.”

You moved from your standing position to sit down next to him, of course keeping a respectable distance knowing his abhorrence to bacteria, and generally people as well. “I’m sorry for making you worry, I was just a bit homesick is all.”

The yakuza turned his head to look at you, brows furrowed in a somewhat inquisitive manner. His amber eyes pierced through yours, seemingly searching for answers to questions that couldn’t be asked. “I hope you’re aware of how important someone like yourself is to my cause. Those without quirks are growing increasingly rare, and it’s causing more issues than the world can keep up with.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I believe it goes without saying that I’d be deeply upset if anything were to happen to you. Normally I couldn’t be bothered with such a thing… but you’re the exception.”

Chisaki stood up and walked toward the bedroom door before facing you again. “Take a bath and then return to my office with your book. Kurono will be waiting outside your door to escort you.”

You watched him leave the room, waiting for the door to completely shut before letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding all this time.

Whatever that was, you never wanted to encounter it again. Maybe, you thought, I’d be better off getting out of here sooner rather than later.

_____

After the first incident occurred you presumed things would return to normal, but of course that would be too convenient. It seemed that there was now a slight increase in security around the base. The development was immediate, making it hard to miss. Any exits leading outside―those literally outside, say to the courtyard―and gates to exit the compound were guarded by one of Chisaki’s underlings.

On top of that, he had one of his men stationed outside your bedroom 24/7, whether you needed an escort or not. He never bothered to notify you of this change in particular. It only came to your attention after hearing the verbal exchange of two men outside your door, doing what you assumed was rotating shifts.

It was unnerving, to say the least. The incident had been minor as far as you perceived it, but the unspoken changes around you demonstrated otherwise.

Aside from that, you thankfully regarded the steady improvement to your health. Your energy had returned significantly, likely thanks to the mandatory eight hours of sleep. The daily walks had eliminated the general weakness and lack of stamina you experienced. Even your face took on a warm glow, eye-bags almost non existent and blemishes quickly fading.

It would seem that your departure from this temporary rehabilitation would come sooner than you expected.

Yet the more your condition improved, the stricter Kai became with your routine. Not only that, but he also seemed to be growing more comfortable having you near him.

Now, with any normal person this familiarness would only be expected. But you knew better, and a voice deep in the back of your mind was telling you that this new predicament wouldn’t end well.

_____

The next incident seemed to be the thing that set him off, solidifying your future.

It had been roughly a month and a half since you accepted being cared for at the yakuza’s compound. By now the problems which put you in this situation were almost entirely taken care of, but that didn’t stop Kai from enforcing his rules more than ever.

Frankly, the repetitive, unwavering routine you’d been following was starting to create its own problems within your health―you were going a bit stir crazy.

After the last warning, you’d be lying if you said the main thing keeping you from leaving was fear for how Chisaki would react. Now however, it’d been too long since you experienced the real world, and even if it was only for an hour, you desperately needed to go outside the walls of the compound.

You took the issue to Kai during the time you spent reading in his office. He was going to have to let you do this, staying cooped up any longer wouldn’t be good for you and even he couldn’t ignore that reality.

After what felt like an endless back and forth discussion, seemingly getting nowhere on either side, you started to believe that he really didn’t think the situation was an actual problem.

But you knew he had a soft spot for you, and eventually the man did cave to your request.

Accompanied by one of his more trusted subordinates, you were allowed to leave the base for two hours. You took this much appreciated freedom to do some window shopping here and there, at one point stopping to buy latte―of course not before fighting with your escort over how Kai would disapprove of you doing so, the caffeine apparently being bad for you.

You were nearing the end of your time limit, and still you remained unsatisfied with what felt like an all too brief reintroduction to society.

Pushing your luck, you headed to the center of the downtown area, hoping the bustling life and bright colours would be enough to satiate your need for external stimulation.

Before you had left the compound that day, Kai had stopped you for a moment at the front entrance. The statement was quick―he advised you to stay out of any heavy populated areas. According to him it posed too high of a risk to your safety, and you should heed his words if you knew what was good for you.

However, now that you were out and getting a taste of everything you didn’t even realize you were missing, those warnings were the last thing to concern you. Oh, how foolish you were to even believe there was nothing wrong with going against him for a second.

You heard the destruction before you felt it. The cause of it was unidentifiable, as before you could steal a glance from the source of exploding brick and concrete next to you, an unseen force sent you flying across the pavement and out onto the road. Thankfully traffic immediately came to a halt once onlookers realized the situation, effectively preventing you from being run over. But that did little to console you as painfully, you comprehended your now significantly injured state.

Giving your body a once over, it was clear that the force that threw you away from the building was from the blast of air pressure likely due to an explosion. The damages weren’t too severe, but you were still now sporting a throbbing headache, and what appeared to be a sprained ankle. Aside from that, only developing bruises remained as evidence of the violent event as far as you could tell in your shock induced state.

Understanding you had to get yourself away from the violent, still ongoing conflict, you feebly attempted to stand up. It was a good effort, and if it weren’t for the head injury that was proving to be much more serious, you most likely would’ve been able to get away.

But luck was never on your side to begin with, and only a few seconds went by before black spots appeared in front of your vision. A moment later and you were out cold.

_____

A hospital room was what you expected, what anyone would expect after being nearly blown to pieces.

Pulling yourself out of unconsciousness to assess exactly where you were was a trying task, but the fear growing in the pit of your stomach served as more than enough motivation.

You remembered being downtown. An explosion. Pain. Then darkness. Taking in your surroundings, you identified the room to be that which you sat through examination after examination in the yakuza’s base.

But Kai was nowhere to be seen, and that only made the feeling of distress worse.

You had no idea how you got there, figuring the likely outcome would be you in the care of an actual doctor. Except that wasn’t the case, and instead you were laying on a bed, wearing clothing that you did not have on before blacking out.

It appeared to be a fairly loose but comfortable sleeveless knee length dress, with a long sleeve sweater overtop of it, both shaded with a pale light blue. In the midst of examining your new outfit, your eyes laid upon a heart monitoring device lightly clipped to your index finger.

Amidst the sudden realization of your current predicament, you failed to notice the steady increase in your heartbeat. But Kai hadn’t.

At that moment one of the two doors of the room, the other attached to a bathroom, swiftly opened. Chisaki stood in the doorway for a moment, seemingly evaluating your now awakened form for a moment before entering, closing the door behind him.

You questioned him before he even had the chance to come near you. “What the hell am I doing here? Why aren’t I in a hospital?” He approached you as you spoke, taking a seat on a wheeled stool next to your bed.

Unfortunately you couldn’t control the shaking in your voice, and it served as a clear indication to the man at just how uneasy you’d grown with the situation.

“My subordinate alerted me of the attack after he found you unconscious. You were brought back here amidst the fighting so I could tend to your injuries, which fortunately are not life threatening.” He spoke in a calm and consistent tone, pausing momentarily before continuing. “There was no need to bring you to a hospital when I’m more than capable of taking care of you.”

Not life threatening? You looked over your body, assessing the damage for yourself. It appeared that you had injured your ankle, as it was now wrapped in some form of brace. Along with that were bandages woven around your knees, and more that you could feel constricting your upper arms where you landed on. Lastly was the dull pain in the back of your head, bringing you back to the moments before blacking out when you experienced a similar sensation.

“I think I should still go see a professional, no offense of course. It’s just I’d feel more comfortable with an expert opinion on the whole thing.” You truly didn’t want to set him off, not after what happened the last time you went against his advice. However, this was not something you could just take lying down, despite the fact that you were literally lying down in bed at the moment.

“I’m going to have to insist that you remain here, it’s the best option for your recovery which may I remind you has not been completed as of yet, and will only be delayed due to this. Not to mention that in your state excessive movement to bring you to a hospital would not only be quite difficult to manage but further damaging to your body as well.”

If it weren’t for the unsettling, stone cold stare he was giving you as he spoke, you would’ve likely retorted with a defense. Yet under that gaze you felt it was impossible to remain strong willed. You’d let him have his way for now, there being only so much time remaining in which his care was necessary.

With that you agreed to his concerns, and perhaps if he wasn’t wearing that obnoxiously large mask you would’ve seen the smirk of satisfaction appear across his face.

_____

Later that day Kai returned with your dinner, a task he normally left for his subordinates to complete. He set down the tray atop the sliding overbed table, a clipboard in his other hand. Sitting down on the rolling stool next to your bed, he began talking, you listening in silence as you ate.

“I hope you don’t mind but I took a blood sample while you were asleep in case your injuries were more severe than outwardly observable.” He flipped through a few pages on the clipboard before continuing. “It would seem that the supplements are steadily improving your overall condition. It’ll still take some time for certain levels to reach a normal amount for someone of your physique, but this is still good news nonetheless.”

You hummed in response, not wanting to be rude by talking with your mouth full. Chisaki moved to place the clipboard on the counter to your left before facing you again.

“I’m sure by now you’ve taken note of the change in your attire from that prior to being injured.”

You stopped chewing, looking worriedly in his direction. You hadn’t forgotten about this reality, it was more like you chose to ignore it for the time being, hoping nothing would come of it between the two of you.

“You should know that I had one of my female underlings do this for me, the fact of the matter being your clothing was partially destroyed from the explosion and was therefore prohibiting necessary medical attention.”

The pulsing of your heartbeat quickened, having an idea of where this conversation was headed, much to your apprehension. You stared down at the meal in front of you to avoid eye contact at all costs.

“I was able to properly tend to your wounds, but I’m sure you understand when I say that I couldn’t help but notice certain… remnants. Those of past trauma, along with others I didn’t directly observe, those that my subordinate notified me of.”

It was obvious that to access the bruises and cuts sustained from being thrown across the pavement, Chisaki would inevitably see parts of your body that you were all too familiar with just a few years ago.

Things had gotten better since then, they really had. You would never even think about using those same coping methods anymore. But that didn’t change the fact that those memories weren’t something that could just fade overnight, nor would the physical damage they left behind.

It was the last thing you wanted to discuss with Kai right now. He already knew, albeit vaguely, that you used to struggle with your mental health. Not that you weren’t still struggling, it was just now you had healthier ways of handling it. The only thing you could do now was deter him from pressing you further on the matter.

“Listen Kai, I know what you’re referring to, and I understand why you’d be concerned. It’s just… you don’t need to bother with it. I’m better now, at least in that regard. I get that you want to help me, and you have, but this isn’t something you need to worry about. I’ve already taken care of it, I promise.”

Glancing up at him after finishing, you saw more emotion than you’d ever thought someone like himself would be capable of. Although to most it would be insignificant, his intense stare coupled with the furrowed eyebrows, looking as if he truly wanted to comfort you in that moment was reassuring.

He exhaled loudly before responding. “That’s fine, (y/n).” You watched as he removed those white gloves that he seemed to wear like a second skin, placing them on the counter. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you during that time. Someone like you should have never been subjected to such treatment, and if I had known you back then I would’ve made sure such an occurrence never took place to begin with.”

Now this was… jarringly out of character.

If there was ever a red flag that you missed before, the ensuing events would surely be enough to make it blatantly obvious what exactly was going on.

Wide-eyed and dinner long forgotten, you followed the movement of his hands as they went to gently hold that of your left.

The yakuza waited for what felt like an eternity before carrying on, doing what you could only assume was anticipating the disgust of coming into contact in such a way with you, absent of his constant protective articles.

But the aversion never came.

“All I can do now is ensure you’re never dealt the same treatment again.”

Another moment of silence, stillness.

He gave your hand a small squeeze before releasing his hold, standing up and retrieving his gloves. You were too dumbfounded by the events that just unfolded to respond, so you continued to sit in silence while Kai gathered his belongings.

“Finish your dinner, Kurono will come later and turn off the heart monitor for you to get ready for bed.” He finished pulling on the gloves, picking up the clipboard once he was done and headed towards the only exit of the room.

“You’ll be remaining in this room while your injuries heal. I’ll keep one of my men posted outside if you need anything.” Kai placed a hand on the doorknob, pausing before looking back in your direction.

“Also, you should know that an alarm will go off if you remove the heart monitoring clip on your finger. There’s a button on the side of the bed you can press if you need assistance turning the machine off, say if you need to get up. Otherwise please leave it as it is.”

At that moment he left the examination room, the door closing with a heavy metallic thud that reverberated off the walls.

The feeling in the pit of your stomach was subtle, almost overshadowed by the persisting hunger from abandoning your dinner. But you knew it well to be fear.

A fear that you only suspected would grow the longer you remained in the confines of Chisaki’s compound, the confines of his so-called ‘care.’

(End of Part 1)

A Rope That Wears Thin

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG Pairings: Gen Words: 2395 Characters: Bepo, Trafalgar Law, Shachi, Penguin, Jean Bart, Ikkaku, Heart Pirates Note: The title comes from the Ayn Rand quote, “Guilt is a rope that wears thin.”

This is set between episodes 955 and 956. Law gets out of the prison six days before the raid, but we don’t know what he’s up to during that time, so I wrote this.

Summary: As the Heart Pirates plan to rescue their captain from prison, Law returns on his own. Bepo, while happy to have his captain back, feels guilty for causing Law to give himself up in the first place. He probably should have realized Law would notice.

Read also at A03 / FF.N

“From the different parts of the prison that Shachi, Penguin, and I saw, this is the best map we can come up with,” Bepo said, pointing to the rough drawing he’d tacked to the wall of the hut the Heart Pirates had gathered in, packing themselves into the small space. “We didn’t see a lot, so it’s far from a complete layout.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

The apology was more habit than anything, but Bepo was frustrated that he couldn’t provide any more detail that would help the Heart Pirates bring their captain back. He knew Shachi and Penguin felt the same. It was their fault for being careless and getting caught, and now Law… Bepo swallowed. The look in Law’s eye as he’d told them not to tell the Straw Hats about his capture had haunted Bepo since they’d come back to Ebisu Town alone.

Law had sacrificed himself for them, but Bepo refused that sacrifice. Law was far too willing to sacrifice himself for those he loved; he’d accepted the likelihood of his death in Dressrosa to avenge the man who’d saved him as a child, and Bepo never wanted to feel the choking terror and panicked helplessness he’d felt watching Law’s vivre card nearly burn out while he and the other Hearts were halfway across the New World, safe and sound on Zou.

Law’s vivre card had been smoldering since his capture at the prison, and Bepo tried not to think too hard about what was happening to him while he was in the enemy’s hands — hands that Bepo knew firsthand were twisted and cruel. But the burning hadn’t escalated, much to the crew’s relief. They would bring Law back before that could happen. Bepo and the Hearts wouldn’t be helpless on the sidelines this time, the Scabbards’ plans be damned. 

“They won’t be holding Captain in any of the low-security cells,” Bepo added, using an ink-dipped claw to cross out the boxes at the entrance on the map.

“There are… interrogation rooms toward the back of the building,” Shachi added, hesitating only slightly to push through the raw wounds he, Penguin, and Bepo were all feeling from their time in the prison. Though all three would rather have shut those memories down and locked them away to be dealt with later—or never—they’d willingly torn them open for any small detail that might help their rescue operation.

“We think there are Seastone-lined cells in that area,” Penguin added, pointing toward the top of the map. “That is where they would most likely be holding Law.”

“We’ll need to find the keys to the cells and to any Seastone restraints,” Bepo said, eyeing the rough schematic as he considered. “Unfortunately, we don’t know where the guard station is.”

“What kind of security are we looking at?” Jean Bart asked.

“Basil Hawkins,” Shachi muttered, absently rubbing his bandaged arm.

“And X Drake,” Penguin said. “Though he was there less regularly than Hawkins.”

Normally on a mission like this, they would case their target for several days, if not weeks, to get a sense of the building’s layout and security protocols as well as the guard rotations so they could take advantage of shift changes. The Heart Pirates typically preferred to act with precision — their captain was a surgeon, after all — rather than causing mass chaos like some other pirate crews.

They didn’t have that kind of time to spare with Law’s life in the balance.

“Guards?” Uni prompted.

Bepo shrugged, frustration rising in his throat once more as he just didn’t know. He suppressed a growl. “At least a dozen on shift at a time, though we never got a full count.”

Jean Bart frowned at the map, considering. “We’ll need to get in and out fast. With a Headliner and one of the Tobiroppo on hand, we can’t afford to get caught up in a fight. That will just draw attention and provide more targets for capture.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “A small group to distract the guards while another finds the captain and gets him out, perhaps. We should assume he won’t be able to move quickly.”

Bepo grimaced but nodded alongside the rest of the Hearts. Jean Bart’s experience and reputation as a captain gave him a gravitas the rest of the crew respected, and, without Law, his leadership was something they could lean on.

The brainstorming continued, and slowly a plan started taking shape. Bepo could feel hope threatening to take root in his chest. They were the Heart Pirates, dammit. And nothing would stop them from getting their captain back.

“That’s quite the plan you’ve come up with.”

The room fell silent in an instant as heads whipped toward the familiar voice from the doorway. Law leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest and Kikoku at his side. He had an eyebrow raised and a small, tired smirk on his lips.

“C-captain!” Bepo yelped, eyes widening.

As the rest of the crew erupted around him, Bepo bounded toward his friend to garchu, but Jean Bart grabbed his shoulder, pulling him up short. Bepo frowned but then really took in Law’s state. His stomach dropped.

The first thing he noticed was the blood. Law was covered in dried blood, and Bepo’s nose twitched at the metallic odor now that he was closer. There were cuts and bruises on his visible skin, including around his wrists, and Kikoku shook ever-so-slightly; Law’s arm was trembling with the effort of holding her.

Oh.

“Captain, how did you—?”

“Law!”

“Captain, what—?”

Law raised his free hand, as if to fend off the onslaught of questions. Bepo, realizing Law was having a hard time standing, ducked from under Jean Bart’s hand and hurried to Law’s side. Bepo took Law’s arm over his shoulder and wrapped a paw around his waist as gently as he could. It was a testament to his state that Law winced but didn’t otherwise protest. Penguin appeared and took Law’s other side, and together they maneuvered the captain to sit on the rickety bench outside the building they’d gathered in. They sat down next to him, just in case. The rest of the Hearts flowed out of the building to surround their returned captain.

“What happened, Captain?” Shachi asked once the entire crew was present. “How did you get out?”

“Drake-ya,” Law replied, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. “I don’t know what he’s up to, but it doesn’t seem he’s loyal to Kaido.” The gears in his mind were almost visible as they turned over whatever had happened between them at the prison.

Bepo exchanged surprised looks with Shachi and Penguin. While they hadn’t seen Drake as often as Hawkins at the prison, he’d given no indication he hadn’t been dedicated to the role of prying information from the captured Heart Pirates. But, Bepo supposed bitterly, as he studied Law’s tired profile, they’d never been the true target; they’d simply been bait. Who cared about torturing some underlings?

“The Straw Hats?” Law asked, glancing over at Bepo.

Bepo shook his head. “We didn’t tell them. They’re still at Amigasa Village.”

Law nodded. “Good.”

Bepo gave his friend an unimpressed look but didn’t say anything. Law’s lips twitched, and Bepo felt Law’s hand squeeze his knee briefly before letting go. Bastard, Bepo thought without any heat.

He was just glad Law was back.

-----

As the reunion wore down and the Hearts started to disperse, Bepo bumped shoulders with Law. “We should look at your wounds, Captain.”

Law shrugged. “I’m all right, Bepo.”

Penguin snorted. “You can barely sit upright.” Law glared at him, but the expression lacked any malice. “Besides, you’re covered in blood.” That it was his own blood hung unsaid on the air.

Law grimaced, gently touching his face and rubbing his fingers together when they came back sticky.

Bepo glanced at Shachi and Penguin, who nodded. They each rose and moved in separate directions. Law would deny making that startled yelp when Bepo reached over to pick him up to his dying day, but Bepo just smirked as he carried his weakly protesting captain to the building they’d claimed for sleeping quarters. 

As Bepo deposited Law on one of the sleeping pallets, Penguin entered with a bucket of water and clean cloths. Shachi followed a few moments later with Law’s medical kit. Law eyed them flatly, lips pressed into a thin line, but the trio simply returned the look levelly; they’d known Law the longest of anyone on the crew, and they were the least likely to take any shit from him—even if it meant some light insubordination to make sure Law took care of himself.

Law finally sighed, fight going out of his spine. “Fine,” he muttered, pulling his hat off.

Bepo exchanged victorious looks with Shachi and Penguin. They knew better than to push Law too far, though—he tended to shut down entirely in that case—so Shachi headed out with the promise of finding Law something to eat while Penguin went to find him a clean change of clothes. None of them voiced the guilt they were trying to make up for now that Law was back.

Once they were gone, Bepo turned back to Law expectantly. Law grumbled but slipped out of the sleeves of his kimono, leaving his tattooed chest bare and even more bruises and wounds visible. Bepo picked up one of the clean cloths and dipped it into the water before bringing it to Law’s face. He’d helped clean Law up after more fights than he could ever count in the last thirteen years, but Bepo wasn’t used to being the reason Law was hurt. All this blood, these wounds… they were Bepo’s fault.

Bepo stewed in his thoughts as he wiped blood from Law’s face until slender fingers wrapped gently but firmly around Bepo’s wrist. Bepo started and looked at Law. Golden eyes were studying him.

“I’m not mad, Bepo.”

Damn him. For all that Bepo prided himself on being able to read his best friend, Law knew him just as well. Of course he’d know how Bepo was feeling.

“Law—”

“It’s not your fault,” Law interrupted, “so stop blaming yourself. I made my choice, and I’d do it again.”

Law released his fingers, and Bepo dropped the blood-stained cloth in the water. “But you shouldn’t have had to. We were careless, and you got hurt because of us.”

Law shook his head. “I was Hawkins-ya’s target because I got made back in Bakura Town. That’s on me. He took you three to get to me.”

“You were just trying to stop Straw Hat and Roronoa from getting spotted,” Bepo muttered, looking at his hands.

Law snorted. “Feel free to blame Straw Hat-ya then,” he allowed, though Bepo could hear the fondness in his voice. Somehow, the Straw Hats, especially Luffy, had wormed their way under his captain’s skin, and Bepo wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to figure that out.

“My point,” Law said, tone demanding Bepo look at him, “is that it was not your fault. So, no more guilt.”

Law’s gaze was weary but sure, brooking no argument. Bepo nodded. He didn’t think he’d be able to let the guilt go that easily, but he was willing to try. “I’m sorry.”

Law huffed at the habitual apology but nodded. “Tell Shachi and Penguin the same thing. I mean it.”

“Aye, Captain.”

-----

Once Law’s wounds had been cleaned and dressed, Bepo had convinced him to take some painkillers. Law had been reluctant but knew he was barely staying upright as it was. The pills had knocked him out within minutes, and once Law was asleep, Bepo had ducked out of the hovel to get some fresh air. He leaned back against the building and slid to the ground, rubbing his face through his paws.

“How is he?” Ikkaku asked, coming up to Bepo and glancing toward the doorway.

“Asleep,” Bepo replied, giving her a wan smile. “He’ll be okay. He just needs rest.”

She nodded, relief evident on her face. “How about you?”

Bepo blinked. “Huh?” he said intelligently.

Ikkaku nudged his leg with her sandaled foot. “Captain’s going to need his first mate to have his head in the game to face an Emperor.”

“I…”

“You know none of us blame you three, right?” Ikkaku pressed on. “It’s not your fault this happened. You didn’t deserve to be tortured, but you didn’t break. Captain got you out because he trusted you to do what needed to be done for the mission. And now he’s back.”

Bepo felt tears prickling his eyes. “That’s what Captain said.”

Ikkaku’s lips twitched. “And you know better than anyone that Captain might be a bit of a jerk sometimes,” Bepo huffed a teary laugh at that, “but he’s usually right.”

Bepo sniffed. “Yeah.”

Ikkaku’s hand ran over Bepo’s head and gave him a couple of affectionate scritches before turning away. He had a feeling she’d already had this conversation with Shachi and Penguin.

Bepo swallowed, watching his crewmates flitting around the village, taking care of various tasks to prepare for the upcoming raid. He thought about the immediacy with which they’d started planning to bring Law back and the steadfast determination to do whatever it took, despite the danger. Bepo was proud of his crew—his family. And Law and Ikkaku were right; family didn’t blame one another. They supported and took care of one another.

Law had an ambitious plan to take on an Emperor, but he’d risked the entire thing for his family. And he’d trusted Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi to take over for him. Bepo’s chest warmed as it dawned on him just how much trust Law had put in him when he’d given himself up.

Bepo longed for that trust—had ever since that thirteen-year-old boy with white patches on his skin had rescued him on a winter island in the North Blue—and he’d be damned if he was going to do anything to screw that up now, on the verge of the Heart Pirates doing something… incredible.

Bepo felt himself baring his teeth in a grin. Law was going to be fine, the Heart Pirates were all together again, and they were going to take down an Emperor.

They were going to change the world.

fin

Hurricane (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 1.7k Warning: Nothing outright. The story is rated T+. Summary: A hurricane is falling over Boston. Edenbrook has been evacuated and some very different doctor’s end up seeking shelter together.  

A/N: This series was inspired by an anon prompt request for “protection”. I hope I did it justice! This is a multi part story.  

________________________________________

The rag tag team of doctor’s sat around Naveen’s large dining table in the wooden room with endless windows looking over the river. They had copious amounts of wine accompanying Ethan’s homemade meat lasagna and garlic bread. Naveen sat at the head of the table, Sienna to his left with Elijah and Rebecca to his right with Ethan. 

The conversation was pleasant enough. The only awkwardness was Ethan, though the others were oblivious to it. Ethan stayed quiet at the end of the table drinking his wine and assessing how everyone moved about. He desperately was still trying to diagnose the outcome of their predicament. 

The young doctor’s were adaptable and Naveen took to them with fatherly glee. Neither of the older doctors could remember the last time this cabin was so full of life. It was easy to notice how the young doctors moved around each other like family, without any regard for the others personal space. For a while Ethan felt completely out of place. 

Naveen watched their antics like a doting parent, jumping in and out of the conversation with delight. While Ethan was on the sideline wondering if he could ever find the courage to take the leap. He doubted it. Ethan was well past his jovial years - he was too old for twenty-something antics and anything that didn’t serve a concrete purpose in the continuation of life. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

Could he see himself mixing with the personal daily lives of these residents regularly? 

The notion sent a shiver up Ethan’s spine. 

Sure, Trinh and Greene were nice and accommodating enough - a pleasantry even. And Ethan was thankful they kept his rendezvous with Becca secret, but could they be his friends too? No. He was a world older than them. They had a lot more learning to do. 

But they’re Becca’s family… 

Could he do it for her? Did he care enough to do it for her?  

Naveen’s next question pulled Ethan out of his thoughts. 

“How are you finding your interns, doctors?” Naveen asked with dazzling curiosity.  

“It’s…” Sienna began to say, not wanting to damper the evening with second-year struggles. Dr. Sienna Trinh had been grappling with the daily grind since intern year - her pure soul so easily crushed by rude patients and unfortunate circumstances. Her incompetent and manipulative intern didn’t help ease her anxiety one bit.  

“Challenging,” Becca finished for her. 

The Chief’s interest was piqued, “Oh?” 

Becca bit her lip before speaking, “I know Dr. Ortega is brilliant, but a bit hot headed and impulsive.” Dr. Esme Ortega had some character flaws Becca was well used to working with - the fiery intern reminded Becca a lot of herself, and her standoffishness and unwillingness to trust others was definitely reflective of Ethan. She knew with just some faith and a little push Dr. Ortega would be best in her class. 

“Sounds like someone I know,” Naveen jokes.  

Becca continued on, “She needs to think more before she acts sometimes.”  

A confident mumble came from Becca’s right, the first words he’s spoken in a while, “May I suggest taking your own advice, Dr. Lao?”  

She turned to look at him. Ethan’s eyes met her own. There was a crinkle at the corner of his lips, the ghost of a coy smile. 

“Oh shut up, Ethan,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “You know what I mean.” 

Their eyes were locked on one another and bodies frozen in place. Ethan’s implored Becca silently asking her why she didn’t tell him she was having problems. She gave an immobile shrug.    

Being the gracious host he is and not wanting to subject Sienna and Elijah and even himself to an awkward encounter, Naveen turned to his left and asked, “And what about you two?”  

“Sothey needs... a lot of hand holding. He’s a nice guy, but I’m not too sure he’s up for the challenges,” Elijah admitted.  

Sienna folded her hands in her lap as she looked down and agreed, “I feel the same way with Mitch. I wish I was more like Zaid with the no-nonsense personality - if I could just scare Mitch into doing better that’ll teach him a lesson.” 

Finished with her aphonic conversation Becca turned back to the table, piping in, “From what I’ve seen Mitch is just lazy.”  

“Oh?” Naveen took a large swig of wine. 

“Yeah…” In the handful of times she interacted with Dr. Mitch Keller she hadn’t seen him do any doctoring, just looming over as Sienna did all the dirty work. “But I don’t know him well enough - it’s just a speculation.”  

Naveen nodded his head at the admission while Ethan made a mental note to watch Dr. Keller with a steely eye. 

As the conversation died there Elijah happily changed the topic; 

“Dr. Banerji, I hear you love a bit of hospital gossip?”  

The old diagnostician had the most elated smile, bringing every crack and wrinkle into the warm stormy light, “Who doesn’t?” 

“Any respectable human,” Ethan chided.  

Everyone ignored him. 

“What have you heard?” Naveen asked as he learned forward with utter intrigue.  

Elijah pressed his palms into the table, bracing himself for the bomb he was about to drop. “That Ines and Zaid are engaged,” he said it flatly and with a raised eyebrow. “I always thought them dating was just a rumour!” 

“They do show up everywhere together,” Becca added, polishing off the last bit of garlic bread. 

Sienna excitedly clapped her hands together and hopped in her seat, “They’re so cute together! I’m so happy for them.” 

“I haven’t heard that one,” Naveen told them. “But I do know the pair are quite close,” the old man winked and that was all the confirmation the young doctors’ needed.  

Keeping with the excitement Elijah let another rumor slip, “I heard from the nurses that a resident and attending were hooking up in a supply closet on the lab floor last year.” 

Becca stopped chewing and Ethan sat up straighter. They never ever “hooked up” at the hospital, but they did hide in a supply closet on the lab floor when they needed to sneakily run Naveen’s blood last year. Surely no one saw them? Did they? 

Out of the corner of his eye Naveen noticed the tension of his dearest of companions. He recalled that story - with his results Becca mentioned how they had to hide in a closet from Dr. Wren. She never mentioned anything else transpiring. Though the pair were allowed their own secrets, much to Naveen’s dismay.   

“How scandalous,” he sent a small wink Becca’s way. “I heard that our wonderful Dr. Lao didn’t act alone in her retrieval of the Rhode’s cure.” Naveen looked directly into Sienna and Elijah’s eyes,  “How was that for you?” 

The two friends spoke at the same time; “I -” Sienna began.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elijah finished.   

The group erupted into laughter. Well, everyone except for Ethan who was still too affected by the previous confession.  

“Speaking of relationships,” Naveen changed the subject “I hear you and Nurse Danny are quite close, Sienna.”  

Quickly Sienna’s face flushed, “We are. It’s new.”  

Elijah was having too much fun with all this banter flowing as effortlessly as the wine. With a rueful grin he let the words slip, “Word on the street is Dr. Ramsey’s been seeing someone.” 

Ethan nearly spit out his wine. 

Becca looked at her friend with sheer horror. 

Before anyone could question further Naveen interjected, steering the conversation, “Are you, Ethan?”  

The blue eyed doctor tried not to choke at the intrusion into his business, “Am I?”  

“Are you single or not?” he quizzed. “It’s the first I’m hearing of this.” Naveen had the biggest shit eating grin as he bore Ethan down, subtly shifting his glance between him and Becca. All three doctors were sitting on the edge of their seats as they waited for Ethan or Becca to confirm what was already apparent.

Becca wanted no part of this conversation, keeping a constant stream of wine flowing down her esophagus.  

Ethan sat back and crossed his arms, his stare ready to kill, “My personal life is none of your concern.” 

“Oh but it is,” Naveen said knowingly. 

Becca’s eyes never left her glass. 

Sienna and Naveen tried to salvage the conversation by moving onto lighter subjects such as hobbies and Naveen’s career. Elijah was very interested to learn about the old man’s childhood and how he found moving about the US over the years. Ethan was too dejected to contribute, and anyway he’d heard his mentor’s stories more times than he could recall. He could recount Naveen’s story of how his first day of residency went as easily as he could recite the alphabet backwards. 

Ethan topped up everyone’s glass with the last of the red wine before setting off to the kitchen to clean up. 

Becca noticed his retreat and helped clear off all their dishes while her friends were completely engrossed in a story she’d heard from Naveen before. 

“You survived dinner,” she praised as she walked in.

Ethan was standing in front of the porcelain farmhouse sink with his sleeves rolled up and forearms deep in suds. Becca loaded up the dishwasher with plates, cutlery and any smaller items. 

“I’m proud of you,” she told him.  

“I’m stronger than I look.”

Ethan’s right sleeve began to slide down. She caught it just before it met the bubbles attached to his arm.   

“Don’t I know it,” she winked as she folded the sleeve back in place. 

Ethan let the utensil he was washing slip through his fingers. Becca was so close. And all this was all so… comfortable. The warm feeling of her skin grazing against his was enough to subside the panic rooted deep inside him. He went to rotate his body towards her, letting them be flush against one another. Becca’s hand trailed and tightened at his wrist, keeping him in place.  

“Thank you for inviting us along.” She smiled so sincerely Ethan’s chest fluttered. “I don’t know what we would have done, god forbid the apartment actually floods.”  

He smiled back graciously as his free hand moved to cover hers. “I’ll always protect you, Rookie.”  

“I know.” She laced her fingers with his just above the waterline. “You always have my best interest at heart. Even if I don’t agree with it.”  

With their affectionate gaze still locked he leaned over to kiss her hairline. 

________________________________________

A/N: Where do you want to see this series go? I have one more chapter written before I hit an impasse 😞

Taglist: @ohchoices​ @dulceghernandez​ @aylamreads​ @binny1985​ @ramseysno1rookie​ @interobanginyourmom​ @queencarb​ @perriewinklenerdie​ @rookiefromedenbrook​ @eramsey28​ @choicesficwriterscreations​ @heauxplesslydevoted​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @purpledragonturtles​ @ramseyandrys​ @ermidc​ @mrsdrakewalkerblog​ @doilooklikeiknow​ @overwhelminglyaquarius​ @drethanramslay​ @edgiestwinter​ @rookieoh​ @lucy-268​ @mvalentine​ @lilyvalentine​

You Pick a Fight - P2

Eyyyyy it’s prompt time. I have since forgotten what prompt’s @imagine-that-100​ gave me from the prompt list for this part two, but hopefully you enjoy it anyway. :P

And I was right, because it wasn’t over. The pool incident was just the start of much more bickering and fighting over nothing that was set to come during the months between Matty and I. We hadn’t known each other all that well prior to that day, but it definitely set the bar for future interactions. Being argumentative and stubborn was just a habit neither of us could break, much to all of our mutual friend’s annoyance. It might’ve been on the verge of immature, since we were both pushing thirty, but neither of us cared. And we never really meant it. Grudges about stolen floaties were not held for long. It was a rare occasion that we genuinely made up and said sorry, but typically by the end of the day we had either forgotten about it or played some prank on the other to feel avenged about our wrong doing. Over the course of many months of arguing and pranking, Matty and I inevitably became closer. Realistically, Matty was probably one of my best friends by this point in my life. We saw each other at least a couple of times a week for various reasons and I enjoyed his company (mostly). But that wasn’t going to stop me from trying to constantly one-up him and make sure I destroy him any time he challenges me to anything. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? You gotta know your opponent’s weaknesses to best exploit them.

 However, tonight was our regularly scheduled movie night. So, more than likely no arguing would be occurring tonight. The movie had already been picked by democratic vote by the group, which meant there would be no debates about that. Everyone was bringing their own snacks, nothing to fight over. And we rotated who hosted, so no arguments there either. This week it was Matty’s turn. Last week when it had been at my flat, we had picked a comedy movie to watch and ended up receiving a noise complaint from my neighbour about us being “too rambunctious”. I was hoping that we wouldn’t have the same issue to deal with this week given Matty’s much thicker walls. I was cutting up a tray of brownies that I was graciously bringing to share - one of which may or may not have been spiked with cayenne pepper just to spite Matty for last week when he mixed my bag of skittles with m+m’s - while I replayed the events of last week. The details of the movie were actually a bit of a blur, because after the few drinks that I had downed after a rough day at work, I recalled falling asleep. When I woke up, I found myself snoring on Matty’s shoulder. God, that was utterly embarrassing. Other than my snoring, to wake up cosying up to Matty? I’d rather be caught dead. But I must have been too distracted by these memories, because as I was cutting, I slipped and managed to slice open my thumb with my new knife.

  I felt the cut the instant it happened, bracing myself for what I might see before I looked down. Sure as shit, all I saw was a lot of red. The first thought to run through my head was that my brownie plan was ruined. I couldn’t serve brownies that had been doused in blood. The second was that I absolutely needed to seal this wound as soon as possible. I raced to the bathroom, grabbing a roll of gauze and wrapping it around my thumb as tightly as I could. Do I call an ambulance? No, this wasn’t an ambulance sort of emergency. Emergency, though. I should go to the emergency room. Now. But I had to let the guys know I wasn’t coming. I could see the gauze starting to turn red as I searched my phone for Matty’s contact. Fuck, I felt so bad for bailing on this movie night given it was our regular thing, but this was really not good. Really, really not good. The phone rang twice before he picked up.

  “Hey-”

“Look, I need to go to emergency.” I interrupted in a garbled rush.

“What?” He shouted down the line.

“I need to go to hospital, so I’m not gonna make it tonight.” I explained, slightly slower.

“What did you do?” He asked in an incredulous tone.

“I sliced my thumb open cutting brownies.” I just heard him laughing. “It’s not funny, Matty. I need stitches.” I frowned as I started to grab my essentials. What if they wanted to keep me in overnight? Oh my god, I was absolutely not prepared for something like this. I should have a go bag. Is that a thing normal people did? Have a go bag in case they accidentally injure themselves? Maybe smart people did.

“Do you need me to drive you?” He offered as I was contemplating what exactly I would put in a go bag.

“What? Uh, no. I’m okay. I think.” I rattled off.

“I’ll meet you there.” I heard him say. He what? Why would he want to come to the hospital?

“Wait. No, you don’t-” But he’d already hung up.

  Before I left the house, I slapped another few layers of bandage over the gauze on my thumb to try and put some pressure on this cut that was apparently bleeding like a tap by the rate it was turning things red. Driving to the hospital with a thumb as fat as mine was with all the bandages wrapped around it was not easy to say the least, but I managed to get there in one piece. Once I had gotten there, paid for my parking, and then managed to check myself into the ER, I was able to take a seat and decompress slightly. But, the peace and quiet didn’t last long, because not even five minutes after I sat down a familiar face entered through the sliding glass doors.

“Good job.” Matty said as he approached, with a slow clap for emphasis.

“Don’t patronise me.” I scoffed.

“Show me.” He said as he took a seat in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to my own.

“It’s okay-”

“Just show me what you did.” He dismissed.

“I mean, I can’t really take this stuff off-” I gestured to my half blood-soaked bandages, “-or it’ll bleed worse.”

He let out a low whistle as he raked a hand through his curls. “Bloody hell.” He muttered under his breath, before glancing up at me. “Pardon the pun.” He added with a smirk.

“Shut up. It’s really not as bad as it looks.” I lied. I was trying to play it down, to pretend like I hadn’t briefly seen how deep that knife went, but I knew that this was definitely very vital that I see a doctor very fucking soon.

He met my gaze, clearly seeing the stress I was trying to hide. “You’re not very convincing.” He chuckled.

  Despite my protests about him wanting to wait with me, Matty continued to ramble on about what he had done earlier in the day while we sat in the crowded waiting room. He also told me not to worry about cancelling on the movie night, and thanked me for trying to make brownies. If only he had known what his brownie was going to taste like. But at least he was distracting me from the weird sensation in my thumb. After about half an hour, I was called through to be seen by the nurse - which realistically just meant that I sat and waited in another room for a further ten minutes until I was finally seen by someone. When she walked in, she introduced herself and asked for a run down of the situation as she started gathering some supplies. After I had explained what I had done, she started moving towards my giant wad of bloody fabric.

“I’m gonna look away.” I warned the nurse, she just nodded in response. I felt her unravelling the bandages on my thumb, trying really hard to busy myself by studying the vision tester chart on the wall. She let out a quiet hum as she analysed the situation.

“All right. I am going to put some glue on this now to hold it, but we are going to need to anaesthetise you to properly sort this out. Is that okay?” She asked in a calm tone. They were going to knock me out? It was bad enough to need to be knocked out for?? Holy shit.

“Um, yep.” I nodded. “I suppose it’ll have to be.” I added with a nervous laugh. “When will that be?”

“As soon as they can get you in. Likely in the next few hours.” She answered.

  When I came back out of the nurse’s station, I sat back down and told Matty what they had said.

“They need to sedate you?” He asked in shock.

“I’ve apparently done quite a number on myself.” I could feel the stress building up as the realisation set in. Oh my god. I had cut off my thumb. I had cut off my thumb and now they needed to reattach it. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.

“Hey, calm down.” He reassured, placing his hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be all right.”

“But what if it’s too late? What if I cut too far? What if-”

Thankfully, Matty interrupted my downward spiral of anxiety. “They would’ve told you if that were the case. They’re going to operate, so it must be fine.” He moved to take my good hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing mind as I nodded in agreement. At least one of us was the voice of reason right now. “When are you going in?” He questioned, seeming genuinely sympathetic.

“They said as soon as possible. I just have to wait here until a theatre frees up.” I replied. He just nodded thoughtfully. “You should go back to the movie night.” I said, eventually feeling guilty that he’d already been sat waiting here for an hour.

“No.” He shook his head as he rifled through his pocket. “You want some gum?” He asked, holding a packet out in my direction.

I looked down at them apprehensively. “They’re not some ridiculous flavour, are they?”

He laughed loudly. “No, I threw the wasabi ones out.”

  It was another hour before I was finally called through to get ready for theatre. Now I was genuinely feeling pretty awful that Matty had been here this whole time. We had well and truly pushed past dinner time, he’d missed the movie, our friends were all sat at his place without him. He can’t have been having a good time stuck here with me.

“Okay, I gotta go in.” I said as I stood up.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” He smiled up at me from his seat.

“Just go home, I’ll be fine.” I said as I gestured to the door.

“No.” He grinned.

“Go.”

“No.” His dark brown eyes bore into mine, clearly challenging me to push him further on the subject.

“I hate you, so much.” I grumbled as I heard the nurse call my name again.

“I love you, too.” He said, blowing a kiss for emphasis as I walked off.

  The doctors all reassured me that the operation was going to be quick and easy. Knock me out, stitch me up, wake me up fifteen minutes later. Easy peasy. I had never had any issues with operations, being knocked out was easy. It was the stuff you had to be awake for that was hard. True to their word, when I saw the clock when I started coming to, it had been no more than half an hour than when I last checked the time. But my god I felt groggy. My brain felt like it had been replaced with a bunch of cotton balls and my eyelids might as well have been made of lead. I glanced down at my thumb, seeing a much smaller pile of bandages on there, that were now thankfully not soaked in blood. That was nice. I then caught sight of the man sat next to my bed.

“Hey, you’re up.” Matty said quietly as he stepped over. As soon as he leaned over the bed frame, the fluorescent lights above him just illuminated his dark, curly hair. Holy shit. It looked borderline angelic. “How’re you feeling?”

“Your hair…” I mumbled as I reached out my good hand to touch it.

He seemed surprised by my actions at first, before letting my run a hand through it. “What about it?” He asked with a quiet laugh.

“It’s really soft.” I answered, genuinely quite surprised by how nice it felt. “Has it always been that soft?” I felt like I had been missing out. I could’ve been touching this hair for nearly a year now and instead I had been swapping his shampoo for ranch dressing and perfume.

  Matty seemed keen to indulge my anaesthesia haze, letting me bother him with all of my weird questions about his hair. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy. I did a lot of mean shit to him and here he was, sat with me in emergency all evening instead of hanging out with his friends. After the pranks I’d pulled, I likely didn’t deserve a friend like him. But he’d pulled them on me too. We were a pretty good pair, I suppose. And I had no idea if it was this lighting or what, but dare I say, Matty was looking pretty attractive today. Had I really just been so focused on butting heads with him that I never noticed these things before?

“Are you sure you really look this good? I feel like I must still be dreaming.” I said, pretending to shield my eyes.

He frowned, before the realisation dawned on him and his eyebrows shot up in surprise, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe.” I shrugged.

“Don’t use cheesy pickup lines on me.” He chuckled.

“How else am I meant to pick you up?” I scoffed as I rolled my eyes.

“Are you trying to?” He asked as a smile slowly made its way onto his face.

“Maaaaybe.” I said in an attempt to be non-committal, but then my curiosity got the better of me. “Is it working?”

“I’m gonna remind you of this when you’re properly out of the anaesthetic.” He just looked amused. Not the reaction I had hoped for. But I was too tired to keep trying to come up with clever lines.

“Okay.” I muttered, nodding softly. “Gon’ sleep now, though.” I added.

“Rest up.” He agreed. “You’re gonna need all the energy you can get to deal with me giving you shit for this tomorrow.”  

Part one

Part three

Band Camp with M  -  Day 1/3

5/25/2021

So, as I mentioned previously, it’s about that time to have band camp with all of my peers. What makes things even better is that I get to spend the day with M as well. 

This turned out longer than expected! So, without further ado, I’ll go ahead and share everything that happened with M and I today.

|||||||||||||||||||||||| 

When I had arrived, the students began gathering where we were told to. The students entered one by one, forming a line. Almost halfway through my trek, I specifically saw M’s bald head onstage, just past an opening in the crowds’. It had a slightly red-orange-ish tinted shine on it, which intensified his boldness (and baldness🤟) further. 

My head was running a hundred miles per minute yet at the same time it felt still. And I was borderline speechless. A few seconds later, we were out in the open, nearing M. He was now six feet away from us, looking down, supposedly mentally preparing himself to speak to the class. As I thought, he was attending the event maskless. He was absolutely STUNNING with the lower half of his face revealed. Way better than I remember. I couldn’t stop looking at him, and to my delight he looked in my direction pretty quickly upon my first entrance. 

I lifted my right hand, which was wielding a drawstring bag, to greet him. He seemed to stare at me for a couple of seconds in a daze. After the questioning wore off, he widened his eyes and smiled, bringing his left hand up in the air to wave right back. He cheerfully commented after doing this, “I’m seeing a lot of faces!” I thought it was cute; his positivity was contagious. 

I actually had a mask on at that time so HAJDGA he wasn’t talking about me there 😳 

 ~~ 

I sat down in one of the first rows of the seating with my section. When we got settled with all of our stuff, (I think I decided to put my mask up during the process), I figured I would take the time to look up at M. His face was peering out into the crowd with squinted eyes and furrowed brows. 

I giggled to myself quietly at his behavior. “What is he doing??” I asked under my breath, bringing someone else to look at him too. I put my hands out in front of me to emphasize my confusion as I gave him a look mixed with entertainment, judgement, and questioning. He noticed my look quite fast, probably because of my exaggerated gestures. 

When we met eyes and he realized my complete bewilderment, he tried to suppress a smirk, but failed. I could still see the ends of his lips curving upwards and his body beginning to tremble lightly, as if he wanted to laugh too. After somewhere around four seconds of eye contact, he directed his eyes back forward, still grinning slightly. 

Then he puckered his lips out around thirty seconds later in accompaniment with his scrunched up eyebrows. I think he was doing it to be funny, either to me, or to others who thought his expressions were laughable as well. 

~~ 

Whenever he called my section to raise our hands up for attendance, we were actually the only ones he gave pure complements to. I say this because either the other sections were slow or didn’t raise their hand up straight. “We all here?” Since someone’s body was blocking me in that moment, I perked my head out from their right side, still holding my hand up.

He seemed to be already trying to look past their side for me, and when he finally confirmed I was there he met my eye with a grin. He then jokingly made a statement about our section being brutal and trying to nod people off. Maybe because I was being covered by someone else. 

 ~~ 

He called on me to answer a question he had, stating it was the final one. “R?” He said my name aloud before I said anything, which I don’t remember him doing with anyone else. I stuttered slightly before answering the question, but he still took it in nonetheless. 

I thought it was nice he chose me over a few others to be the last person to answer. 

~~

After receiving the signal, everyone got their instruments and headed straight for their designated locations. It took quite a bit before I could adjust to using the contrabass tuba effectively, but after twenty minutes or so I got the basics down. All I needed following that was the strength to suck up the soreness in my limbs and get to work. 

In the middle of our section’s powwow, just before we began another exercise, M decided it would be a great time to hop in and see what was up in contracity. He walked in the room, greeted with the prying eyes of students. Before I knew it, one tuba kid was telling M a story about one of their marching experiences. Then boom, another kid was telling M a story about one of *their* marching experiences. 

Both times M was looking at them and listening respectfully. During the second kid’s story, M was standing right next to the person speaking, turned towards them, which was opposite from where I was. At some point, the kid said something I found humorous, so I let out a laugh. 

As I began to softly rest my head on my hand to continue listening, M turned over his right shoulder to cast a momentary gaze at me. I met the look he displayed with a joyful smile to match his own. I’m glad he did that, it was nice feeling at least a little included when he was around. 

A bit later, standing in the same spot next to my left side, he turned towards the center of the room and beamed. “It’s so nice to see your faces again.” This very statement made the class ‘aww’ and smile. I aww’ed as well and replied with “you too”. Soon he left to ‘stop interrupting us’ and allow us to continue practicing. The visit was definitely a nice surprise. 

~~ 

I was walking past M when we met eyes with each other and smiled. 

“Are you sore?” He asked me, as he knew very well that I wasn’t used to carrying contras. “A little,” I rotated my hand left and right in the air in case he couldn’t hear me. He replied with a simple yet powerful look radiating happiness instead of using words, seeing that I was currently on my way to do something. Very thoughtful of him. 

~~ 

 I feel the need to mention how M would whip his head in my direction almost EVERY TIME the drum major would call for the tubas to get set. He didn’t look at anyone else when he did this. I’m a good percentage sure that he was always just gazing straight at me. 

I don’t know why he felt the need to do that so often, but it was definitely a motivator to improve my posture for him. Having M as a director again in general is just a blessing and huge reason to try hard. He’s very motivational. ^^ 

~~

During our mini-sectional time, we were taking a little break from playing on our instruments. We got through a couple rounds of ‘Two Truths, One Lie’ when M walked through the door. 

“Hiii MMMMMMMMM!!” Most of the kids and I gushed in an unsynchronized manner. M looked flabbergasted at the sudden attention, his eyes huge and his face bewildered, but smiling as well. Right away, he went to go and lean against the table closest to me, to my right. It was sort of unreal that he was just...there. Two feet away from me.

“What are you doing? Have you played yet?” He asked us all with a semi-serious expression. We all said yes to this question. He leaned forward slightly.  “Have you gotten really good yet?” His tone became more playful. “Slow progress, M. Slowly improving.” I threw my head back to look at him as I stated those thoughts. 

A second later, I returned my head upright and turned to him once again, wearing a welcoming face. “Do you want to join us?” I referred to the game of ‘Two Truths One Lie’. It didn’t take long for him to say “no, I don’t.”, but he seemed interested in what was happening anyway. 

The entire time he was there he remained right by my side. I got to see him laughing, smiling, and merely being there. It was amazing. 

~~

“Hola,” he greeted a tubist and I as we walked past each other. “Hola!” The tubist cheered pretty quickly as they moved past. I was pretty caught off guard because of the Spanish greeting he used for some reason, so I hesitated before mustering out a response to him. “...Hello.” 

We then continued going our own way. 

~~

Seeing that he was open, I came up to him to ask about the previously mentioned outdoor essentials since we were going outside tomorrow. “So we bring the hat and the sunglasses tomorrow, right?” He looked at me with blank eyes for a second before asking, “..what?” He blinked slow and apologetically while he leaned towards me to listen better. 

“Do we bring the hat and sunglasses tomorrow?” “Yeah, you can bring them if you want to.” He looked at me intently and grinned a bit after his simple response. “Cool. Thank you.” I didn’t push the conversation any further. “Sure.” 

I turned to walk away and completed a step or two before pausing to look back at what happened in these last eight hours. I brought myself back to the earlier comments he let out that day, revealing how unsure he was of the whole band camp ordeal, and whether or not he would be doing good enough for everyone he taught. He hasn’t regularly taught these kids yet anyway (thanks COVID). I whipped my body around, took a step, then leaned left towards him with a smile. I felt my expression begin to grow sincere. 

“....Good job today.” I said aloud, hoping he would hear me.

Luckily, he did. He moved his head over to me and his gaze grew wide in surprise after realizing the compliment I gave out was for him. It was like a little (..!) going off in his head. 🥺 “Thank you!” He beamed at me. I returned his look before turning to leave again. 

“You too.” 

He added the last part just when I began to walk away with my contra in hand.

My heart absolutely EXPLODED at his thoughtfulness?!??! Like wow he didn’t have to say that...especially since I was walking away and stuff. It was so sweet.

I turned over my left shoulder to look at him again, feeling a lively rush of optimism flow through me. Not only was he already looking my way after his statement; he was granting me the warmest, most genuine smile he could muster. I returned it as equally as I could. 

Hopefully he could tell how cheerful the statement made me. I mean, it seriously improved my entire week. 

||||||||||||||||||||||||

Whether it be listening to his instruction, laughing at his jokes, making silent eye contact, making physical contact, talking to each other, or just simply being in the same room . . . it’s such a magnificent experience for me. And that appreciation I have for him almost feels mutual. Almost. 

I hope you all have a great evening. I may post day 2 later or tomorrow. Stay awesome, and I’ll get back to you all soon enough.

Being a Behavior technician requires a certain amount of dedication to the job — the rigorous type, bordeline rigid. That’s what is expected to be at peak efficiency regarding analysis protocols and diagnostics for host service and calibration.

For that, Vivian thinks she might be the worst tech in her department. 

— masterlist, AO3

Chapter 1 on 12

Chapter wordcount: 2,486 Story status: Complete Rating: General Warning: people swear a lot, technobabble counts as swearing as well (believe me)…

Author’s notes: This is the first time I post a fanfic online. A real big one I mean. Not just crackfics... I’m emotional. I don’t know what the schedule will be yet because my queue is acting up, but everything should be out regularly, or something that looks like it. This first chapter is an intro to the main character and what she does, and I hope you’ll enjoy this story and its characters all the way!  Also, I really want to thank @pheedraws​ and @something-tofightfor​ for their heartwarming feedback on the whole story. Thank you SO much!!

Have a good time reading, and my askbox/messages are open! 💙

— Chapter 1

Now wasn’t a good time to yawn…

And yet, Vivian had nothing else to do but wait right now, wait while the progress bars slowly filled up on her tablet screen.

Now wasn’t the time, simply because some of her colleagues were passing through the hallway, behind the glass panels of her cubicle, and among them was the head of Behavior department — incidentally, her superior.

No doubt they were all about to grab a bite at the restaurant and Vivian held back an almost envious mumble; she was starving! But before she could go eat anything, she had to finish with her last subject on her morning schedule; host ID#DH410829420391, named Mildred.

And Mildred was back at the lab on account of a negative report about her response time during interactions with other hosts but also with guests. A lag that only happened in character mode, not in analysis. So, Vivian started with refreshing her lexical base and improvisation engine. It took some time to check the entire tree but as of now, it was done.

"Can you confirm if the update’s complete?"

"Confirmed," Mildred answered right away, her voice flat and her look vacant.

"Back in character mode."

Mildred seemed to wake up and blinked once before focusing her attention  back on Vivian.

"Mildred?"

"Oh, I’m sorry," she answered with a hint of a shy smile. "I must have drifted off, I believe… The working hours at the farm are ungodly sometimes!"

The response time was more than good, now. The improvisation too.

"I was wondering if there’s a lot of clients at the farm these days," Vivian asked.

The answer was not long to come.

"Certainly! Our cattle sure gives the best milk there is. No matter what the competition says!"

"How many green bottles are standing on the wall?"

Questions and procedures were always more or less the same to determine which bits of code, settings or values could cause an issue or start to glitch like crazy!

But today, for Mildred — and Vivian — everything was back in order, and each/both of them could soon return to the the usual course of their scheduled day.

It was about time for Vivian to take a break, if she was reduced to that kind of wisecrack…

A glance at her wristwatch, even while her tablet displayed a more accurate time than the watch hands, and Vivian concluded her analysis. She folded the tablet, slid it back in her jacket pocket, and left the large glass room after one last embarrassed look at Mildred she was leaving there, naked in the dark. Vivian didn’t even fight down a shiver. It was actually freezing cold in there!

She comforted herself with the thought that Mildred didn’t feel anything in this state, disconnected, and that a team wouldn’t take too long to come get her, do her hair, dress her up and put her back in rotation in no time. Barely as much as Vivian had for her lunch break… and that was just enough to go all the way up to the hub restaurant. But the bosses here didn’t care much about how long the lunch breaks lasted, as long as the work was done in time.

So, Vivian didn’t hurry to get to the elevator she shared with two co-workers who only interrupted their chitchat about hockey results for a vague greeting.

At this hour, the restaurant was a bit more crowded but it still wasn’t too hard to find a seat in the large and relatively peaceful room. The whole vibe in it was corporate though, even in that staff only room; every dish were stamped with the park logo and name — from the bottom of the plates to the salt shakers — and a flat HD screen displayed a bunch of Delos branches ads that looked much weirder without sound.

After a while, one didn’t really pay attention to all this anymore… A few months was enough to make it all part of the landscape and for the mind to simply stop noticing it.

And Vivian had been working here for three years, now.

However, she was still bothered by a few details sometimes, such as the huge white walls that spanned all the way up a balcony floor and a domed ceiling or the fact that the stalls were lit with a pale light under which the food turned to a sickly colour.

Hopefully, under the less saturated lights of the main room, the Caesar salads and the turkey-tomato sandwiches were back to a more appetizing hue.

Her tray loaded with a potato-corn salad, a big glass of water and a piece of bread, Vivian walked towards the tables, eager for her potatoes to lose their blueish glint. Just shy of the screen, she recognised a familiar face, Margaret’s, another Behavior tech from her team. Both were on friendly basis now, where it was possible to enjoy some time together and to laugh a little, even if it took them a whole year to finally break the ice.

Margaret waved at Vivian when she saw her pick her way across the room, inviting her to join them — them being Margaret, and three other guys from their department.

"Did you hear the latest, Vivian!?" she blurted. "I’ve been told that Damon Dyers is in the park, at this very moment!"

"Damon… Dyers?"

Vivian didn’t even hide her puzzlement while sitting in front of her.

"The actor," one of the three guys — Luke — pointed out. "Marge was just exposing how she’ll mooch the control room techs for a footage…"

"Listen, if you were as thirsty as I am about this guy, you’d understand!" Margaret replied.

To that, he quipped:

"My husband would be pissed!"

All chuckled in approval before returning to their almost emptied plates, while Vivian had barely touched her own.

"Can you imagine," Margaret daydreamt, leaning back in her seat as in a comfy armchair, holding her Pyrex glass like a snifter of bourbon. "Damon hunting down Escaton in the hills…"

Vivian scoffed; she could imagine, indeed.

At the table, Charles, Thawal and Luke didn’t pay any more attention to them, carrying on with their chat about retro gaming. Vivian would probably have preferred to be part of that conversation; not that she didn’t know shit about movies and their actors, but more like aside from a few exceptions on which they got along swimmingly, she didn’t have much taste in common with Margaret. But she listened to her friend anyway as she kept going after a sip of sparkling water:

"How am I not supposed to be hot on the idea!? I’ll deadass find someone to bootleg me some footages!"

Vivian smiled out of politeness, not saying much, as always. Her mouth was full anyway.

"Oh, by the way!"

Margaret took another swip of her glass before putting it down on the table and leaning towards Vivian.

"Apparently, they’re going to burden us with a whole new bunch of hosts in two or three weeks," she said, with all the serious she could muster. "I heard that from Elsie. Narrative must be trying to compensate for something, if you know what I mean…"

Vivian knew very well.

"We barely have time to light a fag between two sessions already and they plan to add another hundred on our backs!?"

She snorted disdainfully.

"Don’t know what they’re spicing their coffee with but it isn’t doing them any good."

"No shit," admitted Vivian, a bit testy at the idea. "Unless they also plan to hire? Did Lowe say anything about it?"

Margaret shrugged.

"No idea, I haven’t talked to him in a while."

She patted her blazer pockets then sighed softly; Vivian understood her attitude as relief, and a craving, even a need to light a cigarette.

"You should ask," Margaret pointed out with a smile a tad clenched in the orbicularis muscles. "You like him, right?"

Vivian approved; she admired his thoroughness, his love for details… A lot could be learned while working under his care and Vivian found him both spirited and friendly.

Margaret didn’t quite share the feeling, however; in her own words, he was giving her the heebie-jeebies.

"Anyway, I’m off," Margaret stated with an even greater impatience in her voice. "I gotta light one before the crazy afternoon waiting for me!"

She gathered her cutlery on her tray, adding:

"Not giving up on the idea to come across Damon fucking Dyers, though! At least in video recs. Wish me luck!"

Vivian nodded and Margaret put her tray away on the sideboard before hurrying to the exit.

Her colleagues had changed topics next to her, and now they were talking about cars, motorcycles and mechanics. As she didn’t know much about that topic, not as much as in computers, she listened only a little without taking part.

Then, Vivian finished wolfing down her potato salad and her glass of water; she would soon return to her shift and examine a series of hosts, the characteristics of which she overviewed on her tablet from her timetable’s folders. It was simply routine checks, and Vivian liked that kind of sessions; it was like meeting with a friend, just to catch up with them.

But for now, she would take a few minutes to get some air and natural light on top of the hub before diving back into the high tech depths of the Mesa.

At seven in the evening, closer to eight, Vivian was glad to be back to her on-site apartments. Once again, she had grabbed a snack at the restaurant but the room was much more crowded than it was at lunch and came close to a headache before reaching "home". She could have dined here, cooked something on her induction hob but she was so tired — or lazy — that, tonight again, she still choose to eat at the restaurant over having to do the dishes!

Now, she was getting out of the shower in her bathrobe and throw herself on her bed.

Living like this, it was like being a teenager all over again, back at her parents’, or at the dorm… but once she closed her apartment’s door, Vivian was totally free to do whatever she wanted. As long as it didn’t involve wrecking the place!

But now, even if she wanted to, Vivian wouldn’t have had the strength to break any chair, nor even to make a mess of the bed… About that, she was actually planning on laying there, and falling asleep in her bathrobe while watching a movie or reading any book she had available on her personal tablet. A tablet that was nothing close to the one she was using every day in the Behavior department labs, but a tablet anyway.

She swiped the covers without any real interest; in all honesty, she was feeling too tired to read. Even something she had already read. And she cringed a little when the minimalistic cover with her automatically signed name appeared.

Yeah, even too tired to read her own words!

Besides, it wasn’t great literature at all — a fanfiction. Two, to be precise. Both about the hosts and their narratives as she could have written about a movie, book, or video game’s characters.

Vivian grumbled, letting her tablet fall flat on her stomach, and she stared at the white ceiling before closing her eyes while nibbling her lips. She had written this almost six months after she started working here, taken over by all the motivation, excitement and creativity around her!

She refocused on herself since but, in the meantime, she wrote these. And even though Vivian considered herself to have a fertile imagination, she still commended herself about how better for everyone it was she hadn’t applied for a job in Narrative…

Rising her tablet up again and tapping on the lit screen, she entered the file and skimmed through it, trying to ignore the grammar mistakes she stopped committing since; and mistakes aside, her stories had nothing exceptional, totally influenced as they were by her mood and the not-so-new-but-still-trendy storyline — Escaton’s and his bandits, essentially…

Over a very short time, when Vivian was still more or less trying to fit into the life of the facility and social circles of her co-workers whose names had yet to be caught, she had heard so many comments, appreciations and reviews for this narrative that she looked into it first.

After all, the park afforded Lee Sizemore, renowned author who made a big name for himself with a "hot and grimy" historical saga, a few years back before running out of puff under his editor’s pressure. And a juicy offer by a video game studio to adapt it. 

She understood; everybody, whether staff or guests, was more or less hyped by the brute force brought by Hector Escaton — virile and dark male figure — to the relative tranquility of the park’s starting point.

And Vivian had been no exception.

If her first story was only about made-up characters to explore the pleasing and well rounded context of Sweetwater, her second, on the other hand, was more audacious, altering shamelessly the story from what its authors had surely intended; victorious over the town after killing the sheriff and all opposition, Escaton and his gang enjoyed their plunder at the Mariposa where Hector fell for one of the saloon girls.

That being said, Vivian remained very proper — maybe totally prudish — in these sort of narrative fantasies of hers; nothing turned freaky or utterly violent…

All she did was throwing a few sentences on her writing app for some evenings, when inspiration struck or simply because she urged herself to follow through with what she started. All on her personal tablet. She knew better than to write that on anything system-tethered. Imagining that a bored somebody could just hack into the system all the way up to her personal data… and end up on that giddy nonsense, made her wants to puke!

Not to mention that it might also be forbidden. Even though she never planned to, she knew she couldn’t share it with anyone, nor anywhere. Not as a park employee. If the guests were writing critiques and other reviews online about their stay, herself couldn’t talk about it from the inside. Confidentiality and shit…

Her texts would remain secret, and her silly fantasies with them. In any case, it wasn’t as if she intended to try anything for herself, and even less with Hector Escaton, all the more since he wasn’t even part of the batch her team had in charge. And also, rumor has it that fantasies aren’t always good when act upon!

With a lazy tap, Vivian quitted the reading app and dropped the tablet on her sheets before burying her face in her soft pillow. She let out a deep sigh in it, relaxed, and in fact, she fell asleep almost right away.

You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 1: A Proposition

Read me on AO3!

It had been a normal morning so far. Well, as normal as it could get when you worked for a kind but, quite frankly, sketchy group of people.

You pulled off of the freeway, making your way through crossroads and down a path you previously thought abandoned. After graduating from a master’s in cyber security from Caltech, you’d been lucky enough to land a job almost immediately after your project was handed in, meaning you didn’t have to haul yourself and your belongings all the way back home to the backwaters of Pennsylvania. Sure, you did have to haul yourself across Los Angeles in a giant moving van, but a couple of hours of California traffic was much better than a several thousand-mile journey across the States. Over the last few months, you’d settled nicely into a life you could call your own, filled with people from all walks of life, and with much warmer weather.

You smiled to yourself as you scanned your ID card at the gateway to your HQ, thinking of all the people you’d met so far at this bizarre yet wonderful job. There was your boss, for a start. She’d changed her name so many times that everyone lost track and instead settled on calling her ‘Shark’, which she welcomed with a hearty laugh and a flash of a mouth full of teeth. The name suited her, you thought.

You and some of your other colleagues also liked to use unusual codenames, both for privacy and for fun. There was Vakarian, who had an affinity for calibrating everyone’s computers and was a killer shot with a sniper rifle. Next was Shrike, who had named herself after a type of bird known for piercing its prey on thorn bushes. You decided not to ask her why she chose that name. For yourself, you settled on Zero, a reference to your almost lifelong affinity for binary code which led you down the tech path in the first place.

There were others who just chose to use their real names – Jasmine, Gareth, and Mark. You and Jasmine worked together regularly in the tech department, spending hours chatting in between your hacking sessions and gaining intel on building layouts for the heist experts. Jasmine had been on two heists herself, and always came in the next day talking at a million miles per hour about how fun it was, how it sent her adrenaline skyrocketing higher than any rollercoaster ever had.

By her mannerisms today, you guessed she’d been on a third heist last night. You’d been settled at your desk for all of two minutes when she waltzed in, placing a cup of coffee down for you and twirling in her chair with a gigantic grin on her face.

“Mornin’ Jazz,” you greeted her. “Another heist last night? How was it?”

Jasmine began her spiel before you could even reach a hand towards your coffee. She rambled on and on about the thrill of scaling buildings, how good her new night vision goggles were, and how she nearly got caught but managed to make it out right on schedule.

“Zero, you have to go,” she finished at last, taking a sip from her own cup. “You won’t regret it.”

You hesitated, shrugging your shoulders. “I dunno, Jazz. I’m more of a behind the scenes tech monkey.” You’d been on a few scoping exhibitions, but that just involved sitting on a rooftop watching guard rotations until the early hours of the morning. You’d never done anything more adventurous, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to just yet.

She rolled her eyes, wheeling her chair closer to you. “But think about it. You could get some more up-close-and-personal time with Mark,” she whispered, nodding her head to your left.

You followed her gesture. Mark had just entered the office, dressed in all black. He took off his beanie and swept a hand through his dark hair. It immediately flopped forwards again, so he shook his head to one side. The action seemed to go in slow motion, and you tried not to stare.

Before you could chastise yourself for definitely staring, Mark’s eyes landed on yours. He shot you a warm smile that lit up his whole face, and you felt heat rising to your cheeks as you smiled back, giving a little wave before swizzling round in your chair.

“No way,” you hissed in embarrassment, snatching up your coffee before it turned cold. As it turned out, it was still very much burning hot. You tried not to wince as you forced the liquid down.

“Why not?” She shot back. “Look, he’s clearly into you. He practically jumped at the opportunity to show you the ropes of all the heist gear, and to a rooftop night shift with you. You guys are always lingering by the water cooler together on breaks, giggling away like little schoolkids. And, Shrike told me he asked you out on a date last week.”

You nearly spat out your second mouthful of molten coffee. Jasmine sat back in her chair with a smug grin as you glared at her.

“How does she know that?!” You tried not to yell as Vakarian milled into the workplace, throwing around cheery greetings.

“You know Shrike,” Jasmine shrugged. “She gets around. She skimped on the details, though. So, what did he say exactly?”

You could see Jasmine wasn’t going to let this go. You sighed, mirroring Jasmine’s posture as you began to recount the details of that evening.

~

You got out of your chair and stretched triumphantly, knowing you were just about done for the day. The last thing you had to do was collect the blueprints you’d sketched up from the printer, then leave it on Shark’s desk for her to look at in the morning. You did just that, and dusted your hands off with a satisfied smile as you made your way down the corridor to the exit.

You’d been so caught up in your daydream of getting home, changing into your pyjamas, and curling up in front of the TV that you hadn’t realised that you weren’t the last one in the building. That is until you walked straight into another person.

You gasped at the abrupt contact, shutting your eyes as your prepared to hit the ground. The fall never came. A strong hand caught yours and pulled you upright with a gentle grunt of effort. When you opened your eyes, you were face to face with a kind smile and dark, inquisitive eyes.

Mark’s eyes.

Blood rushed to your face immediately, and you stumbled out an awkward apology.

“Jesus, s-sorry Mark. Didn’t realise you were still here.”

Mark just laughed. It was a deep, hearty laugh, but not an unkind one. “No problem Zero.”

Your eyes travelled back to his from where they had chosen to fixate on the floor. He was still smiling at you, and you managed to smile back sheepishly. His face only brightened as you curled out of your awkward posture to face him properly. He’d been incredibly sweet to you ever since you joined, and you two became even closer after many hours spent on that rooftop in the middle of the night a few weeks back. That night in particular really caused a stir in your feelings, and brought up a whirlwind of emotions you’d never felt before.

That whirlwind started all over again as you realised he was still holding your hand. You cleared your throat and he broke your shared gaze, letting go and scratching the back of his head.

“Hope I didn’t hurt you,” you said, gaining a small amount of bravery and dusting off his shoulders from where you’d collided. A hint of pink appeared on his cheeks at your action, but he covered it up with a barrage of his usual confidence.

“Me? Nah, I’m a big strooong man,” he replied, puffing out his chest and grunting in an exaggerated manner. He curled his biceps for an exaggerated effect, clearly trying to make you laugh.

And boy did he. You doubled over, failing to stifle a snort. Your face grew hotter at the embarrassing noise you hadn’t intended to make, but Mark seemed to revel in it, his grin growing wider with pride at getting such a strong reaction from you.

“Anyway,” he started again as you both calmed down from your shared laughter. “I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something.”

You raised your eyebrows and stayed silent, waiting.

Mark let out a short exhale, running a hand through his hair and then across his stubble. Despite the joy on his face mere seconds ago, he now looked a little uncertain. It wasn’t an expression that came naturally to him; he normally paraded around with a kind yet confident smile as he told you about the heists he’d pulled off in the past, about his family, and as he asked about yours. You’d never seen him like this before, and you didn’t know what to expect.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

“Look, I really like spending time with you here. Showin’ you all the gear, chatting over coffee, all the usual work stuff.” His voice was quiet. He cleared his throat again, taking a step closer to you and looking into your eyes once more.

“But I’d like to get to know you better, in some place that’s not work related. Would you like to go on a date sometime?”

Your mind screeched to a halt as you stood frozen on the spot. Did you hear him correctly? It sounded like Mark just asked you out on a date. Mark the heist expert, Mark the previous engineering student, Mark your very cute co-worker, wanted to go on a date with you.

You couldn’t lie to yourself - the thought had crossed your mind several times over the past few weeks. When he held out a hand to you after you fell flat on your ass when you failed to use the grappling gun. When his form lingered around yours as he taught you how to aim a tranquiliser pistol. When you sat on that rooftop together exchanging stories and his eyes never looked away as you started opening up to him. You just never expected it to actually… well, happen.

A gigantic grin, bigger than all those before, broke out onto your face. “Mark, I’d love to!”

Mark’s eyebrows shot up. “Great!” He exclaimed, a relieved laugh escaping him. “When works best for you?”

You hesitated, remembering your schedule was pretty booked for the upcoming weekend. “In all honesty, I’m pretty busy this weekend. Family visiting,” you tried not to sound too negative. “But maybe after then?”

Mark nodded understandingly, shoving his hands in his pockets and shuffling on the spot. “Sure thing. I’m free most of the time, so whenever works for you, really.”

You smiled back, heart skipping beats as reality set in. You and Mark were going on a date. Sure, you didn’t know exactly when you were going on this date, but it was definitely happening soon.

“I’ll let you know, for sure! For now though, I guess we’d better be heading home,” you replied, a spring in your step as you and Mark made your way to the exit. It was dark when you got outside, so Mark insisted on walking you to your car, even though it wasn’t too far from where he’d parked his own. You turned to Mark when you stood next to your vehicle, unsure of what to expect but not wanting to seem rude.

Mark stood with his hands in his pockets again, beaming at you like before. You felt heat rise to your face again; you’d never get used to him looking at you like that.

“Goodnight, Zero.” He took his hands out of his pockets and held his arms out for a hug, which you more than happily accepted. He was warm and his hold around you was strong but comforting, making you feel safe and at ease. Your heart was beating rapidly again as you wound your own arms around his waist and spoke into his ear.

“You can call me by my real name if you want.”

You let your arms trail away from him as his grip softened. Mark looked surprised, but flattered, by your suggestion. He pursed his lips in thought.

“How about we keep it as Zero for work?” He suggested. “I’ll switch to your real name for our date.”

You nodded as you unlocked your car. “Deal.”

He winked at you as he walked away backwards, almost tripping on his own feet. You covered a small laugh with your hand. Mark regained his composure and waved you goodbye. You waved back, getting into your car and driving into the night.

Next chapter

The Band You Love To Hate By Tom Lanham of RIP  (There’s no date on this but I would say 1995 or 1996?)

Eyes wide as a barn owl's. Spines stiff with anticipation, like a hungry scorpion. The two teenage girls sit stock-still in their booth at a posh Berkeley diner, practically bursting with excitement, but without the faintest clue how to handles it. Clueless, you might call them. A few feet across the linoleum aisle--with his back to them, oblivious to all the oh-my-gawd facial expressions--sits the object of their adulation, dressed in unassuming black jeans, black T-shirt, shredded black Converse, and a beat-up black baseball jacket. But even with his once-green dreadlocks tamed to a short black business cut, Billie Joe Armstrong--yes, the snaggle-toothed MTV ragamuffin from megaplatinum neo-punkers, Green Day--is as easy to spot as Michael Bolton at a Rogaine convention. Although the kids want to leap up from their seats and race over for an autograph or a jittery hello, they don't dare. Instead, they're forced to deal with their seething emotions as if they were eating post-tonsillectomy ice cream: a lot of numb gulping and a quick pain chaser. This is the blessing of being Billie Joe Armstrong. Alas, it's also his curse. By the time you read this, the irascible little rocker will have turned 24. And exactly two years ago, he and his wacky bandmates--drummer Tré Cool and bassist Mike Dirnt--lolled around the trashy basement flat they shared, getting stoned and sneering at the idea that Dookie--their just-released "sellout" on big-time Reprise--would ever amount to more than a nice drink coaster. Fame? They were more preoccupied with their bong collection, stacks of rock 'n' roll bubblegum cards, and a thriving sea monkey tank displayed prominently on a window-sill. Most of their furniture had springs poking through--they didn't care. Armstrong regularly picked boogers from his gold-ringed nostril and then flick them onto the scary shag carpet--what did he have to worry about? Too bad he couldn't have foreseen the all-too-near future. Green Day happened to be in the right place at the right time. The three-chord slam-a-rama Dookie--a pop-edged return to decade-old punk ethics--became the surprise hit of '94, going on to sell over 11 million copies. Armstrong, accustomed to frenetic club performances, began translating the group's infectious energy to larger and larger venues. Demand continued to grow at a staggering pace; Green Day fought back. They turned a satellite MTV Video Awards performance into a "spit-cam" fest by urging the crowd to gob any camera lens it could ("[The cameramen] tried to make it look like it was cool, but it wasn't"). Last October, Armstrong and company issued their 32-minute follow up, Insomniac, almost as an afterthought, with little promotion, a visually offensive video (for "Geek Stink Breath") and--at least initially--a strict no-interview policy. Simultaneously, they ditched their high-powered Cahn-Man management team and are now virtually managing themselves. Along the way, Armstrong married his long-time sweetheart Adrienne and last March fathered a son, Joey. In typical down-to-earth fashion, the couple spent their honeymoon a few blocks from home at Berkeley's prestigious Claremont Hotel, not on some exotic island. Beginning to see the problem here? How does a street-smart kid from humble beginnings skyrocket to world-class notoriety and yet--with his music in millions of homes and his privacy suddenly a right that needs defending--still adhere to the simple ideals, the simple lifestyle that spawned him? Is "successful punk" an oxymoron? Insomniac provided few clues--it was more of the same slacker-ennui sentiment, more defeated, disenfranchised grousing set to speedy, memorable hooks. Or, as Armstrong barks in the aptly-dubbed "Walking Contradiction," "My wallet's fat and so is my head...I'm a victim of a Catch-22." And that, in essence, was the topic this tortured artist wanted to discuss at the diner. The old "be careful what you wish for" adage. The classic "problem with success is finding someone to enjoy it with you" truism. Armstrong, who takes occasional sips from a vanilla milkshake, but mostly stares morosely at the floor, seems to be dealing with superstardom in a relatively normal way. Don't be fooled by the steady stream of negative vitriol that follows; he's analyzing it, breaking it down, figuring out ways to disconnect his kinetic career. Or at least turn down the volume for awhile. 

RIP: We know what's going right. But what's going wrong? 

BILLIE JOE ARMSTRONG: Lots of things, really. Actually, when I came here today, I said I didn't wanna talk about anything good, because I don't really have anything good to talk about. Goin' on tour pretty soon--don't really wanna go. Just because I've been kinda torn. I wanna stick around at home. I don't like playing arenas, and I realized I didn't know what I was getting myself into on the last tour, but I went into it being positive and getting excited about it. But I didn't realize that I was the kind of person to whom it's too much of an event and not really a personal thing anymore. And I started to realize how much I liked being the background music to this scene at the club. And now it's.... I dunno. People expect so much. It's cool and stuff, and it can be a lot of fun, a really good experience. But when you play that many arenas.... The first time we ever played those big kinds of shows at the Shoreline (Amphitheater in Mountain View, California), there was weirdness--we were playing for a lot of f?!kin' people. And I hate to say it, but sometimes it just feels like another gig. We played every day, 50 gigs this last leg, and it just wears on ya. There's all these people, and they think "Alright. I paid my $15--you better impress the f?!kin' shit outta me right now!" And I realized that for Joey, the rock and roll touring life is not a good atmosphere for a kid. I tried to make it to where it would be, bringing lots of his toys out. But there are no familiar surroundings for him. And he likes all the attention--people come up and say hello to him every day, people who are on tour with us. But he doesn't have his own room or a home to go to every day. So, no more touring for Joey. 

RIP: Turned on Regis and Kathie Lee this morning to find their gossip columnist dishing dirt on Green Day. How Insomniac didn't do nearly as well as predicted, how it was a disappointment to the label. A failure, supposedly. 

BJA: Well, it's like, we didn't set up this record. We didn't. We didn't do any promotion beforehand, we completely quit doing interviews, and basically we just wanted to go on into it. We weren't even sure if we wanted to do a video. And then when we did a video, it got yanked from daytime rotation because people were getting grossed-out by it. So I think we did alienate a lot of people. So that was expected, that it wasn't going to sell a lot of records. 

RIP: NOFX have taken it one step further. They refuse to talk to press, make videos, pander potential singles to radio. They don't want to get any bigger. 

BJA: I dunno, maybe I'm just getting jaded or something. But I just got cable again and I can't stand anything. Six years ago you could hear something that was different and know that it was different. So it'd be "alternative" or whatever. But now it's like you get this Joan...Osborne? With the ring in her nose, waving the alternative rock flag, when she's just...not, ya know? And I'm thinking, I hate all this music that's coming out now--the past year was just hell for music. But people are buying it, so then I'm thinking, Maybe they're the ones that are good and I'm the one who sucks? I just don't know if I really wanna be involved in the rock world anymore at all. Period. I don't necessarily have anything against a big record company or people who what to join up with a big record company. It really is right for some people, but more and more, I don't think that I'm really meant to. And I hate to sound like that, because I don't like taking things for granted. I don't like to talk about my problems when there's some kid struggling in his garage somewhere saying "F?!k him! He's just taking it for granted. Shit, I wish I could do something like that, but I'm just stuck here in Biloxi, Mississippi, and I can't even get a gig." I'm so confused right now. 

RIP: It must be odd to know that, with all those millions of albums sold, drunken frat boys are probably staggering around to your music right now. Your audience grew far beyond your control. 

BJA: Oh, totally! We became what we hated. Which is, the people I despised in high school--and now--are buying our records. We initially became a trend, so there was no way I expected to sell as many records with Insomniac as with Dookie. That's one of the biggest-selling records of the decade. We get slagged by the punk rockers, and it's like, I don't blame them. If you draw that much attention to yourself, that's what you're gonna get--attention--and it's not personal anymore. 

RIP: Ever think about giving it all up? 

BJA: There isn't a day goes by in the past year and a half that I haven't thought about quitting. I went to this party on New Year's Eve, and this band Juke, and another band, the Tantrums, played in a friend of mine's backyard. And a lot of my old friends showed up, and everybody was just dancing. And I was dancing, and getting really muddy, and I was having a great time. I can't remember the last time I sat down and listened to a record from beginning to end and felt this incredible spine-chilling music. And it's because I haven't been able to go out and watch bands play at my free will. I'm not gonna live in a closet, I'm not gonna vegetate myself. 

RIP: But it has to be difficult, when tons of kids know your face. You're on your way to Michael Jackson-dom, where you have to wear a disguise in public. 

BJA: If you think about the Beatles, at that time all people had to go by were the photographs on the records and every now and then a television appearance. So when they'd come to town, people would just flip out--it became this huge public event every single time. Whereas now, everything is so saturated kids don't even have to leave their home to go to a show anymore. They can sit in the comfort of their living room, and your favorite rock star is gonna be entertaining you while you sit down and have your microwave burrito. 

RIP: The Milwaukee cops weren't pleased with aspects of Green Day's Milwaukee show last November. Why were you arrested? 

BJA: I dropped the pick and--actually, I even forgot about it--I just mooned the crowd, which is pretty harmless compared to what I've done before. And I wasn't even thinking about it--I just went out and started playing again. Then I went backstage and was hanging out with Adrienne, and this guy Jimmy who does security for us goes "Come on--there's a car waiting for you outside right now. You've gotta get out of here!" I said "What's wrong?" and he said he didn't even know. So we get in the car and all of a sudden about ten cops come walking over, fully surrounding the car. So the guy puts the cuffs on me, throws me in the car, and I get tossed in the holding tank for two, three hours. I wasn't in the bullpen--I was in with the other ones, the not-so-bad ones. They made me take all my jewelry out. And my shoestrings, so I wouldn't hang myself or something. I dunno. I just don't know how to fit into rock music anymore. I don't know what I like about it anymore. I don't like anything about it anymore, to tell you the truth. To tell you the real truth, I'm a pretty miserable person right now. I'm totally depressed, and my wife can vouch for that because she's around me. In fact, she's the only person who's really around me. I dunno, the whole thing with the mainstreaming of punk rock. I just feel lost in the whole thing...I don't really know...I don't wanna...I dunno...It's miserable, it really is. It's f?!ked up. 

RIP: For every original voice that comes along, there will be countless mad signing dashes for any and all sound-alike artists, with no thought given to the artist's longevity. Just throw the record out quickly and hope it sticks. 

BJA: The thing is, a lot of musicians have gotten so comfortable with this big so-called "Revolution in Rock Music" over the past decade. First it was like, "F?!k the corporations! F?!k the corporations!" And then people just sorta got cozy with that, and forgot that these bands are getting lost in the shuffle. And I'm talking about the ones that never get noticed at all and just get kinda bitter. The 15 minutes of fame is getting shorter and shorter. And now music is totally going backwards--the first half of this decade, there were a few things going on that were interesting. It wasn't my favorite kind of music, but it had a sensibility about it. If you think about Nirvana and Pearl Jam and that whole Seattle scene, and even the Offspring--there was this thing going on that was more honest, in a lot of ways. It wasn't like, beer, drugs and pussy, like what went on through the '80s with all the hair bands. But now what we've got is Hootie & the Blowfish.... 

RIP: Who are probably a lot like you. They seem like nice, regular guys who--through no real fault of their own--are suddenly assimilated into pop culture. 

BJA: Yeah, but that's the problem, is that they are nice regular guys. And they're totally comfortable with that, and they sort of put that out, to where they don't really have...I dunno, there's a certain amount of attitude that, say, someone like Cobain or Vedder has that they don't have. But it's becoming way not...real anymore or something. Maybe not real to me. It's just turning back into what it was in the '80s. It's like, "Hey, everyone! We're Huey Lewis and the News!" I dunno. Maybe nobody knows what the f?!k I'm talking about anymore. 

BJA: I get so irritated by people. I think I'm more bitter than I've ever been in my whole life, to tell you the honest truth. I think Insomniac is much more of a bitter record than Dookie. And I think the older people get, the more they kinda get angry. I think a lot of people feel like they get cheated by lief somehow--no-one is ever completely satisfied. There's maybe a few. But I mean, I'm in a place where I don't really wanna be. It's like, sometimes I feel like we're losing our passion for playing music. And that's the f?!ked-up thing, when you lose passion for what you love, then it's like, Is this marriage headed for divorce or what? 

RIP: Theoretically, you can fight back a couple of ways. Like Cobain, you could make a record almost calculated to offend all the bandwagon-jumpers. Or take as much time off as you'd like. Who says you can't go live on a desert island for two years? 

BJA: That'd be nice. I'm just not enjoying life right now. I'm really not. I'm so cluttered, I can't even speak. Yeah, I do feel like I'm getting old, and I'm kinda bitter about that. I'm not excited about being onstage anymore, and I was really trying to convince myself that I was. Really. Before we did this last U.S. tour, every time I did an interview--I don't know if you read the last Rolling Stone piece--I was like "Yeah! I'm excited! I wanna play these arenas!" and stuff. And then just every night, it started sucking, it felt like a routine or something. It felt almost choreographed in a lot of ways. And I was yelling "f?!k you!" to people, but I didn't know who I was yelling "f?!k you" to anymore. 

RIP: Last time we spoke, you said you went out of your way to change every single show, make each one different. 

BJA: Well, I think it's just the stress of getting up in front of all those people all the time, every day. It's like, "Do I really feel like downing another f?!cking pot of coffee and a bottle of wine before I walk onstage to do this again? Just to get myself ready to go?" You know, for all those people. And every night I always do something different and stupid. But at the same time, it'd be really cool to just say "F?!k you!" to people and like, walk off. And then they'd get it. It's like, "I'm really telling you to f?!k off this time! Time to pack up and go home." It'd just be so nice to start from scratch again. 

RIP: In many ways you can. That's the music-making system trying to program your behavior. And obviously you've broken quite a few rules already--you don't even have to be talking to me right now, actually.... 

BJA: Oh no. I really wanted to do this interview, just because the last interviews that I've done, I've been miserable, and I was pretending not to be. I really was, I was lying. Not to the reader, not to the person I was doing the interview. But I was lying to myself, convincing myself that I was really happy with how everything is going. 

RIP: So you always knew what you wanted, and now you've got it, in spades. You're having trouble figuring out what's next? 

BJA: I didn't even know what I wanted back then. I really didn't. I didn't know if I wanted to be huge, totally successful. I never knew that. I was struggling so hard even to sign that f?!king contract--when I was sitting there, I was contemplating, "Should I just run outta here right now? Am I making the biggest mistake of my life?" A lot of people say, "You're totally disillusioned with what money can do for people," but money never meant shit to me. There's something very passionate to me, very romantic, about living on the street in a lot of ways. Just because I really like my lifestyle back then. I was totally content, in retrospect. A lot of it has to do with the fame. I dunno, I'm trying to talk right now and just totally stuttering. 

RIP: It's not like you chose music--it chose you, and you can't help it. 

BJA: Yeah, it's cool when people really get it. But what a lot of people don't understand is that we're a band that's been around a lot longer than people know. And that's the thing. The difference between this and what happened between Kerplunk and Dookie--in a year, I got married, I had a kid, and I sold 11 million records worldwide. That can do something to ya, ya know? 

BJA: Sometimes I think it'd be cool to just hang out with my friends, drink beer, smoke cigarettes. The more I think about it, the more I'd be really happy with that. I don't think that we're feeling quite like a band anymore--that's one problem we have. There was this certain rock 'n' roll underdog think that we always had--we always drove for something, always drove from town to town in a small van. And you know, I f?!kin' like touring like that--it's like culture shock, really, driving around in a van, setting up my amp when I get there, and playing. That's rock 'n' roll, that's what it started out as. A bunch of sweaty pigs in some tiny f?!kin' bar having a hootenanny, that's what punk rock was to me, that's what drove me to it. I love rock music in its simples, rawest form. And I think we're the only band, really, that plays rock 'n' roll. 

RIP: Has all this put a strain on your old friendships? Do your pals treat you a little differently now? 

BJA: When I come up to friends I haven't talked to in a while, there's a weirdness. And the ones who are really close to me don't really bring up anything, but that thing is still there; it's still in the air. And sometimes I'll just not say anything the whole time we're hanging out. I'll be totally quiet, because the only thing I'll have to talk about is my band, and I get so sick of talking about my band and myself. So I'll just be quiet, since that's the only thing there is to me, except for my son and my wife. 

RIP: Pretty soon, you'll be boring everyone with slide shows--"There we are at Yosemite!" 

BJA: Ha! Adrienne was telling me the other day, "When you were in there dancing with all your friends, while the band was playing, you were so happy because you were so in your element." And I've even gone as far as saying we're not a punk band anymore. But no matter what, that's still gonna stick with me forever, because I love the music, I love the energy of a new band coming out that creates this sense of urgency about 'em. I'll never be able to kick that habit. I love hangin' out with my friends who have small fanzines--kids just writing their guts out about whatever the hell's bothering 'em, and putting it on a Xerox machine and then handing it out for a quarter apiece at shows or at a party. All I wanna do is just try and work it out. I was sitting there the other day, counting all the records that the Replacements put out, stuff like that, Dan thinking how [Paul] Westerberg totally came across to his audience and did everything, everything that the wanted to do in music. He wasn't extremely successful for it, but the guy has influenced people, and a lot of 'em don't even know that they are influenced by him. All I wanna do is just write good songs and stick to it. I wanna develop--not being experimental--but go into different styles, go across my boundaries of the two-and-a-half minute punk song with a three-and-a-half minute jazz song, or maybe get into a little bit of swing or rockabilly. 

RIP: With such staggering success, you could walk into Reprise and tell 'em you're doing an album of saxophone solos and they'd allow you that creative luxury. 

BJA: Well, I never wanna be that experimental. I don't wanna get into synthesizers and shit like that. The thing that was cool for me with Insomniac was that I think we definitely set a foundation for ourselves, because we put out our hardest record to date, totally in-your-face all the way through, and now we're able to go anywhere we want. We can do that now--we do have that going for us. That is, if people are still interested. Which is kinda weird for me to say.... 

RIP: Your craft will always remain the most important thing of all, even if you're just writing for your own amusement. 

BJA: Yeah. No matter what, I'm gonna be writing songs for the rest of my life. I mean, I already have a shitload of new songs right now. But I just wanna do some other things with it. We've sold a million of Insomniac so far. But I definitely want to be respected as a musician. Well, more as a songwriter than as a musician. I wanna be f?!kin' normal, is what I wanna be. The thing is, I've seen so many freaks and so many weirdos and crazy punk rockers and drunks and junkies. But for a lot of those people being weird is easy. It's so easy to be strange--the hard thing is to try to be normal. There's no such thing as normal, ya know. 

RIP: How's your mom feel about all this? 

BJA: She's kinda worried about me. She doesn't know what to think of everything. We have a hard time communicating with each other, just because I don't like to talk about it that much. So she feels like she has to walk on eggshells around me all the time. 

RIP: You buy her anything cool once the money started rolling in? 

BJA: Nah--she doesn't want anything. I've asked her. She's been living in the same house for over 20 years, and she's content living there. But I did give her a trip--she went to Hawaii, her and her boyfriend. And I think travelling is really good--if you paid for someone to travel, so they can go and explore and see some things they've never seen before. But I think that's probably where I get it from. I get so content with not having much. And then you get all this stuff, all this attention, and you don't really know what to do with it. You don't know how to channel it. 

RIP: Most outrageous thing you've bought for yourself? 

BJA: I got my car primered! And one thing I did do was build a home studio. So I've been recording all my friends' bands for free. I produced this band called Dead and Gone, and Social Unrest, Fetish and the Criminals. And I have this side-project called Pinhead Gunpowder--nothing's up with it right now, but we played at the beginning of '94 a few times. RIP: Sounds like you've got more than enough pressure valves to let off the steam. Still, do you worry about death? 

BJA: Yeah, I do. But I have too many reasons to stick around. One is my son and my wife. And I don't feel like I'm finished yet. I'm not done, ya know? And the beauty of it is that death is forever and your problems aren't. And that's why I'm talking about my bad shit, because you vent that, you get it off your chest and you can move on to something else. There's gotta be a positive side to all this--so you just sort of try and dig it out. Get rid of all the bad--out with the bad air, in with the good air. 

RIP: You said about Green Day that you think your "bandwagon is coming to a close and all that's gonna be left is just a band. Hopefully." So then will you start writing happy songs? 

BJA: I thought about writing a totally sarcastic song called "I'm So Goddamn Happy," just talking about how happy I am. Actually, I'd like to put out a double record--I'd like to put out tons of music. But I never wanna become an egomaniac. I just wanna keep things down to earth, so I think it's really important for us to take a long break after all this stuff. We just put out two records back to back, one year after another, and now we can sit back and work on ourselves as people again. So we don't parody ourselves. And it's so hard to be a father and a musician at the same time. If I get into one thing and I pay close attention to it, like if I'm with Joey and I start neglecting my music, then I feel like I should play more often. So I start playing my music, and then I'm going, "Am I neglecting Joey?" So it becomes hard to do everything at the same time. 

BJA: I wanna create a very mellow and sound atmosphere for him, because I don't wanna make any mistakes for him--I want him to be able to make his own mistakes. And even when it comes to swearing--I don't cuss in front of my kid. I'd rather him get it from some dirty-mouthed kid at school. Then at least I'd know, I could go "Thank God--my kid is in a real world and he's learning these things from his surroundings." That'd be a good thing. Because the best things you ever learn are the things you learn in kindergarten. 

Finally, after more than an hour worth of gut-spilling, Armstrong suddenly observes four brace-faced girls, each no more than 12 years old, idling over by the cash register. They're there on the pretext of getting change. In reality, they just want to ogle punk icon and pin-up darling Billie Joe, stare at those caterpillar eyebrows and chiselled cheekbones up close. Another oh-my-gawd event. "I gotta go--it's gettin' weird," the reluctant rocker whispers, literally leaping up from the booth. "I can feel eyeballs all over me already...." And as fast as that, he's gone. "Was that...was that...B-B-B-B-Billie Joe?" stammers one swooner. "No," says the waitress, with a subtle smile. "That was just some guy who usually eats here alone, nobody famous at all. You know, just an average guy." A little white lie to herd the young 'uns out. But nevertheless the truth.

Let’s Review || Chapter 19

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-consensual&dark sexual situations, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat more warnings: i’m going to start including detailed warnings to the very ends of chapters in order to avoid ruining the shock factor in chapters while still being mindful of potential individual triggers. open the read more, CTRL + F and search “content warnings” to skip to the extra tags if you so choose.

Penny did not, in fact, stop earning extra swats at all and by day 3 had stopped sitting on her butt entirely, much to the quiet amusement of the soldiers. Steve had ordered more silk shorts and a pair of joggers that were soft enough she could wear them without too much pain. She was petulant and precious and far too tired to be as angry as they knew she wanted to be. He and Bucky had rotated taking days off since the incident, doing their best to try to engage with her. 

Some of the things they'd learned were as follows: 

1.    Penny's father had died when she was very young and she didn't remember him. He'd been Israeli, Jewish, and had lots of family Penny had never met. Peter's father was who she meant if she said 'my dad', a man from Queens who'd married her mother and loved Penny like she was his own (she missed her parents awfully, at all times and got tearful while talking about them). 

2.    Penny called herself stupid and dumb and an idiot on a regular basis and truly believed that Peter had gotten every IQ point her mother had to offer; it was a bad habit and bothered both of the soldiers—she was so smart and they regularly had difficulty keeping up with her intellect, her thought process was just very different from most people's. 

3.    Penny liked watching TV and movies and anything that had come out since her uncle Ben died was new and exciting. She would let them hold her for hours while they watched movies and talked through all of them with a witty and precious commentary. She didn't care for movies that made her cry. 

4.    Penny hated reading. Steve was pretty sure it was because it was difficult for her and wondered if she had the disability that flipped letters around but couldn't ask lest she got upset. If there was something that needed to be read in a movie or show, the soldiers had taken to reading it out loud immediately and unprompted.

5.    Penny desperately enjoyed and craved skin contact, to a point where Steve and Bucky were wearing less and less clothing because Penny would come to them when they weren't wearing shirts. She would ask to watch movies or TV because it was an excuse to lay on them with her cheek against their skin. Her tiny shorts were a constant but she'd shifted to wearing tank tops instead of long sleeves shirts and the soldiers liked it.

They'd thought from the beginning that skin contact could be their ticket in, Penny preened under careful touches even if she tried to hide it but it became more and more clear as the days went on. The daily spankings made her incredibly sensitive, mentally, and the extra contact seemed to be a coping mechanism. On the first day she'd tried to curb the desire with the kittens, carrying them around as much as possible but it quickly became clear it wasn't quite the same. While the little short-legged kitten had come to basically live in the spot between and directly above Penny's boobs, the orange one with impossibly chubby cheeks was more distant and preferred to simply be in the same room with people rather than held and touched (Bucky adored both kittens but the fucking tiny legs killed him, he loved it so goddamn much). But kittens were not a good replacement for a very warm super-soldier. 

Steve had gone for broke the night before, sleeping in a pair of briefs instead of joggers and a beater. Penny had stayed firmly on his chest the entire night while Bucky, wearing boxers and a t-shirt, had been left with just a single cuddly kitten tucked up under his chin. The brunet had gotten up early for work, scowling jealously at the way Penny cuddled against their lover so sweetly; he almost told JARVIS to call in for him, he could've shucked his shirt and joined the pile of warm sleepy bodies. Tony was still not entirely pleased with them though (especially once Steve had dropped their plan to head into the Rockies for a few months) so it was better to head into the office. He kissed Steve soundly and pressed his lips gently to the back of Penny's head before heading out, depositing the kitten in his hands onto the cat tree in the living room on his way. 

Steve laid awake in bed for another two hours, savoring the way Penny felt against him. Their babydoll was small and precious and fit so well against him. Her legs splayed wide over the smallest part of his waist, her head cushioned against his chest. She'd been sleeping or laying on them in similar positions since the first spanking (she'd even let Bucky carry her around after her spanking the day before, as long as his hands stayed far away from her ass). He could feel her slowly starting to wake up and ran his hands up and down her back under her tank top. 

He wasn't expecting the way she started to tremble, or the tears spilling down onto his chest. She didn't make any noise but her breaths came in little hiccups, her head tilting further down as she tried to curl into herself. 

"Baby? Penny doll, what's wrong?" He sat up, keeping her legs wrapped around his waist and enough of an angle to his torso that her weight wouldn't press her down to sit on her ass. 

She said something, but it was disrupted by hiccups and a small sob and Steve's heart broke just a little when he couldn't understand. When Penny spoke in Hebrew it was usually on accident, she was either too distressed or too scared to notice she wasn't speaking English. Steve's ears perked at the sound of bells, eyes going to the door of their bedroom where both kittens were trotting into the room. The short-legged kitten often appeared whenever Penny cried and the orange one followed but stayed near the door. It was far too small to jump onto the bed so Steve dangled an arm over the edge until he felt fur brush his fingertips, scooping the kitten up and depositing it between his and Penny's chests. The little thing purred like a motorboat, tucking into Penny's shirt and between her boobs where it generally spent most of its time. 

"Shhh, baby, it's okay," Steve brushed his lips against her temple and her cheek, continuing to run his hands under her shirt, "can you tell me why you're upset?" 

The sounds she made were borderline heartbreaking and he figured for a minute she wasn't actually capable of answering until she spoke haltingly between hiccups, "it hurts, it h-hurts, s-so much." 

Penny's ass was already shades of blue and purple, even if Steve was sure Bucky had gone easy on her the evening before. The little smacks she earned in between spankings only served to ignite the burn. 

"Oh, doll," Steve cooed, his expression pulled tight and his chest feeling even tighter; he hated the distress she was in, the pain, "hold on, I've got the arnica right here." 

She whined when he moved her legs and slipped off her shorts, leaving her naked from the waist down, and grabbed the tube from the bedside table. They had hidden several of them throughout the apartment so they'd be handy at all times. In general, Penny appreciated the relief it provided but the application made her cry even harder, even as Steve used the gentlest touches he could. Her ass was still hot to the touch and would be for days and days. 

"All done baby, I'm all done," he'd applied the cream as thickly as possible, a visible layer on her bruises, "let's leave your shorts off, okay? You don't need them." 

Personally, he'd like for her to walk around naked at all times, he liked seeing her little pussy peeking out, but it really would feel best for Penny not to have anything on her ass. She was still crying, not quite as hard but he could still feel the tears against his skin. 

"Okay baby, okay," he murmured, lips returning to her temple, "we're gonna skip your spanking today, alright? We can't tell Bucky or he'll make me, so you have to pretend I did understand?" 

Penny nodded tearfully against his chest, "thank you, thank you, thank—" 

"Shhh, it's okay baby, it's okay." 

Steve spent the entire day with Penny in his arms, carrying her carefully from room to room or laying on his chest on the couch or in the bed. The pillow on her chair in the dining room (her Princess Pillow, a term Penny did not like and had led to her refusing to use it for meal times—but only until dinner on the first night, after two spankings had left her very uncomfortable) went unused just because she never actually sat on her own, instead rested on Steve's hip while they both ate over the sink. 

He honestly hadn't intended for anything sexual when he forewent her shorts that morning and he knew Penny didn't have any salacious goals either. It happened purely on accident while they lounged on the couch watching an action movie, Penny enjoying the way Steve could pick apart the movie's shortcomings. She'd sat up for some reason and her pussy had ground against his abs causing her entire body to still, an aborted noise escaping her lips as her clit hit a ridge just perfectly. Steve's hands found her hips quickly and he kept her from lifting up, gently stroking her bare skin. 

"Hey, hey, you're alright," he murmured softly, hoping not to trigger an escape attempt, "that felt good, didn't it babydoll? Here, do it again, lemme help." 

He used his hold to manipulate her hips, rolling her cunt over the bumps of his abs again, twisting her slightly at the end to really grind her clit. She moaned, breaths coming just slightly faster as he continued to move her hips in the same pattern, carefully holding her to prevent her ass from brushing anything that would cause pain. 

"That's good doll, that's so good," he praised, feeling her thighs clench ever so slightly as she started to work herself against him, "good girl, Penny, chase it. Make yourself feel good baby." 

Her wetness spread over his abs, aiding the slide of her cunt against his skin. She even canted her hips the way he'd manipulated her, the twist at the end dragging her clit against the ridges of his abs in a way that made her pant. Her lower lip found its way between her teeth and Steve did his best not to moan at the sight; she was working herself over beautifully above him. Her pussy was so slick he imagined he could feel her arousal dripping down his abs and rolling over his skin onto the couch. She rocked hard, hands coming to rest on his chest for leverage and he could see how close she was and the exact second she started to get frustrated. A whiney moan escaped her, the twist of her hips more pronounced as she tried and failed to bring herself off. 

"I—I can't, " she whined, thighs clenching tighter, "I can't—"

"Shh precious, come here, let me help you," he lifted her easily by the waist, pulling her up until her pussy hovered just over his mouth, arms coming around her thighs to hold her tightly, "I'll fix it, baby, I'll make you cum." 

His mouth sealed over her clit in and she yelped just before a long moan escaped her lips. Steve was good at eating pussy and enjoyed it deeply, the taste of her filling his mouth and coating his tongue. She was musky and tangy and he decided he could eat her out for hours if she'd let him. Her pussy clenched as he swirled his tongue inside of her, her thighs twitching as his nose bumped her clit. He waited until he could hear her begging for release before refocusing on her clit, the sensitive little button all but throbbing under his tongue as he began a truly exquisite onslaught. 

"Oh.. Ohhhh, I—oh no, oh no," he smirked against her cunt as she seemed to realize she was about to cum all over his face, her cheeks lighting up red at the thought and her thighs attempting to gain enough strength to lift herself up. 

Steve tightened his arms around her thighs and held her firmly, pussy sealed against his mouth with no room for squirming. Her lower body began desperately twitching as her orgasm built. He focused his tongue on her clit, working happily as she got louder and louder, her hips desperately rocking in his hold. The noise she made when she came nearly made his pop off in his briefs, loud and pitched and desperate. It tapered into breathy pants and whines and he stopped just before she became too sensitive for comfort, tongue lapping up into her cunt. Her cum was the same earthy flavor as her arousal and he cleaned her until she started to squirm. 

Her face was so endearingly red when he resituated her on his abs, directly onto the wet spot her pussy had made on his skin. She couldn't meet his eyes and he smiled, stroking his hands over her thighs gently. 

"Lay down baby, the movies not finished yet," he told her softly, pulling her down to rest against his chest again with her head on his peck and she stayed that way for the next two hours, until Bucky for home.  

Bucky's eyebrow had gone up when he walked in after work, the first thing he saw being Penny's bare ass and pussy from between her splayed legs where she lay over Steve's chest on the couch once again. The blond had signed 'don't ask-don't ask-don't ask' quickly before Bucky could even open his mouth, instead choosing to walk over and kiss both of them before heading into the bedroom to change. Well, mostly he just undressed down to his briefs and called it a day, obviously clothing was optional if not frowned upon in their apartment at the moment. His day had been relatively easy, the interrogation he'd done had gone by fast and after that it was just paperwork. Tony's companies, both legal and illegal, had a whole slew of enemies. Steve was good at finding them and Bucky was good at retrieving information from them. 

"Remember what we talked about precious," Steve murmured to her as Bucky walked back into the room, the blond's eyes finding his with a careful expression on his face, "be a good girl, be sweet." 

A squeaky meow interrupted his thoughts and Bucky reached down to scoop his favourite kitten into his arms. The orange one brushed against his ankles with a quiet purr, a little welcome home, before she retreated into the cat tree once again. He was worried because Penny hadn't named either of them yet but didn't know how to bring it up without upsetting her, and she was already so upset all the time. In his head he called the short one Munchkin and the orange one Chubs (for her little chubby cheeks). 

"How was your day?" He asked casually, noting the way Penny's eyes met his from under dark lashes like she had a secret. 

Judging from the way Steve gave a short 'later' hand motion, she did, but it wasn't something the blond was worried about and that meant Bucky wasn't either. Besides, he liked seeing the life in her pretty eyes today (she was half-naked on Steve's chest, unconcerned that her legs were spread, and looked almost happy—she could've killed 6 people and bathed in their blood and he wouldn't have cared because she almost smiled at him). 

"I already called down for dinner, it should get here in just a few minutes," Steve sat up, cautious of how Penny was arranged to make sure no pressure was put on her ass, "Penny needs arnica and her shorts, can you do it while I run to the bathroom?”

Bucky nodded and swept her up into his arms, cradling her tightly in his arms before falling back onto the couch and grinning when she immediately glared up at him, “I missed you today baby.” 

“I didn’t like that.” 

“You don’t like anything I do precious,” he pressed a kiss teasingly against her forehead, “let’s get this arnica on your poor ass, huh? Steve must’a already given you your spanking for today.” 

“Yeah.” Bucky’s eyebrows jumped high on his forehead; it didn’t take a master interrogator to figure out she was lying.

The hesitation to answer was the most obvious give away but she wouldn’t look him in the eyes either, a finger coming up to his chest to trace shapes against his skin. Lying to him was ballsy but he remembered the hand signals he’d received from Steve upon entering the apartment, the blond’s cryptic words to their babydoll while she thought Buck couldn’t hear. So instead of calling her out for the deception her grabbed a bottle of arnica from the end table and started very gently rubbing a layer into the bruised skin on her ass. 

Her little whimpers hurt his heart, but the full tears were what made it crack. She was likely at her breaking point for pain, where the punishment didn’t fulfill its purpose anymore. He’d bet Steve had realized the same thing and had held off. 

“Almost done babydoll. Steve! Bring her shorts with you when you come!” 

There was more squeaky meowing and he dropped his hand over the side of the couch without looking, scooping up Munchkin and dropping her onto his chest right between himself and Penny. The kitten hated being away from Penny even after such a short time. 

“What movies did you watch today? Have I seen them?” 

Penny hesitated for just a few seconds before she gave a short commentary, not noticing the way Steve walked out of the bedroom and up behind her. A quick few hand signals ‘food-sleep-talk’ told him that the blond wanted Penny fed, in bed, and asleep before they got a chance to talk and flashed and ‘okay’ behind her back. It didn’t take long to fulfill the list, Penny was out like a light with a very small dosage of sleeping pills (not enough for her to notice, just enough that she’d sleep through the night). 

The soldiers kind of assumed it was like having a toddler; during the day they had to watch what they said, if they got much of a chance to talk at all, and the dynamic between them had changed while they focused on getting Penny settled. Nights were when they had the chance to talk, it helped that they didn’t need a lot of sleep, and they honestly kind of enjoyed lying in the dark with their babydoll laid out across their chests, talking quietly over the sound of her breathing. It was certainly a good way to decompress after a long day and the pair fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, Penny on Bucky’s chest and Steve wrapped around them both from the side, a kitten or two thrown into the mix somewhere. 

Bucky woke immediately when the blond shifted, slowly starting to wake up for work. It was Steve’s turn to go in and he had a meeting with Tony too—Steve was much better at dealing with the eccentric billionaire than Bucky was, especially when it came to the topic of Penny. Despite the fact Steve had been the one who wanted her originally, Bucky was the one who’d become more overtly possessive and he didn’t like Tony butting into their business. 

“Take care of her, I’ll see you in the evening,” Steve bent over to kiss him lightly, lips trailing to brush against his cheek lovingly before he stroked a hand through Penny’s hair and gave pressed his lips to the back of her head, “love you.” 

“Love you, punk, go to work,” the brunet ignored Steve’s wry smile, instead shifting Penny to lay next to him on her side, curling his body tightly around her and tucking her up against his torso while Steve left.

She’d be up in an hour or so, would probably want to go lay in the hammock in front of the windows. She sunned herself the same way the kittens did, taking little cat naps in the sunshine between attempts at knitting. He could feel the small changes in her breathing as she started to come to and smiled; her forehead burrowed against his chest, her nose brushing his skin lightly. But then she started to tremble and a small whimper escaped her and she was reaching for him and there were tears in her eyes—

Bucky swept her into his arms immediately, carefully arranging her the same way they’d been doing for days to keep the pressure off her ass, “Penny, talk to me baby, why’re you crying? Did you have a bad dream?” 

“The stuff—the lotion—” she hiccuped and he felt her hips jump in his hands when the side of her ass brushed his leg and she yelped, “it hurts, it—”

“JARVIS, remedies for bruises,” Bucky ordered, immediately lifting them both off of the bed and heading into the bathroom. 

“Because this is the second morning Ms. Parker has woken up in pain, I have taken it upon myself to order several items to be sent to the apartment, including hypericum perforatum. There is an aloe vera plant in the living room which can be used for pain relief after a bath, which I shall add witch hazel and lavender to, along with epsom salts for the swelling.” 

“Thanks buddy,” he responded absently, the steam from the hot water immediately settling over his skin when he stepped past the doorway; the bathtub was already filling, “can you hold your weight baby? Just for a minute.” 

Penny nodded tearfully against his chest and he carefully rested her on her feet, gently manipulating the waistband of her shorts over the curve of her ass. He could see in the mirror that her skin had retained its deep red tone, purple and blue splotches concentrated on the fullness of either cheek. It wasn’t anything permanently damaging, just very painful. He pulled her tank top off and dropped it to the side with her shorts, listening as the faucet kicked off. 

“Alright baby, let’s get you into the bath,” He quickly shucked his briefs and stepped into the water, helping Penny in after even when her breathing hitched at the movement, “you’ll lay against my chest, just like usual.” 

Once they were situated, Penny with her head tucked under his chin and his arms around her back, Bucky couldn’t help but smile. He could see why Steve hadn’t gone through with her spanking yesterday, there was simply no need. Penny might not have trusted or liked them but she reached for them. When she was in pain she reached for them to help, to fix it, and knew that they would, where in the past you couldn’t have gotten her to ask them for anything, let alone help. 

It was a significant step in the right direction, Penny succumbing to a piece of her new life. She didn’t chafe under his hold, wasn’t stone still or angry. She was in pain and seeking comfort and help and she knew he’d provide it. He knew she was a stubborn little thing, the concession of just a bit of her space wasn’t the end of her fighting, but it meant something and the soldiers could work with that. During interrogations, the systematic deconstruction of a person’s will and mind meant that when one wall fell the others were very close to follow. Penny could still fight if she wanted, but it was only a matter of time before she conceded the battle. 

Patience wasn’t Bucky’s strong suit but he would wait as patiently as he could for her to crumble in his arms, after all, it wouldn’t take long now. 

content warnings: grinding, dubcon cunnilingus, face sitting