#I AM AN EXPERT AT THIS ROOM AND YOU’RE TELLING ME IT HAS A TRASH CAN NOW??

[jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav]

Obey Me: The Brothers Accidentally Trigger an Abused MC (Beelzebub) (6/7)

Disclaimer: I’m not an expert on abuse or mental health. I’m not portraying how one should respond to these situations, only how I think the characters might. Abuse and trauma in particular are very complex topics, and people respond in all sorts of ways to them, and sometimes it gets really bad on all sides.

I can only draw from my personal experiences as well as those of people who have shared their stories or who I’m close with. There’s no one narrative of abuse and how it affects someone, so what I’m familiar with might not be what you’re familiar with. Let’s try and all be respectful of each other.

Content Warnings: Heated arguments, reference to past abuse, parental abuse, trauma response, breaking down in tears, this is quintessential hurt/comfort y’all, buckle up

Kinda cheating for the twins unfortunately! (In the sense that I’m gonna rely heavily on canon events) In Beel’s case it’s because we’ve only ever seen him lose his cool about either food or family, and for Belphie, well… you’ll see.

Gaaaah tumblr’s stupid new thing where if you resize the tab it wipes your post and switches between mobile and desktop versions made this SUCH a bitch to edit, but here it is! Once again, thank you all so much for your patience! I’ve learned not to make promises about when the next part will come out, but we’re almost done! It’s just Belphie left, then I get to the other requests!

To clarify, the initial dialogue in this scene is not mine, but comes from Lesson 4 of the game and is based on events from Lessons 4 and 5. 

Lucifer (X) Mammon (X), Leviathan (X), Satan (X), Asmodeus (X), Beelzebub (you are here), Belphegor (X)

“Now what do we have here?” Mammon soliloquises. “Looks like a custard.” 

MC has absolutely no idea what possessed them into letting him drag them to the kitchen. 

“Mammon, are you sure we should-”

“Here, eat this,” he cuts MC off, handing them a cup of custard. “I need an accomplice. I don’t wanna be the only one in trouble.”

“In trouble?!” They look down at the custard lid. A note is firmly taped to it.

Property of Beelzebub. You eat it, you die.

They gulp. They really shouldn’t be touching this, what if…

“You’ve gotta be seriously brave to eat this custard here.” Mammon snatches the dessert back and waves it around. “If you can do that, I’ll admit that you’ve got guts.” 

I won’t have any guts if Beelzebub finds out, MC thinks. They know the consequences for stealing food. I don’t care if you haven’t eaten all day, you DO NOT touch that fridge, understand?

“So you’re gonna do it, right? What am I sayin’? Do it. That’s an order.”

Then again, they don’t know what Mammon’s capable of either.

Go on, do it. You want to waste food so bad? Go in the trash and fish it out like the animal you are!

“...Okay, I’ll eat it...” 

“There we go.” Mammon’s grin is wolfish as he holds out a spoon for them.

It tastes… oh wow. It’s very good custard. They almost want to go back for another-

“You did it!” Mammon shouts, and MC flinches so hard they nearly drop the container. “You totally ate Beel’s custard! I saw ya!”

Now you’ve done it, MC! You know how mad our parents are gonna be when they get back!

I… I had to… I didn’t want to… But it had been days...

“Shhh-!”

“Great, now I’ve got an accomplice. If you ate his stuff too, that means we’re in this boat together!” He returns his attention to the fridge. “So, my turn. Let’s see if I can find anything else good in here. I’ve got a feeling there’s probably something nice hiding back here in this corner-”

A shadow looms over the pair. MC’s blood goes cold. They’ve been caught again.

“D’AH! Beel!” Mammon squeaks. “Wh-What’s the big idea sneakin’ up on me like that? How long have you been there…?”

“Did you eat my custard?” Oh no no no no no. “Did you actually eat my CUSTARD?! Answer me, Mammon!”

Who ate it? Well? Answer me! Or none of you are eating tonight.

“N-Now wait a second, Beel! Lemme explain! There’s a good reason for-”

“You did, didn’t you…?”

Pink flames envelop the Avatar of Gluttony as part of his human illusion falls away. An intimidating pair of sharp horns curl around his head and massive fly’s wings buzz angrily on his back. 

“You… ate… my… CUSTARD!”

“Uh-oh!”

As Mammon attempts to escape Beelzebub’s wrath, all MC can do is remain perfectly still, the custard container clutched tightly to their chest. They’ve. Been. Caught.

It’s ridiculous. A small, hysterical part of MC laughs at the absurdity of being caught between two of the most powerful demons in Hell, squabbling over custard and chasing each other around the kitchen. A choked noise escapes them instead. The custard turns sickeningly sweet in their mouth.

The paralysis is broken when Mammon goes sailing through the kitchen wall. Is that-?

A hole in their wall, just above their head. Screaming voices, crying, begging, accusing. They’ve been caught, and now they will be punished.

Footsteps approach MC, and a figure stands towering over them, so much taller, he wouldn’t even have to lay a hand on them for them to be scared, but he will, he will, he’ll hit them again, again and again and again and-

“MC-”

“PLEASE DON’T HIT ME!” They hold up the custard towards Beelzebub, their limbs confused between the desire to return the offending dessert and protect their face. 

The Avatar of Gluttony is almost offended by the outburst, until he hears Mammon groan and attempt to get up, shifting some of the rubble before collapsing once again. Okay, maybe he doesn’t have room to be offended right now. 

He plucks the container from MC’s vice-like grip, the difference in strength between the two so great that he doesn’t feel their resistance. Oh, it’s almost completely untouched. Maybe he overreacted… Then again, it is Mammon. 

...It’s MC’s room that connects to that wall, isn’t it?

Beelzebub opens his mouth to apologize to MC about their wall, to assure them that they’ll figure out a place for them to sleep until it’s repaired, but they’re already gone, sprinting off further into the House of Lamentation.

Did he scare them that bad…?

~

After the three hours of lecturing that ensued, MC isn’t sure if notifying Lucifer was, in fact, the best idea. While Mammon and Beelzebub had seemed bored, annoyed even, they were barely able to stay on their feet by the end of it. Perhaps they’re still exhausted from their sprint to Lucifer’s study, as well as… other factors.

Lucifer calls their name sternly, as though he has done so several times already. They start and straighten up, but can’t bring themself to quite meet the demon’s eyes.

“I asked you a question.” 

“Oh…” they say. “...Sorry...I didn’t-”

“Are you sure you’re comfortable staying in Beelzebub’s room?” They don’t reply, and something in Lucifer’s expression softens. “You were quite distressed when you came to me. If my brothers have done something to upset you, I need to know. Your wellbeing is a crucial part of the exchange program.”

MC laughs humorlessly. “You mean other than destroying my room, I’m guessing.”

The Avatar of Pride falters almost imperceptibly, disguising his surprise with a cough. “Yes, other than… the collateral damage.”

“...Yeah,” they eventually say. “Uh, yes, I’ll stay with Beel until my room is fixed. It’s fine.”

“Wonderful. You’re free to go.” He promptly leaves, muttering about calling the construction worker so soon after the last time. 

While MC has a feeling that Beel would be completely fine not addressing the Custard Incident so long as they don’t treat him any differently, they feel the need to explain themself for both their sakes. They tell Beelzebub about their upbringing, about how controlling their parents were when it came to food, and how they’d have to sneak meals more often than not. The punishments they faced when caught doing this.

Beel is horrified and feels incredibly guilty upon finding out what he inadvertently forced MC to relive. He once again assures them that he knew it was Mammon who talked them into eating his custard and that he doesn’t really hold it against them. In fact, from then on, the Avatar of Gluttony invites them on his frequent “snack runs” (which, for Beel, consist of an amount of food MC would normally call a family meal) and personally makes sure they’re eating enough regularly. 

One day, MC comes back from a long afternoon studying at RAD and nearly panics all over again at the sight of the kitchen. Saucepans, bowls, half-empty containers, and all sorts of utensils litter the room, not to mention a healthy coating of sweet-smelling fluids. At the centre of this mess is none other than Beel, who smiles and waves upon noticing them, sending more flecks of custard to the floor.

He hands them a container of custard, complete with a lining of various fruits around the edges. On its lid is a note: Property of MC. 

It’s very good custard.

“...I…” They can’t. Not if that will happen again. They shake their head, the tears threatening to return.

Lucifer holds back a sigh and nods. “Very well. We’ll find other accommodations until your room is repaired. Perhaps Mammon will get his wish after all…”

Beel doesn’t understand why the human is avoiding him. At first he thought they were still mad about the whole going-on-a-rampage-and-destroying-their-room thing, but they’ve since forgiven Mammon for causing that, so that can’t be it. He keeps returning to the thought that it was something about him, that he scared them so bad they don’t feel safe being around him. Did they think he would try and eat them?

That’s not entirely unfair, he thinks. Especially considering they’re a human in a house with a bunch of demons.

But they aren’t scared around anyone else. Not Satan’s propensity for fatal grudges, not Mammon’s recklessness, not Lucifer’s intimidating presence, not Asmo or Levi’s volatile mood swings… It was just him.

Because he’s just a useless glutton.

#obey me #obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me! beelzebub #shall we date: obey me #mine #beelzebub #my writing

[starlight-in-my-eyes]

I dreamt of you pt1

A kitty fic!

Ty's pov

They had kissed. Ty still couldn't believe it. He had got soo lost. Normally, Ty wasn't someone who liked too get lost, he liked to remain in the present and appreciate what life had to offer but when Kit has kissed him, he had disappeared to a very new world. A world he'd do anything to go back to again. He had got lost in Kit's smell, in the shape of his mouth, in Kit.....

And then he had felt a certain wetness on his face and had pulled back, just barely not wanting to lose Kit again to see tears streaming from Kit's eyes. His eyes were closed and Ty pulled back, abashed. What had he done? Were they too abrupt? Hadn't Kit liked it? But Ty had done whatever was wrong. He had made Kit cry.

Ty remembered all those nights he had thought about Kit and cried. Cried himself to sleep. But he knew he deserved it. He was the one who had destroyed his first friendship, all because of a reckless decision. All he could do was hope that Kit was fine and had moved on. He couldn't bear to look at Kit crying infront of him not when he was the cause so he looked away. He could not think of Kit hurt like that. He wanted to protect him from every danger that approached him and now here he was making him cry. Who's the next person you're gonna hurt and lose he asked himself.

Kit wiped away his tears hastily and pulled back. "I.....I am sorry Ty, I hadn't meant to" he was still looking at his shoes. But why was he apologizing? He hadn't done anything wrong. Ty should be the one apologizing. "There's no reason for you to apologize Kit. I-" Kit shook his head and turned his back on him. He let out a shaky breathe and ran. Ty felt his broken heart lose all its colour.

Ty hated not knowing. If he did not know something he looked for its answer. He looked and looked and looked till he found the answer. And right now, not knowing what he and Kit had between them was killing him more than he thought was physically possible. They couldn't do it this way. They couldn't avoid each other any more. It has already been years, it had to stop. Stop now.

They needed to talk but Ty knew he lacked the courage to actually go up to Kit and tell him everything. He must be hating him now, probably has since the day he decided to resurrect back Livvy. So, he went to his room, put on his headphones and started writing. He had no idea how long he had been writing but all that while he listened to Taylor Swift. He found her voice soothing and tried not to get too mussed up in the lyrics.

When he was done he had read the letter 23 times and overthought every single word. But he knew he couldn't do better than this. He owed Kit an apology and he was going to give him one.

Kit's pov

Kit ran. He couldn't bear to look back. Why had he cried?

It was not that he had hated the kiss. Just the opposite. He had spent soo many nights thinking about a life with Ty and knowing that it'd never come true, cried himself to sleep. So when they had actually kissed he hadn't believed himself. He had never thought he'd get to actually kiss Ty unless he somehow manages to find his way to heaven. So when they had kissed it was like a fairytale you had read when young come to life. It was simply ethereal. He had started crying. It was too beautiful. He had never wanted to stop.

And then Ty had pulled away and he knew it was done. Ty could never feel anything for him, it was all useless. Standing there he didn't know what was worse- the shame of it all or the nightmares that's haunt him later.

So he ran. He ran to his room in the LA Institute, shut the door and slid against a wall with his knees drawn up and his head in his hands. He didn't know if it was a good thing they had kissed so he'd have the experience or bad because he knew it will haunt him till his death.

All that faerie blood and angel blood combined hadn't given him the power to move on. Love must be a very powerful thing he thought.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting on the floor when a letter found its way to him through the little space from under the door.

pt2 will have the letter! and cheers to me who has no idea what that letter will contain yay!

also ik ty's representation isnt very correct I'm not an expert so if u think there is something that needs to be corrected please dm me :)

taglist(tell me if you are insane enough to be added or sane enough to be removed)

@shadowhuntingdemigod @bookeater34 @the-solace-of-insentient-touches @queenlilith43 @adoravel-fenomeno @thomaslightwood @patriwinterviolette @revvs-trash @simpforheronstairs @ladygwynriel @morgansmovingcastle @zemiraa @greywarens-magician @blackasmysoul @clarys-heosphoros

#ty blackthorn #kit herondale #kitty #blackdale #kitty fanfic #tsc fanfic #kitty fic #twp #the wicked powers #tda #the dark artifices #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #sobh #secrets of blackthorn hall

[caswellprmanager]

drawbridge

read it on ao3

Ship: Ricky Bowen/EJ Caswell

Summary: Snippets of EJ Caswell's life leading up to the mystery that is Ricky Bowen.

Notes: Hello. I decided to bite the bullet and post something here! This technically is in my Trans!EJ and Genderqueer!Ricky AU but I haven't properly written anything for it yet so consider this one to be the first official fic within that universe. Feel free to send some asks or other headcanons in my inbox about the AU! I'd love to hear what people think (but don't be unnecessarily mean. I will delete that very quickly.)

Disclaimer: I'm not an expert in all things transgender or genderqueer. I am writing from my own experience within the spectrum however so it's truthful to what I have been through, but will not represent everyone else's experiences. I also have friends within the spectrum who have given me great advice on how to go about these things but once again, it won't be accurate to everyone's experiences.

Warnings: Mentions of gender dysphoria, transphobia, and neglectful parents

People always told EJ that he had the picture perfect family.

His mom and dad were successful corporate lawyers, they lived in the wealthiest suburb in all of Salt Lake City, and he was the kind of child other parents would compare their own children to saying, "why can't you be more like EJ?"

But EJ knows that's farthest from the truth.

He doesn't have the picture perfect life or the paragon of White American families that people think they do. His parents are affectionate and supportive only when there are people around to comment on it. Most of the time, they're not even at home, leaving all of the child raising to their maids and other house servants. EJ spends more time at Ashlyn's house than he does at home because at least his aunt and uncle actually treat him like a son.

Because there are days his parents would forget they have a son. Sometimes they'd slip and call him their daughter, which makes EJ want to disappear from this world altogether. He supposes he should be grateful that they even bothered to pay for all the things he asked for — binders, testosterone shots, and regular visits to the doctor to check up on him throughout his transition. And he is grateful. He knows so many kids like him that can't even afford a decent sized binder without going bankrupt. He used to be that kid until he gathered up all his courage to come out to his parents.

But what they told him?

"Well, if you're gonna be our son, you will have to work twice as hard to make us proud now."

Yeah. It's a lot to process when you're 12 years old and scared shitless that you'd be disowned for "disrupting the natural order." But he figures things could be worse. So he sucks it up and vows to become the kind of son that his parents could truly brag about.

When EJ was a kid, he loved mysteries. His parents were the greatest mystery of them all. He's spent so much of his time trying to figure out what makes them happy, or angry, or sad. He's put the clues together and has a cork board of pictures and red string at the forefront of his mind whenever he so much as tries to interact with them. Soon, he sort of figured out what makes his parents smile at him — when EJ is excellent.

So, he became excellent at all kinds of sports, took up piano lessons, studied until his eyeballs burned with the lowlight of his desk lamp — all so that he could maybe get a pat on the back from his dad and a small smile from his mom. Their versions of "good job" or "keep it up." He drank that all in, craved it even, and worked his whole life until now to get even an iota of his parents' affection.

So, when he meets Ricky Bowen, the lanky and extremely clumsy skater who seems to live in the detention room, he was met with a brand new mystery to solve.

"Who's that?" EJ whispers into Nini's ear, who just seems to be irritated by the new person's presence.

"That's Ricky," she says with the barest hint of affection but with a whole lot of irritation. "My ex."

"Huh," He says, intrigued by the way Ricky's movements stutter like a half-finished stop motion film and how their wide doe eyes scan the room like — unironically — a deer in headlights. They looked nervous, confused, and all around terrified and EJ wants to reach out to them and tell them that this was a safe space. That they could be whoever they wanted to be in the theater.

He glances at Nini when Ricky starts singing a song that she seems to recognize. The immediate tensing of her shoulders and the way she subconsciously reaches out for EJ's hand for support tells him that this song... means something. Or meant something. EJ's not quite sure but he squeezes Nini's hand in silent reassurance, bringing himself to half-glare at the guitar playing skater just a few feet before him.

--

He met Nini during theater camp. A firecracker of talent with a voice that could melt the heart of even the coldest man on earth. She was beautiful in the spotlight and even more ethereal beneath the stars. She was kind, gentle, and a mystery that EJ solved quickly enough. She wore her heart on her sleeve despite it being broken because she believes that broken hearts can be mended with time and patience.

Nini was patient with him. She was patient with him when he took her up the little hill next to the campsite just to watch the stars on an old picnic blanket he stole from the camp counselors. She was patient with him when he couldn't keep up with the dance steps. Her hand was warm in his own and the flush of her palm by his neck was a grounding force that kept his head from going in the clouds.

She was especially patient with him when he took her to an empty tent and told her about his life. Nini was kind. Nini was patient. Nini was safe. And if she were to walk away and tell him that she wanted nothing to do with him after what he told her, he would have understood and learned to not associate kind brown eyes and ukulele calloused fingers to what could be barely described as home.

But she held his hand in her tinier ones, a smile on her face that radiated warmth that seeped into the depths of his soul, and told him that she was proud of him.

It was the first time that someone was proud of him... for just being him.

He cried into her arms that night, knowing he's got a lifelong friend within the kind brown eyes and ukulele calloused fingers of one Nini Salazar-Roberts.

--

"She thinks I'm a Chad?" He asks, less incredulously and more with a burning curiosity.

Nini rubs his arm comfortingly but he keeps staring at the cast list like it was going to burst into flames any second. "You're still a Troy understudy! You could still go on as him in one of the shows."

"Shows only run for three nights, Nini." He says with barely concealed frustration. Great. If he can't even get the role he was technically destined to play, how the hell is he going to explain himself to his parents?

You're not the lead? Oh, then we won't watch. If you're not onstage the whole time, why be there?

EJ grits his teeth and slowly brings his gaze to the person who has just taken away one more way for him to prove himself to his parents. Ricky Fucking Bowen, who stands there once again with their enormous brown eyes, gaping like a fish. EJ wants to deck them in the face. But Nini's hold on his arm grounds him back to reality and he lets out a long breath through his nose.

This is gonna be a long next few months.

--

"Look, I'm just trying to make the best out of a bad situation."

"Don't try," He ends up saying, still wiping at the blood caused by the basketball Ricky hit him with only moments ago. "It's painful to watch you do something you clearly don't want to do."

"What makes you think I don't want to do this?" Ricky asks with furrowed brows and EJ throws the wadded up tissue paper stained with his blood into the trash.

"You hated musicals before you auditioned. You landed the part of Troy without even fucking trying. And now you think you can get through rehearsals without fucking trying? It's tiring to work with someone who couldn't give two shits about this musical in the first place!" He says, every sentence rising in volume as he steps closer and closer to Ricky. "You also need to stay the fuck away from Nini."

Ricky scoffs then. "Why? Cause you're her boyfriend?"

"What? And you are?" He retaliates, which effectively makes Ricky click their mouth shut. EJ smirks. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

"Nini can choose whoever she wants to talk to." Ricky ends up saying with tense shoulders and a glare that could murder if EJ weren't already a person who doesn't fear death. "You can't tell me what to do."

"Well someone has to!" EJ throws his hands up in frustration, grabbing his jacket and zipping it up angrily. "Because you don't listen to Nini though, do you? Have you ever listened to her? Do you listen to anybody?"

"EJ I—"

"You better listen to me right now Ricky Bowen," he laces every syllable of Ricky's name with venom. "Stop trying to make things right. Stop trying to become a person you're not. If you actually cared about Nini or – god forbid – the musical, you'd stop trying and just get your shit together."

EJ doesn't even bother to look back at Ricky as he exits the bathroom, unaware of the look in Ricky's eyes when he walked away.

--

It isn't until Ricky approaches him one day after rehearsals that EJ was finally starting to unravel the mystery that was Ricky Bowen.

"Hey... EJ?" Ricky asks, looking at anywhere but at him and EJ would have been annoyed if it weren't for the way Ricky was holding themselves in front of him. They were tense, eyes glassy and unfocused whenever EJ caught a glance, and their fingers were gripping their bag straps so tightly that he was afraid Ricky was going to rip it apart if they weren't careful.

"Hey Ricky," He says with a softer voice than he's ever used with Ricky. "Is there something you need?"

Ricky's eyes dart around the still full rehearsal room, at the dangerously close proximity Miss Jenn was, at the stage managers that were just behind EJ who were reviewing the blocking notes, and finally at Nini who was engaged in a conversation with Carlos and Seb. Ricky's eyes lingered on Nini for a bit before they reluctantly settled on EJ's pristine white sneakers. "I would have normally asked Nini for this but – and you can say no by the way I'd completely understand – it's just..."

Ricky looks around again before leaning closer to EJ and shakily whispering, "Do you have any tampons?"

And just like that, the walls that were built around a certain Ricky Bowen were starting to crack. And EJ was allowed to see the smallest snippet of the kind of vulnerability that Ricky was capable of.

And it was the kind of vulnerability that he could relate to completely.

"My emergency stash is in my locker," He says, hastily packing up the rest of his things while Ricky continues to stand there dumbfounded. When EJ turns back to him with his own bag over his shoulder, he could see that there are a few unshed tears shining in Ricky's eyes. EJ softens for a second, knowing how difficult it must have been for Ricky to come to him for something so private.

"Come on. I'll even guard the bathroom for you." Ricky eventually follows him after a few seconds of just staring at his back and they fall in step around the corner. Ricky stays silent, fingers all fidgety and eyes still darting around like they'll be caught any second. EJ, instinctually, wraps a comforting arm around Ricky's shoulders. Ricky doesn't relax immediately but they do lean a little closer, somehow finding the weight of EJ's arm around them safe.

They eventually reach EJ's locker and Ricky smiles a bit because it's directly across from Sharpay's famous pink lockers. "Did you choose this spot specifically for Sharpay's lockers?"

EJ glances behind him and chuckles, rummaging through his stuff. "Oh yeah. If you say Ashley Tisdale three times in a row while touching her locker, you're guaranteed good fortune for at least a week."

Ricky looks at him with a smirk. "Have you tried that before?"

"Every year during finals week. I'm telling you, that shit works."

"Or maybe you're just really smart."

"Maybe," EJ says, finally locating his emergency stash of period essentials. "Or maybe it's just Ashley Tisdale bopping me to the top."

That's when Ricky lets out a laugh — an honest to god booming belly laugh that makes EJ pause just to stare at him. They look... nice like this. Without the worry lines and longing gazes at a girl who won't give them the time of day. They look just like a little kid, carefree and alive despite the world crumbling all around them, and EJ feels a weird surge of pride at being the person who made Ricky laugh like that.

He wants Ricky to laugh like that more. He wants to be the person who makes Ricky laugh like that more.

And so the walls around Ricky crack a little further, and the drawbridge is opened for one weary traveler to come in.

EJ doesn't notice the cracks on his own walls, nor the knowing little princess who watches from the east tower, smiling.

--

"Hey, what are your pronouns?"

Ricky doesn't look up from their practice skateboard, concentrating hard on their balance. "I don't have any. I'm just Ricky." They look up though, giving EJ a warm smile. "But go ahead and use any pronouns with me. I don't mind if it's you."

"So would you mind if I call you your majesty?"

EJ doesn't miss the flush on Ricky's cheeks at that and definitely doesn't miss the way they say "I'd like that very much." with the barest hint of embarrassment.

"Okay," EJ says with his chin propped up in his hands. "Your majesty."

Ricky falls off of their practice skateboard then, soon glaring up at a cackling EJ still with a blushing face.

--

EJ forgot his binder today.

And his body loved reminding him every time he took a step.

Thankfully, there wasn't going to be water polo practice today and he could get away with wearing multiple layers to school. But even with the sports bra, the t-shirt, the sweatshirt, and the letterman jacket doing a good job at making his chest look flat, he still felt his skin crawl looking at the mirror. His jeans hugged him a little too tightly, forcing him to notice the still feminine curve of his hips. His sports bra was a tad smaller than the last time he wore it, so the pinch at his chest doubled in size.

EJ resolved that he was not going to have a good day today.

But today was tech rehearsals and he couldn't ditch that. He was starting to really enjoy rehearsals now that he and Ricky are on good terms. Even the stage managers ask him to hang out with them time to time outside of rehearsals. EJ actually felt like... he really belonged somewhere now. And he wasn't going to let this ruin it for him. Not today.

"Hey EJ," He heard Nini say to him as he got out of his car. "What's with all the layers? It's pretty hot today."

"It's one of those days, Neens." He says with a heavy sigh and Nini just grabs his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Ricky rolls up to them two seconds later, their head suspiciously missing a helmet.

"How many times do I have to tell you to wear a helmet when you're skateboarding, Ricky?" EJ tries to scold the junior despite this weirdly overwhelming fondness growing inside of him every time he even looks at Ricky now.

"Haven't gotten into an accident yet," Ricky shrugs, smiling politely at Nini and changing it into a cocky little smirk the second they look at EJ.

"Yet being the operative word here," EJ rolls his eyes and opens his trunk for Ricky to stash his board in for later. "I won't drive you to the hospital if you end up getting a concussion for not wearing a helmet."

"Yes you will." Ricky says, knocking their shoulders together. "You love me!"

EJ freezes for a bit but before he could even respond, Ricky is already catching up to Big Red and Gina, waving back at EJ and Nini with a wide grin. EJ stares at him for a few seconds, not quite sure how to process the last few moments, until Nini waves a hand in front of his face.

"Hello? Earth to EJ?"

"Huh?"

"Care to share with the class what's going on?" The little smirk on her lips says it all and EJ was not going to fall for that.

"Nope. There's nothing to share."

"Mhm," She says, looping her arm around EJ as soon as he closed his trunk. "Of course there isn't, EJ." Nini pretends not to see EJ staring at Ricky as they walk into school. EJ pretends to not notice that she's pretending to not see EJ pretending to not overtly stare at Ricky.

Besides, EJ has gotten pretty good at pretending.

--

Aaaannndd that's it for now. I hope you guys liked that! I really enjoyed exploring trans!ej and genderqueer!ricky through this au and it means a lot to me. Maybe next time I'll write something in ricky's pov but for now thanks for reading !!

#ej caswell #ricky bowen #nini salazar roberts #rj #hsmtmts #trans!ej #genderqueer!ricky #tw: gender dysphoria #tw: transphobia #tw: neglectful parents #cloud's writing now #hsmtmts fanfiction #they're not really together yet here but #ej is Definitely pining at the end tho #and nini is the best i will not tolerate nini slander in my blog #caswen #ricky x ej #ej x ricky

[p-artsypants]

Arcadia or Bust (17)

Heartstone Hall

Previously on Arcadia or Bust:

James Lake Sr. came back to Arcadia while Jim and friends were out retrieving the new Heartstone. The deadbeat not only ran away with a girl, but he’d been dealing cocaine in LA. Now he’s come back to lay low, since he owes a lot of money to some really dangerous men. He got a kilo of cocaine to try to make his profit back, only to not pick it up from the drop zone before Jim found it. Thinking it was trash, Jim ate the brick and went into an 8 hour rage, busting up the town. The US army of Area 49-B got a whiff of the destruction and came to collect Jim from the hospital. With a campaign from the town and an old friend of Walter’s, Jim is turned loose. However, he’s not out of the woods yet, as his amulet was ripped out of his chest and now he has a crater. 

—

*points in a random direction* Hey look! What’s that over there?! *Drops update* *runs*

Ao3 | FF.net

—

“It’s okay Jim, you’re going to be okay,” said Claire, as she hovered just over his face, and pressed little kisses to his cheek. “We’re going home.” 

“…For the…glory…” he muttered, before wincing and falling silent. 

“Are you taking us to the hospital?” Barbara asked as the van sped on, faster than any speed limit. 

“Nope,” said Samuel. “I think this is a Heartstone issue.” 

She nodded, knowing that would be the best. “He needs a tissue transplant, but his skin is so tough…I don’t even know what we could do for him. Get human skin and have Merlin transform it into half-troll? I hate that I don’t know what to do! I’m not a surgeon, damnit! And I’m certainly no magic expert!” 

“Stop at the McDonald’s near the edge of town,” said Toby. 

“Really? You want a Big Mac at a time like this?” 

“No! Merlin is probably there, and I bet he could fix Jim up.” 

“Wait, Merlin-Merlin? Like ‘Amulet of Merlin, Sword of Excalibur’ Merlin?” Asked Samuel.

“That’s the one!” 

Once they got into town, Samuel pulled in at the McDonalds as requested, and Toby was out the door before he stopped the car. 

“Merlin! Merlin help!” He cried, as he ran inside the restaurant. 

The employees behind the counter all looked at him, and then pointed at Merlin, who had set up shop in the corner of the store. He was surrounded by books, and other magical artifacts. 

How had management allowed this? Well actually, Merlin wouldn’t have listened to any authority, so they probably didn’t allow it. 

Toby ran to the wizard. “We got Jim back! He’s in the van, and he’s hurt really bad! We need you to heal him!” 

“What kind of injury?” Asked Merlin, calmly packing up his books. 

“They took his amulet, and there’s a huge hole in his chest! I could see his lungs!” 

Merlin screwed up his lips in thought. “Where are they taking him? To the Heartstone?”

“That’s what Samuel said!” 

Merlin didn’t ask who Samuel was, so he probably didn’t care. “I will be there shortly. I must gather the appropriate supplies. Keep him reclined and relaxed. And try not to prod the wound.” 

Toby nodded once and then ran back outside to the van. 

One of the McDonald employees calmly came over and refilled Merlin’s coffee, as he had asked to be done every hour. 

“Good lad. I’m leaving now. Here, for your trouble.” And he dropped a sizable emerald in the kid’s hand. 

The kid looked at it and shrugged. “Whatever.” It beat minimum wage at least.

—

At the canal, Claire opened up the portal to Trollmarket while Walter and Samuel started to get Jim out of the van. She ran in and called out, “Blinky! ARRRGH! Jim’s back! He’s hurt!” 

ARRRGH came running, while Blinky gathered all sorts of supplies and carried them down to the Heartstone. 

It was a mad dash then. Jim was quickly, but carefully, brought down into Heartstone Hall, and rested on his mattress on the floor. 

“…cold…” he whispered as he grasped and pulled at the blankets. 

Barbara pulled the comforter up to his stomach, and draped a smaller one over his right side. “I know you're cold, but you have a wound, and we can’t cover it yet.” 

“…water…” 

“I’m on it!” Cried Toby, running upstairs.

Jim groaned out in pain, and the Heartstone responded with a pulse of light. 

“Is that good?” Asked Claire. 

“The Heartstone is picking up on Jim’s pain, and is releasing magic to aid in his healing!” Said Blinky, with a smile. 

“Is that going to deplete the magic we put back into it?” 

“No no! Well, maybe…it shouldn’t!” 

Jim moaned out again, tensing his whole body, and craning his neck in an effort to find relief. 

“Just a little bit longer, sweetie,” said Barbara. “Merlin will be here soon.” She gnawed on her lip. “I could probably get an IV for him from the hospital. I have my phone, so call me if there’s any change!” 

“I’ll drive you, Dr. Lake,” said Samuel. 

“That’s alright, I’ll take the tunnel to my house and grab my car. That way, you don’t need to be held up here any longer. You’ve been a great help.” 

The general smiled. “It was worth it more than I thought. The Trollhunter owes me a favor now, you see. I probably won’t need to collect, but it’s always fun to have that in your back pocket. And besides, I got to see Trollmarket and the Heartstone with my own eyes.” He glanced at the orange stone. “That’s a privilege everyone in the Janus Order longed for.” Before he got too wistful, he turned to Walt. “You’ll let me know how this all turns out, right? Because I’m invested in Mr. Lake’s fate now.”

“I’ll text you updates.” 

“Fantastic.” He gave Jim a pat on the shoulder. “Hang in there, Trollhunter.”

“I’ll show you out,” said Barbara as they left together. 

Then it was just Blinky, ARRRGH, Claire, and Walt. Time ticked on in silence, as no one knew what to do or say. Only occasional groans from Jim broke the quiet atmosphere.

“What’s taking Merlin so long?” Said Claire, with irritation. 

“He’s coming?” Asked Blinky.

“We told him about what happened before we came down here. Said he had to collect ‘appropriate materials’.” 

“So he’s collecting materials,” said Walter. “It might take some time.” 

“Yeah, but he’s probably doing it at a leisurely pace. The man has no concept of time anymore. We need to get him a phone. Or at least a walkie-talkie.” 

Just then, a gallon bucket of ice and water bottles descended on a rope from the center column of the room. 

“Heads up! It’s kinda heavy!” Toby called before it hit the ground harshly. Then he nearly tumbled down the stairs himself. 

“I got a bunch because I know Jim doesn’t have running water down here yet, and I didn’t want us to run out!” He took a bottle from the bucket and put a silly straw in it so Jim could drink without having to sit up. “Sorry Jim, this is the only straw I have…it says ‘big boy’.” Toby tilted the end of the straw so it touched Jim’s lips. 

In his half conscious state, Jim felt it, took it in his mouth, and sucked, emptying half the bottle in one go. He released the straw and licked his lips. 

“Better, Jimbo?” 

“Uh huh…” Jim managed a little nod. 

“Okay. I’ll be on water duty. You just say the word, okay?” 

“…For…the glory of Merlin…” Jim tried again, before wincing hard. “Hurts to breathe…” 

Claire sat cross legged on the bed next to him, scratching his scalp lightly with her nails. “Just hang on for a little bit longer. Your mom is bringing some medicine from the hospital, and Merlin is going to fix you up.” 

His eyes flickered open ever so slightly. “Where am I?” 

“You’re in Heartstone Hall, in your bed.” 

His eyes closed again. “My amulet…gone.” 

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it right now. Just relax.” 

“Hurts…” 

“I know, babe, I know.” 

Walt stood, looking at his phone. “Barbara’s back. I’ll go help her.” And he left. 

Blinky snapped his fingers. “I think Vendal had a recipe for a burn salve up there. I can work on that. Come ARRRGH! It’s the least we can do!” 

“Yell if Jim need help,” ARRRGH added, as he followed Blinky up the stairs. 

“More water, Jimbo?” 

“Huh Uh…” 

After he drank, he winced, and a tear rolled from his eye. “I want my mom.” 

“She’s coming, Jim. She’s bringing some medicine for you.” 

“Where…am I?” 

Claire then realized that Jim was barely conscious, and wasn’t listening to much anyways. She’d end up repeating herself a lot. 

She pushed his bangs out of his face and kissed his forehead. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re nice and safe, babe.” 

Toby and Claire sat in silence as Jim continued to struggle to breathe. 

Thankfully, Barbara and Walt appeared not a minute later, with all sorts of goodies. 

“Alright kiddo, let’s get you all cleaned up. Claire, would you put on these gloves? I’d like you to clean the skin around his wound with these alcohol swabs while I set up the IV.” 

“On it Barb!” Claire got to work quickly, thankful to be able to do something to help. 

Walt set up the IV stand while Barbara prepared the needle and inserted it in Jim’s arm. 

“I hate that I have to use a thicker gauge needle, but your skin is so tough, kid.” 

Jim didn’t seem to even register what she was doing. 

Once the IV was in and taped in place, Barbara took out a thick gauze and started taping it in place on Jim’s chest. “The wound isn’t bleeding nearly as much as it should,” she stated, with a frown.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Asked Claire. 

“I’m thinking it’s because of the burns on him. They weren’t this bad at the hospital. He had been out in sunlight that day, but it was overcast and he had on long sleeves.” She taped down the gauze with medical masking tape. “No, this looks like...well, third degree on a human. Direct heat like flames or burning metal. I guess that would be a UV light for Jim.” 

“I’m going to hammer that lady into the ground,” Toby muttered.

“There, this should be good for now. I’ll bandage him again once Merlin cleans him up.” She rested a weak hand to her head. “Lord help me, I’m depending on Merlin.” 

Thankfully, news came by Claire’s phone, with an unknown number. 

“Hello?” 

“Claire? This is Douxie.” 

“Douxie! Please tell me you’re with Merlin!” 

“I am! Not that I can get his butt moving any faster. He briefed me on the situation, and I’ve been trying to rush him…but, you know how he is…” 

She could hear the old man shouting somewhere in the near distance. “Three days? Well he’ll be dead by then! No need for it by that time! You don’t have anything in stock?” 

Claire winced. “Where are you guys?” 

“At the hardware store, ummm you’re better off not knowing why for now. We’ll be at Trollmarket soon, I promise!” 

“Thank you. And thank you for calling. We were getting worried.” 

“How is he?” 

“Barely conscious. He’s on an IV with pain meds now…so he’ll be feeling a little better. He keeps trying to summon his amulet, but he doesn’t have the strength.” 

“Uh oh, he doesn’t have the amulet with him?” 

“No, the army wouldn’t give it back.” 

Douxie exhaled in a huff. “We’ll figure something out. Oh, Looks like Merlin found an alternative. We’ll be on our way soon!” 

“Great! See you!” And she ended the call. “Merlin should be coming soon!” 

“Thank goodness!” Barbara sighed. “Though it looks like Jim finally fell asleep. His pain is mostly managed…all we can do now is wait.” 

It felt like they were waiting hours. But there was not much else to do. 

Jim slept fitfully, occasionally opening his eyes to look around. It was clear he was exhausted, so he’d just close them again a moment later, and they heard his slow breathing. 

“This is torture,” said Claire. “But I can’t imagine what he’s been through.” 

“I hope that along with her discharge, that Kubritz lady does hard time in prison,” said Toby. 

“And I hope they do everything to her that she did to him,” Claire added, with venom. “If they don’t, I will.”

“I’ll back you up.” 

It was hard to share small talk, but just listening to Jim’s labored breathing and waiting felt like a terrible option. 

Finally, finally, Merlin’s horrible grating voice echoed through the Heartstone husk. “Hello? Is this where the injured Jim is?” 

“Yes!” Claire cried out. She was never so happy to hear that man’s voice. 

No really, most of the time, his appearance filled her with dread. 

Merlin and Douxie descended the stairs, arms full of plastic shopping bags. 

And it finally seemed like Merlin was done wasting time, as he spared no greetings and got busy examining Jim. He removed the blanket that covered his shoulder, and the temporary bandages Barbara applied. 

He cringed at the sight of the crater. “Yikes. That is quite the wound.” 

“Can you heal him?” Claire asked, afraid that he wasn’t up to the task. 

“Sure. No problem. Douxie, prepare the plaster.” 

“Plaster?” Barbara asked, with horror.

“Ugh, I know,” said the wizard. “Three days for expedited shipping for clay! Ridiculous! I thought the modern era was a time of immediate gratification! But no, the one time I need something quick, it’s a three day wait! Do they not know where the nearest clay deposits are?!” 

“Okay, but the plaster? What’s the deal with the plaster?!” 

“What else do you expect me to use to fill a wound in a troll?” 

“You’re going to pour plaster in his open wound?!” 

“Yes! And more!” He glanced over to the bucket Douxie was mixing in. “How’s it coming?” 

“Do you want it more watery, or thick?” 

“Thick without being too dry.” Then he turned back and leaned in close to Jim. “None of you are going to like what I’m about to do.” He pressed two fingers to Jim’s chest, and spoke, “imperium.” 

Jim’s eyes flashed open, wide, pupils expanded so the iris was just a hint of blue.

“Jim Lake Jr., summon your amulet,” Merlin commanded. 

Jim raised his hand up in the air slowly and spoke clearly, “for the glory of Merlin, daylight is mine to command.” 

Then Merlin let go, and Jim fell back into slumber, Claire having to catch his hand before it smacked him in the face. 

“What was that?” She asked. 

“I thought it was fairly obvious. A mind control spell. Very weak, only works on unconscious individuals within range.” 

“You know Mind Control?” Asked Toby, with some horror. 

“To a degree. As I said. It’s more like the power of suggestion. Morgana has learned how to fully possess someone’s mind, but I always preferred to use my natural charisma to persuade people.” 

Someone snorted. 

“The plaster is ready,” said Douxie. “Did you want to start with the strips?” 

“Yes,” he collected the tray Douxie had prepared. Mesh cloth strips sprayed with plaster, which created a base. Carefully, Merlin began to lay the strips in the hole in Jim’s chest, applying just enough pressure to adhere them and blend the edges. Once he had completely coated the inside, without filling the hole, he stopped.  

“There, now we’ll treat his burns. You said you had electricity down here?” 

“Uh, yeah. There’s an outlet on the wall next to you,” said Claire. 

“Perfect.” From his various bags, he took out a palm sander with a coarse paper on it. He plugged it in. “Now how do I work this thing?” 

“Why don’t you let me handle that while you use the file…” Douxie took the power tool away from him. “Claire, can you sit him up and lean against his back as a counter weight?”

“The file? I don’t want to use the file! I got this so you would use the file!”

“Merlin!” Barbara scolded. 

“Fine, I’ll use the file…better for fine detailing anyways.”

It was agonizing moments as Douxie buffed away the dried, burnt skin that came off like dust, while Merlin shucked off the chunks that were too thick for the sander. 

Jim, for the most part, only twitched and cried out on occasion, only when they got too close to fresh skin. 

Once he was rubbed raw and bright blue, a little bloody in some places, they stopped. 

“It’s like an extreme pumice stone,” Douxie tried to soothe, feeling guilty as Claire wiped her tears. “The skin affected by the sun, or UV lights or whatever, was solid stone and had to come  off.” 

“I know,” said Claire. “It was just…jarring.” 

“Alright, we’re almost done,” said Merlin, scrounging up some compassion. “You can recline him again, Fair Claire.” 

Gently, Claire laid him back down on the pillows. 

Merlin took the loose plaster and slopped a bit in the wound, trying to make up for the missing space. 

Then, from the stairs came a ‘plink, plunk, plink, plunk’ as the amulet rolled its way down and stopped at Merlin’s feet. “Got here faster than I anticipated. I’d love to see the damage it did on it’s way.” 

“I thought if someone stole the amulet, it wouldn’t come back?” Asked Toby. 

“Not unless it’s properly summoned. If it only chooses one Trollhunter, you think it would want to be anywhere else?” Merlin cleaned the amulet with a rag to a near mirror shine, before placing it back in its spot on Jim’s chest. 

“Can’t you just keep it out of him? What if something like this happens again?” 

“Then we’ll just have to buy more plaster,” shrugged Merlin. “Anyway, it’s better this way.” He smeared more plaster in the cracks and smoothed it with his hands, until the seam was perfectly even. 

“Now what?”

“The plaster should start to dry soon, and a chemical reaction will take place, putting off heat. Then I will start the incantation.”

“Why then?”

“Must everything I do be questioned?”

“Yes.” Said everyone, unanimously.

“Because I said so. That’s why.” He touched the plaster, careful not to jostle it, and waited for the heat to set in. “Alright, I suggest everyone stand back. You too, Claire, get behind me.” 

Claire scooted off the bed and stood back with Toby and Barbara, then they waited anxiously. 

“It’s going to look and sound painful, but a little bit of pain, and he’ll be all better.” Merlin’s hands glowed blue, interacting with the pulsing, ticking amulet. Instead of a one word spell, like he had been doing, Merlin muttered a fast string of words that sounded like nothing and everything at the same time. Lightning bolts skittered from his fingertips, and drew patterns on Jim’s flesh. 

Jim screamed and writhed as every bolt connected. They danced across the plaster, turning it to his hardened flesh as they moved. The hands on the amulet spun rapidly as the stone pulsed a violent blue. The wound from Morgana, lower on his chest, flickered orange like embers. The Heartstone glowed as well. 

Claire felt her hair stand on end and goosebumps rise to her skin. The magic in the room was deafening, blinding, and amazing.

Finally, Merlin halted, and only smoke remained. 

Jim breathed deep, quick breaths, like you would after a run. But it wasn’t labored or halted, like before. 

“Cl-Claire?” He asked, his voice stronger than it had been. 

She nearly tackled him. “Jim! Jim you’re alright!” 

He winced slightly as she collided with his raw skin, but hugged her anyway. “Where am I?” 

“You’re home!” 

“Home?” 

“It’s a long story. How do you feel?” 

“Tired, hungry…a little sore. I remember being in a lot of pain…” he looked down at his chest, touching the amulet in confusion. 

“Merlin just healed you,” she explained. “They hurt you pretty bad, huh?” 

He rolled his neck and stretched his shoulders. “No kidding.” 

“Well,” said Merlin, “my work here is done. I think I’m ready for a nap of my own.” 

“Thank you, Merlin,” Barbara said sincerely. “Thank you for saving my boy.” 

“Of course! You didn’t think I was going to leave my greatest warrior to die, did you? Oh, before I forget, I should probably give this back.” He handed a black wallet over to her. 

“Wait, whose is this?” 

“James’. I needed to pay for the sander somehow.” 

Barbara laughed. “Well, he’s not going to be happy about it, but glad to know he contributed to this too.” Then she muttered, “considering it’s all his fault in the first place.” 

By the end of the day, Jim was up. Not fully recovered, but enough to shuffle around. He was able to go to his mother’s house and take a shower, while Barbara changed the blood-stained, plaster dusted sheets. When he was all clean, he sat in the living room in his sweatpants, exhausted, and aching. 

“Blinky made you a salve, if you want me to put it on you,” Claire offered, holding up a little jar. 

“I’d love that.” 

She delicately rubbed it into his skin, like Aloe on a severe sunburn. Careful not to scratch him, but also wanting to make sure he was covered.

James walked past the room and halted. “Jim! You’re—you’re back!” 

Jim just glanced at the man. “And?”

“I just…um, look, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“I didn’t know…that you ate trash. I would have made the drop for the cocaine somewhere else. I didn’t think—that’s not something people usually have to worry about, you know?”

“Yeah. Usually.” Jim said, stone cold. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Why do you care?”

“B-because you’re my son?” 

Jim couldn’t stifle the eye roll. “So NOW you think I’m your son? Where was that mentality when you pointed a shotgun at me?”

“I was in a severe crack withdrawal when I did that.” 

“And you’re just magically better now?”

James sat in an armchair opposite him. “I’m not going to say yes, but I’m better. I’m trying to get out of your and Babs’ lives, because I brought so much hurt in the first place. But…seeing what I’m missing out on—“ 

“No!” Jim snarled, standing up. “You don’t get to be sentimental now. You don’t get to change your mind. You suck! That’s all you’ve done! Mom’s moved on, I have men that are more fatherly than you could ever be if you tried! So just—finish your business and get lost!” He tried to step towards the basement, but he crumbled, still far too physically weak to walk on his own. 

“I got you,” Claire whispered, wrapping an arm around his waist. “James,” she turned to look at him briefly. “I don’t know if you realized how crappy that thing you just said was. Don’t try to get Jim’s hopes up. He’s hurt, he’s upset, he’s vulnerable. So just stay away. If you truly want to be back in Jim’s life, don’t mention that you’re considering it. Back it up with action, or else you’ll just be disappointing us all when you go back. And as far as I know…your word is worthless.” She helped Jim walk slowly back to the basement, to the tunnel back to Trollmarket. 

“Trouble? I heard yelling,” said Draal.  

“No, no trouble. Thanks Draal,” Jim gave him a weak, affectionate punch. 

—

Many many miles away, a group of men watched the news, an old broadcast that one of them had snagged. 

“—The campaign worked perfectly! Now, hero to Arcadia, James Lake Jr. has been released from his wrongful imprisonment for his bizarre appearance, and returned home. Lake is hailed a local hero, as his acts of kindness and selflessness during a horrendous tornado in the area have become well known in the community as well as on social media. A parade in Lake’s honor is set for this weekend, as Lake has made a good progression in his recovery from captivity.”

“Okay, a kid was arrested because he looks weird. Not sure what the correlation is.” 

The leader of the pack smiled. “Oh, it’s such a subtle thing. We don’t care about the kid, or his deeds, or even the city of Arcadia really.” 

“Then…what?”

“Did you catch the boy’s name?”

“I…Lake? Like…”

“Jim Lake Jr. is what they said. Maybe a common name. But if there’s a Junior…perhaps there’s a Senior nearby.”

—

I have not seen Rise of the Titans (though I expect to watch it this weekend) but I heard it was…not good, story wise. So in this fic, I won’t be applying any of it. Probably. Unless something juicy catches my eye.

#toa #trollhunters #arcadia or bust #jim lake junior #claire nuñez #fanfiction #fanfic

[goldenchan-fx2thepeacock]

Don’t Go Running Off Into Danger, Even If I Do pt 2

So, I have no clue what a publishing schedule is. So here, have more of this dumb fic at 11 pm. FUCK SLEEP! SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK!

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Chapter 2

Danny and Jazz managed to finish just in time to put everything away before their parents got home. He’d actually managed to have a ghost free night. But the peace wasn’t going to last. And this wasn’t about ghosts. He got slammed into his locker.  “Hey look, it’s Fenturd. What’s with the dumb picture of Phantom? You’ll never be on his level,” Dash said and laughter broke out. Danny groaned. At least they didn’t know he was trans. He’d be beaten twice as much if they knew. The locker door closed and locked.  “Seriously Dash? I have to get to class!” He yelled through the metal.  “Whatever Fentina. No one cares! Oh hey, it’s fresh meat!” Dash went away from Danny’s locker. Danny had found out a way to make it so he could open his locker from the inside without it being outerwardly compromised. He jumped out. It was those kids from last night.  “Leave them alone Dash. They haven’t even been here for a day yet. The rules are that newbies get a probation period,” Danny crossed his arms.  “I don’t know Fentoenail. Would you like to take their beating?” Dash mocked him. Danny sighed. He’d have to do this.  “Any day,” 

Danny regretted everything. Dash had hit him twice as hard as normal and his locker trick wasn’t working. Everything hurt. He was going to miss Lancer’s class. At least his ghost sense wasn’t going off or something. Lancer wouldn’t miss him. Suddenly, his locker opened and he tumbled out. He yelped. “Are you okay?” The girl twin said.  “No worse than what I’m used to,” Danny brushed himself off.  “You didn’t have to do that,” The boy twin told Danny. “Yeah, I kinda did. The probation period is sacred. Dash knows that,” “Probation period?” The boy said. “A rule we made up last year. If Dash really wants to break it, I take the beating instead. Fenton gets to take the beating so the new kids don’t have to,”  “That’s not fair. You should report him,” “Nah, he threw like four perfect throws last night and is exempt from punishment,”  “Football?” The boy gave Danny a knowing look.  “Danielle- I mean Daniel Fenton to the main office,” The loud speaker said. “Oh come on! At least it was probably just a misread,” Danny was fuming. The beating plus being deadnamed was getting on his nerves. “We have to head there too,” The girl said. Danny shrugged and let them follow him.

Lancer called them all in at once. “Sup Lancer. Can I help you?” Danny leaned against the wall. “Mr Fenton. You and I both know that you need to show me more respect. W-what happened to you?” Lancer looked up from his papers. “Just a certain football star. Nothing I can’t handle. He broke the probation period,” “That’s a rule between students. I have no need to enforce it,” Lancer sighed. “I have no clue why you of all people were chosen for this, but you are too be Mr and Ms Pines guide around the school,” “Jazz not good enough for you? Had to pick the ‘slacker’ Fenton?” “Daniel, mind your tone. Jazz is our top student,”  “We all know I’m destined to fail in life. Can I get their timetables?” “Yes of course. Listen Danny, both you and I know you’re capable of better grades. I don’t understand why you don’t try,” Danny wasn’t in the mood for Lancer’s pep talks.  “I’ve got more important things to worry about,” Danny grabbed the papers and stalked off with the Pines Twins on his heels.  “Why didn’t he do anything about Dash?” the boy asked. “He has no reason to. Not like I’m about to ask,” Danny handed them their timetables. He’d seen that the girl was named Mabel and the boy Mason. “We’ll start with your classes Mason,”  “I prefer Dipper,” “I’m not calling you by a dumb nickname. Let’s go,” Danny growled.

Just as he was about to lead Mason to his first class, a royal pain in his ass showed up. “Daniel! I require your assistance, little badger,” “It’s bound to be another plan to get in my mom’s pants. Go away,”  “Now, don’t be like that. I’m the mayor after all. You should be honored,” “Plasmius, shut your goddamn mouth. I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck,” Danny said so that only Vlad could hear.  “Well, something’s got you in a tizzy. I’ll ask later. I should tell you though, it’s about Danielle,” “What did you do to Dani?” Fury. Wait, he had to get the kids to class.  “Nothing. It wasn’t me. You should ask your ghost hunter girlfriend,” Vlad grinned. Fucking Valerie.  “Come on kids. You’ve got to get to class,” Danny ignored Plasmius. Valerie was going to die. 

At lunch, he purposefully turned into Phantom and waited for Valerie on top of the school. She took no time at all. “What. Did. You. Do. To. Dani,” He glared at her.  “I didn’t do anything to her! You’re going down ghost!” “Am I really?” Danny was pissed. She wasn’t getting any mercy today. He teleported behind her.  “What the... HOW?” “Where is she?!” He growled. “What do you care? She’s always off on her own,”  “Does it look like I care Valerie?!”  “How did you know?!” “I know more than you seem to think. Tell me where Dani is. NOW!” He froze her feet. She looked terrified.  “What’s wrong with you!? Why do you care so much about her? Ghosts don’t have feelings,” Danny lost it at that point. The laughter was dark. Hollow. Horrible. Val’s terror was visible.  “Don’t have feelings? DON’T HAVE FEELINGS? FUCK YOU! I’M SO TIRED OF ALL THIS!” “Phantom, calm down,” Val was terrified. Danny wasn’t done. The rings were threatening to come down and expose him to her.  “So you admit this is real? Would you like to know how it feels to die Val? How it feels to live on the line between life and death? Wait, I can’t do that! You don’t have a deactivated portal in your basement that I can make you turn on while your inside. I don’t have a stupid jumpsuit with your dad’s face on it so I can take off the that sticker. You don’t have parents that threaten to rip you apart molecule by molecule for just exsisting! You don’t have to see a future where you become evil because you cheated on one test and your family all died! Can you even begin to comprehend what I go through? Ever been cloned? And forced to do something incredibly painful so that one clone can get fixed and watch another get lied too? And that’s just the brunt of it Valerie. Keep telling me how I don’t feel. How I’m nothing!” Danny screamed at ice engulfed their feet. Val’s eyes went wide.  “D-Danny?” She said quietly. “Congratulations! You aren’t as niave as the rest of Amity Park! How does it feel?” He’d snapped. “Calm down! I’ll tell you where Dani is!” She shrieked. That hollow laugh came back. But instead of an angry rant afterwards, he just sunk to his knees and screamed. It wasn’t a wail. It was a scream of pain. Of being done with the world.  “I can’t do this anymore,” He sobbed and the rings went down. All that was left now was a beaten, broken Danny Fenton.  “You should change back. I’ll take you to Dani,” Danny nodded and followed her.  “Sorry I broke down. I’m just sick of people telling me that I can’t feel. That all ghosts can’t feel. You don’t even bother talking to us, ya know?” “Ghosts lie,” “And so do people! I’ve talked to the ghosts. Listened to them. Heard their stories. I protect people, but I protect them too!” “How do you know those aren’t just acts?” “Cause they make sense. I’d have the same response if it was me. If my parents burned down the place I was in because I got caught being gay,” “I’m confused,” “Ember. I told her I wouldn’t tell anyone. But you need to know that they all have reasons for being the way they are. Skulker’s family was hunted, so now he hunts to prove his strength,” “Maybe we should talk to you more,”  “Maybe you should. No one asks to die,” “But your parents say that ghosts don’t remember their lives. They’re the leading experts,”  “That’s like putting a ten year old in a room of babies. They’re the expert by default in that situation, but an adult would be the expert the moment they walked in,” “Why don’t we know about that,” “Dying is traumatizing. Even half dying is traumatizing. It’s taboo to mention it unless you’re told. No one explains it until they’re ready. And talking about a life before that is almost wrong,” “How did you learn?” “Skulker told me during the Christmas Truce. Ember told me one day when she just wanted to be left alone, but I did too. I guess things end up working out in weird ways,” “The Christmas Truce?” “On Christmas Eve and Christmas, ghosts have a truce. No one is allowed to fight anyone that day. The Ghost Writer broke the truce and Walker got to haul him off in just means,” “We really know nothing about ghosts, do we?” “No, you don’t. They even have a party. I got invited last year. Skulker let me make the star! It took me weeks to get it right,” Danny smiled at the memory. He’d made a scale model of a blue giant that went through it’s life stages.  “So there’s a whole society?” “A government. Systems. Main rules. Taboos. Just cause we’re ghosts, doesn’t mean we don’t have a system,” “I’m sorry,” “What?” Danny nearly froze. “I’m sorry that I made so many assumptions. I never should’ve chased you or any ghost like that,” “Keep them out of Amity Park and send them back to the Zone. Most ghosts forget that living is dangerous, so they just rampage. I keep trying to talk sense into them, but they’re pretty stubborn,”  “What about the dog?” “Dog? You mean Cujo? I was trying to stop him from trashing Axiom. He was trying to get a toy. I’m sorry that recked your life Val,” “My life? Wrecked? When compared to you, my life is a dream. It’s not like I died,” “I guess you’ve got a point,”

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Thanks for reading. I just like fics where Val finds out, and this one seemed like an okay place to stick it. Dani is fine. I’ll fill you in on that next chapter, but I should get some sleep.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #trans!danny #trans!dipper #danielle (dani) phantom #valerie gray #mr lancer #red huntress #cujo #skulker #ember #ghost writer #christmas truce #gravity falls #dipper pines #mabel pines #I know Dipper's real name because I learned about the series through journal three #ocs

[spencersawkward]

switchblade faith // spencer reid - chapter 4

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

word count: 3.5k

masterlist

there's a place between the bank of a river and the actual water where the soil is soft. it's more like silt, leftover grains of earth not yet swept away. they're extremely delicate, made up of minerals and rock.

I love the earth. I love feeling it under my feet and the way it gives into my fingertips when they push through the surface. I love when I can sense the twisted roots of every plant. they reach for moisture, thin tendrils. there's something very pure about all of it.

which is why seeing the faceless corpse of a woman splayed out on the banks causes my stomach to wrench.

I guess it isn't the only reason, but it certainly doesn't help.

"the edges of these cuts are smooth, not torn," Rossi straightens up from his spot by her body. I don't know how he can get so close. when he waits for me to say something, my lips purse.

"so he must have used a sharp instrument to remove her face." I cross my arms over my chest. the water in her lungs makes me wonder how much pain she was in, how much it hurts to drown. unimaginable.

the slightly blue undertones to her skin imprint themselves in my mind, and my only thought is that I'm glad her eyes aren't open; I get nauseous when they are. instead of dwelling on the gaunt nature of her body, I speak to one of the crime scene experts about the time of death. his voice is barely audible over the rush of water against stones.

we spend about half an hour exploring the site, although something about this place in particular puts me off. I keep edging towards the sides of the river.

"we should meet Aaron back at the station. ready to go, kiddo?" Rossi catches my attention, beginning to make the short hike up the incline. he walks carefully to avoid sullying what I'm sure are expensive shoes, his face contorted with mild disgust. the nickname makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"sure." I turn to scramble behind him, my gaze catching on the scene. jewel-toned leaves heavy with rain, tipping to spill weighted drops in a slow, drowsy fall. and it's now filled with police officers and crime scene experts hauling this poor woman's body to somewhere not so public.

what a world.

we get in the car and Rossi turns the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. I sit with my hands folded neatly in my lap; I'm rigid, though grateful, when working with Rossi. it's something I still need to get used to.

"you okay, there?" he asks as we turn out into the street. my eyes turn away from the locust swarm of cop cars that are parked by the crime scene and I take a deep breath.

"yes, why?"

"you're not usually this quiet."

"really?" I deflect. I've never been particularly chatty at times like this. my mind usually gets sucked into what I'm seeing, memorizing every detail against my will for replay later that night.

"I'm a profiler, too, Clea. and a much more seasoned one than you," he glances my way with raised eyebrows. his features are softer than the photos I've seen before this. even the lecture I attended painted him in a different light. I forget how old he is. but his eyes return to the road while he sighs. "I know when something is wrong."

"nothing in particular," I shift in my seat a little. although I'm sure he gives great advice, I'm not ready to share with anyone the dreams that I've been having. "just still getting settled in, I think."

he must notice that I'm lying; I've never been quite good at it, even in front of non-profilers. but Rossi senses the discomfort that I'm trying to hide and nods.

"well, if it helps, I'm going to be having a wine tasting at my mansion once we get back to Quantico. the whole team is invited."

my words get knotted up in my throat as I think on this. "wine tasting?"

"yes. I've got plenty to spare." there's a slight archness to his tone. I smile.

"to be honest, I really don't think I've got the skill set for that," my limbs relax a little. "my experience is pretty limited."

"and you think the others know a lot?" he waves his hand dismissively. we both laugh.

"okay, then." I nod. "thanks, Rossi."

"Prego!" the sudden Italian interjection makes me roll my eyes playfully.

...

our case doesn't take nearly as much time as I expected. with the unsub's narcissism and general lack of intelligence, we catch him rather quickly and are home before the end of the week. there's a collective gratitude for this fact on the plane ride home which takes the form of lively card games and plenty of friendly trash-talking. we also enthusiastically discuss getting together in the evening.

the wine-tasting event that has been so praised by the team turns out to really be just an excuse for everyone to get drunk while draining Rossi's liquor supply. I've had about three different types of alcohol and, beyond the color, I have no idea what kind.

Penelope is pouring more chardonnay in her glass when she offers some to me. I nod, watch the lovely liquid fill up.

"I'd like to make a toast." Rossi announces, much to the feigned chagrin of Prentiss and Hotch. they roll their eyes while the Italian raises a scotch glass into the air. we're in the kitchen, standing around the counter while bantering about our personal lives and past cases.

"keep it short, Dave. I have to head out, soon." Hotch reminds. Rossi gives him a look, but then turns his eyes to me with a paternal affection.

"to Clea," he says, the rest of the team breaking into smiles. "and her hopefully very long career on the team-- if she can stand us."

there's a chuckle that rolls through the group, but then we all clink glasses. even Reid, who has been downing sparkling cider at an alarming rate, taps his flute against mine. I smile at him, at everyone who is now flooding me with questions. I get a happy, bubbly feeling while I drink. Penelope drops her head on my shoulder and mumbles something that I can't quite understand. JJ talks to Spencer about something, his eyes drifting between the contents of his cup and the clock on the wall. he's distracted by something.

"you okay there?" Emily leans against the counter next to me. she's following my line of sight until it lands on JJ and the boy genius. I nod.

"yeah. just thinking."

"about?"

"how it would feel to be this rich." I send her a smirk. she snorts.

"I would love to know."

"how often do you guys have these things?" I peer around at the guests. everyone seems to be accustomed to the behemoth household that Rossi keeps, except for me. and all of it is so clean, too.

"here? only a few times a year. Rossi doesn't like having people over." she says the last part with a laugh, nursing her drink. I cross my arms.

"fair enough."

"I think people are gonna be heading home, soon, though." she checks her watch. I remember how almost everyone here is bound somehow to someone else, a family or significant other or someone who misses them. I'm not tired at all.

"what about you?"

"I have date night plans with Sergio." she grins.

"I didn't know you have a boyfriend." I raise my eyebrows at this knowledge. Emily seems like the type of person to play the field; her settling down with one person is surprising by itself.

"Sergio is my cat," she tells me. "much more cleanly."

"even better." I laugh. we discuss the merits of owning a pet over dating people until JJ decides that she needs to get back to her family. Hotch is heading out, too, and the steady departure stream of guests begins to form. it's not very late and I'd much rather do something else than go home and watch TV, so I survey the room.

"hey, Reid." I find myself standing beside him while he puts on his coat. it's got elbow patches and there's a scarf that he wraps around his neck to accompany it. he peeks at me curiously.

"yes?"

"would you wanna get a coffee or something?" I grab my jacket off the hanger. before he can say no and shy away from my offer, I explain. "I'm just not in the mood to get home right now."

"uh," his eyes dart down to his shoes, then back up at me. "sure. yeah, that would be... fun."

"awesome." I beam. ever since we hung out in that museum in Boston, I've been thinking about how to get to Spencer. maybe it's just because he's been the slowest to warm up to me, but I'm getting more and more curious about him. that moment when he did something playful-- there has to be more of that. and we obviously have some things in common. it might be nice to have a friend like that, someone with whom I can go to art exhibits.

we all thank Rossi for a lovely evening and I'm about to ask if Spencer wants to Uber somewhere when he starts walking purposefully toward a gorgeous yellow car. it's old-- like, 1950's refurbished, old-- and well cared for.

"whoa." I say as he opens the passenger side door for me in a surprisingly courteous move. I slide inside and breathe in the delicious scent of leather and something crisp and sharp. I wait until he gets in on the other side to ask my questions. "is this yours?"

"yes, actually. I got it about a year ago and I don't drive it very often." he runs slender fingers over the wheel, touching it with a quiet admiration. I turn to him in the dark, the glow from his own headlights casting pale shadows over his face as he starts the thing up. it rumbles to life in a charming, old-timey way.

the sounds of the engine defuse the silence between us as we drive into the city. Spencer almost forgets I'm there, the muscles in his wrists and arms relaxing as he handles the steering wheel. I, on the other hand, am painfully aware of his presence.

every time we make a turn, every time his lips part, I start to think he's going to say something. but he never does, and there appears to be no inclination whatsoever. I wonder if I should ask him some random question to get him rambling, but the nervous energy he usually radiates has softened to something more muted.

it's entertaining when he speaks. I think it's also a guard against vulnerability; at least, that's why I speak so much when I'm anxious. I take his silence as a compliment.

finally, he manages to maneuver his way into a parking spot. I glance around the street, not recognizing the place.

"what is this?" I ask curiously. his hand wraps around the stick shift and parks, turns off the vehicle.

"I come here on the weekends." he glances briefly at me before climbing out of the car. I get out and watch him come around to my side. he's only wearing a cardigan over his button-up, which looks surprisingly cozy.

"so, what kind do you usually get?" I ask. we start to walk down the sidewalk, passing streetlamps and small individual trees that are just beginning to go barren with autumn. the restaurants around here are still full of people.

"coffee? black, usually."

"with five or six sugars." I recall, and he turns to me. there's a dimple in his cheek that tells me he's amused by my memory.

"what about you?"

"I like an iced caramel macchiato, or just a latte." I muse. he pulls open the door to a cute corner place with a steaming mug on the logo. it must be exclusive to the neighborhood.

inside, bookshelves are crammed with used titles and people getting a late-night caffeine fix. most of them are glued to laptop screens or flipping through books. it smells warm and delicious.

"do you know what you want?" he asks, drawing me from my observations. I realize that I've been looking everywhere but at the actual menu. it's drawn in curvy chalk.

"yes." I step forward and the barista behind the register smiles at me. I order my favorite drink and am about to ask my co-worker what he wants, but Spencer cuts me off by ordering and then paying for me. I raise my eyebrows as he hands over the crumpled dollar bills, pleasantly surprised.

when we go to wait for our drinks, he shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn't say anything.

"that's not fair." I frown.

"what's not fair?" his voice is distracted.

"I invited you-- I should have paid for both of us."

"it's okay." he gives me a tight-lipped smile. I find myself taking a step close and poking his arm.

"you're so polite."

"thank you." he doesn't know what to do with this information and it partly amuses me.

"so, I know you're from Nevada, but that's pretty much all of my Spencer Reid knowledge." I oh-so-gracefully segue into the topic. our coffees show up on the counter and we grab them before finding an empty table towards the back of the shop. it's in both of our first instincts to seek out the corner spots.

"well, I--" he starts, but then I remember something else.

"and I'm fully aware of your IQ and plethora of degrees, so don't give me that trivia information." I tease. he's looking down at the lid of his coffee. his eyelids are the color of something slightly bruised, and he lets out a nervous laugh.

"what else is there to know?"

"everything." I grin, my elbows resting on the tabletop. it's a small surface, so much so that even leaning forward a little bit gives off an air of intimacy that makes me hesitant. "we're spending a lot of time together, so you might as well tell me about you."

"I'm really not very interesting." it's an easy way to dodge questions and I don't want to push him too hard or scare him away. I just want to be friends, and that can be kind of hard when I don't know the first thing about him.

"I'll start then, if you'd like." I propose with a smirk. he nods and swallows, the Adam's apple in his throat bobbing.

"well, I was born in Atlanta, but I grew up in Montana. my family still lives there, though. I'm a big fan of the Real Housewives of Atlanta, I'm a scorpio sun, and I hate mushrooms." I fight a smile as I list random facts about myself in an attempt to get him to relax. I'm not hoping for him to divulge his biggest life traumas; there's no pressure.

it works. his high cheekbones poke out a little as he hides a smile behind his drink. my eyebrow quirks at his reaction.

"okay, now you have to go!" I prod. he puts his coffee down, though he fidgets with the sleeve on the cup.

"I guess I'm technically a Scorpio, too." he concedes.

"what? no." I almost laugh at the prospect. at first take, he doesn't really align.

"yes."

"what's your moon sign?" I narrow my eyes.

"I'm not sure, actually." this seems to frustrate him almost as much as it surprises me.

"you'll need to find that out if you want to understand your chart better." I shrug, leaning back in my seat. he fixes his gaze on my face as he tries to read the seriousness of my words. I'm only partly joking.

"what's your problem with mushrooms?" he asks instead, prompting my eyes to widen.

"don't get me started!" this time, I lean my elbows on the table. "I just don't like the thought of eating a fungus. and the texture--"

"what about milk, though?" he asks suddenly. I pause, mouth still open as I think on this.

"what about it?"

"is it weird to you that people drink cow milk in the same way that it's weird to eat fungi?"

"I suppose not." my brows draw together.

"lots of things humans do are 'weird'." he puts the word in air-quotes and it brings a smile to my lips.

"you're opinionated, aren't you?" I tilt my head a bit. this side of Spencer is new to me.

"mushrooms are rich in various nutrients and have been consistently used across time and cultures for medicinal purposes-- not to mention the burgeoning therapy treatments now in development with micro-dosing psilocybin." he replies. I giggle.

"big on shrooms?"

"what? no, I--" he gets a little flustered, shifting his sitting position and getting a rosy tint to his cheeks.

"I'm just joking, Reid." I set my palm flat against the table, something of a truce between us. he runs a hand through his hair. I move on. "I think the psilocybin research is actually really fascinating."

"isn't it?" Spencer's features appear somewhat ghostly under the café lights. he's got a sort of unusual face, although that isn't a bad thing at all. it's interesting.

he begins to talk about depression treatments that are being developed from shrooms, gesticulating wildly. his watch glints on his sleeve as he speaks. I notice the pretty arch of his eyebrows and the way he speaks through a grin. his voice has got a soothing quality to it, each word an individually selected puzzle piece. it's clear, low, and a bit filled with a childlike passion.

I rest my chin on my palm as he rambles, occasionally drinking my coffee and adding in my own thoughts. I think that Spencer could go for days if I let him, that he could talk enough to fill the pages of those books on the wall.

I'm not sure how long we sit in the café-- it could be an hour or three. we jump from medicine to philosophy to his obsession with Medieval literature. this, being something I know almost nothing about, intrigues me.

"my mom was actually a professor of it, so she read a lot of those books to me as a kid." he tells me, not even stumbling over the word was. either she died when he was young or she isn't dead at all-- there is no loss in the weight of this fact. I don't ask about it, but I pocket the piece away for later.

"explains the chivalry." I joke. he frowns.

"sorry?"

"your manners."

"oh," he blushes slightly. "she's always romanticized it, I think."

the change in tense tells me she must not have passed. I run my fingertip over the rim of my drink.

"does she live back in Vegas?" I hope it isn't too invasive.

"yeah, she does," his eyes flit between the tabletop and my face. "she, um, lives in a sanitarium."

his willingness to confide this almost takes me visibly aback. he seemed so hesitant to share personal details earlier this evening; something in my chest warms.

"oh," my voice is thick in my throat. I don't know what to say. "I'm sorry."

"it's fine." it's not, but I get not wanting to dive into it.

my intentions really weren't to prod at something that obviously is close to his heart, so I sit a bit straighter in my seat and look around the shop. we're the last people here, the only other sounds from the two baristas and the whir of machinery.

"are you-- do you wanna head out?" I ask. part of me feels no desire to leave. we probably should. it's getting late and I never know how much sleep I'm going to get. the hours for this job aren't steady by any definition of the word.

"sure."

when my head turns back from peering around the café, he's staring at me. I smile, stand up and push my chair in. he follows, both of us throwing our empty cups away before heading out.

it's much colder. a slight shudder runs through my body as we step into the night. involuntary, but Spencer falters a moment on the pavement.

"uh," he clumsily shrugs off his cardigan. "sorry." hands the thing to me.

my cheeks flush in surprise. his awkwardness is contagious, apparently.

nevertheless, I wrap the thing around my shoulders and feel a little better. it's warm. we keep walking in silence back to the car, my head now filling with thoughts that I can't quite sift through.

he's a very nice boy. I start to feel grateful that my craving for caffeine has given me the opportunity to get to know him better. when I glance at him for a second, his head ducking beneath a low-hanging branch of one of the sidewalk trees, he catches me and offers a ghost of a smile.

baby spencer is such a sub I literally can't--

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #dr. reid #criminal minds #mgg #fanfic #fanfiction #wattpad #friends to lovers #BAU #slow burn

[surrerafics]

The narrative….

Andy and Robert constantly argue about unresolved issues within their marriage because they don’t practice communication. Their pride and egos get in the way of that. They’re both stubborn, hardworking and strong-minded first responders. They often replace communication for sex for the tension rising in their marriage which has made matters worse. Andy has a lot of decisions to make concerning her marriage and a new unexpected surprise that has popped up to make matters even more complicated than they already were. Now that Andy is furious with her husband about causing Maya to lose her job she’s not so sure she really knows her husband at all. Decisions! Decisions!

ROBERT AND ANDY AT HOME IN BED -DAY

Andy- okayyy it’s not Carinas French toast but it’s the only thing I know how to make for breakfast.

Robert- It looks amazingggg. (Kissing Andy) then pulls her in for more.

Andy- Maya asked me to step in for her for the week.

Robert- step in?

Andy- As acting captain.

Robert- Doesn’t the department usually send a sub for bereavement leave?

Andy- well, due to COVID and stuff they said that one of the lieutenants could do it so she asked me!

(Robert becomes silent) and you’ve gone all quiet.

Robert- No, no, no(kisses Andy) it’s good. I’m happy for you!

Andy- yeah?!

Robert- Yes! You were made for this!

Andy- plus, it couldn’t hurt to be sleeping with the boss right?!

Robert-No special treatment just like when I was your captain.

Andy- well maybe a little special treatment! (Puts hand under the covers playing with his….em hem!)

(Andy’s POV)

Station 19- Night

Locker Room

Robert comes in while Andy is changing

Robert- Andy I have more experience than you. Decades more. It’s just.. Andy interrupts Robert.

Andy- Are you trying to help yourself here?

Robert- Can I finish? I have years under my belt. Okay. And I’m not using them on the job so I guess I thought I could use them to help you. Help you didn’t ask for I get it. *sighing* come on. I just need you to understand where I’m coming from.

Andy- look, I get that you hate being a probie. I hate you being a probie.

Robert- hey, hey. We found a common ground. Let’s just end this another way.

Andy- No, Robert we need to talk about this.

Robert: You’re only Captain for another shift and then Bishop comes back. Then this won’t be a problem anymore.

Andy: yeah, except I’ll still be your lieutenant and hopefully soon, one day after that a captain for real.

Robert: Not hopefully. you will.

Andy: Well, then this is a problem we need to solve.

Robert: well, is it a problem we need to solve tonight?

Andy: I guess not.

Robert gets up to finish taking out the trash and leaves the locker room as Andy looks complexed.

(Andy and Roberts POV)

The SULLIVAN’s Home - Bedroom- NIGHT

Later that night after work.

Andy tries to make an attempt to have the same conversation about him undermining her authority at work in the locker room.

Andy: Baby, *sighing* why do you have an issue with titles and your wife ranking higher than you?

Robert: babe, I thought we weren’t gonna try and solve this problem tonight?

Andy: I know but…. (Robert interrupts Andy by grabbing her and begins kissing her passionately and deep)

He begins to undress her while still kissing her passionately and seductively. Andy falls weak to her husbands advances and gives in. They move over to their bed and they begin to become intimate throughout the night.

A Few Weeks LATER….

Station 19- Day

Andy is in the beanery scoffing down sugary cereal with her hands when suddenly she was hit with a sudden feeling of nausea and started for the ladies room, while met with Travis on his way to the beanery.

Travis to Andy as they run into each other asks Andy if she’s okay.

Travis- oops! Sorry Herrera. Hey, you feeling okay?

Andy- it’s okay. Uumm, yeah! Just got to run to the ladies locker room for something.

Travis looks confused.

Ben and Robert are in the turnout room having a conversation while organizing gear and equipment.

Robert- You know being demoted was no ones fault but my own, but this is hard being a probie. I feel as though all my hard working years as a firefighter has gone to waste. I feel useless now.

Ben- Ey, look man I know it isn’t easy and hearing that you can work your way up seems like dead hope to you, but you’re not useless and despite what you might be feeling you are a great asset to,19. I mean you did help run it before.

Robert- You know I find myself reminiscing about my days back in Montana and how I miss the weather and my days there as Captain. You know I moved there after my wife Claire died.

Ben- Sounds like you’re missing Montana a lot. You thinking of going back there? Maybe a little getaway for you and the Mrs?

Robert- Nah, man haven’t given it much thought,to return there anytime soon but it has crossed my mind a time or two.

The fire alarm sounds. People stuck inside a burning house. Robert, Ben and the team rush to the location. Upon arriving Captain Bishop orders the team to get in for search and rescue inside the burning house. Everyone has been safely rescued except a neighbor realizes and informs Captain Bishop that a little boy is missing and that he could still be stuck inside. The team finds him with 3rd degree burns inside of a closet. Upon bringing him out the commander in chief orders Captain Bishop to wait for an aid truck to come and transport the little boy to Greys-Sloan Hospital, but Bishop goes against the Chiefs orders and orders her team to put him on the fire truck to the hospital instead. Now, Bishops job could be in jeopardy.

Andy and Sullivan were called into the chief commissioner’s office. After speaking with them he asked Sullivan to stay as Herrera walked out. Herrera stood by the door to listen in on the conversation.

Chief- Sullivan. Hold on a minute.(Herrera walks out)Have a seat. You appointed Bishop? What’s your take?

Sullivan- She’s a good captain sir. I basically raised her up myself.

Chief- But she’s gotten cocky. I’ve been hearing things. Taking her team to protests. Defying cops on the scene.

Sullivan-Well, those things are separate conversations…

Chief- But there both indicative of Bishop acting outside the balance of the Seattle Fire department. Ummm…. Your record…

Robert- yea Sir, I know I made mistakes. But I’m clean , sober, strong

Chief- we can’t afford anymore bad press for our first responders

Robert- No, we can’t. This team stood behind me when my job was on the line. They have my back and I have theirs. I can get this house in order sir. You do not want these fire fighters talking to the press saying that FD values protocol over their kids lives. You need someone who can reunite them and that someone is me. Plus with me you get a Battalion chief for the price of a Captain.

Andy hears what Sullivan says outside the door and walks away enraged.

The SULLIVAN’s home- Day

Maya’s Wedding Day

Andy walks into hers and Roberts bedroom and throws the covers on their bed after sleeping on the couch.

Robert- You really didn’t have to sleep on the couch you know.

Andy-The only reason I slept here and not at Maya’s is because it’s her wedding day and I don’t want her to know what you did. Not today.

Robert- What I did was save your job Andy!

Andy- This is not a discussion! This is not a discussion! Because today I am a maiden of honor and if we have a discussion I will say some things that are very very not maiden like or honorable!

Robert- This is absurd.

Andy- You don’t get to tell me what’s absurd. (Walks away …. Be there by 5!) slams door!

Two weeks later….

Andy is talking to Dean in the locker room area.

Dean- what’s up , kiddo? You okay? You look …

Andy- I know. I don’t look my best these days. I don’t feel like myself. I’m questioning everything including my marriage and if marrying Robert was such a great idea. I mean sure I married the man I love but I also married the man I love for the sake of my Dad having the opportunity to walk his only daughter down the aisle and give her away before his cancer took control which, in turn he didn’t die of but died saving his family. But after what ROBERT did… I’m, I’m just not… I don’t know what I’m trying to say.

(Robert overhears their conversation outside of the lockers.)

Dean-I’m probably not the best person to talk about this too. I’m not an expert or anything but it appears you two have issues communicating. My only advice is maybe seek therapy and talk it out. Maybe alone , then with Sullivan. My advice? Contact Dr. Diane Lewis and schedule a session with her. We all know she’s really good. I wish you both the best.

Andy- Maybe you’re right. I’ll sleep on it.

After Dean leaves and Robert slipped away so that Dean and Andy wouldn’t know what he had just heard between them. Robert looks really down and depressed because he has no one and the entire team, including his wife aren’t really talking to him.

A SUDDEN REVELATION

Suddenly Andy holds her stomach and runs off to the ladies locker room and pukes in the toilet. Afterwards, she brushes her teeth and swishes with mouthwash to get the nasty taste out of her mouth over the sink. Andy looks at herself and whispers under her breath, “Oh, no! I can’t be! Andy suddenly realized with everything that had been going on in her life from her family secrets, the loss of her dad and best friend to the underlying unresolved issues in her marriage that a few times she forgot to take her birth control pills. There have been plenty of times Andy and Robert were intimate without using any form of protection. Andy looks at her phone to check her app that keeps track of her monthly cycles and realized she was already a few weeks late! Andy hurries out to the nearest pharmacy to purchase a pregnancy test and heads back to the station.

POSITIVE RESULTS!

After taking two separate tests Andy discovers her worst fear of being pregnant! She is anything but thrilled about it as she never really saw herself being a mother or a wife of that matter. Also, with her marriage on the rocks she’s just not sure what her next steps are.

Takes phone out to schedule an appointment with Dr. Diane Lewis.

ANDY’S THERAPY SESSION WITH DR. DIANE LEWIS.

Dr Diane’s Lewis’s office- DAY

Dr. Diane- Welcome Andy.

Andy- HI. thank you for clearing your schedule to see me today.

Dr. Diane- Well, you seemed a bit distraught and troubled when I listened back to your voicemail. You seemed desperate. So, what seems to be your problem?

Andy- (blurts out) I’m not so sure marrying my husband was such a great idea!

Dr. Diane.- Why do you say that? It’s okay. You can say it. It’s strictly confidential.

Andy- I won’t go into details. Ever since Robert was demoted he hasn’t been himself. He thinks I’m ashamed of him because he was demoted to a probie. We don’t communicate. We substitute conversation for good sex to ease the tension of our unresolved issues. He did something to cause someone close to me lose her position just so he can climb back up to battalion chief as if that title defines him.. it’s … DR DIANE INTERRUPTS ANDY….

Dr. Diane- for someone who didn’t want to say too much you just said a mouthful.

Andy- maybe you were right. Maybe I’m with my husband cause he’s like a father figure or someone who could fill my fathers shoes as Battalion chief.

Dr. Diane- Do you love him? Are you in love with your husband?

Andy- I do love my husband and in love but as of late I’m questioning everything. All we do is work, argue and have good sex. That’s a recipe for a disastrous marriage. And, and I’m afraid I won’t be a good mom or end up just like my mother who, had postpartum depression, never wanted to be a mother or married. She only wanted to fight fires. (Andy touches her stomach)

Dr Diane- you’re afraid you won’t be a good mom? Are you expecting?

Andy- (hesitantly) yes. I just found out two days ago.

Dr. Diane- And let me guess. You’re not thrilled about it? Have you told your husband?

Andy- Not exactly. I haven’t told him yet. I realized when I found out my mother was alive and learning why she abandoned me and my father I realized I’m just like her. I was once proposed to by jack before meeting Robert and I remember distinctly telling him I didn’t want to be married or have a family. That I didn’t want something separate because the firehouse was my family and fighting fires and making captain was all that mattered to me. It’s like I’m mirroring my mothers life reincarnated. I never wanted any of this. Yet I’m afraid for him because I’m all my husband has.

Dr DIANE- Let me ask you this. Do you want to save your marriage or get out? Is it worth fighting for? How badly do you want this marriage?

Andy- I love my husband. There isn’t a doubt. I only regret how rushed our marriage was as we really didn’t get to do the dating phase to learn how to deal with each other’s past. I honestly wish we could have a do-over but right now I don’t have the energy to even speak with him. I’m pretty stubborn.

Dr. Diane- seems you’re carrying the burdens of your mother and the burdens of your husband. You’re worried about abandoning your baby and becoming like your mother. And you’re afraid of what possibly leaving your marriage behind due to what it may do to him. Andy, that is a quite a heavy load for one person to carry. I think it’s time you had another meeting with your mom and express these concerns to her so that you may get closure and more clarity on what it is you need to do concerning your life’s decisions.

Later as Andy leaves Dr. Diane’s office she heads back to the Station as she recognizes a familiar face…. Her Mother’s Elena. Andy looks taken a back.

Elena- Hello Mi hija .

Andy- What, what are you doing here? It’s really weird as I was thinking of calling you anyway.

Elena- you were? I, I just wanted to see how you were.

Andy- actually, not good. We need to talk. Let’s take a walk.

Scene intercuts to Robert packing a bag and highlights on his phone that he’s just purchased a ticket to Montana.

Andy and her mom Elena are sitting on a park bench discussing some very pressing matters that’s concerning Andy and the decisions she needs to make about her marriage and the growing little being inside of her.

Elena- what’s wrong Andrea?

Andy- I’m pregnant. Just found out a couple of days ago, my marriage is in shambles and my husband doesn’t know I’m pregnant yet.

Elena- you should be estactic!

Andy- yeah but I’m not.

Elena-why, why mija?

Andy- Because I’m just like you!! I never wanted to be married or become a mother! I guess the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree after all!

Elena- Then why did you marry him, Andy? Do you even love him?

Andy- Robert asked me to be his wife because he loves me and is in love with me, but we knew my Dad didn’t have long before his cancer would take its course on him so Robert and I got married really fast so that he could walk me down the aisle as one last memory of me and my Dad giving me away to Robert. And….yes I love him but I’m afraid I’m mirroring your life with my dad, who would suffer from mental illness, postpartum depression and won’t be able to bond with our child and leave them. What if I’m like you in that aspect? What if I inherited those same traits? but lately all we do is argue and have sex. We don’t communicate. We bump heads a lot. And his recent actions have me questioning if we should even remain married.

Elena- Andrea, considering the mistakes I’ve made what I’m about to say may not carry much weight to you but, from what your aunt Theresa has said about your husband he’s a really loving, caring and kind man and that he takes good care of you. If this is true, don’t make a permanent decision on temporary emotions or doubts. I know I don’t deserve to be in your life and I have no one to blame but myself, but you don’t have to be like me. You are not me. You have a loving heart and you need your husband. You need each other. And that baby you two made out of love need their parents just as much. I know I never said I was sorry but I am sorry nena for my selfish acts and leaving my child. You may not believe me but there were times of regret. Think this through. Talk to your husband. You don’t want to realize you made the wrong decisions and carry around regrets. It will haunt you Nena. It’s haunted me.

THE NARRATIVE

Andy thinks long and hard about what her mother shared with her and decides after their talk to pick up her phone and call her husband but he doesn’t answer and it goes straight to voicemail. Andy leaves a voicemail, then texts him so that he could get back to her sooner rather than later. Andy hasn’t been staying at home with Robert due to the marital issues they’ve been dealing with and has been couch hopping at Maya’s and at Deans. Meanwhile, Sullivan is on a plane to Montana to get away and clear his head. He feels alone at Station 19 and after hearing his wife’s thoughts and concerns about if marrying him was a mistake it broke his heart as he is afraid of losing the only good thing he has in his life and that’s his wife Andy. He couldn’t bare the thought of hearing his wife say to him that she wants a divorce. So, he packed up a bag and headed to Montana. Robert has no one in his life, no other family members that he’s close to or aware of. His only family is his wife. It’s two days later and Robert is on a plane and Any realizes her husband hasn’t returned any of her calls or messages and hurries on to the Station to see if he was there or to ask if anyone else has seen him. This was hers and Roberts day off so she couldn’t imagine why he wasn’t answering his phone. Andy runs into Vic and Travis and asks if they had seen her husband or if he had been by the station. They haven’t seen or heard from him. Vic asks Andy if everything is okay because she looked a bit flushed and frantic. Well, it’s been over 12 hours since I last contacted him and he hasn’t replied to any of my messages. Ben walks into the lobby where Andy, Vic and Travis are and asks what’s going on? Vic tells him how Andy is looking for Robert because he isn’t answering any of her messages and it’s been well over twelve hours since she contacted him with no avail. Andy asks Ben if he’s seen or heard from him and if he thought he’d have any idea where he would be or any strange behaviors with him. Ben tells Andy they had a brief conversation a few days ago and he seemed down in the dumps. Says he’s found himself reminiscing of his old life back in Montana back when he was Captain there. I asked him if he thought of taking the Mrs. well, you there for a little getaway and he said he hadn’t given that part much thought. Andy listens and softly says to the team that she had to go home and check into something and to please let her know anything if they hear anything from Robert.

ANDY DRIVES UP TO THEIR HOME.

Andy arrives at their home and quickly runs upstairs to their bedroom seeking Robert but he isn’t there and in their bedroom she finds his drawers open and begin looking though his old things to see if she can find any clues to where he could be. She soon finds old photos of him as a captain in MONTANA and spotted this photo of and a beautiful stow away cabin he would often resort to during get always or vacations Andy decided it was time for her to take a road trip to Montana to find her husband. In the back of her mind she’s thinking he may relapse because of everything that has transpired in their marriage and at work. Andy calls the station to tell them she’s gonna have to take off for a few more days to take care of a pressing matter and to please cover for her two two shifts. Andy packs a bag, hops in her car and heads for Montana. Before driving off, Andy takes the baby sonograms and places them in her cars glove compartment, takes a deep breath and starts for the road. The drive from Seattle to Montana is about a 10-12 hour drive. Andrea has been driving now for the past 5 hours straight. She’s tired and sleepy so she stops at a nice hotel for a nights stay and will pick up tomorrow and finish her trip to Montana. She grabs the sonogram from her gloves company, stares at it and takes it inside with her as she checks in to a room. She calls Robert one last time still with no avail of reaching him. She sent him another text and no reply still. So Andy settles in, takes a shower and climbs into bed with her baby sonogram on the night stand propped up next to her, while placing her hands on her now growing belly. Still in shock and hasn’t processed the reality that’s she’s pregnant. Andy is watching the tv but soon finds the tv is watching her as she soon dozed off.

THE NARRATIVE….

(Andy’s POV)

Andy is back on the road the next day headed for Montana and as she’s driving her mind wonders back to when she found out she was pregnant a few days ago and how Carina did a sonogram on her to see how the baby is and how far along she was. The baby’s heartbeat is fast and healthy. Andy begin to become emotional of the thought that a little being was growing inside of her. She had fears and all kinds of concerns because this pregnancy wasn’t planned and considering she’s never really wanted to become a mother just like her mom. Carina tells Andy she is about 6 in a half weeks along which shocked Andy but quickly explained her increasing appetite the past several weeks. Carina congrats her and Sullivan on their new addition and tells Andy to come back in six weeks for another check up on her and the baby. Andy comes back into her thoughts and stares at the sonogram in her right hand while the other hand is on the steering wheel. Andy has been driving a few hours now and should reach the address of the cabin she suspects her husband is staying at in about another hour and stops for gas and a nearby gas station and grabs a sandwich inside the store and a drink to carry her over till she arrives at the cabin. To keep from falling asleep Andy turns the radio up to keep her alert. Meanwhile, intercut to Robert settling in and laying up in his bed staring at pictures of him and Andy in happier times. He looks so lonely and broken and feels he no longer has anyone. Not even his wife whom he is so in love with. He puts the pictures down and breaks his thoughts of his wife to take a shower. He takes a nice long hot shower to release some stress and just stands under the shower allowing the water to fall off his head down his back. Meanwhile, Andy finally arrives at the cabin and quickly glances at the picture of the cabin she found in her husbands things back home in Seattle. Andy pauses for a moment before getting out of her car to approach the door, meanwhile, Robert is stepping out of the shower, drying off and wrapping his towel around his waist. Robert walks into the bedroom and suddenly hears a knock on the door. He grabs a shirt to throw on and sweats. He has no clue who it could be because no one would know him there except the owner who knew Sullivan back when he worked as captain back in the day in Montana. Robert creeps to the door to see who it is but it’s too dark too tell, so he cautiously opens the door to find a petite, fair-skinned and soft-spoken little lady standing before him, a little lady he calls his wife. It’s Andrea Herrera Sullivan. Robert has the the biggest , most shocking expression on his face to find his wife standing before him. Andy says hi to her husband and asks can she come in and he steps aside to let her in. Robert asks Andy what was she doing there and most importantly how did she find him?

Robert: Babe, what are you doing here? How did you find me?

Andy- That isn’t important right now. We need to talk.

Robert- I can’t live without you and if you came here to tell me you want a divorce I really can’t handle that right now.

Andy- What? A divorce? What makes you say that?

Robert- Andy, I overheard you talking with Dean in the lockers a few days ago. You’re doubting your decision to marry me. I panicked and took off. I have no one else. Everyone hates me and I just feel, that maybe I just don’t belong there anymore. I needed to come back to the one place I use to escape to when I was here and missing Claire —-this cabin.

(Andy grabs Roberts face and kisses him to assure him that everything is gonna be okay.)

Andy- baby, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when you tried to explain to me about Maya’s position. I soon learned it wasn’t what I thought and that there were other parts of the conversation you had with the chief commissioner I missed because when I heard you offer up to be battalion chief at the expense of Maya being relieved of her duties I instantly assumed the worse and questioned if this marriage was a mistake. I had a therapy session with Dr. Diane Lewis and my mom and they made me realize some things. That I shouldn’t make a permanent decision on temporary emotions or misunderstandings. I had time to think about it and I realized I had a lot of thinking to do and decisions to make and I knew I couldn’t make those decisions without my husband and the father of my child. Robert’s expression upon hearing the news was priceless. He asked, Are you….? Andy replies, yes! Robert is in shock! Are you serious? He asked. I’m gonna be a father?! Andy says yes! How far along are you? I’m about six in a half weeks along. (Shows Robert the sonogram)Robert exclaims, “this explains your sudden increase in appetite and your appetite for more sex! He picks Andy up and swings her around in excitement and they kiss! He asks Andy, “Does this mean we’re not getting a divorce?” Andy replies, “No, but if we want our marriage to strive and survive I suggest we continue having counseling and learning how to communicate and respect each other at home and in the work place and now as parents. I know having tough conversations are hard but we must if we want this marriage to have a fighting chance. Do you agree on this that our marriage does need work and to seek counseling? Robert, I’ll do anything to keep from losing my wife and baby. I’m sorry for undermining your authority. I was just so use to being in charge and lost my confidence after being demoted to probie. Andy replies, I understand that it was hard and I know you’re on your way back up, so hang in there. I love you, babe. Andy responds,” I love you too baby.

Robert- How do you feel about the pregnancy?

Andy- well, I’m nervous and I feel a bit uncertain.

Robert- uncertain? Why?

Andy- because we only briefly spoke about having a family and with everything going on in both our lives where we weren’t able to catch a break the conversation was never continued. Baby, I was afraid of ending up like my mother. I honestly never wanted to become a mother or a wife of that matter just like my mom, I had fears of having mental illnesses like her or not able to bond with our baby and abandoned her or him. But who would’ve thought that the most unlikely person in my mom would be the one person who gave me hope in my marriage?

Robert- God and life has a way surprising us. Robert screams, “I’M GONNA BE A FATHER”!!!!

Andy and Sullivan kiss and put on some music and Salsa dance together! 💃🏻🕺🏾

Days later Robert and Andy return to Seattle to tell the team they are expecting a baby and that Andy is nearly two months pregnant! Instantly, Maya claims godmother and Ben as the baby’s Godfather! Vic, Travis and the team plan for a baby shower. The Sullivan’s tells the gang to chill for a bit as the baby shower is a long ways off, but he understood everyone’s excitement to have another firehouse baby in the station and a playmate for little Pru! With all of the excitement Andy runs to the restrooms to puke! Morning sickness has been rough on her lately. I guess that’s typically how it is during the first trimester. Robert runs behind her to check on her. Oddly enough after Andy puked she asked her husband for pickles and bananas over vanilla ice cream!🤮 Clearly, his wife’s weird ravings are through the roof. The Sullivan’s are tired after a very long road trip back to Seattle and are headed home but before that Robert stops by a supermarket to get his wife all of the foods she was craving and then they headed home. Once they arrived home they went upstairs and Robert ran him and the Mrs. a hot bubble bath to sit and relax. Andy sat in front of him in the tub while Robert rubbed both his hands on his wife’s growing belly. He whispers to Andy, “We made this baby in love from our love” and I already love him or her so much. Robert takes Andy’s hand and kisses it and then kisses her neck. Andy, I know. We made a lot of love. A baby was sure to pop up at some point. Under her breath she whispers,”I love you, baby.”

THE NARRATIVE….

7 in a half months later Andy is at work on desk and phone duty while the team Ben and Carina is out on a call for an elderly woman whose blood sugar dropped and fainted as her eldest daughter found her lying on the floor unconscious when she called for aid-car and Robert, Dean, Vic and Travis are on the other side of town putting out a building fire for a local business. Intercut back to Andy at the Station 19 was answering a,phone call at the front desk when she said, “uh-oh! The person on the other line was calling for her to answer, but couldn’t because her water broke! Another worker behind her took the phone and hung it up and Called for the aid car to transport Andy to Grey-Sloan Hospital. On the radio they alerted the team that Andy went into labor and her Husband Robert heard it, panicked and rushed to Grey-Sloan Hospital to be with his wife! Luckily, the team was already on they’re way back after completing their duties. With Carina being Andy’s physician and gynecologist she rushed to the hospital as quickly as she could! Robert arrives in a panic asking what room his wife was in and rushed to be with her! He was the only one that could be in the room with her during labor. He rushed by her side as he entered into the room and said, “Baby, “I’m here”! Are you okay?! How far apart are the contractions?! Right now every 5to 6 mins. I had just had one before you burst in the room! Robert took his wife’s hand and kissed her lips and her forehead. Carina comes into the room ready to check Andy to see how many centimeters she is. Carina checks Andy and she is about 6 centimeters so not too long before baby is born! As Andy attempts to say something a contraction hits and Robert tells her to breath it out slowly. Carina says I’ll be back to check you in an hour and that in the meantime she should try to rest during that time. Robert ask Andy if there was anything she needed and she asked for a cup of ice chips because her mouth was dry. Andy was a soldier and didn’t want an epidural but wanted to give birth naturally. So, Robert went and got her a cup of ice chips. Meanwhile, the station 19 crew were all out in the lobby awaiting to hear the birth of Robert and Andy’s baby and what they’re having because they agreed early in the pregnancy that they didn’t want to know the gender and to be surprised. At their baby shower the crew threw for Andy they all bought baby neutral items and loads of diapers of different sizes and phases of the babies growth. They were set for life! The team caught Robert headed back up to Andy’s room and asked how she was doing. Robert replied, My wife is a trooper and is doing well! She didn’t even want to have an epidural! I’ll keep you all posted. The baby should be born tonight as Andy Is at 6 centimeters now! Robert yells , “I gotta go”! Don’t wanna miss a thing! Robert heads back to Andy’s room and shocked to see Carina back so soon with a couple of nurses. Andy Is progressing so fast towards birth. I guess the Pitocin sped up the contractions because She was now at 8 centimeters dialated! Robert quickly washes his hands and puts on his scrubs and rushes back in to help his wife bring they’re child into the world. Only two more centimeters to go and it’s push time! 30 minutes later Andy is pushing for the 3rd time and they hear they baby cry! Sullivan is over the moon and so proud of his wife! Carina announces , “IT’S A GIRL”!!! Weighing in at 6LBS 10 ounces and 21” long! She’s gonna be tall like her father! Welcome to the STATION 19 world baby “TAINA ANDREA HERRERA SULLIVAN”!! Robert is given the honor of cutting the umbilical cord of his new baby daughter! 5 minutes after their daughters birth Robert burst out to the lobby to shout, “ITS A GIRL”!! To the crew! Baby and Andy are doing well. She came in weighing 6 lbs 10 ounces and 21 inches long! We named her TAINA ANDREA HERRERA SULLIVAN!! You can hear 19 ooohing and ahhhing over the beautiful name they chose for their baby daughter! Congratulations to the new parents!

The End

BABY SULLIVAN-COMING SOON!

#fanfic #fiction #surrera #station 19 #Andy and Robert #fantasy

[thanksjro]

Dark Cybertron Chapter 11: The Word “Logic” Doesn’t Even Mean Anything Anymore

Our issue opens up with a flashback to establish some things.


Because despite the six literal issues of prelude, and all the ham-fisted exposition we’ve gotten throughout the “Dark Cybertron” event, we still don’t have all the information we need to understand what the hell’s happening.

I have a feeling this won’t quite cut the mustard, either.

Anyway, back during the events of MTMTE #1, when Rodimus was making his call to action to his fellow Cybertronians (and by “Cybertronians” I, of course, mean “Autobots”, because prejudice is a hard habit to kick, even for the best of us) Brainstorm was doing science on Hardhead. He was doing this science to make sure that the Dead Universe hadn’t killed him without him realizing. This is a very common issue in the world of IDW2005 Transformers, considering that zombies are a part of canon, so it’s just best to be sure. Nova Prime’s lifeless body sits in the corner like the world’s worst coffee table book.

This will take some explaining, because this is Phase One related.

In Spotlight: Sideswipe, Nova Prime beefed it, except he didn’t, because his “essence” returned to the Dead Universe. This is because he was chosen by the Dead Universe to enact its will on the other, much cooler, Not-Dead Universe. In short, he’s a weird robot zombie-ghost with a save point in the Dead Universe.

Brainstorm has his corpse in his lab to make sure this bastard is true and proper dead, or that the body he left behind is at least. That, in combination with Hardhead proving to be very much alive, means that today can be counted as a win for everyone! The “Alive-People-Counter” machine proves it!

…This is why we can’t have nice things.

Brainstorm being undead does have some precedence within the narrative, given what happened in MTMTE #3.

Though I can’t help but wonder what the guy’s been doing for the last year and a half, that he didn’t notice being dead, when his soul is a large, glowing orb with physical presence. I dunno, he just seems like the sort of guy to keep up to date on that sort of thing, if only for scientific purposes.

In the present day, in the beautiful city of Iacon, everything’s gone to shit, and Whirl’s gotten hot for some reason, as billions of Ammonites fall out of the sky.

Who friggin’ drew this-

I should’ve known.

Up on the Lost Light, Ultra Magnus is breaking out the fancy swears, as a… tornado, I guess, of Ammonites hits the underside of the ship. Bumblebee wants to evacuate the friggin’ planet- which, I don’t know if you know this, would be a little difficult to do, even with a ship the size of NYC. Unfortunately, that’s not gonna fly, however, because all the stars in the sky are blue-shifting.

Wikipedia tells me that this is probably a bad thing, and Perceptor agrees, calling it “the end of everything.”

Over in Shockwave’s Lair of Villainy and Magical Bullshit, everyone’s favorite purple science gremlin has stabbed a “time drive” into his chest. Galvatron is laying dead on the floor in the foreground, but this isn’t about him. Shockwave orders Jhiaxus to activate the time drive, I guess because he doesn’t have long enough arms to do it himself. Jhiaxus warns Shockwave to be mindful, lest he lose himself in time, and then we get a return to a Roberts writing staple that we haven’t seen in quite a while.

Waxing poetic on the nature of time- this time, in a visual medium!

Awful lot of fixating on your ritualistic amputations there, Shocky-boy. I suppose this is ONE way to try to cope with a lack of control in your life.

Of course, to those on the outside of Shockwave’s brain, this doesn’t look nearly as impressive- it actually just looks like him screaming really loud at the ceiling. Bludgeon isn’t sure that this course of action is a healthy one to take, but Jhiaxus is too busy being sapiosexual to worry about that.

I-

Sure. I’m not even going to bother trying to understand this anymore.

Jhiaxus orders Monstructor to go keep the Autobots away from Shockwave.

Also, Galvatron isn’t dead. Good for him, I guess.

Over inside Metroplex, Windblade’s face seems to be stuck in the generic “I am a nice, nonthreatening female character who is also pretty” position, as Ultra Magnus tells her that the universe is ending. Chromia watches in the background as this happens, likely wondering if being relevant in modern media again is worth this bullshit.

Hearing that Bumblebee plans to take the fight to Shockwave is enough to get Metroplex back on his feet, which is good, because I don’t think we have a lot of time to convince the guy to do anything- this event ends next issue.

As Metroplex windmills his arms through swarms of Ammonites, the Lost Light lands, and Bumblebee, Megatron, and all their experts disembark. Bumblebee makes an unsolicited comment about Megatron’s body. They go to meet Soundwave, who isn’t terribly thrilled with Megatron having become all buddy-buddy with Bumblebee. Megatron mentions that the Decepticons are going to have to rethink their strategy once this is all over, with the implication being that they’re going to- gasp- work together with the Autobots.

Then Starscream shows up with Metalhawk, Skywarp, Rattrap, Waspinator, and Scoop for some fucking reason, in tow. Skywarp is going to teleport everyone into Shockwave’s Bastardization of the Concept of Science House, even though he pretty clearly isn’t feeling too well. What a guy.

Starscream and Megatron have a bit of banter that won’t set your hair on end with how awful they are to one another, Metalhawk tries to apologize for attempting to kill Bumblebee, and we really don’t have time for this shit right now. The narrative knows this, because it shifts to focus on Prowl and the Constructicons. Things are looking real rough just about everywhere, and it’s coming down to the wire, so they gotta do the thing.

The thing Prowl really doesn’t want to do.

The thing he said that he wouldn’t do again.

So anyway, they form Devastator.

As Monstructor gets ready to get punched in the face by a bunch of construction workers and a cop, everyone down below is firing off laser blasts and gearing up for a teleporting adventure. However, there’s a small problem- there are too many people to teleport! Oh no! The only solution is for Soundwave and his cassettes, Scoop, Getaway and-

Excuse me, Hook?

Hook, my dude? What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You’re supposed to be a leg right now, motherfucker, why are you here? GO HOME, HOOK.

Anyway, I’m really glad we wasted the time establishing that Soundwave and his band of merry little men were coming along on this trip, only for them to not come along after all. Love that shit.

I don’t actually love that shit. I’m sorry for lying.

With the load lightened, Skywarp teleports the rest of the gang to where they need to be, and Waspinator is immediately stabbed with a massive raging poisoning sword of doom. Bludgeon’s here to greet everyone, and Metalhawk is gonna try his damnedest to get the guy to come around to their side.

You remember when Metalhawk did things like connive, and scheme, and actually had more depth than a sidewalk puddle? Because I remember. Now he’s just... Beast Wars Silverbolt, but he’s not even attempting to be charming. I bet he wouldn’t even call his evil girlfriend “my soul’s delight.” Lame.

Bumblebee, Megatron, and friends book it for Shockwave, while Magnus and Skids get ready to kick some ass. Brainstorm isn’t feeling so hot, but this isn’t about him.

Starscream is having a minor crisis over the fact that Scoop stayed behind in a literal war zone for Starscream’s sake. I dunno that he did it specifically for Starscream, but Starscream seems pretty convinced that he did, and who am I to argue with the leader of a whole friggin’ planet?

The gang makes it to Jhiaxus’ ship, where they find-

I swear to god, if there’s not a fucking explanation for what the shit is happening right here I’m going to scream.

…So anyway, Metalhawk and Jhiaxus start beating each other up, Starscream gets bent out of shape by Jhiaxus’ trash talk, and we get an explanation for his new look.

Which, y’know, thank fucking god.

Jhiaxus has new reactive armor, which takes anything thrown at him and adapts it to his own body for personal use, which feels like some Grade-A Kids Playing Pretend bullshit, but WHATEVER.

While this is going on, Megatron and Bumblebee have run into the center of Shockwave’s Laboratory of Morally-Abhorrent Mystical Buffoonery Masquerading as the Scientific Method. Dreadwing tries to make a case for self-defense of his property, but unfortunately he doesn’t understand how property rights work, and gets blasted for his troubles. Galvatron reveals himself to be alive to Megatron, who immediately grabs the dude by the throat.

Galvatron’s feeling pretty down about having inadvertently helped end the universe, and is throwing himself a little pity party. Megatron’s not having it, however, tossing the man into the ground and revving up to fusion-cannon him to death. Bumblebee stops him, for some reason, and then starts rambling, I guess STILL trying to be Optimus Prime 2.0.

Bumblebee, you put bombs in people’s heads to make them fall into line. You don’t get to talk to Captain Warlord about moral nuance. And weren’t you also berating Metalhawk for trying this same thing not five minutes ago?

Bumblebee’s words reach Megatron, and instead of annihilating Galvatron, he offers the dude a hand up.

Then Bumblebee gets shot and dies, while Shockwave just… stares menacingly, I guess.

Cool.

The death of his very best friend in the whole wide world sends Megatron into a rage, and he punches Shockwave in the face. This doesn’t really faze him much though, as he bats Megatron across the fucking room like he’s made of papier-mâché and dreams, going on about how the universe will save Cybertron by being its power source “in an endless forever.”

Shockwave, you’re a man of science. You ought to know that “forever” as a concept, doesn’t fucking WORK scientifically. It’s nonsense. You’re nonsense, and I hate you.

Back with the Bludgeon Ass-Kicking Squad, Brainstorm’s having a bad time, while everyone else sort of awkwardly poses. Skids gets stabbed. Skids falls down. Brainstorm falls down. Ultra Magnus is concerned, but he’s too busy not being stabbed to help anyone.

Brainstorm’s in a lot of pain, and then a hand bursts out of his chest and-

GODDAMMIT JAMES.

Fucking- Team -Imus burst out of the Dead Universe from Brainstorm, who I will remind you, is undead thanks to Dead Universe lightning bullshit, making him a link between it and the much cooler Not-Dead Universe. Everyone is posing, even Cyclonus, who absolutely should think that sort of thing is beneath him, but whatever.

That’s the end of the issue. Go home.

#transformers #jro #jro punches me in the face #dark cybertron #issue 11 #rid #exrid #issue 27 #maccadam #Hannzreads #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #text post #long post #comic script writing

[taliaquinn]

Why Me!? Chapter 11

True Bee: I have been abandoned Betrayed UNLOVED                       

Maribug: I haven't even been gone for FIVE minutes, Didn’t Juleka confiscate your phone privileges?                                                                                  

True Bee: Right now she's occupied keeping the class from killing each other  

Maribug: You should be helping her!!!                                                          

True Bee: I am, I'm giving the others the glare                       

True Bee: Wait Aurore and Kagami just stormed in                                       

True Bee: ooooo now Kagami is yelling at Adrien                                   

Maribug: Does she have her Saber? Please TELL ME SHE DOESNT!!         

True Bee: Aww Aurore pulled her away before I could check :(                     

True Bee: Wait No, Now Aurore is yelling at Adrien                                 

Maribug: Why the heck isn't Bustier doing anything!?                                   

True Bee: Man I should’ve brought popcorn                                                 

True Bee: Oh Snap Mendeliev just walked in to pull Aurore and Chloe away

True Bee: Oop she’s glaring at Bustier and Alya now 

True Bee: Lila is being Lila

True Bee: Not even 10 minutes and the class is already in Chaos without you   

True Bee: Speaking of DUPAIN CHENG I  EXPECT A MORE THOROUGH      EXPLANATION!!                                                                                       

Maribug: Woman keep people from killing each other and I’ll Tell you soon   

Maribug: Actually no keep the people we like safe, I Don't care about the rest   

True Bee: Yes Ma'am    

True Bee: KAGAMI HAD A SWORD I REPEAT KAGAMI HAD A SWORD       

Maribug: Good Luck  

True Bee: TRAITOR

Marinette felt bad she really did. But then again now the class wasn't her problem anymore and she felt joy. She prayed Chloe could keep the class together for a while. With a sigh, she walked up to her room to finish her packing. Her Maman was now busy calling Mr.Wayne  to ask about the arrangements. Dick said that if Bruce wasn’t ready she could stay with him at Bludhaven in the meantime.  Damian was texting her about the “rules”.

No mistreating his pets, Don’t try to become Graysons Favourite sibling  “because that spot is already filled”.  Don’t try to seperate Tim Drake from his Coffee, Cassandra Cain is dangerous but awesome  and Jason’s Existence was to not be mentioned outside of the manor. 

What was even that family? Seriously she knew that they all had interesting backgrounds but Wasn't Jason Todd murdered by an Arkham Crazy a few years ago? Seriously that family sounded like a perfect base for a Buzzfeed Unsolved episode. Huh maybe her secretly being a superhero won't be the strangest thing in the family.

Marinette quickly packed her sketchbook and made sure to put the horse miraculous box into her purse. Master Fu was updated to an extent that she was going to be out of the country, out of continent really, for a few weeks.  Luckily she had Kalki to help with teleportation. She didn't have to panic about customs or anything. Mr.Wayne had a Private Plane. She’ll be flying over to Gotham with her parents and they'll be staying at a hotel for a few days. Get her “acclimated” to an American city and the customs. Paris will have to go without delicious sweets and treats for a few days.

Taking a final glance around the room Marinette was suddenly filled with a sense of homesickness. Didn't matter that she hadn't left,she didn’t even know when she'd come back. Sadly she had to leave some of her sewing and designing things. She had made sure to finish all of her commissions. However only a quick glance at her emails and her MDC website revealed that a lot of purchases and commission inquiries were being made. As soon as she gets to Gotham she will have to try a good fabric store and buy a new sewing machine and mannequin. She wasn’t a fool, she is definitely taking some of the expensive fabrics, Alexeis Fencing uniform was safely packed along with her saber. 

Taking a final glance around the room Marinette was suddenly filled with a sense of homesickness. Didn't matter that she hadn't left,she didn’t even know when she'd come back. Sadly she had to leave some of her sewing and designing things. She had made sure to finish all of her commissions. However only a quick glance at her emails and her MDC website revealed that a lot of purchases and commission inquiries were being made. As soon as she gets to Gotham she will have to try a good fabric store and buy a new sewing machine and mannequin. She wasn’t a fool, she is definitely taking some of the expensive fabrics, Alexeis Fencing uniform was safely packed along with her saber. 

With a final glance around she crawled down. And let the door shut with a final click.

Gotham City                                                                                                  U.S.A                                                                                                              2:30 pm

“Sabine Sabine Sa- Of course, Marinette can stay with me for a bit longer. Yes yes, Dick already told me the basics about the situation. Are you sure you don’t want me to get involved? You really should get the police involved. I don’t like bullies or liars.” Bruce stated. Seriously Bruce was really tempted to fly over to Paris and press charges against those little demons. Heck, he wants to press charges against the foolish teacher and idiotic principle.

“Bruce calm down, trust me I will handle the school and the bullies, right now I want to get Marinette away from them” Sabine stated with a growing smirk. Oh, don’t mess with her.  Bustier and Damocles are going down. However, she had to be a little patient and play the long game. She knew Marinette wanted to handle her classmates. 

“Fine don’t worry about it,  what are you two planning to do about school?” he asked, a bit concerned. Seriously another one of his kids was getting bullied and harassed. 

Bruce was having flashbacks to the bullying and harassment Dick and Jason went through when they went to school.  Dick dealt with months of being called things like gypsy trash, charity cases, and circus brat before he finally built up the courage and told Bruce. Jason on the other hand, Bruce found out really quickly about his bullying. Mostly because Jason would get into fights. Tim didn't deal with bullying that bad, sure he got called a nerd and orphan trash but Bruce handled that very quickly because by then he was an expert. Bruce wasn't willing to put Cassandra through school. No one dared bully Damian Al Ghul Wayne. 

“We actually haven’t thought that far,” Sabine admitted sheepishly. “But we have the necessary paperwork prepared”

“Why not enroll her in Gotham Academy along with Damian?” Bruce suggested

“It's a private academy, the tuition is in the 30,000’s” Sabine suggested exasperatedly. 

“You’re kidding right?”

“I’m just saying I don’t think Marinette would be comfortable with going to a school like that.”

“She went to school with a Model, The Mayor's Daughter, and a comic book artist”

“Bruce!”

“I’m just saying Gotham Academy has already been the school where all of my older kids have attended, plus it has the best security due to the fact that I funded it.” Yes, Bruce was an overprotective parent. Sue him. 

With a sigh Sabine couldn’t help but give in she was also an overprotective parent. “Fine but You’ll be the one to deal with her freakout over the costs”

“Deal”

Orly Airport                                                                                                    Paris, France                                                                                                5:00 pm

With a quick hop, Marinette couldn’t help but gape at the private jet with the blaring WAYNE INDUSTRIES on the side. Once they were inside they made sure to get comfortable. It was going to be at least an 8-hour flight. Marinette took out her sketchbook and quickly sketched out a few new future designs. however, she took a quick glance at her parents and saw that her mother had dozed off on her father's shoulder. She quickly flipped a page that revealed a few ideas for an altered ladybug outfit. She needed a redesigned outfit.  No more skin-tight suits or pigtails. She's doing a loose outfit and braids, being a superhero with loose hair was plain impractical.  

Seriously there is a reason why all superheroes either have short hair or have their hair tied back.  With a few final touches, she was done with the redesign, now all that was left was to show Tikki the new design. That's another worry for Marinette.  Finding time to talk with Tikki was easy enough to do with her parents. They were bakers who had to wake up early so they usually went to sleep really quickly and early plus she was also an only child, which made it easy for Marinette to slip away for her Ladybug nightly adventures and talk with Tikki. How is she gonna manage that in a house filled with a bunch of people?

Marinette flipped to another page and decided to start sketching a new dress design. She’s curious about what type of colors she wants to use. Maybe Marinette should make it all black? No, too dark. Maybe a few touches of blue? Nah. Red? Nope, she has enough red clothing. Purple? Yuck. Red and Green? Nope, she doesn't want to look like a traffic light. Gold!! Black and gold would be perfect!! Cape? Wait no, Edna Mode the animated icon made a good point on why capes should be banned.

Taking a quick glance around she finally risked taking a peak on Tikki. Tikki was comfortable situated and munching on a bunch of sweets. Marinette softly closed the purse and decided that sleep was the perfect course of action. Wrapping her sweater around herself she allowed the warmth and darkness to overtake her.

Cesaire Apartment Paris, France 7:30pm

“Okay listen up gang since Marinette abruptly dropped out, it’s up to us to raise the money for the school dance and the end of the year field trip which is a few months away,” Alya said. 

Lila was quick to point out how horrible and awful it was for Marinette to leave them with all the work. 

Alya couldn’t help but notice that only a few people showed up to the meeting. Noticeably absent was Chloe, Juleka, Sabrina, Max (who said Markov needed a reboot or something) and Ivan. Alya couldn’t help but be concerned by the absences. They needed their help to get all the planning ready and everything. 

Rose was squealing at a thought of being able to decide on planning the theme of the dance. “Oooohhhh I can’t wait for the dance, do you think Marinette would still make me a dress?” Rose asked while glancing around. Sudden realization seems to hit them all. This year they will most likely have to pay and buy their own dresses and suits. Marinette always made them their outfits and that was part of the reason that they became the talk of the school after a dance. They always looked stunning.

“Rose Marinette wouldn’t dare not make you a dress, you’re one of the sweetest girls in the school if she refuses to make you one then she is Heartless” Lila stated fervently. Oh, Lila was making sure to get her claws completely in the class, she didn’t have an obstacle anymore.

“Lilas right, Marinette would always help you no matter how mad she is at you.” Adrien chimed in. All of a sudden their phones started pinging. Adrien quickly took out his and gaped at what he was reading in the class group chat.

Sabrina has left the Chat

Ivan has left the Chat

Juleka has left the Chat

Max has left the Chat.

Chloe B: Max, Sabrina, Ivan, Juleka and I have made the collective decision to transfer to Ms. Mendelievs Class, Our Transfers were approved quickly, thanks to yours truly :)

Chloe B: Have fun figuring out how to pay for everything Your end of the school year class trip :) :) :)

Chloe B: Oh Marinette is no Longer doing free commissions, have fun with dress and suit shopping :) :) :) :) :))))

Chloe B: Toodles~ you will all haunt my nightmares for years to come

Chloe B has left the chat

A/N:

Hi guys, I don’t know what happened but suddenly theirs more of you :D. Thanks for taking a chance on me. Hope y’all like today's chapter. I wanted to quickly post for my insomniacs. Please Like,Reblog, comment and Follow :)

Taglist:

@damianette-is-life @amayakans @parallelparabox   @miukiiu  @valeks-princess @toodaloo-kangaroo

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #marinette deserves better #maribat #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #lila salt

[morbidanthem]

-> Prompt HERE <- By: @otpprompts

(( A/N: Here is the other part, again, I’m trying to clear out my Google Docs. I will probably upload this to my AO3... maybe. IDK yet. ))

Continuity - Boku no Hero Academia

Character(s) - Mirio Togata, Fem!Reader, Shouta Aizawa Parring - Fem!Reader/Mirio Togata Genre - Fluffy Rating - M for Mature Warning - Cursing, Implied Heavy Petting

Word Count - 2,183

➡️ [ Izuku Midoriya Ver. Here ] ⬅️

✏️Written 06/13/20 - ??/??/20✏️

Mirio Togata

“Oi, there is a surprise Dorm Inspection in Five Minutes!” You heard a loud feminine voice shout, it was coming from right outside of your dorm room door, and you took notice that they hadn't even bothered to knock on the door.

You ignored the shouting though, as the sound was nothing more than an annoying muffle that was easily tuned out.

No...

You were too focused on what was going on on top of you to really care about what the voices in the hallway were screeching to you.

The one and only boy scout, Mirio Togata, had you pinned hard to your mattress while his strong hands gripping your wrists above your head as you whimpered under him in submission.

He didn't seem to pay any mind to the voices in the hallway either, as he groaned into your mouth at the warm feeling he was experiencing in his core, as you began to defy his display of dominance by sliding your tounge around his to try and wrestle the control he had over you.

You wanted to break free from the grip he had on your wrists, but even without his quirk, he was still able to over power you with his physical strength.

It drove you wild, as you felt a shiver jolt down your entire body and through your spine.

It was pure ecstasy.

Moments like these were so few and far in between… you don't think you'll ever get your fill of Mirio Togata.

“Hey! You and your Boy Toy need to throw some clothes on and separate before the Teachers or Class Rep. catches you!” The snickering singsong voice shouted again, this time banging loudly on the locked door.

You grunted uncomfortably as he pulled away from your lips a little too quickly, causing a small pop to reverberate through the room from the sheer force of separation between the two of you.

"Ugh, OK! Thank you, Nini!" You shouted in response, as Mirio looked down at you with a quizzical expression on his face.

You couldn't help but memorize the flush on his face so deliciously mixed with the color of his slightly swollen lips.

"This boy will be the death of me."

"Didn't we just have a Dorm Inspection last week?" Mirio asked, moving to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand, while he began to sit up straight. He was still straddling your hips, as you both strain to listen to the incoherent yelling that was going on through the door.

'Dude! Help me hide my stash!'

'Does anyone remember if we were allowed to have snacks in our rooms or not?'

'Ok, but how much trouble will I get if my room is trashed?'

"You have enough time to fix your room, right?" You asked, as you tapped Mirio's thigh to get his attention back onto you.

"Yeah, besides some dirty laundry on the floor, I'm good." He smiled, shifting his weight off of you, so that he was sitting next to you. You yawned and stretched as you sat up, watching Mirio trying to piece together a puzzle in his mind.

"I wonder why they keep doing inspections so frequently like this..." He hummed loudly, placing a hand on his chin, with a very cute thoughtful look on his face.

"Probably because of me." You sighed, stretching your legs as you stood up.

How long had you two been "napping'' anyway?

An hour?

Who knows.

"What?" Mirio asked, watching you with so much interest in his gaze, as you began to clean your ruffled aperance.

You casually tried to smooth out the wrinkles on your tank top, and shifted your lounge pants so that they sat on your hips once more, instead of down past your thighs… When has he had time to pull your pants down?

"Haru is absolutely hellbent on catching me doing something wrong." You spoke, with a very nonchalant tone to your voice, while you turned to help fix Mirio's disheveled appearance as well. "He hasn't forgiven me 'ruining' his chance to date you, you know."

You could have sworn you've had this conversation with him, but judging by the surprised expression on his face, you've probably forgotten to mention it.

"No! I didn't know that!" He replied, shocked, as you ran your fingers through his hair to try and brush out the knots that had formed in it earlier.

"Huh, it must've slipped my mind,I forgot to tell you that part." You laughed, sending him a cheeky smile as you continued. "He has a huge crush on you, and is mad at me because, because I quote- 'dug my claws into your heart and refused to let go'."

"That's… there is a lot to unpack here…" He mumbled, turning his gaze to look at the floor.

God, when he is all distracted in thought like that, you would have loved to just grab the back of his head and pull him in close until your lips swallowed his in another passionate kiss… but, getting any more intimate can cause the clean-up to take a lot more time than the Five Minute warning you just got.

Good thing the two of you didn't get very far in that time.

Because, you honesty might not have been able to stop had he gotten your pants further down your hip.

"God, Mirio, you really are oblivious." You laughed out loud, as you brought yourself back to reality, by standing in front of him and smoothing out the wrinkles on his short.

Instinctively, he placed his hands on your hips, as you continued to grooming him while he sat on your bed. He couldn't help but huff at your words though, a cute pout replacing his once quizzical expression, as he turned his face up to look into your eyes.

You can see he had questions he wanted to ask, as that curious glint never left his gaze.

You don't have time, really, you don't have time to stand here and fix his appearance either… but you just can't seem to keep your hands to yourself when you were around him.

"Wait… So what does calling a surprise inspection have to do with you, though?" He asked, pulling you into a hug, as you giggled and patted at the back of his shoulders.

"I am offended right now, I can't believe you forget about El Perro!" You spoke in a dramatic tone, a mock hurt present in your voice as you couldn't help but tease him. "Dios Mio! I am hurt! Hurt on El Perro's behalf." You laughed as you felt Mirio's shoulder shake under your grip, as he began to chuckle as well.

"I did, actually. He is so quiet that I forget he lives in here too." He said, turning his head to look at your closed closet door, with his trademark smile back on his face.

"That's how I've gotten away with having him for so long. Not even my Mom knew I had him, she would have kicked my ass if she ever found out." You chuckled, as you pulled away from Mirio's grasp, to meander over to softly pull your closet door open.

There he was, El Perro, the infamous Black and Tan Teacup Chihuahua.

The dog himself was no bigger than 2 pounds, and could easily fit in the palm of your hands. He was a short hair, and had the cutest bug eyes you've ever laid your eyes on.

He wagged his tail happily, as you went and picked him up off of his pillow, to hold him against your chest, as his tail wagged happily at the affection you were showing him. Your fingers caressed through his long soft fur, as he begins to pant as his tail wags harder.

You cooed at him, saying how cute he was, as you handed him off to Mirio so that you can go through the routine of hiding the evidence the dog leavea behind.

You heard Mirio laughing in the background, as you went to work by hiding the dog's bed and food dishes that were on a small dresser in your closet.

You began by unceremoniously shoving his bed and blankets into a large pillow case, quickly shaping it to make it look like a rather terribly lumpy pillow. But that was the whole plan though, as when the teacher looked into your closet, they would just assume that it was shoved in the closet because it was uncomfortable to sleep with.

His food was already hidden in a cereal box that you had, it was cleverly placed next to other various snack foods that you were allowed to keep in your dorm for midnight snacking. His water bowl was collapsed, and was easily clipped to your backpack that was hanging up next to your clothes, so it looked like something that you would use for hiking.

You were an expert at this by now, and if your Mother was never able to catch you, then it was far beyond the reach of the nosey Class Representative and his gaggle of teachers.

Five minutes... two minutes after your messing around was done, was more than enough time to hide the evidence that you had a dog in the dorms.

The final piece to complete your charade, was a baggy black sweater that you slipped on over your tank top, just as there was a loyd knock on your door.

"Hey, it's inspection time, open up." You heard a bored voice speak, as you quickly took the dog from Mirio's hands, and gently slid him into the pocket of your sweater.

El Perro was used to being in your pockets, so it took him no time to settle and be still, as you placed your arms through the pocket of your sweater as the teacher walked in.

"Aizawa? You're inspecting the 3rd Year Dorms?" You blurted out in shock, as you unlocked and opened the door to let the tired looking teacher into your room.

He always seemed to have bad bags under his eyes.

"Yeah." He sighed. "Your Teacher is off, having an exciting weekend…" He mumbled flatly, as you and Mirio stood off to the side as he began his inspection by opening up the drawers to your dresser.

He really looked tired, more so than usual, which made him not really inspect much of anything.

You could tell he just wanted to get this over with, as his eyes lazily roam around the room.

"You're not off having an exciting weekend as well?" You chided, as he slid the closet door open, while he scanned the small nook.

He didn't answer your sarcastic question.

He didn't even really acknowledge you'd actually said anything.

He also didn't say anything about all the snacks you had stashed in there… but, he probably didn't really care about that.

That isn't what he was looking for.

"Your Class Rep. wanted to call an emergency search. He was convinced I would find something amiss in here." Aizawa mumbled, mostly to himself, as he slid the door shut slowly as he turned to face the two of you. "What did you do to the poor kid?"

"M-Me? C'mon Aizawa, I didn't do anything..." You muttered, flabbergasted he would accuse you of anything, as you gave El Perro a little squeeze in your pocket.

"Right." He said, rolling his eyes at your feigned ignorance. "Just make sure you're behaving in here, no… after hour dorm visits."

"Of course!" You laughed loudly, spoke a little too quickly, and if you were to ask Aizawa's opinion he would look further into why you both had the door locked before he came… but he had so many more dorms to check that day, he just nodded and walked out. "Your Dorm Check is coming up soon, Togata, you should head over there now so I don't have to wait for you."

"Right! I'll be there!" Mirio said, watching Aizawa turn and leave the room, as he intentionally left the door wide open.

"Why does everyone think I'm the instigator?" You huffed with a scowl on your face, as you turned to face Mirio, who had a big smile plastered on his face.

"What?" You laughed, his smile infectious, as you pushed him on his chest lightly.

"Oh, I was just thinking about how much of an instigator you are." He laughed too, as you playfully slapped him across the chest.

"Tch, whatever!' You tutted, as you tried to push him out of your dorm.

He barely budged.

"Go away, Lemillion, lest you fail your dorm check for making Aizawa wait."

He just laughed again as he turned to leave your room, but not without giving you his trademark goofy smile and a small wave.

You waved back, as you watched him disappear out into the hallway.

'Girl, that boy is going to get you into trouble if you're not careful.' You thought to yourself, as you closed the door as you went back into your dorm.

#Boku no Hero Academia #Mirio Togata #Drabble #Fluffy #Mirio Togata X Reader #BNHA X Reader #Mirio Togata/Reader #BNHA/Reader #Long Post

[actualbird]

nobody asked but here are my personal top five pat gill videos | a 2.1k word long post where i rank and review pat gill’s videos for just way too long.

Right around the tail end of April, 2020, I fell into the rabbit hole of my current obsession; Polygon Dot Com Video Content. As a consequence of this was being introduced to the phenomenon of Pat Gill. A dire consequence of that consequence was me slowly, deeply, irrevocably, finding myself attracted to this marionette of a man. So, I enjoy his content and I think he’s hot and that combined with the fact that some of my friends bully me over that latter fact has inspired me to do this: rank my personal favorite Pat Gill videos in a post that’s entirely too long.

Before I get straight into the rankings, I need to explain my process. 

First, I needed to narrow my scope. Polygon has a lot of videos. Polygon has a lot of videos with Pat Gill in them. If I didn’t narrow my scope, I would either go bonkers yonkers or have a list that would be kilometric in length and thus miss the entire point of ranking altogether. So, for my sanity, I am excluding any videos that are a part of a Polygon video series. This means no Overboard, no Gill and Gilbert, no Video Game Theatre, etc. If I included these, I would cry. I do not want to cry over Polygon Dot Com Video Producer Pat Gill.

Second, I need a criteria. If I just ranked videos with no system, I would find myself endlessly rearranging my list based on whatever thought comes out on top in my mind at the given moment. I am a disorganized person, so I need rules. I have decided that I will rank Pat Gill videos using the EEEH criteria. 

Entertainment. Do I smile, watching the video? Do I chortle? Am I filled with the embarrassing urge to show this video to my sister and derive glee from her laughing at the exact same moment I laughed? Entertainment is key.

Education. Did I come out of this video knowing something I originally did not know? More importantly, was I engaged in the learning process? I come from a family of teachers, so I have high standards when it comes to education. If I am to learn, I must learn well.

Exaltation. This is a bit of an oddball criteria, but it is important to me. The word “exalted” is defined as “elevated in rank, character, or status.” This criteria refers to how good it is at exalting, elevating, pulling me out of a depressive episode. That is to say I’ve been in a depressive episode for the past month and whether or not the video made me stop crying and brush my teeth is essential. Polygon video content has been integral to my serotonin production lately, and thus the video’s ability of acting as an audiovisual antidepressant for me factors into the rankings.

[BONUS POINTS] Hotness. How Hot Is Pat Gill In It? I felt bad, morally, ranking videos based on how good looking I thought Pat Gill was in it---because beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and all that, and people don’t exist to be beautiful, they just are, and I agree---so I’m relegating this criteria as a bonus point. Standard is 0, because he’s always hot in my mind, but he gets plus points if he is exemplary in the hotness department.

The maximum score for each of these criteria is 5 points, making the perfect score a 15, but because of the bonus points, a 20 is, hypothetically, possible. 

With that out of the way, let me dive right into it. 

5. The fastest interview ever with Ben Schwartz from Sonic the Hedgehog

Entertainment: 5 Education: 2 Exaltation: 2 Hotness: +2 Total Score: 11

Pat Gill is a good interviewer, he’s engaging and fun and keeps the interview interesting, but this interview is particularly special because it seems that, and let me quote Youtube user AudreyN who left a comment on this video stating “ben schwartz consumed all seven chaos emeralds prior to this interview.” Pat Gill and Ben Schwartz’s dynamic is amazing, and by “dynamic” I do mean “Ben Schwartz absolutely just fucking dunking on Pat Gill for 14 entire minutes.” and it is glorious.

For Entertainment this scores a solid 5. Quite honestly the funniest interview I’ve ever watched in my entire life. Just the sheer beauty in the exchange [Pat] “You would use Sonic’s power to gaslight me?” [Ben] “Just you.” In terms of Education, I guess I did learn a bunch of things about the Sonic movie that I didn’t know before, but the avenue by which it was portrayed in was not exactly the most engaging, more like I was absorbing it via watching two experts discuss on a webinar. I would have given just 1 point to Education but I made it 2 because of the wonderful knowledge that Pat Gill can draw a pretty good Sonic in a few seconds. When it comes to Exaltation, I must admit that while this video got quite a few laughs out of me, it didn’t make me want to get out of bed and take a shower. 

BONUS: Pat is +2 hot in it. His short hair makes him look very handsome. He’s a spiffy boy, in this video. Very, very good.  

4. Pat Will Not Tweet at Nintendo This Week Because He is Resting at Home — PLEASE RETWEET, Episode 12 

Entertainment: 5 Education: 0 Exaltation: 5 Hotness: +1 Total Score: 11

I know I’m breaking a rule I set for myself a few paragraphs earlier by including an episode of Please Retweet, which counts as a video series, but this is my post and I can do whatever I want. More importantly, this video is so fucking funny to me, it feels like it would be a crime not to put it in this list. 

Solid 5 out of 5 for entertainment. Pat Gill, alone in his apartment, drinking six cans of what I think is beer silently while the intro music plays. That scene in itself should win an Oscar. Sadly, a solid 0 for Education, because I learn nothing in this video except for the fact that Pat Gill is the type of person to put out a coaster and then just completely not use it. I quantify things as educational if I can maybe answer a trivia question with them, and unfortunately, this fact does not pass that test. In terms of Exaltation, seeing Pat Gill lie down on the floor next to his cat made me get out of bed to do the same with my dog, and with myself thusly out of my bed cocoon of sadness, I was able to actually complete tasks on the day I watched this video. Perfect 5.

BONUS: Pat is +1 hot in this because there’s something very beautiful about him being a little bit miserable. However, I do miss his beard when I watch this video. It is one of my favorite things about him, and it is not present here.

3. Pat and Simone Play Human: Fall Flat

Entertainment: 5 Education: 1 Exaltation: 5 Hotness: 0 Total Score: 11

I very much enjoy Polygon’s gameplay streams. I often play them in the background while I’m doing other stuff like doodling or origami, but this stream is special. It is special because of the moment at 24:00 when Pat Gill, in game, swings a stereo into a glass window, shattering it, while saying, “Actually, y’know what? Let’s talk about trauma.” and then proceeds to tell a horrible and embarrassing story from his childhood where he had to do a rap about Ancient Egypt. 

5 points for Entertainment. This is partly because of Pat’s tragic childhood story about the Egypt Rap (and, segue just to point out 33:22 the incredible moment where you can hear Pat’s feral panic when Simone finds the lyrics to the Egypt Rap) but also because Pat and Simone just talking to each other is so deeply entertaining to me in a very comfy way. I’m starved for human interaction, in this quarantime, okay. Let me enjoy listening to other people have conversations while playing video games. Education scores a 1 because, again, nothing in this video will let me answer a trivia question, however it does get 1 point and not a 0 because the Egypt Rap’s lyrics are in the comments and I did end up learning stuff about Ancient Egypt that I didn’t know. A perfect 5 for Exaltation because this video showed me that talking about trauma can actually be cathartic, given that you’re trashing a video game living room at the same time, and I think that message of not bottling up your experiences really helped me, in these trying times.

BONUS: Pat Gill is not visible for the entirety of this episode, so he scores the standard 0. I’m sure he was hot. We just couldn’t see him.  

2. Why Bloodborne and Muppets are the same thing

Entertainment: 4 Education: 4 Exaltation: 3 Hotness: +2 Total Score: 12

Ah yes, one of Pat’s “x is y because of z” videos. He’s made a number of these and they’re all very good but this one is my favorite among them and earns a spot on this list because 1) I think puppets are cool and 2) I fucking love monsters. 

This video scores a 4 on Entertainment, just shy of perfect, because as funny as it is, it also gives me the vibe like I am being lectured by a professor who’s just a little bit off the shits. And we all know that lectures are supposed to be taken seriously. Which brings us to Education, which also scores a 4. I learned a lot in this video! Watching Pat Gill explain to me that children’s puppets and these horrifying viddy game monsters use the same character principles in different ways is not only very educational but is also explained in a streamline and easy to understand manner that I WISH some of the shitty professors at my old university could emulate. As for Exaltation, while this video did give me enough energy to have a meal, I did eventually end up back in bed for the night at 8pm crying myself to sleep, thinking “I’m like the slime scholar. Used to be a scholar. Now they’re slime.” 

BONUS: Pat Gill is +2 hot here. He’s rockin that basic ass monochromatic aesthetic and I love his look dearly. 

1. Preparing for Big Boy Season in Red Dead Redemption 2 

Entertainment: 5 Education: 3 Exaltation: 5 Hotness: +3 Total Score: 16

Here we are. My favorite non video series Pat Gill video. The video where Pat Gill tries to make Red Dead Redemption 2 protagonist, Arthur Morgan, large. 

Perfect fucking 5 for Entertainment, which I’m sure many may find odd. Afterall, this video is told in a serious investigative tone reminiscent of Vox’s videos on current issues. But that’s the glory of it. The complete and utter ‘playing it straight and serious’ for a ridiculous issue in a video game. It is high tier comedy in a subtle, understated way that sings to my comedy loving heart in a melody so lovely, so wonderful, that it urged me to give this video 5 points for Entertainment. It scores 3 on Education, because I have never played Red Dead Redemption 2, nor will I ever, but now I know things about it. The information was also relayed to me in a very interesting style, via something like a crime procedural, and thus it was engaging for me to absorb all this new knowledge. Exaltation scores a perfect 5 because of this video’s beautiful end about existential smallness. No joke, but hearing Pat Gill say “Our bigness isn’t measured in pounds, but in the impact we have on the people with whom we shared the world.” deadass made me want to talk to my friends again after conversationally isolating myself for 3 days. Preparing for Big Boy Season has a special place in my heart. And there it will stay.

BONUS: Pat Gill is not visible for most of the video but he does appear for like 15 seconds in the middle of it, and guess what. He’s hot. +3 hotness. Good beardage, good hair, all in all, good Pat Gill. 

So there you have it. My five favorite Pat Gill videos. If you read this whole thing, holy shit. You’re welcome, I guess.

#this is what im using my degree in creative writing for i guess #polygon #pat gill #pat gill thirst jail #patrick gill #nobody asked but

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 4

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics, by Lyrem, everything seems to be going well- their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as good as it seems....

Directory: [chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three]

CW: deadname use, sickness/nausea/vomiting, torture obviously, minor character death.

CHAPTER FOUR: SOMEWHERE BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH

Arch’s head lifted slowly from their pillow, in daze, they weren’t exactly certain of where they were, but soon they recognized the cheap wooden panels of their basement bedroom wall and closed their eyes again.

The alarm went off- not one that was programmed into their phone- as it almost never was- but the more reliable one calling their fake name from above.

“I’m up!” Arch’s own voice pained them to hear. Did they sneak drinks from their mom’s vodka stores last night? No, not last night...

Maybe they had caught the flu from somewhere. Thinking back to the previous night, Arch remembered an uneventful evening of low sales and walking home… Nothing amiss. They didn’t even remember catching a chill. They rolled over slowly, the room spinning above them to check their phone. It was 7:10 am. Their bus would be arriving shortly. The feeling of utter dread filled them as usual and then a sudden, unmistakable fear. The adrenaline alone was enough to launch them from their bed, but then Arch’s body fired back with an overwhelming nausea.

They were going to be sick.

Arch reached for the trash can in the corner as they fell with their knees to the floor and missed.

Puking up bile, and heaving, Arch heard the sound of rushing footsteps from above coming down.

“What on earth”-

Arch couldn’t reply, but their mother supplied them with a bucket and pressed a hand onto their back- as if that was supposed to help.

“What were you doing last night that’s got you so sick!?” She touted over them angrily. “Were you drinking? Doing drugs again?”

Arch was caught smoking pot once over a year ago- strange how they would never be able to live that down.

“For Pete’s sake, ----!” The alarm bell had been trilling for a long time. Arch was amazed that they could even hear it any more. “You were out past ten last night. Is it that new job keeping you late? That’s against child labour laws, you know! I’d like to have a word with your employer!”

Burping up an acidic aftertaste, Arch leaned away from the bucket and wiped their mouth slowly. The nausea was gone.

“Food poisoning.” They said breathlessly. “Must’ve been food poisoning.”

“Clean this up and then get back into bed!” Their mother snapped. “I’ll bring you some water, but then I’m going to work. Need to pay the bills here somehow!”

Arch took their mother’s advice, and cleaned up as much of their vomit off the carpet as they could. From the stairs Maleficent stared at the spot with keen interest as Arch looked at the cat with a disgusted sneer.

“You’re a nasty little creature,” they said.

Dropping back into their bed, they were teetering on the edge of a restless sleep when their phone buzzed next to them.

It was Lyrem. It still mildly amazed Arch that he was technologically adept for his age. The message read:

expecting delivery tonight so will be staying late. No need for you to come in if you’d rather catch up on schoolwork.

Ha. Catch up on schoolwork. Arch replied:

sure. much appreciated.

Serendipity was a term rarely used by Arch but in this particular moment, they were certainly thankful for how the universe seemed to be taking care of them. It certainly did a better job than anyone else they knew.

--------------------

The skull glared out from the showcase. The eyeholes seemed a little scratched from where someone had tried to clean it with the wrong instrument and the wrong solution.

Lyrem studied it from every angle he could. He had been at this for hours. The deliverers’ patience began to dwindle, along with that of their security guards. The seller had made it abundantly clear to give Lyrem as much time as he needed to decide how much he’d be willing to pay- so they straightened their back out, nearly forgetting their posture, and dealt with the man who seemed to be too nit-picky for their liking.

“You are sure it’s genuine Mayan?” He asked.

“A sacrifice to Quetzalcoatl himself,” the deliverer replied assuredly. “No others had been recovered in such pristine condition. Guaranteed.”

Lyrem breathed deeply and looked up at the deliverer. “Remove the barrier.” He requested.

The deliverer looked at him strangely. “I’m afraid that is against policy, sir.”

He raised a dark grey brow, his nose wrinkling with a sudden sour distaste that expressed his displeasure playfully.

“Your client knows who I am.” He spoke quietly. “Get them on the phone and explain to them that I will not make an offer until the barrier is removed.”

“Sir”-

“Now.” Lyrem interrupted, steeling his gaze.

The deliverer huffed, pulled out their phone and made the call outside the store. Lyrem watched them through the windows. After several minutes, they returned, shaking their head. He looked at them with a disappointed scowl.

“I don’t make deals on fakes,” he clarified. “Either remove the barrier or I will not make a deal- and I know that your client would love it if I made a deal.”

The deliverer frowned, and their eyes darted from the pedestal and back to Lyrem. He was standing there in the store, confident that they would make the right decision eventually. He approached them, and stared deeply into their blue eyes. His expression had a certain menacing charm.

“Think about the respect you could receive, the promotion, the splendor- if only I can know exactly what is behind this glass- it could all be yours,” he spoke softly.

This one had been broken well, but not well enough.

Retrieving a set of keys, the deliverer began to unscrew the locks from each side of the case; four of them in total.

Lyrem massaged one of his hands with the other as he watched the skull become uncovered. He held high hopes for this one. The security team moved in as he approached the piece, but were stopped by the deliverer in question. They had come this far. At this point, they had no choice but to trust Lyrem’s expert judgment.

The shop-keep closed his eyes, and in an instant, he was engulfed in shadow. The deliverer stepped away instinctively to avoid the darkening fog and watched on in terrified horror.

The shadows entered Lyrem until they were only visible through his eyes. Wisps of the fog slowly leaked from his orifices, and he approached the skull once more. He raised a hand, placing it over the top of the skull and spoke with a voice that belonged not entirely to himself:

“SHOW ME YOUR TRUTH”

The sound rung hollow through the store, as though it had transformed into a cavern for just those few seconds.

It only took a moment before the shadows drifted away, and Lyrem returned to himself. He pulled a napkin from his inside pocket and wiped away a couple drops of ectoplasm from underneath his eyes, and sniffed.

“Tell your client I will give him nothing.”

“What?” Forgetting themselves, the deliverer gasped, enraged by the decision. “I broke rules for you!”

“And aren’t you happy about that? Now you can race back to your little ‘client’ and tell them that the item they tried to sell me was a fake. I will not deal in a fake. I will never deal in fakes.” Lyrem stepped back from the pedestal, welcoming them to screw the locks back into the display. “This skull is Incan, not Mayan, and it’s certainly not a sacrifice- he was a fucking alpaca farmer for crying out loud.”

The deliverer shuddered. They couldn’t go back to their client with news like this, they wouldn’t live to see another day.

“This- this can’t be right.”

“It-it is, I am afraid.” Lyrem mocked ruthlessly. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind getting out. I’ll need to carry on a conversation with a few of my new friends- seeing as I’ve wasted much of my energy with you idiots.”

The stand was covered in a black cloth just as it had come in originally. Lyrem ushered them through the side door of the shop and followed them out, locking the door behind him.

The deliverer muttered to themselves, the confusion that had been dropped before them. Lyrem tutted with a fake sympathy.

“Before you leave,” he added, with just the slightest tinge of genuine wisdom to his voice, “Understand that I have my own bargains to uphold, just as you do. If your client is serious in gaining favour with my client, then cheap attempts to trick me, will not get them what they want. You can tell them that for me, if you wish.”

The deliverer nodded, and entered their black van as the object of interest had been secured into the back. They drove off slowly down the damp alleyway of reflected pools of streetlight. Lyrem turned, and unlocked the door to his storage area. He closed his eyes tightly, held his breath, and stepped over the threshold.

His eyes were opened the moment he heard the door click closed behind him. The darkness was unrelentingly thick. His footsteps sounded dull, and softened against the floor. Clapping his hands twice turned on some lighting from an indiscernible area.

The captives squealed as they hid away from the sudden brightness.

Lyrem smiled as he disturbed them. The shackles jingled heavily against the wall as they straightened out, pressing their backs further in, in the effort to keep away from the strange, looming man.

He looked to each of them fondly. None of them dared to speak. That was good. It meant that he had already left a lasting impression. It meant that they had already tried and failed to scream and be heard from someone outside. But this storage room was soundproof and built to perfection on the border between worlds; a mixture of celestial, earthly, and infernal construction. His absolute favourite style of architecture- besides Manueline, of course.

“Hm.” He hummed, and scratched the back of his head in thought. He only needed one of them to regain what energy he had lost. “Which one of you should I choose first?”

Marcus flinched backward. Lyrem shook his greying head at him.

“Oh, I will have to save you for last. I hope you don’t mind being locked away for weeks on end. In fact, I think I may save you for a more special occasion.”

He switched, turning his gaze onto the boy Kyle and met his eyes. The boy tried and failed to look away from him. His eyes darting back every second just to check if Lyrem was still studying him.

“What’s wrong? Having a bit of trouble speaking up?” Lyrem tutted. He angled his head towards the girl. “What about you? Will you pick up the mantle? Go on, sweety. Show these boys what true bravery is.”

Jess’ eyelashes had begun to fall down her face. Her make up smeared and ran down her cheeks from the constant tears, and was only worsened by Lyrem’s taunting hand, softly wiping them away as he squatted over her. He pouted, mimicking a sympathy that mocked her from head to toe.

“Don’t touch her!”

Lyrem lit up with joy.

“Finally! A winner!”

Jess sobbed as the attention was driven from her to Kyle. “N-no, no, no,” Her voice repeated incessantly. “Please stop- please. I’m so sorry for what we did. I-I promise, it- it won’t happen again.”

Lyrem stopped at Kyle, and moved his lips as he made his decision between them. He looked at Jess. He placed his elbow onto the back of his hand that sat across his upper abdomen. The other hand rested under his chin and it looked more like he was busy judging a piece of artwork, not debating who he would like to kill first.

“You really couldn’t make this decision easy on me, could you? On one hand I would love to make this piece of shit suffer,” He kicked Kyle’s manacled feet around lightly as he regarded Jess with gleeful sadism. “On the other hand, you are so adorable when you’re scared.”

Lyrem took another pause before fully making his decision. Pulling out a blade from his belt around his side, roughly the length of his forearm, he pointed it toward Kyle carefully and knelt down in front of him.

“This is for what you did to my Segovia album.”

Lyrem dragged the blade along the top of the boy’s cheekbone, giving him one smooth slice under his eye several inches long. Kyle whimpered, feeling the sharp sting linger for what seemed like an eternity and began to shout out as the blade continued into the more sensitive skin just underneath his eye. The jingling of chains around his arms and feet grew louder as he tried to ease the pain; too fearful to move his head, lest the point of the knife met his eye. The shouting cries and jingling ceased as Lyrem pulled the blade back.

“You scratched it, so now I scratched you.” Lyrem smiled lightly. “You see?”

Kyle’s eyes opened as blood poured down from one side. Sweat and tears mixed together to add to the stinging pain cut across his face. Lyrem cleaned off his blade onto Kyle’s shirt collar. He gasped as it reached dangerously close to his neck.

Lyrem stood over them again, waving his knife eloquently. His eyes rested on Kyle.

“Now, I do believe I have made my decision.”

Kyle closed his eyes tightly, knowing it would be him- certain of it. He heard a whimper, then a slice, and then gurgling.

He turned his head. Seeing Jess’ neck dripping a steady stream of blood down her blouse, he cried out; his mouth was left gaping as he had no hands available to cover it with.

Lyrem hovered over the body for a while, still gripping the hair that felt like nylon between his fingers. She was still somewhat alive- the expression was clear in her blue eyes that were beginning to look a glassier with each passing moment.

“The whining was already becoming a bit annoying, don’t you think?”

The boys didn’t answer Lyrem. They didn’t say anything as Jess’ spirit left her body. Lyrem licked Jess’ blood off the edge of his knife, grinning.

#mystics by alpaca #mystics #writing #writing blog #creative writing #whump #whump writing #nonbinary #whumpblr #torture #nausea #character death #minor character death

[doc-pickles]

squeeze cheese, pandemics, & you

AKA the pandemic fic that literally everyone asked for

i still cannot believe that i actually wrote this BUT soooo many people asked me for a freaking pandemic fic that i wrote it. it’s crazy, a little messy, and the sass radiating from levi schmitt fuels my cold dead heart.

i’d like to personally thank @odd-birds-and-booksellers @kidneys4karev @choosingmywife and Nat AKA the “jolex mass grave” chat that bullied me into doing this. they’re also the heart and soul of ‘pandemic jo’ and really brought her and her mannerisms to life. cheers to you ladies, this fic is for you!!

and now... without further ado... the pandemic fic that i wrote most of at 10 pm while slightly tipsy (BONUS POINTS: it’s also another fix it fic bc i am traaaaash hehehe)

“Why do we have a nacho cheese dispenser?”

Jo looked up from her place on the couch, eyeing Levi as he stared at the new machinery in the kitchen. She turned her attention back to the soap opera on TV before answering him. 

“Are you complaining?”

“No but-”

“Exactly.” 

Settling back into the couch, Jo grabbed the bowl of apples that she had covered in nacho cheese earlier. She had developed a nasty online shopping habit since being in lockdown, but figured since she had sold off a good chunk of Alex’s belongings that she deserved to treat herself. 

Worried sick that any exposure to the hospital or any of it’s doctors would harm her, Jo had been on a strict self-quarantine since March. Levi, having to choose between his job or place to live, was forced to reside with Jo full time. The past few weeks had been tough on both roommates, but their bond had been strong regardless of their arguments.

“I’m kind of concerned about your online shopping habit,” Levi sat on the other end of the couch from Jo, a plate of nachos in hand. “Between the nacho cheese machine and the ball pit, I have some questions about the vibe you’re trying to create here.”

“Hey I’ve never had a place to myself. I want to have fun! Let loose! Besides in a few months I’ll have to take care of someone else,” Jo patted her small baby bump affectionately. “I’m trying to be a cool mom and the ball pit was the first step.”

Ah yes, Jo’s unexpected pregnancy and the reason she was so paranoid about staying isolated. Three weeks after Alex had officially left, Jo had realized that he left her much more than just hospital shares and their loft. Four home tests later and a shoe thrown across the loft at Levi (“I’m just telling you Jo, false positives are really ra- OW!”) Jo had indeed confirmed her earlier suspicions. 

“Well… for your sanity’s sake, I hope your online shopping doesn’t go completely off the rails,” a knock on the door interrupted Levi’s sentence, his eyes trailing to Jo accusingly. “If that’s another Amazon package, you’re going to have some explaining to do.” “Actually, it’s something even better,” Jo rolled her eyes, standing from the couch and grabbing what had been dropped on the doorstep. “It’s takeout! From the Italian place downtown with the really good spicy meatballs! It’s important that we support small businesses during these trying times.” “You sound like a walking capitalism ad,” Levi groaned, moving from the couch to the dining table and sitting across from Jo. “But if it keeps me well fed I can’t complain about that. Oh please tell me you’re not- yup that is squeeze cheese on the meatballs. That’s not right.”

+ “Hey have you seen- Ow! Why the hell did I just sit on knitting needles,” Levi held up the items in question as he stared down Jo. “Are you an 85 year old woman? When and why did you take up knitting?” “So I can make baby sweaters, duh,” Jo rolled her eyes and bit into her toast. “I’m not that great at it yet, but Helen has been teaching me over Skype. She’s an expert, she helped me make a baby hat but it’ll probably fit a baby doll before an actual human baby.”

“Okay wow, umm so many questions,” Levi pulled a chair over to where Jo was sitting, staring at her quizzically before jumping into his questions. “First, what is on your toast? Secondly, Helen as in your ex mother in law? And third, why are you sitting in the ball pit wearing a bucket hat and a bathing suit top?”

To his credit, Levi was asking sensible questions to Jo. She was indeed sitting in the ball pit she had bought online, eating a piece of toast with some questionable toppings and wearing an old pair of Alex’s boxers and a bikini top, a Seattle Seahawks bucket hat thrown carelessly on her head. 

“The toast is nutella, swiss cheese, and strawberry jam, it’s like the trailer trash version of what you get at fondue places,” Jo took another bite as if to emphasize her point. “The bathing suit top is because my boobs are huge and won’t fit into my regular bras. Also my baby bump is growing larger by the day so I can’t fit into anything but sweatpants, but it’s way too hot in here for that. The bucket hat is because I was tired of staring at my unwashed hair in the mirror. And yes, Helen and I have become quite good friends and Skype every Tuesday while you go outside to call Helm for an hour and collect hospital gossip. She’s very excited she’s getting another grandchild and has begged me to come and visit once I bear the heir to the Karev name.” 

“So you’re keeping your last name? And passing it onto the baby?”

Jo had spent many nights thinking long and hard about what to do with her last name. She had finally decided to change it but when she had found out she was pregnant, she knew that Alex’s side of the family would be the only real family her child would have. And after crying about it over Skype with her former mother in law, Helen had reassured Jo that she would be more than proud if she and her unborn child carried on the Karev name. 

“Yes we’re both going to be Karev’s,” Jo sighed, hand coming down to her bare bump. “I don’t need to explain my decisions to you Levi.”

“Well I’m assuming that if you’re going to be staying a Karev that you’re going to tell Alex?”

Not wanting to answer Levi’s very direct question, Jo began to pelt him with the balls from the ball pit until he walked away towards the kitchen. Jo knew that she should pick up the phone and call Alex, that he had already missed so much of his other children growing up that he deserved to be there for everything for this one. But Jo was still angry and upset at Alex for leaving her alone. If he was still here, he’d probably be sitting in the ball pit with her, cracking jokes about her inability to knit. 

But he wasn’t, Alex was halfway across the country and Jo couldn’t bring herself to pick up the phone and hear her husband's voice. 

+

“For the last time Levi, I do not need anything from you! Stop asking me! And stop texting Meredith every two minutes!”

Jo walked from the couch to the bed, flopping down onto the surface as she let out a loud sigh. It had been eight weeks since she and Levi had been quarantined together, twelve since she had found out she was pregnant, and seventeen since she had actually fallen pregnant. The constant bouts of morning sickness and mood swings in close quarters with her pseudo friend/ roommate had not been easy, but Levi was being a trooper for his part.

“Come on Jo, Meredith just wants to make sure that you’re okay,” Levi pleaded, sinking down into the couch. “Don’t take her over compensating tendencies out on me.”

For her part, Jo understood where Levi was coming from. She knew that Meredith was over protective of her because of what had happened between her and Alex, but it didn’t mean that the situation bothered Jo any less. She was capable of taking care of herself and the life that was growing inside of her, pandemic be damned. 

“Tell Meredith I’m fine and that I’m doing crossword puzzles and going to Zoom therapy sessions once a week,” Jo huffed, hands coming to rest over her eyes as she tried to understand why she had ever thought a one room loft was a good idea. “I don’t need you two hovering over me at all hours of the day.”

A loud banging sounded on the door of the loft, Jo and Levi exchanging looks before Levi scurried to the door to see who was there. The only visitors the two had had in the past few weeks were either Meredith or the grocery delivery guy, neither of which were allowed inside and neither of which pounded their door so loudly.

“Jo! Open the door, I know you’re home,” both Levi and Jo paused at the voice outside the door. Levi, who stood next to the front door, looked to Jo for guidance, but she had no direction to give. “Damn it Jo, open the door. I need to talk to you!” After a nod from Jo, Levi slid the door open, one hand coming up to stop Alex from storming into the loft. The sight of her ex husband for the first time in months made Jo’s stomach flip, her hand coming to cover her mouth so she didn’t scream in shock. 

“Sorry, Jo doesn’t let anyone in the loft anymore,” Alex raised an eyebrow towards Levi, his expression angry and ready to challenge him. “Not even Meredith. There’s a pandemic happening, dude.”

Alex rolled his eyes, trailing them towards Jo who stood nervously in the kitchen now. If you knew her well enough, you could tell that her figure had changed in the past few weeks. Her breasts had filled out and her face was fuller because of the slight amount of weight she had put on. Alex couldn’t see from where he stood, but he assumed that her stomach had begun to curve outwards as well. 

“Jo, I need to talk to you,” Alex wanted so badly to step closer to his ex wife, but he knew that Schmitt would try to stop him no matter what he did. “Mer called me, can we please talk?” Jo peaked around the corner of the kitchen, eyes taking in Alex’s nervous form. His stubble had grown out, his eyes seeming more tired than usual as they scanned over her body. A subconscious hand floated down to her stomach, Jo shielding her unborn baby from the fight that was about to ensue. 

“You can do it from there, Alex,” Jo responded, eyebrows furrowing as she stared Alex down. “You can’t come in unless you’ve quarantined yourself for 14 days and you’ve been tested for COVID-19.”

“Leave it to you to be paranoid during a freaking pandemic,” Alex groaned, one hand coming up to run through his hair. He had driven straight through from Kansas to Washington, only stopping to pee on the side of the road every few hours. “Are you okay? You're…. feeling healthy and what not?” Schmitt, who had been quiet up until then, rolled his eyes in Alex’s direction. After spending every moment of the day with Jo, he knew that the question would piss her off to no end, regardless of who was asking it. He turned to her briefly, noting the pissed off expression on her face, then turned back to Alex.

“Jo is perfectly fine, she has been for the past few months without you,” Levi’s voice was firm and defiant to whatever Alex might counter him with. “And furthermore, I don't think either of us appreciate you showing up here unannounced. We are, may I remind you, in the middle of a pandemic.”

“I’m fine, Alex,” Jo took a step forward, coming further into Alex’s line of sight. Alex’s eyes trailed up and down her body, finally taking in the bump that had appeared on her normally flat stomach. “I do want to talk, I promise, but I can’t risk my health or… or our baby’s health right now. So come back in two weeks and I promise I will talk to you.”

The glare that Alex sends towards Schmitt sends the younger man reeling back, grasping for the door handle as he tries to shut Alex out of the loft. However, the older man’s voice rings through one last time before the door shuts completely. “I’m coming back for you, Jo,” Alex calls out, voice urgent and waiting for his lost love to hear him. “I’m coming back and you can’t stop me.”

Door firmly shut and locked, Levi turned to Jo, who seemed to be brimming with an odd mixture of anger and sadness. She ran her hands through her hair once, finally letting out a scream as she flopped back onto her bed. 

“Well shit,” Jo groaned, hand slipping down the cradle her baby bump. “That’s just about the last thing I needed.”

+

“Did you order breakfast? Because this is delicious.”

Jo stepped out of the bathroom, eyes narrowing as she took in Levi and the huge bag of food in front of him. She hadn’t ordered anything, but since the bag was clearly labeled from her favorite diner, she could only assume where it had come from. 

“Pretty sure you know who sent this,” Jo reached into the bag and grabbed a breakfast burrito, unwrapping it and slathering it in Easy Cheese and hot sauce. “I want to be mad about that, but I really can’t. This is the best thing I’ve eaten in awhile.” 

“It’s been five days, has he said anything to you,” Levi asked, eyes cautiously floating to Jo. While they’d grown closer in quarantine, the one thing that Jo never wanted to talk about was Alex. Now that he was here though, Levi thought that maybe she would be more open about the subject. 

“He’s texted a few times, assured me that he’s staying by himself and that he hasn’t even seen Meredith,” Jo shrugged, one hand coming down to touch her stomach. The once small bump had seemed to balloon in the past week, almost as if her unborn child was trying to show off for their father. “She’s mad at me now, saying that my paranoia is interfering with their friendship. But we haven’t really talked yet.”

To be fair, Alex had been texting Jo a lot since he had showed up at their door and confirmed with his own two eyes that she was pregnant. And if she wasn’t lying straight to Levi’s face currently, she would tell him that she had been texting Alex back. They had talked mostly about the baby, the rest of the world being a subject neither of them wanted to broach. Kansas hadn’t come up either, but Jo had a feeling that maybe everything wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows if Alex hadn’t hesitated in showing up at her door.

“I think it says a lot that he came back, you know,” Levi shrugged as he grabbed a tater tot from the bag and popped it into his mouth. “I mean he said he left for his kids but the first word he hears about you he drives all the way here. That’s a good man for you.” “Well he wouldn’t have had to drive all the way back if he didn’t go there in the first place,” Jo huffed angrily, dropping the rest of her burrito onto the table with a frustrated groan. “I’m going to take a shower.” “You just took one,” Levi countered, a confused look appearing on his face.

“Well unfortunately that’s the only place in this stupid loft that I can sit in silence,” Jo exclaimed, hands coming up in an angry gesture. “If you make it out of here alive it’ll be a miracle, Schmitt.” + “I swear if you don’t back up right now, I’m going to lose my mind!” “Okay but you’re-”

“I told you I’m fine Schmitt, back up!”

The raised voices alarmed Alex as he approached the loft, bringing his keys out to unlock the door instead of knocking. Relieved to find that Jo hadn’t changed the locks, Alex slid the door open and stepped into the loft unnoticed by the bickering roommates.

“I just think if you’re in pain you should go in,” Levi’s hands were held up defensively as he stood in front of Jo. “I’m no expert on pregnancy, but that can’t be a good sign.” “You’re in pain? What’s wrong?” Both Levi and Jo whipped around at the sound of Alex’s voice, the latter holding a hand firmly against her stomach. The glares that she was shooting in his direction didn’t go unnoticed by him, but he brushed it off as he was overwhelmed with worry for Jo. Alex noticed that even in the short time it had been since he had seen her last, Jo’s bump seemed to have grown. 

“You shouldn’t be here. I’m fine,” Jo tried to sound convincing but her voice faltered as she winced. “Seriously I’m okay. Stop looking at me like I’m some shelter puppy that’s about to be put down. I can take care of myself, I’ve been doing it for awhile now. And you need to get out of here, you’ve only been quarantined for like a week.”

Despite her best efforts, Jo had exhausted herself scolding Alex and felt breathless almost immediately. Settling her free hand on the arm of the couch, Jo tried to be inconspicuous as she sat down, but both men next to her were watching her closely. 

“Where does it hurt,” Alex asked as he sat next to Jo, unfazed by her outburst at him. 

“I told you I’m fine!”

“She’s been breathless and clutching her lower right quadrant for about half an hour,” Schmitt offered up, Jo immediately tossing a throw pillow in his direction. “I’m trying to be helpful! You haven’t been in pain this whole entire time.”

“Go be helpful in the bathroom Schmitt! I don’t need both of you hovering around me and I know that he won’t leave,” Jo gestured to Alex vaguely as she took another deep breath, leaning over as she clutched her stomach again. “Go!”

Levi ran off, Jo letting out an aggravated sigh as soon as he left the room. A few tears sprinkled Jo’s cheeks as she rubbed her hand into her stomach. 

“I’m fine I just… can’t catch my breath and my stomach has some localized pain,” Jo didn’t fight Alex off when he placed his palm gently next to hers, his larger hand almost covering her whole bump. “I’m okay, I swear I’m fine. The baby’s fine and it’s okay and nothing is wrong.”

As Jo rambled more, her tears began to fall harder, breaths coming in short gasps as she leaned her head against Alex’s shoulder. Doing his best to comfort and assess her at the same time, Alex rubbed his hand gently against her stomach. A few light kicks met his hand, tears threatening to fall as Alex felt his child move for the first time. Once he was satisfied that Jo had calmed down, he spoke up, sure his crooked grin was showing in full force. 

“Well, you’re not dying,” Alex chuckled, his fingers moving lightly against Jo’s stomach as he explained what she was feeling. “Baby’s lodged up here, in your rib, and when they kick, they knock the air out of your lungs. I can feel their head down here, which means their legs are stretching out and kicking up towards your diaphragm. That’s why you feel so out of breath. If you’re lucky, I can try and coax them out of their tight spot.” 

Jo barely nodded, eyes closed as she continued to lean against Alex and take deep breaths. He moved one hand up to where he felt the baby’s feet and gave a slight push, Jo groaning loudly as they shifted. Alex waited a moment, grinning when he felt a small kick against the lower left side of Jo’s stomach. 

“Oh god,” Jo let a gasp out, eyes flying open as she laid her hand over Alex’s. “Oh, I can breathe again! I haven’t been able to breathe since 2 AM. Jesus that feels so much better.”

Alex took Jo in with a sense of awe, observing all of the changes he had missed about her. She had cut her hair short again, the locks just brushing her shoulders, and her cheeks had filled out more. The way she had eased into her pregnancy made him smile, knowing that she had always had a maternal instinct hidden underneath her hard exterior. Alex eyed the chain across Jo’s neck that held two silver rings, but said nothing about it. 

“Easy trick, just remember that if they get themselves twisted around again. Your OB didn’t show you that,” Alex watched Jo turn her head towards his shoulder, burying her face and mumbling something incoherent. “I can't hear you when you’re hiding your face like that.”

“I haven’t been to my OB,” Jo muttered, eyes focusing on Alex’s hand that still sat under hers. “Not since I confirmed I was pregnant.”

“You’re a doctor, you know better than that,” Alex knew that Jo would never avoid something this important without a reason, so he didn’t go into a full on rant like he wanted to. “Why haven’t you gone in, Jo?” 

“Because I can’t leave the house! I’m so scared that if I leave something will happen to the baby and,” Jo inhaled deeply, her free hand coming up to wipe at her eyes. “This baby is the only thing keeping me sane, it’s the last connection I have to you… and I just can’t risk that. I’ve already hurt too much this year, I don’t need more heartbreak. I’m a doctor, I’ll know if something is wrong and I can go in then. I’m fine here, I don’t need to leave.”

Alex stared at Jo for a long moment before pulling her fully into his embrace. He knew the way he had left her was cruel, but at the time his brain had been so turned around that he couldn’t see another option than breaking the heart of the woman he loved most. 

“Izzie is remarried. She… her kids call him dad and he’s uh, he’s a good guy. She said that I can bring the kids here for a few weeks during the summer if I wanted to but I don’t belong in Kansas,” Alex pulled back and looked at Jo, tears streaking down her face and wide eyes staring up at him. “I’m sorry Jo, I know I screwed up and I should’ve just talked to you when I found out but I was so freaked out that I just… ran. But I wanna be here, with you and this baby and I wanna take care of you. It’s always been you, Jo.”

Jo sniffled, both hands running over her face quickly in an effort to dry some of her tears. She fixed Alex with a serious stare, eyes meeting his for the first time that day. 

“You have a lot of making up to do. And you’re gonna have to be the one to kick Levi out,” Jo motioned towards the bathroom, where she could hear faint cheers echoing from. “And… if you promise to get me cheesecake afterwards, I will go to see my OB this week.”

“I told you,” Levi strutted out of the bathroom, a satisfied smirk on his face. “That’s a good man you have there.”

“Oh shut up!”

#jolex #alex karev #greys anatomy #jo wilson #jo karev #jo x alex #jolex fanfic #nina writes #jolex fic #grey’s anatomy fanfic

[mendesficsxbombay]

send noods (II) | s.m

part 1 here 

only took me about 8 years to complete this haha (more like 2 months but you get it) this is the longest fic I have written so far (over 6K what it do baby!!) I hope you like it!

Shawn silently shuts the door to her room after making sure she’s safely fallen asleep, well fed and high on “wormies” (Stomach worm medicines. Zahra Ameen shortens things as she likes to, and you are expected to accept that.) He hadn’t bothered a lot with his phone since he got here, so when he pulls out his phone to finally check it, he’s not surprised to see the flood of notifications. The only people who really needed to know where he was were his mom, Zahra, and Zachary, his roommate. “Zach” for short, “whiteboy supreme” for Zahra. 

His fingers danced across the screen typing back replies to each of his project partners for their assignments due in the following weeks. She really couldn’t have chosen a worse time to fall sick because their mid terms were around the corner, a truck load of assignments lined up for both of them, and he’s thinking of ways he can probably do some of her stuff so she has lesser work to get back to when she recovers. Recovers, he thinks to himself as his mom’s words ring through his head. “She has a bug, baby, she’s not diseased, and she’s a strong girl and I need you to be a strong boy right now.” He silently huffs to himself because what does his mom know anyway? (everything.) He decides to quickly dash out and grab his laptop and notes over to her room so he can stay with her and work at the same time. 

He shoots her roommate a text about going back to his dorm and runs out. Back in their room, Zach silently watches Shawn pack his things like he’s preparing for exile. His laptop, chargers, notes for 3 different courses, his nighttime face cream, a towel, a power bank, a sanitiser is tossed in and he’s pretty sure he sees a his family photo thrown in somewhere. 

“Got everything you need, Shawnie?” Zach walks over and throws his arms around him from the back, clutching him tight. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

Shawn lets out a yelp as Zach becomes dead weight on him, forcing him to fall face first onto the bed, both now laying flat on what once was a pile of Shawn’s belongings. “Zach you know I can’t pack with you playing dead ON me, right? Move, jackass.”

Zach rolls over, propping his head up on one hand and continues to observe him, “you know I’ve noticed a few things about you, these days, Shawnie. And in my expert opinion I would like to diagnose you with a serious case of unrequited love, the subject in case being a girl currently diseased and lying in her bed high on wormies while you pack to move in with her-”

“I’m not moving in with her-”

“Interrupting is bad manners, you know? As I was saying, you are packing to move in with her, and I highly doubt she feels the exact same way about you, bro.”

“Okay, Zach. Get to the point, what do you mean, here?”

“See, I just don’t see her doing the same for you! If it weren’t for her staying over with you for your regularly scheduled, uh, activities, I would say that she wouldn’t come over at all! It’s always you going to her! Don’t you see that? It’s one sided!”

Shawn was still staring at him with a blank expression, still not sure where this whole conversation was going. “Zach, I need you to try and make more sense. I know it’s hard, but please.”

“Shawn, Zahra only has to breathe in your direction for you to be all heart eyes for her, like someone just says her name and you start blushing,” and unfortunately for him, he did start blushing again, “SEE? Shawn, full offense, I think you’re whipped trash and she’s just - not. I don’t think she feels as much as you do, and it’s really cute that you want to wait hand and foot on her, but it’s not reciprocated!”

Shawn looks away, unsure of how to tell him that it is, in fact reciprocated. They had talked their feelings out when they went home for winter break, made love till they couldn’t anymore and then talked some more and fucked some more. It was taken care of, Zahra Ameen was in love with him, too and they weren’t even dating yet. 

“It is, actually,” Shawn starts.

“It’s what?”

“Reciprocated.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“When we we went back home.”

“She told you she likes you?”

“She told me she loves me.”

“She told you she loves you?”

“Yes.”

Both of them took a moment to just look at each other, Zach getting pensive, until he flung a deodorant at him. “She told you she loves you A MONTH ago and you didn’t tell me?”

Shawn ducks just in time, the bottle landing somewhere behind him. “We’re barely learning to say it ourselves, Zach, it’s not exactly meant to be advertised right now,” he was exasperated, he’d been through the same cycle with his friends before, as had she with hers. People didn’t understand their dynamic, and they didn’t expect them to. They’d grown from being close to closer at their own pace and all while being exclusive without even trying, they were good at being them and there wasn’t ever a time they needed validation from anyone else. “And even if we did you guys would start grilling us for not dating and being in love, why am I meant to-”

“Hey, hey Shawnie listen,” Zach steadies him by holding his shoulders down, “I’m happy for you, bro, if you’re happy with her then I’m happy too, I was only worried because you were all in, you know? And I don’t want to see you get hurt man, you know what I was like after Rachel last year.”

“You saw Rachel for 3 days and decided you were in love with her without talking to her and she’d had a boyfriend for months before that, Zach I’m not sure how that counts as heartbreak…”

“What are you? The heartbreak police? I’m telling you, I was in a one sided relationship-”

“It was NOT a relationship, Za-”

“What did I tell you about not policing me, Shawn? Now, glad we decided to have this conversation, I’m glad both of you are equally whipped for each other, you need to pack up and get to her dorm before she wakes up or else - I don’t know man I don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Shawn snickers lightly, taking in how Zach was actually disturbed at the thought of Zahra screaming at him for messing around with her a few weeks ago. Shawn and Zahra had a few ground rules. One of them being they never left the other sleeping in bed without telling them where they went - this way they never had to wake up alone, wondering where the other went. Waking up alone after not going to sleep alone was one of Zahra’s deepest fears, and she’d had a hard time communicating that to absolutely everyone except Shawn. She’d rambled on and on about the why and how before he simply said, “Don’t leave you alone in bed. Got it.” And so, a few weeks ago when Shawn went to shower and Zahra woke up without him, Zach told her he left for the day and didn’t want to wake her up. She was a second away from crying when Shawn came out of the shower and kissed her good morning. That was when she physically launched herself at Zach for making her believe he truly left her after she told him not to. 

Goes without saying that Zach had been afraid of messing with her, avoided her for a week straight right after the incident and promptly left the flat as soon as she came over all other times. Zach still grumbled as Shawn continued packing proceeding to catching him in a headlock and pressing down on the visible hickey she must’ve left on him the last time she came over. Shawn pushed him away whining about “how many times have I told you not to do that, you absolute fuck?” and received a loud, “if you’re so sensitive why don’t you ask her not to?”

And we all know that would never happen.

Another 10 minutes and Shawn had taken everything he thought he would need, Zach still not leaving his side.

“You got your dorm pass?”

“Yes”

“Library card?”

“Yes”

“Vitamins?”

“Yes”

“Condoms?”

“Ye- why would I need those? Are you out of-”

“You’re going to see the one person I know who loves the deed more that you do, just figured you need them at hand.”

“She’s practically an invalid right now, get your mind out of the gutter, Zachary”

“Hey I’m just saying I can’t take the responsibility of being a godfather anytime soon, bud.”

“Good thing you won’t be one, then.” Shawn pulled out his phone to check if she had woken up and texted him after seeing the sticky note he left on her bedside, but his heart stuttered a bit seeing her last texts to him.

Babiest to shawny boy : (3:11 pm): feeling icky tbh but i had a rly cute guy come over to nurse me back to life

Babiest : (3:11 pm):  he is the greatest souper on the world

Babiest : (3:11 pm): soup maker?

Babiest : (3:11 pm): might just fuck around and wife him up while you’re not watching. Love u 

Did anyone go over to her’s while he wasn’t there? Not to brag, but he’s makes the sickest soups he knows, how could someone except his mom and her mom possibly come close to the absolute delicacy that is his world famous noodle soup? Why would she want to wife- I mean, be with someone else when he exists? And they exchanged the L word pretty recently, too, or did she not mean it? Why would she say it if she did not mean it? And if he’s honest, she does deserve the world, and he’s willing and ready to give it to her but if she wants it from someone else, who was he to stop her? He would wish it was him though. It always felt like it was. 

He continued staring at the texts till Zach snapped him out of it, and he blinked away tears he didn’t know he had. “Hey, can you read these?”

He handed his phone over and continued pacing around the room, constantly running running his hands through his hair, biting his nails, just to have an outlet. Zach bit his lip reading the texts, unsure of how to respond. He wasn’t there when this went down, how was he to know if she was talking about Shawn or someone else? 

“Bro, do you think there’s someone else?”

“I don’t know, I think…,” Shawn looked away, not wanting to cry when he doesn’t know anything for sure and definitely not wanting to do it in front of Zach because he was the easiest crier he knew. One person composing themselves is better than two of them losing it. The energy in the room had shifted in the matter of seconds. The airy, playful banter was gone as quick as it came, signs of possible heartache hanging over both of their heads now. Their friendship worked in funny ways, sometimes. Zach took on responsibility as quick as he could, and Shawn could let go of his voice of reason for Zach’s sake at any given point. If what both of them were thinking did turn out to be true, it would be the first time Shawn would have to wear his heart on his sleeve rather than the other way around. 

“You can say whatever you want, you know that Shawny,” he sighed, looking back down at the texts. “We don’t judge around here…”

Shawn didn’t face him for a bit. He couldn’t and he didn’t want to. He continued crossing the length of his room while Zach resumed his spot on the bed, watching him intently. A few more rounds and he came to halt abruptly in front of him, eyes red from not crying, it’s a thing that happened to him. He let out a sounded that felt something like the air was choked out of him and he’d been punched in the gut.

“She told me she loved me, Zach.” And Zach started crying, and Shawn was about to join in until his ring tone cut them off.

It was Zahra calling. 

__________________________

Zahra sighed for the third time in 5 minutes, she was having a hard time finding relevant information for Shawn’s next research paper. Her eyes were strained now and the pads of her fingers felt scratched into after working on her laptop’s touch pad for so long. Her hands uncovered her face and lay flat on the table in front of her as she leaned forward to stare at the screen as if that would make things fall in place together. She felt a finger link with her pinky, a soft, tired smile growing on her face as his thumb ran across the back of her hand. Shawn had a few nervous ticks, the easiest to ground him was through physical contact, easier so when she was around. Zahra flipped her hand over slowly, letting his fingers intertwine with hers, seeing him furrow his eyebrows over a particularly hard piece of writing and thinking of how quick the library matron would shoo them out of there if she just leaned over and gave him a few kisses, not many, just a few. She spared a glance around the relatively empty section they had found, and decided that loving on her boy for a bit was more important at the moment than having a secluded working environment. 

She leaned closer, pulling him in by the side of his face to pepper kisses across his temple down to his cheeks. She felt his cheeks grow into a smile under her lips, a soft, “I’m trying to concentrate, baby,” coming through. “You work too hard,” she mumbled, finally pulling his face her way and kissing him for real. He reacted naturally, pressing down on her chin so she’d let him kiss her as he pleased, rubbing his thumb across her cheeks now. 

It was her turn to smile as she felt his tongue pad across her lower lip, pulling away slightly to brush his nose against hers. Another Shawn and Zahra thing. She leaned back in, mirroring Shawn’s actions and swiping her tongue against his lip softly, keening as she heard him hum softly. He caught her chin again, but to lightly pull away this time.

“Control yourself, Ms. Ameen, we’re still in the library and your membership could be revoked if someone caught you engaging in such a lewd act,” he grinned lightly, pecking her one last time before getting back to work. 

“Lewd act? Really? As if this is the worst we’ve ever done,” he tries to shush her but she continues anyway, “Remember when we went behind the bleachers after your game last ye-”

“Shut up, Zahra, honestly,” it was his turn to blush furiously, “don’t you have a paper to finish?”

“Your paper, you mean?” She rolls her eyes at him and he’s endeared to no end, really. As she slips her hand back into his, laying her flat on the desk before her presumably to take a break, his heart feels slight pangs that turn to jabs till he thinks he probably cannot breathe anymore. The day he read the texts, he went over to her house anyway, and there’s a lot of things Shawn Mendes was capable of but staying away from Zahra Ameen was not one of them. So he’d gone over, hugged her and kissed her like he always did and promptly ignored her when she giddily asked him if he got her texts. 

Her face fell when he chose not to answer her, and she’s not used to not getting a reply from him so she pressed a bit more till he brought in the remaining soup for her to finish and go back to sleep. He knew they were coming to an end, sooner than he expected, and he actually didn’t expect this at all. An unfortunate part of him believed they were it, they were endgame,  they were each other’s “ult faves” as Zahra said. All good things come to an end, though, and as much as he wished it was him and her at the end, he couldn’t dream if holding her back from anything. Maybe a better love was in store for her, and the least he could do was let her have it, the most he could do was hold onto whatever they had until she told him the truth. 

He didn’t stop with the hand holding or the kisses or the I love you’s, and to his misery neither did she. If anything she became softer around him, killing him inside all while holding his hand. He thought it was just a way to make the blow softer, whenever the blow eventually comes. 

And now a week later as she held his hand under a desk in their university library, he wishes he had tried talking to her about it on the same day. It would spare him the pain of holding her hand and thinking it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do so, it was exhausting to constantly think of each time as their last. 

He looked up from their hands to see Amisha walking over, nudging Zahra to sit up and greet her classmate. She rubbed at her eyes, reminding him to get the mock papers he was supposed to refer to while writing his own. Shawn pulled away, grateful for the distance all of a sudden as he saw her get out of her seat for the first time in over 2 hours, hugging Amisha and catching up softly, keeping their voices to a whisper.

He thumbed through the piles of papers available to him, picking out a few randomly and signing in his name on the counter. At times he was grateful Zahra forced him to get a library card and then forced him to study with her endlessly because he had grown to love the place. As he walked back his tennis shoes made a light thwack sound against the marble of the surprisingly dead room, focusing back on Zahra. 

Amisha and Zahra had lots in common. They picked the same Majors, same Minors, happened to be the only two second year’s on the debate team and shared their heritage being two of the many Indian girls on campus. Amisha had also learned of how much Zahra loved their campus library, and made sure to her rounds each time she came in in hopes of running into her.

Zahra spoke animatedly about falling sick the previous week and as Amisha asked her if she’d started working on her own research papers due soon. “I have! I promise, just let me finish my boyfriend’s and I’ll get back to mine for reals,” the answer would’ve gone on for longer had they not heard a pile of something fall behind them, disturbing the silence around them. 

Shawn’s heart was in his mouth and his hands shook even after the papers slipped through. Boyfriend? Things had gotten to a point of Zahra having a boyfriend and she still let him kiss her?

“You okay, Bub?” Zahra rushed over, helping him get his precious mocks into one pile again and raising her brow when he didn’t reply, just stared at her dumbly. “Shawn?”

“Hey um, we have class beginning in 10 and the walk is usually takes us 15 so…” Zahra looked back at Amisha who looked ready to break into a sprint if she said the word. 

She nodded to the door and Amisha took the signal and left with her bookbag as Zahra frantically packed her own stuff, starting to throw instructions at Shawn for his remaining assignments, things like “I’ll email you the final design by tonight” and “we’ll finish your report writing by tomorrow” and “I’ll see how your business prof doesn’t give you the highest grade after seeing the model we’re working on, babe.”

dontcrydontcrydontcry he chanted in his mind, still not sure of what to tell her or how to react, the jabs felt in his heart again. She finally turned to him, cupping both his cheeks and pressing one long kiss to his lips, enough for him to make it through the day usually but right now, it didn’t feel like he’d make it through the next minute.

“We’re gonna crush this sem, baby,” she grinned, her eyes sparkling before she turned around and ran out after Amisha. He wasn’t sure if it was her leaving or the wind just not finding place in his lungs but his poor heart and his poor mind were barely hanging on by a thread. Thoughts of her consumed him within a second of her leaving, and his sanity seemed further and further away. He was used to feeling weak in the knees around her, but not so much in her absence.

_____________

Zach pulled his backpack up higher on his shoulder as he waited for his group to join him at the campus cafe he’d been waiting at for the past 10 minutes. His mind was working overtime as he didn’t know how he’d face Zahra while he knew how bad Shawn was taking the hit of their relationship. He hated the image of Shawn walking home with red rimmed eyes for the second time in the same week after he knew he met Zahra at the library. He didn’t have the heart to ask him the reason why because he already knew. 

Which is what brings him here, because he shared 2 classes with Zahra, and Shawn doesn’t. Zach was already nervous around her because she was at the top of most of her classes anyway, and she was in group project for this particular one. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to act like everything was fine between them, or between her and Shawn. From what he gathered from Shawn, she acted like everything was fuckin’ dandy. A part of him wanted to call her out, hurt her for hurting his best friend but a bigger part of him knew how that would affect Shawn. To him Zahra had hung the moon, and Zach would comply for his sake. Seeing her walk towards him with the rest of their group, he took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes, as if he was preparing for attack. He didn’t gain second place in his school’s acting competition to never put his skills to use. If she could pretend, he could pretend, too. 

___________

He couldn’t pretend for the life of him. It had been two hours and all he did was stare at her with a blank expression, he would give mono-syllabic answers each time someone asked for his inputs and he could see her grow uncomfortable under his stare over time. They had their books and papers piled onto the table along with their coffees and snacks, he couldn’t even finish half of his iced coffee and Zach loved iced coffee. 

In his mind he played a dramatic scene where he stood up and screamed “How could you?!” in her face before throwing all their books off the table and saying something more like “You should be ashamed of yourself, Zahra Ameen,” or “How do you sleep at night knowing you’re a cheater?” and storming out of the cafe but a) Zach had social anxiety and therefore hated being the centre of attention and b) their notes were expensive and he wasn’t about to throw them to the floor anytime soon. And he would very much like to not be banned from the only cafe they have on campus, thank you very much. 

So all that was left for him to do was stare, and hope to God that it was enough for her to own up to what she did. She was in the middle of showing the group designs she had worked on in the past, trying to gain inspirations for their coming submission and he visibly winced as he recognised two of those as work she’d done for Shawn in the past. She accidentally picked up the mug next to her own and took a sip, nearly spitting it out and saying the most pained, “Is that peppermint hot chocolate?” The group all burst into laughter as her distaste for the poor drink just grew bigger.  “Why are you guys laughing? It’s genuinely the worst thing ever!! What kind of sociopath drank good ol’ hot chocolate and thought, hmm, how can I make the best thing in the world taste bad?”

“It’s not even bad, it’s like the upgraded version of hot chocolate, Zahra, you just don’t have taste,” the girl next to her giggled. 

“God, you sound exactly like my boyfriend, you guys should start a cult,” she rolled her eyes, “And as much as I don’t support this agenda, he loves this disgraced drink from the place on 21st, if you ever want to try it out.”

Zach looked like he’d seen a ghost. He looked like the life had been sucked out of him. His heart clenched and his hands shook. If this is how I’m feeling then what on earth is Shawn going through? He continues staring at her for just a second longer, mumbling the tiniest, lowest, “How could you, Zahra?” before he rushes to stuff his things into his bag, the group looking at him in his confusion. 

“Are you okay?” Of course she had to be the one to ask him that, that’s just how great his life is. 

“No - I mean, I have somewhere to be, bye,” and then he’s dashing out the door. He runs and runs, doesn’t stop until he reaches their dorm and barges inside their house. A few stray tears may or may not have fallen out in his state of frustration, and he sees Shawn by his desk and runs over and wraps his arms around him in the tightest hug he could muster. 

“I’m sorry, Shawn I’m so, so sorry you don’t deserve this,” he cries into his shoulder, “You deserve everything, bro, you deserve the world..”

Shawn was used to Zach crying at the smallest of things, he was an easy crier, that one. And yet he had never truly heard wails so heartbroken come from him, not even when Shawn made Zach watch The Notebook with him for the first time. He wraps his arms around Zach, trying to comfort him but to no avail, his cries growing deeper by the second. Shawn himself was spent, the past few days having taken a swing at his health, and this was the second day he had avoided the mirror. It was embarrassing how much he had let a girl  affect him but if he was being honest, he knew she was anything but. 

He shushed Zach again, now rubbing his back, telling him he couldn’t fix whatever it was that made him so sad if he didn’t talk to him at all. 

“It’s her, it’s Zahra she’s- she,” he could barely talk through his hiccups and Shawn’s heart broke at the mention of her all over again. He coaxed Zach into speaking more, “She does have a boyfriend, Shawn, she said it today, she said it in front of me like, she said her boyfriend loves some hot chocolate from the 21st street place and she - she knew I was right there in front of her, and she said it so easy, like she doesn’t even care, and why aren’t you saying anything?!”

What can I possibly say, he thought.

“It’s okay, buddy, she’s with someone else, that’s not the end of the world, is it?” he smiled weakly. It was though, he felt like his world was seconds away from burning every time he thought of her.

“But she’s - you - you love her, Shawn, and you’ve never loved like this before,” Zach cried out.

“I need you to calm down, first, Zachary,” he let out a dry laugh, ignoring his best friend’s protests, “She’s allowed to love someone else, buddy, I guess it wasn’t so requited after all… and if she’s happy with someone else… then I’m happy for her, I can’t be angry because she doesn’t love me back, that’s not fair on her or on me,” he sniffled a bit, looking away and ignoring the burn in his eyes, “I guess - I mean, I’ll always wish it was me and her at the end, you know? But you can’t fight for everything, that’s not how love works, it works when you’re at peace, and maybe I’m not at peace today or tomorrow but some day I will be…”

Zach watches his best friend struggle with his words, his emotions and mostly his love that he can’t contain no matter how much he tries. He can’t help but mumble back to him, “Shawn I know we’ve always been against physically abusing women but you remember Riya from freshman year? She won the Inter College women on women boxing championship this year, I can get her to rough Zahr-”

Shawn lets out the first laugh Zach has heard in days, smiling despite himself. “That won’t be necessary, we’re not sending someone to beat up the girl I still love.”

Shawn goes to get Zach some water now that he has finally calmed down with the crying and is now settling himself onto his bed when he hears a series of knocks on the door, a chill running down his spine when he realises only one person knew that pattern. Zach goes over to open the door before he can stop him. 

His face contorts almost immediately upon seeing Zahra, defence mode kicking in automatically. 

“Are you okay?” She starts, “You ran out of there like-”

“Shawn’s not here if you’re looking for him,” he snipes.

“Where is he?”

“He has a class right now.”

“Which one?”

“Integrated uh, Marketing.”

“Nice try, he had that class yesterday,” she shoves past him, entering their dorm and finding Shawn looking like a wounded puppy in the kitchen area. “Hi…” she says softly, careful to approach him. “You didn’t answer my calls or texts so I thought I’d come over to-“

“Now’s really not the time, Zahra, you should go,” he’d never asked her to leave, ever. And his heart broke as he saw her pretty face fall, the dull jabs in his heart making a return. 

“Oh, um,” she tried to find the correct thing to say to him, unsure of what she’d done wrong, “Is - are you okay? Is something wrong?”

“He said he doesn’t want to see you right now, Ameen,” Zach spits, moving to stand between the two of them, blocking Shawn protectively. 

Zahra’s heart fell to her stomach as she tried to remember what she could’ve done so bad that the whiteboy had to step in. 

“Okay, um, I’ll just leave this here then,” she put down the takeaway glass of peppermint hot chocolate that none of the boys had noticed till now, “Please drink it before it runs cold… and um, please call me?”

“You really have guts, huh,” Zach speaks up again, ignoring Shawn trying to hold him back. He sizes up Zahra, stepping closer to intimidate her, “You want to fool around with god knows who and still come around for him? I don’t know what made you think that this was ever okay-” but before he can complete himself Shawn puts a hand to his chest, pushing him away from her. 

“Remember what we said about scaring girls, Zachary,” Shawn keeps his voice low, “Let me handle this, please.”

Zach scoffs before heading to his room and slamming the door shut, and Shawn runs his hand down his face, preparing himself for the worse of this heartbreak. 

“Can you just tell me what’s going on? I have no idea-“

“When were you going to tell me?” It was Shawn’s turn to be mad.

“About what?” Her confusion only grew by the second, both boys talking in riddles.

“About you fucking someone else, Zahra, about you having a boyfriend.”

“I’m not fu- I have only been with you, Shawn.”

“See? That’s what you want me to believe? Zahra, I loved you, I gave you everything I had, and it wasn’t enough for you I get it, there’s better guys out there, and,” he sighs in annoyance, blinking his tears away for the fifth time in a day, mad at himself for being so emotional, for loving her so much his voice coming out in whimpers, “the least you could’ve done was tell me, baby, I would’ve let you go the second you said you wanted out, what did I do to deserve this?”

Zahra’s eyes pricked with tears as she saw him struggle to get the words out, tears streaming down his face. She moved closer to him to wipe them away but he just moved further away from her again, not willing for her to help. 

“Baba, I don’t know what you’re talking about I - I haven’t, I don’t want anyone but you - I really don’t know what you’re talking about, how am I supposed to give you an answer?” She croaked out, throat going dry at the thought of him hurting because of her. 

“So you still want to act like you don’t know? Fine, I’ll tell you.” She winced as his voice grew louder, she’d never seen him like this before. “That day at the library? When you told Amisha you were there with your boyfriend? And when I came over to your house when you were sick and god, Zahra I made you soup from scratch and you had the audacity to say you had some boy come over to take care of you and you wanted to wife them up? Like what the fuck was that about? But I let it slide because I loved you Zahra, you’re my best friend the least you could’ve done was lessen the blow - oh and today? When you told your group including Zach about this boy of yours? Do you need more reminders? You’re one to talk about people who cheat but look at you now, huh? Or do you not count this as cheating because, in your words we’re not even dating, are we?”

It falls into place in her head before she can form words to get it out. He had it all so, so wrong. It hurt her that he bottled up his feelings so much that he thought she realistically liked someone who wasn’t him. 

“Shawn,” she started calmly, “that day at the library, whose project was I working on?”

“How does it matter?” He scoffs, turning away from her again. 

“It does, please, whose project was I working on?”

“Mine? But who el-”

“And today with Zach, I told them about the peppermint hot chocolate from the place at 21st… who took me there for the first time?”

“That fucking boyfriend of yours? How am I supposed to know?”

“You did,” she whispered, “and in that cup behind you is peppermint hot chocolate, because you’re the only person I know who loves it so much.” She wipes her tears away, moving to hand him the cup. “I told you it would run cold.” 

He had visibly calmed down, trying to take in what she was trying to tell him. “What about the day I came over when you were sick?”

“You’re the only one who would bring the soup and take care of me. You’ve always been the only one.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I didn’t think I’d need to, to be honest. After coming back to college this time, it felt like everything had finally fallen into place, you know? Like we had fallen into place. I know it’s not something I’d discussed this with you, but I only love you, you know? How could I ever want someone else?”

He looked down in shame, thinking of the mess he’d created. “Why didn’t you ask me?”

“About what?”

“Being your boyfriend?”

She wiped her nose, laughing out fully before looking him in the eyes and lowering herself on one knee. “If that’s where we’re still at,” she grins at him, “Shawn Mendes, will you be my only boyfriend?”

taglist: @shawnwyr​ @mendesstories​ @lanallaa​ @sleepybesson​ @rulerofnocountry​

dm to be added or removed ♥️

#my writing #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes x oc #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fluff #Shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes college au #shawn mendes writing

[alottanothing]

Left to Ruin: Chapter Eleven

Summary: Ahkmenrah struggles with the aftermath of his confrontation with Nouke. Setshepsut is at last found, and the pharaoh puts Kahmunrah in his place. 

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 7805

Warnings: Mentions of torture, abuse, and blood. 

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe​, @r-ahh-mi​, @theultraviolencefan​, @hah0106​, @rami-malek-trash​, @diasimar​, @sherlollydramoine​, @flipper-kisses​, @ivy-miranda-2390​, @txmel​, @sunkissedmikky​, @concentratedsassandcandy​, @babyalienfairy​, @edteche2​ (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: Ooooo this chapter! I’m so excited this chapter is finally being posted! This one was one of my top 3 favorites to write, the emotion in it is just.....I just love it. I hope you all do too. Thanks again, SO MUCH for your comments and likes and reblogs. The tiniest nugget validation feeds my motivation. Again, as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible

For three days, the pharaoh's men searched Waset for traces of his missing queen without the benefit of insight. Setshepsut had left no note or sign that could hint at where she may have run to. And by the second day with no answers, Ahkmenrah felt pressured to enlist Kahmunrah's help to find her, even when he knew his brother would not heed is want for discretion and mercy. Ahk hated having to rely on a band of mercenaries—they’d left the palace with fiendish smiles and hollow assurances that left a sick feeling in the pharaoh’s gut that was impossible to ignore. Desperation was the only thing keeping the pharaoh from calling them back. He needed to find the sister that he promised to always protect. He needed to find her so he could apologize for the things that caused her to run away. He needed to know she was safe.

Those few days were the longest Ahkmenrah ever remembered having to endure. He’d found no rest, plagued to the brim with worry and guilt while his sorrow festered until it ate away every remaining glint of happiness left inside of him. The fact that he hurt not only one person with his heedless words (or lack of them, too) left the pharaoh feeling as though he deserved to live in this misery he had stirred for the rest of his days.

He cowered behind his crown and golden robes; Setshepsut would never have done something so shameful. She harbored bravery he did not, and he was envious of that courage. She cared little for her station and the responsibilities that went alongside it—running away for her was undoubtedly an easy decision. Ahk could only bring himself to throw caution to the wind and free himself from the golden shackles of his birth for no more than an evening, maybe two. 

He admired Set's tenacity. All it had taken was an exchange of misinterpreted words for her to chase the freedom she desired. Ahk’s adventurous spirit longed to be so bold, but his level mind knew there was too much at stake for him to be so selfish.

And Nouke—his heart ached. 

Nouke, Ahk feared, would never see him in the same light again. All their time together since they were children he had shown her nothing but friendship and kindness. Letting her believe he thought of her as a second prize was cruel. She had always been his only one, and he didn’t tell her.

Ahkmenrah’s mind was so turbulent that evening when she’d come to him. The concern for his missing sister clouded his better judgment and forced him to crave distraction. He’d wanted so much to drown the guilt and worry with selfish pleasure—not once stopping to think how Nouke might interpret his intimacy. And like a coward, he froze when she demanded an explanation—too afraid to come clean of the lies he and Setshepsut had sold to all of Egypt for nearing six years. 

Would she have stayed if he admitted his fervent desire to have her that night was more than a way to subdue the guilt he felt for chasing away his sister? Perhaps, but only once he’d confessed his plan to break his union with Setshepsut. It would have been so easy if he’d only said those words. She would have stayed, and the emptiness he felt would be significantly less crippling with her by his side while men searched to bring his sister home.

Ahkmenrah spent the majority of the time it took to find his sister in his chamber or at prayer in the temple to ensure no one bothered him. Matters with the council and all his other responsibilities went forward without his guidance—Merenkahre stepping in, and Ahk was thankful. Even his meals he took in the solitude of his room. Kamuzu was the only one who stuck with him threw it all, silent and observing.

It was evening when servants brought the pharaoh his dinner plate—quiet as a whisper. Golden rays spilled into the chamber as Ra’s light sank into the horizon beyond the open balcony, but neither the radiance nor the fruitful plate in front of him drew a reaction. He did little more than glance at the existence of each. 

“You must eat, my king,” Kamuzu encouraged in a gentle but stern tone.

A mirthless smile curled Ahkmenrah’s lips as a sardonic chuckle echoed in the stillness of the room, his eyes falling to the tray of food.

“King?” he chided, mostly to himself, listless eyes passing a leer to his crown perched on the table next to his dinner.

A deep breath filled his lungs, and his nostrils flared when he exhaled forcefully with discontent. Idle hands tore pieces of bread from his plate; Ahkmenrah chewed and swallowed before he spoke again.

“I am no king, Kamuzu.” He kicked out the empty chair across the way with his foot, gesturing with a pointed wave for his guardian to join.

Kamuzu blinked at the informal invitation with hesitation but abided without an utterance. His dark eyes stayed trained on the pharaoh, watchful, and concerned. 

Ahk sipped hungrily from his goblet until it was dry. He craved the dull senses several cupfuls brought and was quick to pour himself another. 

“You’re all I have left.” Ahkmenrah filled a second chalice as he spoke and slid it across the table with enough force the dark liquid splashed and stained his fingers.

Kamuzu nodded his thanks as he took the cup, but refrained from sipping.

“You have many people, my king,” he assured Ahkmenrah.

The pharaoh wrinkled his nose in disagreement, taking another long gulp before shaking his head.

“No,” he insisted. “My father as my mother—and she, him. I have four sisters, three of whom have their husbands and their families. Kahmunrah has that band of men who do everything he says…”

Ahk took another drink and sneered thinking about his brother, “…I’ve not known him to want much more than people to boss around...And Set?”

He paused, feeling guilt stab and twist into his stomach as he recalled the tone in her voice the last time they’d spoken—how broken it was. Ahkmenrah stole another long swig hoping to chase away the sudden pain.

“Set took what she wanted. I commend her for that,” Ahk said pragmatically. “Bravery to laugh duty in the face.”

He sighed and raised his goblet, as though he were making a toast, “As for me—I have all of Egypt.” 

There was practically nothing in his tone, yet the pharaoh felt everything as he finished another cupful—oh how he wanted to feel nothing.

Ahkmenrah’s eyes fixated on his mostly untouched meal as loneliness threatened to overwhelm him. He could feel Kamuzu’s gaze and when he risked meeting it, tears began to prickle. A sigh shook a chill down his spine and Ahk struggled to swallow the abrupt lump in his throat.

“How can I have an entire nation and feel so alone?”

A single tear began to slide down his cheek, but Ahkmenrah caught it, brushing it away with the back of his hand and a sniffle. An eerie quiet crept into the room that was too similar to the one the night Nouke had left him. It worked under the pharaoh's skin as he stared into the middle distance while his mind pondered and screamed to him every horrible thing he had ever done. Then, without warning, he blinked out of it.

Ahkmenrah stood, gripping the edge of the table when the room began to spin slightly from the sudden rush and the alcohol in his system. Kamuzu stood too, suddenly alert. The pharaoh cleared his throat and gathered himself, meeting the Medjay’s gaze.

“Thank you,” he forced out in a bravado that was more or less kingly. “I’m tired, Kamuzu. You may go.”

Kamuzu offered a respectful bow and made for the doors. He stopped; however, before he left, hand on the door, as he turned back to face the pharaoh.

“May I speak freely, my king?”

“Always,” Ahkmenrah nodded, meeting his guardian’s gaze, finding his vision fuzzy on account of the number of drinks he’d had.

“You have not lost her."

Ahkmenrah blinked and his brow furrowed, “Who?”

Kamuzu cast him a gentle, knowing smile, “Rest well, my king.”

With the aid of one more cupful, Ahkmenrah did find himself in a deep dreamless sleep that was a welcome reprieve. He woke, however, with a pulsing between his temples and the stale taste of alcohol on his tongue.  

It took several minutes before Ahk could open his eyes completely without going blind. The amount of light cascading into his chamber meant the morning was in its adolescence. No one had bothered to wake him—evidence that there was still no word on his sister’s whereabouts. The new, ever-present, sense of dread dug a little deeper as he rubbed his temples in an attempt to allay the pounding in his head.

Day’s end would mark four since Setshepsut had gone. The thought was enough to strike fear into Ahkmenrah’s heart. If she wasn’t’ found, he hoped it was because she and her lover had found passage out of the city, safely, and not because she was in danger. 

Not knowing plagued him the most.

He cared not that she ran. There was a warmhearted solace in the thought that she was miles down the Nile on her way to the life she yearned for. Ahk only ever wanted her to be happy and if that meant she never stepped foot in the palace again, he could live with that, as long as she was safe. Gods, I hope she is safe…

Despite his restful sleep, Ahkmenrah was still exhausted from carrying the weight of his rampant emotions. Eventually, he worked himself from his bed and dressed for the day, forgoing most of his usual kingly attire. Instead, he dressed only in his ankle-length shendyt, it’s adjoining belts, and a more simplistic wekesh. 

The relaxed finery granted him the solitude as he walked that his churning mind needed. The sights of his chamber had grown tiresome. Ahkmenrah spent the remainder of the morning and into the late afternoon roaming the halls with heedless steps, venturing blindly while his mind wandered.

When the late afternoon began to stretch into the early evening, the pharaoh’s feet were worn almost to the point of blistering. His feet ached but his thoughts were still teaming, needing quiet focus for him to fully make sense of them all.

Ahkmenrah found himself in the spacious quiet of the throne room, Kamuzu and several Medjay guards his only audience. The high seat of the pharaoh felt odd without his usual ornamentation to weigh him down. Nevertheless, he remained, too worn to move until he felt rested. He slouched into the gilded chair, unable to find a more comfortable position.

There was a reverence to the throne room that his own chamber held no more. Ahkmenrah sought to absorb that peace wholly, begging it sink into his overburdened mind and put to rest some of his strife. He let his eyes fall closed—blessedly only empty black stared back, and he surrendered to it. Ahk settled there, floating in an inky abyss somewhere within the depths of his own psyche, finding the stillness he craved. Hours, or perhaps only minutes had passed before the echo of heavy doors opening drew him from the quiet.

Alarm jolted him back to the plight of his reality with a few swift blinks and a frown.

“The guards said they thought you wandered in here.”

The sound of his mother’s voice filled the room warmly, chasing away the glower on Ahkmenrah’s face.

“When your father told me you missed yet another council meeting I knew I had to find you.” Her words echoed gently within the walls and tall ceiling as she crossed the length of the room.

Ahkmenrah shifted in his chair, situating himself into a more respectable posture for a king, but said nothing, still overly focused on his misgivings to speak.

A compassionate smile pressed onto his mother's wide lips, and the beads in her black hair rattled as she shook her head with a sigh.

“You may be a king, but to me, you will always be my sweet boy,” she said gently brushing fingers through his curls in an attempt to tame them. “Tell me what it is that troubles you so.”

Her hand fell to tilt his chin so his eyes met hers.

Ahkmenrah shrugged and looked away, “I’m just worried about Setshepsut, mother.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie, but his tone gave him away. His mother was much too wise not to take notice.

Shepseheret nodded and perched herself on the wide arm of the pharaoh’s throne.

“Yes, I do see that. There is something more—your heart aches. But not—I think—for your sister,” she paused and tried to smooth out his curls again. “Help me to understand this.”

When he chanced meeting her gaze, the sense of loneliness began to melt away under the warmth of her expression. Ahk’s body relaxed knowing he could let his guard down; he didn’t have to be a king to his mother, and the realization almost sent a wave of tears spilling down his cheeks.

“There’s so much to say,” he said, unable to fully combat the wave of hesitance; five years of a charade to confess to and more.

“Tell me,” Shepseheret urged softly.

With a shaky exhale, Ahkmenrah built up the courage to confess, wanting only to say the right words to ensure he hurt no others.

“Set and I…” he sighed again. “We haven’t been—we don’t. We do not love each other in the way a husband and wife should love one another. Our entire union has been an act.”

There was something profound in saying those words out loud and for a moment, he felt lighter than air. The weight of their secret no longer held him to the ground.

Ahkmenrah paused long enough to gauge his mother’s expression and found only softness on her features. It was her kindness and openness that fostered the rest of the courage he needed to profess all that plagued him.

“All these years we’ve been spending our nights together talking or playing Senet, or simply hating what is expected of us….” It was a miracle neither of them resented each other after so much time forced with each other. Ahkmenrah was glad for that.

A hint of sadness ghosted over Shepseheret’s face. She said nothing for a long time until finally, she sighed.

“I know.” 

“You know?” Ahkmenrah’s brow furrowed, mouth open slightly with shock.

“I’ve known for some time, actually,” his mother confessed, looking somewhat ashamed.

“I don’t understand.” Ahk couldn’t look away, searching for an explanation in her features.

“Who do you think put the idea of a second wife for you into your father’s head,” she said with a twinge of pride. It faded quickly when Ahkmenrah’s bewilderment didn’t diminish 

“Why?” he asked.

The slight look of sadness returned to his mother’s kind smile, “I had hoped having someone of your own would bring you joy.”

Ahkmenrah’s focus fell back to the stone floor, doing his best to digest all the new information. There was hardly space in his mind to store and properly process such things.

“So you knew about Set and Satauhotep?” he asked, skimming through the web in his head to find the right questions to ask.

“I knew she had someone, but not who,” she nodded.

Ahkmenrah thought a moment, sifting through more of his laden thoughts trying to decide which confession he wanted to bring up next.

“It’s my fault Set ran away.”

“How so?” his mother’s brow creased.

“Do you remember Nouke?” Saying her name was like a knife in his heart.

Shepseheret grinned as her eyes sparkled with fond memories.

“Of course. She always had you wrapped around her finger.”

“Still, it seems,” he admitted. 

There was so much to tell his mother. He wanted to start at the beginning: about how Kahmunrah had wronged Nouke and her family, forcing them to leave without a good-bye. Another time, he thought. There was little that could be done about the past, what mattered then was the present.

“She came back to the palace asking for my help—”

“And did you help her?”

“Without question,” Ahk said. “And during those few hours of being with her again, I found joy the likes of which I don’t ever recall feeling.”

A glad smile drew tightly onto his mother’s face, but there was still a hint of puzzlement creasing her brow.

“And how does that make you responsible for your sister running away to be with the man she loves?”

Guilt churned in Ahkmenrah’s stomach with a sickening slosh.

“I promised her that when I found a new bride, I would release her, so she could be with Satauhotep. But I misspoke, and I didn’t catch it. So she took matters into her own hands.”

“I see,” Shepseheret spoke, taking a moment to consider his confession. “But don’t you think Setshepsut should hold some of the fault as well? She should have asked the meaning of your words.”

Ahkmenrah had not considered that. However, he still felt as though he alone was responsible.

“There’s more though, I think,” his mother said, searching his expression.

Ahk nodded and the words forming on his tongue rose with a sour taste, causing him to frown.

“My carelessness was the same with Nouke. Although, that fault does lie with only me,” he said. “She questioned my meaning and I said nothing. Now I’ve lost her also.”

His mother was quiet a long time before she cast him a smile, shaking her head.

“My dearest son,” she chided gently. “My sweet, Ahkmen. Sulking around these halls will not heal your injured heart. Go to her. Speak with her the words you couldn’t before. You will only lose her if you allow yourself to.”

It wouldn’t be so easy. He hurt her, truly hurt her. Still, Ahkmenrah exhaled as he turned his mother’s notions over and over in his mind.

“I fear she now only sees me as her pharaoh,”

“You are a pharaoh,” his mother interjected. “And as pharaoh, no one holds the power to tell you whom you can and cannot marry, no matter their station—noble or otherwise, you can have whomever you desire. You may have one wife, or you may have ten. A hundred women in your harem or none. This world is yours; you need only the courage to reach out and take whatever it is your heart yearns to hold.” 

All at once, Ahkmenrah’s trepidation folded in on itself collapsing under the weight of his mother’s wisdom, and left a hole that renewed hope rushed to fill. The sensation spurred him to his feet and in a fluid movement, he threw his arms around his mother so quickly she hardly had time to stand.

Her gleefully surprised chuckle enveloped him with a tingling warmth, prompting a smile to spread across his face, feeling joy he thought he may never again find.

“Thank you, mother, for your wise counsel.” He squeezed her tight and kissed her cheek.

She hummed pulling away, caressing both sides of his face with her hands, kissing his forehead.

“The gods were unusually kind to give me you. It honors me to share what wisdom Thoth has granted me.”

Ahkmenrah was about to return her sentiment when the throne room doors burst open without warning.

The thunderous reverberation in the grand hall was startling, causing their eyes to glance in alarm to find an array of mercenary guards flooding into the room with Kahmunrah at their lead, adorned proudly in his golden armor, as though he’d just returned from battle with a prize. In his iron-clad grip, dragging behind him, was Setshepsut. Her clothes were tattered and ripped at the hem—ankles bloodied from being hauled like a hunter's kill. Set’s lip bled from a cut, evidence that proved she had not let Kahmunrah take her without a fight.

Beyond his brother, Ahkmenrah made out Satauhotep in chains, beaten and bloody. A large gash on his head spilled a crimson line down the contours of his face, his bare torso bruised. 

The sight worked through Ahk in a wave of rage and horror as Kahmunrah approached—his grin wickedly pleased—with a hubris so powerful it stuck in the air making the pharaoh's anger more intense.

Kah tossed Setshepsut at his feet with no small air of pride, as though she were a trophy to be revered. Ahk’s mouth hung open; the rush of words he wanted to scream stuck to his dry tongue, compiling until he was able to sift through each, granting him the wisdom to force out the calmest reaction he could manage. He exhaled slowly, swallowing the superfluous words, and blinked until the shaken reality settled around him.

“What is the meaning of this, Kahmunrah?” The pharaoh winced inwardly when his voice sounded more terrified then calm—least of all demanding.

“My men found your queen in bed with another man,” Kah threw an errant wave of his hand towards Satauhotep.

The black of Kahmunrah’s eyes met Ahk’s with a fiendish delight that was unnerving to behold. He was proud to have beaten and abused them.

“She has betrayed you, little brother. An insidious crime that is punishable by death,” Kah reminded him.

Ahk stood frozen, teeth set firm against each other. His breathing was deep but much too slow for the rapid pace of his heart. The pharaoh’s eyes were locked in quiet rage with his brother.

Setshepsut’s sobs filled the once reverent room upon the proclamation of her pending execution: an array of short pants, sniffs, and choked plea's spilling past her lips. The sound pulled Ahk’s leer away from his brother and to her. Set's own glances teetered from brother to brother, gauging them, before finally she wobbled to her feet and threw her arms around Ahkmenrah’s shoulders.

She clung to him as though he was all that was keeping her bound to the earth. Without hesitation, Ahk’s arms circled her trembling frame protectively, while she cried against his chest. 

“I’m sorry Ahkmen! Please, have mercy! Forgive me, p-please”

All the anger writhing inside of Ahk subsided; his need to console his sister immensely stronger at that moment. He kept her close, smoothing her disheveled hair.

“Shh,” he murmured. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

He pulled away just enough to meet her gaze, her dark eyes shimmering with tears.

“You’re safe now, Set,” Ahk promised. “I promise”

A breath of relief shook her, and she tried to smile but couldn’t. Then she nodded when words failed to form.

Ahkmenrah kissed her forehead and passed her to his mother’s protective arms, minding the bruises beginning to form on the upper part of her arm from where Kahmunrah had sunk his claws into her.

The moment he saw Set safe with their mother, the fire reignited and his blood boiled. Venom coated every word that left his mouth, no longer burdened with the heaviness of horror that belittled his tone moments ago. A hatred sank into his bones, and for the first time, he was able to meet his brother’s cold eyes with an icy reflection.

“I should have you stripped of every title—every non-tangible thing that keeps that arrogant smirk on your face. You would be nothing without what I have graciously bestowed upon you.”

Never had Ahk seen Kahmunrah’s smile melt so quickly into a frown—one of equal rage and confusion. His teeth ground together as he furrowed his brow, his nostrils flaring like an angry ox.

“Am I to understand that I will be punished for bringing this traitor to your attention?” Kahmunrah stepped forward as if to provoke a challenge. Ahk did the same; the gap between them no more than an arm's length.

Suddenly, he missed the benefit of his crown and golden capes that made him feel like the king he was. Still, Ahk squared his shoulders and raised his chin. 

“She is the queen,” he hissed through his teeth.

Kahmunrah’s nose wrinkled with a sneer as he threw an angry finger in Setshepsut’s direction.

“That unfaithful snake is no queen!”

Before Kah could manage another word, Ahkmenrah sent his fist into his brother’s jaw with as much force and as much dedication he could muster. The power surprised them both; Ahkmenrah almost certain the cracking sound he heard was his own knuckles.

Kahmunrah stumbled, teetering on uneven feet as Ahkmenrah mentally waged how badly his hand would ache once the adrenaline stopped surging through him like fire. The abrupt assault was met with the lot of Kah’s men stepping forward with their hands prepared to draw their weapons—ready to defend their master.

Ahkmenrah tilted his head in challenge, shocked any of them would consider brandishing a weapon at their pharaoh. As if spawned from the very walls, a legion of Medjay flanked their king, Kamuzua at their lead and stepping further to fall in line with Ahkmenrah.

When Kah regained his footing, he did so rubbing his jaw and made a show of spitting blood and a piece of broken tooth onto the floor. A wicked grin—impressed to some extent—contorted his face as he raised his hand to signal his men to come to heel, his eyes never leaving Ahkmenrah’s. 

“It’s good to know you do have fight in you after all, little brother,” Kah noted, seemingly amused and intrigued by the turn of events.

Ahk’s fists balled at his sides, struggling to quell the want to hit his brother once more for all he had done, both past and present. The ache in his hand, beginning to pulse, however, helped curb his desire. He didn’t want to make it worse.

“You will not address me so informally,” the pharaoh glowered. “I am your king, and in the presence of your men, you will address me as such.”

The snide grin on Kahmunrah’s face faltered back into an irritated frown, “Very well. My king.”

He paused before pointing to Satauhotep.

“The boy then,” Kahmunrah suggested. “If you will not abide by the laws of Egypt—”

“I AM the law in Egypt!” Ahkmenrah warned with a growl.

Kah scoffed, unfazed. “Surely you don’t mean to let them both free?” Kah shook his head disapprovingly, making a tsk sound with his tongue.

“Kill the boy, at least,” he suggested again with a nonchalance that made Ahkmenrah hate his brother even more.

Setshepsut’s sobs filled the air again, more quiet plea’s of forgiveness and mercy.

“Then,” Kah added. “Perhaps your queen will learn her place.”

Ahkmenrah took a step closer to his brother, fire, and rage fueling his every movement and gathered himself to his full height.

“If anyone needs to learn their place, it is you, Kahmunrah.” 

In that moment, Ahkmenrah felt three times his size; tall and ominous with a timbre in his voice so sinister he couldn’t completely recognize it as his own. Kah may have been physically larger, but there in the throne room, Ahk saw him no larger than the snake he was.

The bewildered, quiet rage building behind his brother’s eyes was confirmation that he had finally gotten through to him; finally shown Kah, who was king. The notion instilled Ahk with an unfamiliar wave of hubris that he chose to ride for as long as he could. He felt no shame in any of the rage soaked words that spilled from his lips; there was truth in his anger—something carefully harbored and calculated over years of nothing but receiving contempt despite his best efforts to have Kahmunrah as his brother.

Using his fresh wave of confidence, Ahkmenrah stormed past his brother and addressed the regiment of mercenaries.

“You will release this man at once,” Ahk stated calmly to the men securing Satauhotep.

The mercenaries exchanged a glance before throwing their questioning look to Kahmunrah. Ahk stifled his anger and allowed their slight sedition to pass without upheaval.

When Kah nodded, the men surrendered the beaten soldier heedless of his weakened state. He fell forward and Ahk caught him, hastily adjusting his footing to make up for the added weight. 

“I’ve got you,” he assured Satauhotep.

From his new vantage point, Ahk found the soldier’s wounds were much worse than he’d initially thought. His back was an angry tangle of bleeding lash marks; his knuckles were a fresco of purple and yellow markings from fighting off his attackers. The cut on his head still bled, and his wrists and ankles were swollen red from the shackles he wore. The entire sight made Ahkmenrah sick, feeling slightly responsible. He never should have asked Kah to help him find his sister.

“You will be greatly compensated for the cruelty that has transpired today, my friend.”

Ahkmenrah walked him across the room slowly before handing him to Setshepsut and Shepseheret with the instruction to take him to the healers. The two carefully shared the soldier’s weight and Ahkmenrah blinked after them as they left, feeling the sense of confidence and calm wane until all that remained was disgust for his brother.

“As for the rest of you.” Ahkmenrah spoke loud enough for his kingly bravado to carry across the room, while his eyes scanned the numerous faces before him.

“You are to leave my sight immediately. Apart from you.” He pointed to Kahmunrah. “You, I will speak to without the ears of your hired guard.”

A stillness crept over the room as the mercenaries all looked to their master for a command; and that time, Ahk would not let the blunder pass.

Ahkmenrah’s lips curled in anger, “I am your pharaoh! You do not look to him for instruction. Leave! Now!”

Without so much as a questioning blink, the horde of men scattered, leaving Ahk alone with his Medjay and his brother. As he watched them all vanish, he felt no less infuriated. Kahmunrah’s lingering presence was more abhorrent than a hundred men who opposed him.

“I must admit. That display was arguably the most kingly thing I have ever witnessed coming from you.” A delighted grin, gushing with manic amusement twisted onto his features—enough to stir the ire inside Ahkmenrah.  

“Do not smile at me,” Ahk growled, prompting Kahmunrah’s grin to fall swiftly. “Do you think this was all merely an act? Some farce to—to impress your guard?”

Ahkmenrah exhaled deeply, nostrils flaring in an attempt to keep his head clear. He didn’t want his anger to cloud his judgment, but he did allow it to give him the courage to make justified hard decisions.

“If you ever presume to touch any of my sisters again, you will be relieved of your hands. Do I make myself clear?”

Kahmunrah swallowed and clenched his jaw in irritation but said nothing.

“Those men in your service are hereby banished from the palace grounds. You will be granted men from my guard who will see to your protection, and are, undoubtedly, loyal to me,” Ahk paused long enough to watch Kah’s expression twist, angered like a child who was denied their favorite toy. “If you cannot accept this, or you openly question my rule again, I will see to it that you too are thrown from this very palace. Forever.”

Kahmunrah fumed in silence, digesting his new punishment with quiet rage and cold, black eyes.

“Is that all, my king?” 

“No actually. It would be wise for you to keep your distance from me for the time being—I cannot promise I won’t strike you again or have you thrown in a cell.” Ahkmenrah proclaimed honestly, using the same indifference Kah usually used on him.

“Now, get out. I am done with you.”

Kahmunrah, however, remained in spite of the pharaoh’s order, never surrendering his heavy leer, as though he were sizing Ahk up to test him. Fire still burned in Ahkmenrah, and he used it to hone his anger so he could hold his brother’s glare with equal intensity. He knew Kah was waiting for him to fold—to renounce every demand he’d just spoken like the weak ruler his brother thought him to be.

“Get. Out,” Akh growled through clenched teeth.

Finally, Kahmunrah bowed his head—his rage palpable, “Your majesty." 

The second his brother was out of sight, Ahkmenrah called his guardians to arm. Without hesitation, a platoon kneeled before him, waiting patiently for their king's orders.

“Medjay, see to it that every last mercenary in my brothers employ is rooted out and escorted beyond these walls. If any man gives you trouble, I implore you to use force to bring them to heel, thereafter they will be cast into a cell. I will not have blood on my hands—I am not my brother. Am I understood?”

“Yes, my pharaoh!” the men replied in perfect unison.

“Go then. The gods be with you.”

In perfect formation, his men stood and marched out of the throne room, taking with them, his fire. Steam billowed out of Ahkmenrah with a long sigh, all of his anger dulling and relaxing his tense muscles. It felt good to be free of the rage he’d carried. And yet, Ahkmenrah couldn’t help but wonder who that pent-up rage had turned him into, and the thought seemed to trigger the ache in his bruised and bloodied knuckles. Penance—he figured, for acting so rashly.

Kahmunrah was a selfish, power-hungry creature, fed by cruelty; everything Ahkmenrah feared to become. Even so, Kah was still his brother. And while Ahk wondered if he could ever find it in him to forgive his brother for all that had transpired, the pharaoh still held onto the foolish hope that one-day Kahmunrah would see him as a brother, and not the boy who took his crown away from him.

When his nerves finally settled, his fists unclenching and his heart finding it’s normal rhythm, Ahkmenrah felt as though he’d swum the length of the Nile—overwhelmingly exhausted. The fury was gone, vanished just as quickly and quietly as it had taken control of him. Ahk was glad to be rid of it, though, there was a new feeling that was slowly rising to take its place. 

“You should have hit him again,” Kamuzu expressed with an uncharacteristically joking tone.

A weak, almost shocked, chuckle rattled through the pharaoh.

“I wanted to,” Ahk admitted, casting an assessing look to his hand; his nose wrinkled at the sight he found.

The mark was ugly, already turning purple and yellow, as blood trickled in thin streaks from cuts brought on by the force of his assault. Its ache was equal to how it looked.

Ahkmenrah tore his eyes away from his hand unable to look at it or think about the narrative it told. It would serve as a reminder of the man he became when he let his anger stew too long—a man he never wanted to become.

“I should not have done it in the first place.”

From Kahmunrah’s viewpoint regarding the situation, he was in his ground. True, he’d handled it poorly, but his reasoning was justifiable. Ahkmenrah knew the law. Setshepsut knew the law: an unfaithful wife of a king was to be brought to death. Her lover too. That was the law set many centuries ago, and Ahk blatantly ignored it.

What kind of king does that make me? The pharaoh was almost certain the gods would punish him one day for letting matters spiral out of his control.

“I know what you are thinking, my king,” Kamuzu said, surveying the strain on Ahkmenrah’s face. “If I may speak free?”

The pharaoh managed a nod.

“Kahmunrah may not have known the history of the queen and this soldier like you and I. But the gods see us all for who we are in all that we do; they see your kindness and the wisdom of what you have done this day. And for that, surely they will sing you praise.”

Ahkmenrah met Kamuzu’s gaze, feeling relief drift over him upon hearing his guardian's gracious words. Being told that he made a correct decision was a welcomed sensation, especially when he felt as though—of late—every word from his mouth was wrong.

“Your brother needed to be reminded that it is you who is the gods chosen,” Kamuzu continued; purging his own contempt it seemed. “It was wise too, to be rid of the men under his command. I do not trust a man whose loyalty depends on how deep someone's pockets are.”

Ahk bobbed his head in quiet agreement. Ruffians and cast-outs with hot tempers were always the ones Kahmunrah gathered around himself; no longer would Ahkmenrah allow them in his home. They could not be trusted.

“Yes, that decision was long overdue.” The pharaoh paused for a moment, pensive. “But please see to it that he is given good, able, men to protect him. For everything he is and isn’t, he is still my brother.”

“Of course, my king.”

“Thank you.” Ahkmenrah cast his protector a weak smile. “And not just for—”

The pharaoh wasn’t sure how to phrase what it was he wanted to say. Kamuzu meant so much more to him than just the man who guarded him. He’d been his most trusted companion for as long as he could remember—he was a friend.

“Thanks,” Ahk decided on when his words failed him, feeling the proper sentiment, lost, in only a single word.

Even so, Kamuzu’s dark eyes smiled upon him in understanding, “It continues to be my highest honor.”

A full smile unfurled slowly on Ahkmenrah’s face, feeling his friends’ words envelop him warmly, and a little of the loneliness that plagued him dwindled.

“I should check on my sister and Satauhotep.”

“I shall follow your lead, my king.” Kamuzu bowed his head respectfully and swung his arm for Ahk to guide him. 

The wing of the palace where the healers and the priests resided was a journey long enough to lull what remained of Ahkmenrah’s fury. For all the commotion that had taken place moments ago, the halls were blessedly quiet. As soon as the pharaoh came to the large narrow hall, the tranquil scent of healing herbs colored the air, the sound of priests recanting their remedial prayers in a musical chant made the atmosphere of the temple calming.

There were a few afflicted or injured persons being tended to, and Ahk’s eyes skimmed over each of their faces until he found ones familiar to him. When he found them, his feet stopped.

Setshepsut sat next to her lover; her hands cupped around his as men cleaned the lash marks on his back. Despite all that had been done to them—all the strife their love had suffered—they never looked more at peace. Ahkmenrah stood idle, watching them; filling his own heart to the brim with gladness. For a moment, he considered turning on his heel and leaving them be. What he needed to say could wait. He didn’t want to dampen their moment with pleas of forgiveness to make himself feel better. It was they who had endured hardships far greater than his own; they deserved an evening of privacy.

However, when Setshepsut’s stray glance caught him, she jumped to her feet. 

“Ahkmen!” she said with a gasp.

Set ran, throwing her arms around him with enough force Ahk had to catch his footing.

“Please forgive me for running away. Satau had nothing to do with it—it was all my idea. I was foolish!” Her words came out muffled, buried against his neck, and he had trouble deciphering whether or not she was crying again.

Tears did well in his eyes as he squeezed his little sister tight, overjoyed to know she was safe once more. Ahkmenrah would sooner see himself to the executioner’s block than pass a sentence to condemn her. He would never understand how Kah could command such a notion with careless gusto.

“There’s no need for an apology. It is I who should be begging for your forgiveness," Ahk assured her as he held her at arm's length to assess her injuries.

Her eyes were red and puffy—she was crying—but the cut on her lip was already scabbing over. The most alarming was the bruise on her upper arm: a near-perfect illustration of Kahmunrah’s unrelenting grip.

Ahkmenrah’s eyes leered at the ugly mark; jaw clenched once more as distaste for his brother began to churn in his gut. Set’s gaze followed his.

“It’s not so bad,” she said in a soft tone.

Ahk shook his head and swallowed his fury before it could consume him again.

“It was never my intention to break the vow I made to you,” he finally said, casting a glance to Satauhotep. “To both of you.”

“I am sorry.” Ahk kissed her forehead softly, causing her to smile. “I have been the fool—not you.” 

Setshepsut wove her hands around his waist and hugged him again before taking his hand to pull him deeper into the hall. She guided him onto the stool she was seated on previously and perched herself on the raised slab next to Satauhotep. He was seated upright so the healers could bind his torso with clean linen to protect the marks on his back.

Ahkmenrah did his best to mask the frown threatening to twist onto his features, close enough to properly survey the soldier's injuries. All the wounds had been tended to, but the maring was even more pronounced with the number of bandages hiding them.

“I’m so very sorry, my friend,” Ahkmenrah said with sincerity even though he felt the apology did not make up for what he had suffered. “These are the best priests and healers in all of Egypt.”

“Thank you, my king.”

The pharaoh waved his hand dismissively, “No, just Ahkmenrah—or Ahkmen.”

Set smiled his way, her expression coaxing the ghost of a grin onto his own lips.

“Thank you, Ahkmenrah.” Satauhotep tested his name with a furrowed brow.

Ahk nodded his approval with an added smile.

Satauhotep’s grin stretched wider, as though the honor of calling his king by name made up for the terror he’d faced. He reached for Setshepsut's hands and tilted his forehead against hers gleefully.

The simple gesture painted a true grin on Ahkmenrah’s features; his mind made up. He wasn’t going to let them live their romance in secret any longer than they had to.

“I intend to honor my vow,” he stated loud enough and with enough resoluteness they both looked his way.

“Before weeks end, I will see to it that Setshepsut and I’s marriage is dissolved.”

A quick, happy gasp escaped his sister's smile, which she tried to muffle with her hand.

“Satauhotep, you will be granted new ranks in my military—titles befitting a man wishing to wed a princess of Egypt.”

It took a moment for the joy to blossom on their faces, slow at first, until it consumed them entirely. When they shared a kiss, Ahkmenrah let his focus fall to the floor, allowing them that moment to themselves.

The adoration spilling from their open and loving hearts permeated the air with a warmth Ahk’s aching heart clung to with the hope it would dull the pain harbored inside. It was a derelict sort of hope, but Ahkmenrah was certain he could be happy just knowing Setshepsut would live a life of peace. That would be enough—it had to be.

When he stood to leave, Set stood too. 

“What about you?” she asked as though she’d plucked thoughts from his head.

“What about me?” Ahkmenrah shrugged although he knew what she would say.

“Who’s to be your queen once I step down?”

Suddenly, a lump grew in the back of Ahkmenrah’s throat, thick and painful, as his mind immediately filled with images of her. All the adoration he’d siphoned from his sister’s joy failed him; the pain in his heart too strong to be bested. His shoulders slouched, and his head was all at once too heavy to keep from hanging. He swallowed, forcing the lump away.

“Nensala, maybe. She and I sort of--” he paused, his nose wrinkling at the sour taste of his own words; he couldn’t even mask the expression on his face that made it blatantly clear he did not want to marry Nensala.

"We got along,” he husked out finally.

Set’s eyes riddled with a hint of sadness as she frowned.

“What about Nouke?” 

The very sound of her name shot a chill down Ahkmenrah’s spine, and he shook his head, unable to look anywhere but the floor. His shame returning to him vehemently.

“I’m afraid my foolishness chased her away too. The hurt I caused her…” his voice trailed off, too easily recalling the way the spark faded in her eyes when he didn’t fight to keep her. “…I am undeserving of her.”

When he chanced a look to his sister, he was surprised to find her expression one of mild annoyance; slowly, she shook her head.

“You are a fool, Ahkmenrah,”

Ahk threw her a look of confusion and Set rolled her eyes.

“You give up so easily?” she chided. “Go to her—apologize.”

“Mother told me to do the same thing.”

“Then why are you still here wallowing?” Set asked, her brow hoisting high onto her forehead. “Apologize to her as you have done with me. Her affection may be wounded, but you can mend a wound. And usually, what grows back is stronger.”

His heart leaped into his throat—pounding excitedly. Hope could destroy him if he allowed it to settle too deeply; however, he yearned to have it.

“And if she turns me away?” 

Setshepsut shrugged with a soft smile, “Then it is she that is undeserving of you, brother.”

A smile unfurled slowly on Ahkmenrah’s lips and his heart danced against the cage of his ribs.

“I cherish your wisdom, sister,” he told her, laying a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.”

Set smirked with a teasing look of arrogance, tilting her head pointedly towards the entry, urging him to leave. Ahk lingered, gnawing his bottom lip, feeling the tingle of excitement mix with apprehension in his belly.

“Excuse me,” he finally declared. “But it is now my turn to run away to be with the one I love.”

Set’s simper pressed deeper, “Don’t hurry back!” 

Next Chapter-> Chapter Twelve: How I Have Loved You

#Ahkmenrah #Ahkmenrah x Original Character #Ahkmenrah Fanfiction #Night at the Museum #NATM #NATM Fanfiction #Left to Ruin #Rami Malek Character #Rami Malek Character Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction #Rami Malek

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

Cole is a Self Destructive Dumbass

(But it’s okay the ninja love him anyway)

SO FOR SOME BACKSTORY

I have been challenged. Indirectly. But still, I have been challenged. How, you may be asking?

Well, I’ll show you

do you see that? That is a clear indirect challenge.

So naturally I immediately forced myself to write some hurt/comfort with some legitimate comfort in there just to show that I could. So there @cakeforcole​, I can do it!

Who wins in this? Uhh.

Everyone ig

Anyway here have this ily

Cole has an off day that the guys mistake as him being sick. Except it’s a little bit more than that.

2161 words

Cole woke up earlier than normal. His head was pounding with a headache, but it could’ve been worse. It was just an annoying little knocking in his skull, like when Jay tried to talk when everyone else was trying to sleep. If it was actively ignored, it wasn’t terrible.

He sighed, glancing at the clock. He had about an hour before anyone else would be waking up. He sat up, groaning quietly, his head spinning with the motion. He was just going to take a nice, long, hot shower. That would make him feel better, surely.

He didn’t actually end up taking that long, probably because he was used to rushing (thanks to Kai and his bathroom hogging). Still, he felt refreshed. Although the steam hadn’t done much to help with his minor congestion. Stupid allergy season.

He still had maybe a half hour before anyone else would be waking up. Still, for some reason he was way more tired than he had been when he’d first woken up, so maybe he could go back to sleep until he actually needed to be awake. Even thirty minutes would be likely to help a little.

He crawled back into bed, shivering despite the warm temperature they tended to keep the room at. Above him, Jay shifted, but it sounded like he was still asleep. That was good, he’d feel bad if he woke anyone up.

Before long he drifted back to sleep.

It felt like no time passed at all before the alarm clock was blaring. He faintly heard shuffling, but his head hurt, and the last thing he wanted to do was be awake.

“Hey, dude, you gotta get up.” he heard from somewhere above him. 

“I don’ wanna,” he mumbled, barely able to get the words out. He was just barely awake enough to hear and respond, and that was already too much.

Something shuffled, it kinda sounded like the guys were talking, but he was already drifting off again.

Out of nowhere, his blanket was dragged off the bed.

“Nooo,” he groaned, blearily opening his eyes before they got any other ideas, like turning on the lights or splashing him with water or something. He didn’t doubt they would, because they’d done it to each other before.

“How late did you stay up?” Jay asked, already dressed and ready for the day and way too awake for six o’clock in the morning.

“I need coffee,” he grumbled instead of answering, shuffling into the kitchen. Truth be told, he had no idea he’d stayed up, but it couldn’t have been that late. He recalled drifting off pretty quickly, actually.

He coughed into his arm. That was probably nothing, though, just a little tickle in his throat. He just needed some water.

As he was waiting for the coffee maker to do its thing, Zane was starting on breakfast. The smells were unusually vivid for some reason. It kind of hurt his head.

It was probably just that headache from earlier making a comeback.

The thought of the coffee he was making sent his stomach churning. Okay, maybe he would skip that for today. He’d be fine without it.

He was up first for training Lloyd today. They were going to be practicing simple hand to hand combat, not using powers whatsoever, just because you could never know if something might happen.

“Alright, you’re gonna try to pin me,” Cole said, pausing to clear his throat. “The only rule is no powers, got it?”

The little ball of green nodded, practically bouncing with energy. Cole wished he had the energy to think about acting like that.

“Ready… go!” Zane yelled from the side, watching with the others as the pair fought. It was rare that Lloyd won, so this was probably going to be easy.

The only problem was that Cole kind of felt like trash, and the movements he was going through were making him dizzy, and suddenly he was on the ground with a nine year old on top of him.

He groaned, and Lloyd hopped up, triumphant. Cole, however, made no move to stand. Instead, he rolled over, pushed himself up with his hands, and threw up. 

“Oh, ew.” Lloyd said, taking a few steps back.

He was shaking violently, and if he didn’t move or something, he was going to fall into his own vomit. He gagged a few times, distantly hearing the others concerned cries, but he was more focused on the sweat coating his body and the hair matted to his face and the food he’d eaten last night that was coming back up.

Finally, when it felt like he was done, he crawled away and dropped onto the floor.

“Lloyd, go get a bucket, okay?” Zane said, kneeling beside Cole and feeling his forehead. “Jay, get a cold rag please.”

The two ninja raced off to find whatever it was Zane had just said.

“‘M fine,” Cole groaned, trying to sit up. Zane gently pushed him back down.

“Dude, Lloyd had you down in less than a minute.” Kai said, staying far across the room from the other two and making no move to get any closer.

“You have a fever,” Zane said, brushing the hair out of Cole’s eyes. “And you’ve just thrown up. I am not what you would call a medical expert, but I am well aware that those do not usually mean you are fine.”

Cole would have protested if his stomach didn’t convulse a little. He struggled to sit up, gagged a few times, and threw up once again.

“How are we coming on that bucket?” Kai yelled, leaning back to peer through the door. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” Cole protested again, heaving. 

“You’re sick, stupid.” Kai said, cringing at the mess on the floor. “Stop with that. The “I’m fine” thing, not the vomiting. Well, it’d be cool if you stopped that too, but you can’t control that one.”

“Thanks, Kai,” Cole groaned, “very helpful.”

“Yeah, I try.”

Okay, but there was absolutely no way that he was sick. Cole didn’t get sick. He must have just eaten something bad. He’d be fine in an hour, tops.

An hour later he was piled under three blankets, shivering like it was snowing indoors. He was absolutely, positively freezing, despite the fact that he was sweating. That didn’t even make sense!

“How are you feeling?” Zane asked, walking in with a box of crackers and a cup of ginger ale, Jay and Kai right behind him.

He didn’t need this, because he wasn’t sick. “I’m fine,” he insisted again, sitting up further to prove it.

“You’re definitely not fine.” Kai said, unhelpfully.

“Stop saying that!”

He was fine, he was fine, completely and absolutely totally fine. The others didn’t know what they were talking about. He. Was. Fine.

He was met with concerned looks from each of his friends.

“Just… go train Lloyd,” he said.

“Nah, he’s excited to have a day off, and we need to keep an eye on you.” Kai shrugged, sitting down in a chair in the corner of the room as if to say he was not leaving.

“You don’t have to, though.” He wasn’t sick.

“Yeah, well we’re going to anyway.”

“You really don’t have to.” It would be better if they would just leave him alone.

Cole hated being seen like this. He hated feeling this weak, this helpless. Worse, he hated being mistakenly identified as sick, because he wasn’t. The guys were just making a big deal out of nothing.

“What’s going on?” Jay asked, legitimately concerned. Great. That was exactly what he didn’t want to happen.

“Nothing, I just—” he paused to cough, nearly choking on it. “You guys don’t need to watch me.”

“That had better not be an insult to my nursing skills. I’ve been taking care of Nya since she was in diapers, and let me tell you, I’m kind of the greatest nurse ever.” If his complete avoidance of Cole while he was puking was anything to go off of, he wasn’t in very good hands.

He coughed again, his eyes watering. The problem was that instead of going away, his eyes continued to water. In fact, they watered until they were leaking. And now it looked like he was crying (looked like, he definitely wasn’t actually crying, no, he wasn’t weak, he wasn’t crying).

“Cole’s what’s wrong?” Zane asked, combing his fingers through his hair gently. “You’re very obviously bothered. Why?”

Okay, maybe he was really insecure, and getting sick made him feel weak, and feeling weak made him feel worthless, but he was pretty sure that was totally normal. What wasn’t normal was that getting sick scared him. It reminded him too much of his mom, because it had started like a normal illness for her. They’d thought it was just a bad cold, but then it had escalated and she had died��

Okay, yeah, he was crying, but maybe they would shrug it off as random hysteria?

“We want to help, Cole.” Jay said, sitting on the edge of the bed carefully. “Please tell us?”

Telling them would make it worse. If they knew, then they’d see that he couldn’t handle his dumb emotions, and then they’d hate him, because he was so stupid.

“I’m fine,” he said, but through the tears and the lack of clearing his throat, he sounded like a glitching, dying, robotic frog.

“Please, Cole. If it would make you more comfortable, you could tell only one of us. We just want to help you.”

He sniffled. They weren’t going to let this go, were they? Fine, he would just try to explain in the barest, most minimal, most vague way he could.

Which unfortunately didn’t work out.

His emotions came spilling out, words choked out through sobbing gasps, and he was shocked they were even able to understand him. He wished they weren’t able to.

“Just leave me alone,” he said when he was finally able to breathe again. His friends hadn’t said anything, and why would they? He was stupid and hysterical and paranoid, and they were probably trying to figure out how to tell him gently that he was weak.

“You know,” Kai said, as if he were making casual conversation, “I still hate when Nya goes anywhere. I know she’s going to come back, but it doesn’t help much. There’s always just this thought… what if she doesn’t?” He was looking down, staring at his hands, but his words were sincere.

If Cole knew Kai, and by now he’d say he did, it almost sounded like… he was admitting to being scared. Kai? Scared? Admitting that he was scared? That just didn’t happen. He was probably hallucinating.

“It’s not stupid to let things like that affect you,” Kai continued, having paused to… probably to curse himself for being so awkward about being so vulnerable. Or even being so vulnerable in the first place. Cole had to be hallucinating. Kai didn’t do vulnerable. 

“Trauma sticks with you for years,” Zane said, “and it does not make you weaker. It makes you stronger for being able to carry on.”

Except he wasn’t able to carry on. He couldn’t even get sick without fearing for his life, and every time anyone else got sick, he feared for theirs. What about that made him “stronger”? None of it.

He hadn’t even realized he had voiced these thoughts until Zane carefully pulled him into a hug.

“Oh, Cole,” Zane muttered, quiet and sad. “You are most certainly not weak.” But he was. But Zane also didn’t lie… “And even the fact that you were able to tell us about this says a lot about your character.”

He hadn’t even meant to tell them in the first place. But… something in him was glad that they knew. They weren’t belittling him for it. They were being… kind, and understanding. Even Kai, who tended to shy away from talking about emotions. In fact, he had been the one to share his own problems.

They really didn’t think any less of him for being scared.

“It does?” He found himself asking, just to make sure, even though he was scared to hear the answer.

“Of course it does, Dirtclod.” Jay said, and Cole couldn’t help but smile at the nickname. “And besides, you’re one of the strongest people I know, if not the strongest. This doesn’t change that.”

The tears that he had only barely managed to stop just came back again, but this time in a less negative light. His friends actually cared about him to the point where they understood. They didn’t care that he was a little bit messed up. They actually loved him.

He’d never had friends like that before.

“Oh no, was it something I said? Crap, I’m sorry—” Jay said, backtracking quickly, but Cole stopped him with a choked laugh between his cries.

“You guys are the best.”

#SO I DID THE MATH #THIS IS 52% COMFORT #GUYS THAT'S OVER HALF #PURE PROOF #I *CAN* NOT HURT HIM! #I just choose to most of the time cause that's more fun #Kat writes #Ninjago fanfiction #Ninjago #sickfic #whump #hurt/comfort #cakeforcole #the challenge is complete #I have won #except so did cakeforcole I hope #yay we all win #you don't even know how hard this was to write #but I got there #you're welcome guys