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mediumgayitalian · 2 months

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“Death Breath! Hey! Wait up!”

Nico bolts. He makes it about ten feet away from his cabin door before Will and his stupid long legs catch up with him, throwing an arm over his shoulder and then immediately tripping over his own foot and sending them both sprawling.

“I hate you,” Nico groans, curling up on the grass.

It’s too early for any of this. He was just trying to get back at Cecil for covering everything he owned in aluminum foil last week — and then he was going to go right the hell back to bed.

He knew he should have fucking shadow travelled.

“Aw, c’mon. You love me.”

Nico pretends to gag. The only thing he gets is Will’s crossed arms and raised eyebrow, so he doubles down and really starts to retch. Whatever. It’s eight thirty in the morning. He fell asleep at five. Rational thinking is a distant, distant memory.

“Whenever you’re done.”

“I will be sick at the thought for the next eight weeks,” Nico informs him. For dramatic effect, he looks up at Will’s face — which he cant even see, since the sun’s in his eyes — and shudders.

“You know, you have a genuine, beautiful talent for the dramatic arts, the likes of which I have never seen. Are you sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

I better not be, ‘cause then all the staring I do at your calves would be real weird, he thinks to himself, then considers whether he can convince Kayla to give him a lobotomy. He thinks she might like the opportunity.

“Piss off,” he says instead of that, artfully schooling his face into the aristocratic mask he’s perfected from his father, squaring his shoulders and looking at Will like he’s a pebble lodged in the flesh of his heel.

Will rolls his eyes. “Get up, Sharpay Evans. You’re gonna stain your shirt worse than you already have.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “My shirt is perfectly fine, thank you very much. I order them in black for a reason.”

He notices a giant grass stain on the side when he stands. He ignores it. Will does not.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the Goth King.”

“Ghost King.”

“Right, right. That helps your case.”

Nico shoves him, fighting back a grin. “Whatever, Solace. What are you bothering me for?”

“Oh, yeah!”

Nico is a deeply cheesy person. Down to the core of him, past all the sarcasm and prickliness and trauma, or whatever, he’s made of fucking mozzarella, because what business does he have comparing Will’s eyes to the morning winter sky? Huh? That’s embarrassing. It isn’t even original. If Nico caught anyone saying shit like that out loud in real life, he’s collapse into the shadows from embarrassment. He needs electroshock therapy.

“I was thinking —”

“Rare,” Nico quips, just to watch Will’s eyebrow twitch. It does. Nico smiles.

“I was thinking,” he repeats, mocking glare in Nico’s direction, “that you and me go to the city this afternoon.”

“You chased me across camp for that?”

“Oh, please, Zombie Face. I chased you maybe twenty yards.”

“I think all that time sniffing rubbing alcohol has deteriorated your brain.”

“I think I’m going to shove you in the lake.”

“Feel free to try. You will not wake up the next morning.”

“Nah.” Will shoots him a smug smile. Nico trips over air. “I can be as annoying as I want and you still won’t kill me. I have impunity.”

Nico rolls his eyes, refusing to dignify that with an answer. The less he acknowledges his own shame, the more likely it will go away on its own. Probably.

“Anyways. Guess what Cecil told me today.”

“His last will and testament?” Nico guesses, suddenly remembering his reason for being up this early.

“No, no, not that.” Will pauses. “Well, I mean, he did. I passed it on to Chiron. He has requested that when you maul him, you avoid his face, because he wants to be a sexy corpse and he can’t do that if you destroy his prettiest features.”

“Noted. Please inform him I will come for him within a window of the next fifteen hours.”

Theres a very particular face Will makes when he finds something genuinely funny. A smile a little more crooked than his regular one, teeth working at his bottom lip to hold it back, left dimple appearing in his cheek. It makes Nico want to do stupid things like press his thumb into said divot. He instead shoves his hands deeply into his pockets.

“I’ll let him know.” He clears his throat. “Anyways. You know what day it is today?”

Nico squints. “Tues…day? No, Wednesday.” He glances at Will. It’s been maybe….three days since their weekly sleepover? No, fuck, four. He thinks. “Thursday. Final answer.”

“Monday,” Will corrects, “and, gods, you need to sleep more. And a calendar. But no, that’s not my point.”

“Feel free to get to it.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Will finally explains. He tries for exasperated, but it doesn’t work — he’s clearly excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waving his hands. “And The Five Seasons is doing half off for couples, so you and I need to go!”

He waves his hands, as if tying off some grand reveal. His (blue blue blue blue) eyes are squeezed nearly shut by the force of his beam, which lessons slightly with every second Nico does not respond.

“William,” he says finally. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “William.”

Will pouts. “What?”

“Explain how this is relevant to me, William.”

“Aw, c’mon, Nico! Don’t be difficult!”

“William,” stresses Nico again. “We are not a couple. Did you hit your head again?”

“Well, duh, Neeks, it’s about the scam!” He flaps his hand in a way Nico assumes is meant to convey something. “We’re gonna — eat! Cheap! By pretending to be a couple!” Now both hands are flopping, paired with wide, imploring eyes. “Obviously!”

“Obviously,” Nico repeats, slowly. He instructs one half of his brain to keep its focus on not melting into a puddle of blushing embarrassed goo, and the other to exercise restraint and not strangle the boy in front of him. A headache begins to press behind his eyes. “Will, what the shit.”

“You of all people!” Will throws his hands up. “You love scamming people! You hate corporate holidays! You frequently throw pebbles at people who look, and I quote, too obnoxiously happy! You’re the best hater I know! You should be on board!”

He makes a compelling point. Not that Nico is going to make that easy for him.

“You seem very invested in this,” Nico points out. He manages to keep his voice tastefully judgmental, which he’s very proud of.

“Of course I am! I want cheap Five Seasons food, godsdammit!” He pauses, switching tactics. “Nico,” he says softly. He puts a gently hand on Nico’s forearm, making him freeze. He is suddenly very, very close, and wow, did his hair always frame his face in gentle waves? Has that always been a thing? “I really, really want to scam a restaurant with you.” He smiles, small and crooked and gods, Will doesn’t look dangerous very often, but holy Hades when he does — “Will you make my Valentines, and scam a restaurant with me?”

His fingers begin to trace little circles in the inside of Nico’s wrist.

“Yes,” he squeaks, voice cracking.

“Yes!” Will cheers, pulling his fist. “Yes, hell yes, Nico! We are going to scam the shit out of this restaurant! Half off for couples? How about half off for heathens! Free money, baby! Fuck yeah!”

He turns back towards Nico, smile still wide and radiant, blinking eyes pools of sparkling excitement. Nico’s knees go a little weak. “I’ll come get you at 2! Thank you, Neeks!”

He runs off back to his cabin, only tripping twice. Nico watches him go, feeling a little like he’s tripping, too, with all the swooping his stomach is doing.

“Dude,” he mumbles to himself, shaking his head. “Be normal. Christo.”

It takes him ten straight minutes to get back to his cabin, even though he’s standing at the porch.

———

The obsidian handle of the Hades’ cabin door rattles.

“Neeks!” calls a voice behind the door, “you ready to go?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Nico scrambles over to the mirror and stares at himself. He turns a little to the left. He scowls. “Shit!” Tugging the shirt off, he turns back to his closet, tossing the piece of clothing to join the rest of its brethren on the floor. “Shitfuck. Fuckshit. Shit.”

“Nico!”

“Coming!”

Tapping his foot rapidly, he looks harder, as if that will magically make the right shirt pop into existence, perfectly pressed, on a hanger. “Shit.”

“What could possibly be taking so long? You’ve had two hours!”

“I care about my appearance, Mr Flip Flops and Scrubs!”

“Bleh bleh! Hurry up!”

Nico bites his lip. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t, really. Five Seasons is not actually a fancy restaurant. He and Will just like to joke that it is, because it has tablecloths. They’ve gone there dozens of times before; they stop every time they’re in the city for supply runs or visits to Olympus or to harass their summer-only friends at school. There is literally no reason for Nico to be stressing about what stupid shirt he should wear. Gods know Will is wearing cargo shorts.

“Nico!”

“I’m coming!“

Scowling, he digs through the pile of discarded clothes until he finds the first shirt he’d put on — a dark green button up that was given to him, along with a bunch of other fancy clothes he never wears, by the Aphrodite cabin. He hastily shoves their buttons through their holes, cursing when he mixes them up and has to start over, and sprints over to the mirror to inspect himself.

The shirt looks good. It’s a little tight on the arms, which he suspects was on purpose, and the colour compliments his skin nicely. The buttons are a dark, shiny brown that match his eyes. They pair nice with his simple jeans and black vans, casual enough that he doesn’t look like he’s going to Prom, or anything stupid like that, but dressy enough that it looks like he put effort in. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to make the staticky strands sit right, but gives up pretty quickly. It’s okay if one thing is a little messy, right?

“Finally,” huffs Will as the door swings open. He glances Nico up and down, then grins. “You look great.”

Nico was right. He is indeed wearing cargo shorts, although to his credit they are his one pair without various Head Medic stains. His sweater, too, is a pretty blue, V-necked, long-sleeved, and a completely different style than his shorts. It clashes horribly. His shoes are, for some reason, bright solid pink. Nico suspects Hecate magic. His hair is braided in two French braids, his favourite way to wear it. Nico believes he is also wearing a touch of sparkly eyeshadow.

“You look dorky.”

Will grins wider. “Thank you! I wouldn’t let anyone help me choose something.”

“You should have.”

“I wanted it to be authentic, Nico. Also, got something for you.” From behind his back, he pulls out a handful of daisies, black dirt clinging to their roots, like he plucked them straight from the ground. Nico is inexplicably endeared by the image, and prays the smile on his face is less soft than he knows it is.

“You got me flowers?”

“Well, duh, Avril Lavigne. We gotta sell the scam.”

Nico brings them close to his face and inhales deeply. They smell fresh and earthy and sweet.

“That’s a stupid reason to bring someone flowers.”

“Give them back, then.”

“No. Fuck off. They’re mine.”

Will’s eyes twinkle. “Okay.” He holds out his arm. “Ready to go?”

The jump is close enough that Nico can convince him to shadow travel, and not just because he sadistically looks forward to the shade of green Will’s face will get after. As dangerous as he knows it can be, he misses it, sometimes. There’s something comforting about it, something soothing and familiar. Shadow travelling to the restaurant eases any lingering nerves.

“If you’re gonna throw up, do it somewhere I can’t hear you,” he says as they materialize in an alley.

Will’s cheeks puff out. “I’m gonna do it on your fuckin’ shoes.”

“I will leave your ass here, Solace, I swear to the gods.” Despite his grumbling, he rests a cool hand on the back of Will’s neck until he’s recovered. “Good?”

“Yeah.” He straightens, dusting off his sweater. “Let’s go.”

Nico follows him down the alley and onto the street, elbowing past the crowd of pedestrians until they approach the familiar glass doors. He rolls his eyes fondly every time Will apologizes to someone.

“You need to be meaner.”

Will sticks his tongue out and tries to trip him. Unfortunately, he only manages to throw himself off balance, nearly crashing to the floor of Nico hadn’t caught him.

“Good gods, Solace.”

“That was your fault!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The doors of the restaurant are absolutely plastered in cheesy red hearts and bows and cartoon kisses. And, as promised, a giant sign promising couples a fifty percent discount on their meals.

“My love,” says Will dramatically, holding out a hand, “shall we?”

Nico sighs, resting his hand delicately in Will’s. It sparks with electricity, like it always does. “I suppose.”

“Party pooper.”

“I’m not hearing oh, Nico, thank you so much for doing this incredibly stupid thing with me, you are my dearest friend and I owe you one. Or three, for some reason.”

Will’s mouth twitches. “Oh, Nico, thank you so much for —”

Nico shoves him, laughing. “Shut up.”

They’re seated pretty quickly, server smiling when they take notice of their clasped hands. Will orders chicken tenders, like he does every single time without fail, and water. Nico orders from the adult menu and absolutely does not make any kind of show about it.

“There is nothing babyish about chicken tendies.”

“Oh, of course not.”

“Is this about you having a credit card? That does not make you more adult than me. It makes you a nepo baby.”

“Mhm. Sure thing.”

“Nobody likes a nepo baby, Nico.”

“Look, I think your drink comes with a complimentary sippy cup.”

Teasing and joking with Will is so easy that Nico forgets the core of their mission. The pink garlands hanging from the ceiling fade into the background — he’s too busy crying with laughter when Will nearly chokes to death on a french fry, too busy flicking a forkful of food at his shoulder just to make him shriek, too busy kicking his shin under the table. He catches Nico’s foot between his the fourth time he tries it, keeping it trapped for the rest of the meal. Nico finds he doesn’t mind.

“And your bill,” says their server when they’re done, setting down a slip of paper. “Forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but do you two qualify for today’s discount?”

Will smirks widely. “We do,” he says, with no small amount of pleasure. He shoots Nico the least subtle wink of all time. Nico rolls his eyes, cheeks going a little pink.

“Great! You guys have a wonderful Valentine’s day.”

“You, too.”

The server hurries away, turning to their other tables. Will’s smile is wide and smug.

“I knew it would work.”

“Duh. Easiest scam in the world, Solace.”

He sticks his tongue out. “And thus the best payout. You’re welcome.”

“Blah, blah. Gimme the bill.”

“Um, no way, di Angelo. I’m paying.”

He opens his wallet before Nico can stop him, mouthing as he counts the bills.

“What? No! I’m paying.”

“Are not.”

“Am too!”

“Are not.” He sets down a couple twenties. Nico snatches them right back up. “You we’re just complaining about my credit card!”

“Exactly. Thus my need to continue to pretend you don’t have one, so we can continue our friendship.”

“Solace, I swear to the gods.”

“di Angelo, I swear to the gods.”

Nico stares him down. Will stares back. He doesn’t even try to hide his lazy grin, his laughing eyes.

“You’re not paying for this by yourself,” Nico says firmly. “You don’t have a job. My father invented being rich.”

“Sure, but I made you come with me.”

“Ugh!” Nico throws his hands up, imagining how satisfying it would be to wrap his hands around that long neck (followed by his teeth and his tongue and his —). “Why are you impossible? I would’ve gone with you no matter what, stupid!”

As soon as he says it he wants to stick his head in wet cement. For a brief second, something like surprise flits across Will’s face, before he schools it back into his teasing smirk.

“Well, obviously, Death Breath. I’m excellent company.”

“You’re literally the most annoying person I know.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with me, of your own volition.”

“…I’m paying next time.”

Will grins. “Whatever you say.”

They walk around the city for a while before heading back to camp. Will says it’s because he needs the air, Nico knows it’s because he wants him to rest a little longer before trying to shadow travel again. He tries not to let himself get all melty inside.

(Nobody willingly hangs out around the city for the ‘air’. He’s a shit liar. Nico should be offended.)

It’s nearing curfew by the time they melt back out from behind Thalia’s tree, extra shadows of early evening making the trip easier.

“Those fries are going to make a reappearance,” Will grimaces.

“Not if you don’t want me to kick you in the face.”

“You’d never.”

He would indeed never. But he would rather pass away than admit it, so.

“C’mon, dot face. It’s getting late. You have a cabin to run.”

“Oh, Nico,” Will says in a breathy falsetto, “are you walkin’ me to my cabin? How chivalrous!”

“Nevermind.”

“No no no no no I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Nico allows himself to be tugged, weak to Will’s giggles. “Walk me to my cabin. C’mon.”

Sighing, as if he’s so put out, Nico does. Some point in between Thalia’s tree and the amphitheater, Will’s hand slides down from around his wrist to tangled in between his fingers. Coincidentally, his mouth goes dry.

As they approach the Apollo cabin, Will slows to a stop.

“Hey.” He squeezes their fingers together, smile soft in the dying light of dawn. “I had fun today. Thank you for coming with me.”

Nico swallows. One day, those words will be said in a different context, if everything goes well for Nico, and he’s not sure how the hell he’s going to handle it without bursting into flame. “Yeah, well. Anything to scam a restaurant.”

“Right.”

They walk the last few steps to the cabin, rickety porch steps creaking under their feet as they approach the open door. Will doesn’t let go.

“Hey, Nico.”

“…Yeah?”

Quick as a flash, Will leans in and presses the softest of kisses to his mouth. The noise Nico makes is practically punched out of his lungs, spine going rigid in surprise.

“You can pay for our next date, okay?”

He’s gone before Nico can respond, ducking into his cabin with a small smile and closing the door behind him. Nico stands there, like an idiot, for three solid minutes at the very least, distantly aware of the giggles coming through the open window.

His hand comes up, fingers brushing his bottom lip.

“The little fucker set me up.”

Valentine’s day scam. Please. The only scam today was the scam of Will’s sneaky asking.

Nico smiles.

“You’re a mess, Solace!” he shouts, knowing damn well Will is listening.

He’s right. “Goodnight, Nico!”

Shaking his head, Nico runs back to his cabin, entire body tingling and cheeks aching with his grin.

#they should argue more actually it’s so funny #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #will/nico #nico/will #banter #valentine’s day #fluff #fic #my writing #longpost #not established relationship but it might as well be

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miffysrambles · 7 months

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wukong and mac headcannons with an s/o who has abandonment issues? i love your fics also <3

Wukong and Macaque With an S/O Who Has Abandonment Issues

(Ahhh thank you so much, I love your art!)

Wukong:

Oh Gods, he would be there for and with you one hundred percent.

Wukong has done a lot of things in his life that he regrets (much as he brags he hasn’t) but abandoning his friends was the one that makes him cringe the most.

As soon as he realizes or you straight up tell him about your abandonment issues, he makes it his life duty to be there for you no matter what which he was already doing.

He hates being patient, he loves doing things straight away and dives in head first.

But when it comes to you and your relationship, he tries his very best to take it at the pace you feel comfortable with.

If you need extra love because you feel like shit and are clingy that day, awesome!

You can lay in his arms the rest of the day if you want, the more time the merrier!

He would whisper sweet nothings into your ear to comfort you,

“I love having you in my arms, ya know that?”

“Gods I could look at your face all day, you’re the sunshine to my day.”

“I probably sound really corny right now but i really do mean it peaches, I adore you.”

Will hold you close to him as he slowly rubs your back in comfort, pressing kisses all along your face.

If you ever feel anxious that he is going to leave you, he will make sure you know he won’t.

Will immediately take you in his arms while cupping your face, his eyes taking in all your gorgeous features as he smiles comfortingly at you.

“Oh peaches come here, I would never ever leave you. You make my immortal days so much better, better than they ever have been. I long to see your face after a day of training with the kid. I love you so much, never forget that.”

Macaque:

Abandonment issues partners, yay!

But seriously he understands, maybe a little too much.

After the whole “incident” with Wukong, he has abandonment issues of his own but you already knew that!

Your trust in each other is built gradually when you were friends, the moment he realizes he can completely trust you he asks you to be his partner.

Understands if you need more time to trust him, however, if you say yes he is happier than he has ever been.

Although he does not really show it, trust me, he is over the moon!

“You really want to try this out? Alright then hon, let’s do it.”

He is always willing to listen if you just need someone to vent to, will let you lay your head in his lap as he plays with your hair.

His fingers tangled through your locks as he just lends an ear to your feelings, he can't help but get lost in the sound of your voice.

He’s hesitant but if you want to seek professional help with him to help with your issues, he’s willing to do it just for you.

“...Hey, about that therapy thing? If you really want me to, I’ll go.”

Will actually use the sessions to help him with his own issues, he will open up to you more and will be secretly thrilled if you do the same with him.

"Hey, you're using the advice they gave us. Glad to see you are too."

If you ever have one of your days when you are anxious he is going to leave you, will be with you every step of the way to help you realize he would never.

You mean so much to him, more than you could ever realize and he wants to make sure you know that.

“Hey sugarplum, it’s ok. I’m here, and trust me. I am not going anywhere. By your side is where I always want to be and I will make sure you are always safe and loved. You are my everything”

#lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk x reader #lego monkie kid x reader #ask #lmk sun wukong #lmk macaque #lego monkie kid sun wukong #lego monkie kid macaque #lmk sun wukong x reader #lmk macaque x reader #lego monkie kid sun wukong x reader #lego monkie kid macaque x reader #sun wukong x reader #macaque x reader

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dehydration-stati0n · 1 year

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Kid, Killer, and Law Friendship HCs

Rules Word Count: 1.0k Spoilers: Wano

Kid

Kid is hard to get close to, but once it happens, you've got a friend for life

If he catches anyone messing with you in any way, he'll beat the absolute shit out of them

He's ridiculously protective in that way, especially after what happened with Killer in Wano, he's gonna make sure none of his other friends experience pain or humiliation without him intervening

Despite what his reputation suggests, he's fairly decent at comforting people in his own special way.

He'll hand you a bottle of bourbon and the weapon of your choice, and the two of you will go blow off some steam in the area nearest to you.

If you ever asked him to build you something, he'd reluctantly go and do it. Even if he muttered a few curses under his breath as he did it, he'd secretly be really happy you asked him. He takes great pride in what he does.

If you're friends with him, it'd almost be expected of you to be a part of his little crime sprees. Killer is a good accomplice on his own, but imagine having two accomplices. The three of you would be unstoppable.

He'd almost be magnetized to you, following you around wherever you go. He really likes being around people he trusts, and you happen to be one of them. Even if neither of you say anything.

He might yell at you sometimes, but he doesn't mean it in a mean way. It's kinda like his love language. He gets loud to show he cares about you. It's another one of the weird quirks he shares with people he likes.

Arm wrestles anyone??

I could see them being one of his favorite past times.

Kid is really open-minded. You could bring up almost anything and he wouldn't judge you for liking or hating whatever that thing might be.

He wouldn't mind helping you put on makeup, he actually really likes doing it for his pals.

If you manage to get him to open up to you about his emotions and how he feels, just know you're at the very peak of affinity with the redhead.

Just you, him, and Killer, dressing horrendously and causing problems.

Killer

If you're friends with Kid, you're friends with Killer. You either get both of them or none of them.

He's so thankful you're here, he desperately needs someone to help out with watching Kid

Do you like cooking? He likes cooking. Maybe you could do it with him? There are a lot of people to feed and he'd really appreciate the help.

His way of comforting people is WAYY different from Kids. Some might even say more humane.

He's more of a hugger in these situations. Not much of a talker but he can comfort you physically.

He and Kid are horrible to have as enemies, but if you somehow manage to become friends with them, they'll be the most loyal friends you've ever met. Whatever you need, Killer is there to help you out.

You two are the therapy friends for the crew.

He's really good at calming people down, so if you're ever mad, stressed, or upset in any way, it's probably best to go to him instead of Kid.

He's really knowledgeable about random things within the One Piece world and will be very internally excited if you ever wanted to sit and hear him ramble.

He likes to check in on you and the other members of the crew as often as he can. You've all been through a lot together and he likes to make sure you're all good.

He has a great memory and hardly ever forgets important dates. So if no one else shows up for your birthday or whatever niche date you might find important, just know Killer would be there.

He really likes doing things for others. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if you woke up one day to breakfast already made, or errands you were meaning to do already done.

Killer has such a great adoration for graffiti art and likes to go out with you to spray abandoned houses or broken walls with paint. He likes the artistic expression that graffiti holds.

Law

He's really big on quality time so he'll frequently invite you to sit with him in his office or out on the dock depending on if you're underwater or not.

He wouldn't mind it if you rambled on about something, in fact, he'd almost encourage you to do so.

He'd constantly ask for your feedback on a lot of his plans or thoughts he has.

The absolute dryest sense of humor. All. The. Time.

He'll try to solve just about all of your problems. Your noticing you have slow reflexes? Try this. Coffee's giving you headaches? Let him try making a pot. Something about your eye is bugging you? Let him take a look.

I hope you like cheap doctor visits, cause this guy will gladly treat you for free.

Sure, he's normally a private guy, but he'd be so honest with you. If you ask, he'll tell you. You're probably the only person who's seen him smile, or laugh for that matter.

He'd let you draw on his arm with a pen while he worked.

He's pretty strange himself, so if you had any out-of-the-ordinary hobbies, he wouldn't be the one to judge.

He wouldn't ever admit it in front of the Strawhats, but he really does like to explore, especially if it's just the two of you.

There's just something about wandering a new area with someone he finds endearing that's just so pleasant to him.

He loves to have mini-debates with you. Something about his thoughts being questioned makes him fall into a welcomed rabbit hole of new ideas and stronger plans.

Your lawyer in times of trouble.

Most nights it'll be you, Law, and the rest of the crew, sitting around below deck and playing whatever board games y'all got on you at the moment. Chess, Monopoly, Uno. Sometimes you guys'll even do puzzles.

#kid x reader #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #platonic eustass kid #platonic kid #platonic one piece #one piece #killer x reader #platonic killer #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #platonic headcanons #law x reader #trafalgar law #platonic law #platonic trafalgar law

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hypervoxel · 1 month

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Jumble of headcanons in no particular order about Vark because I need to write them down somewhere to pretend to be organized

He started off sooo cute and tiny, like the size of a guinea pig. And he made laser noises like a baby Cuban crocodile.

He was so so tiny. He did not stay tiny.

Sharks sense electricity! He's naturally drawn to Vox when Vox is taking in or letting off too much power. He naturally interrupts Vox's overstimulation and warns about seizures, so Vox trained him some actual medical alert tasks.

Service shark Vark 🐕‍🦺

On the topic of electricity, I also headcanon him as having some aspects of an electric eel as well. A fantasy eel. He can take in some of Vox's excess energy, and isn't bothered by the sparks Vox throws off.

I'm chewing on the idea that Val bought Vark for Vox as an apology gift.

Now I'm just quoting myself directly from discord: I keep thinking of how I can include this (Vark being a gift from Val) in my one fanfic where it obviously does not fit bc Val hates Vark in it. Maybe he's jealous that Vox cares way more about Vark himself than the fact that Val gave him a gift. So unappreciative, didn't even have make-up sex over it bc Vox was too busy practically having a breakdown over how adorable Vark is. Val realizes that this was a mistake and he should have picked a very different gift instead

Vark is such a well behaved good boy when he's working, as a service shark. When Vox is in distress, Vark is so focused on trying to help with all the power of his tiny shark brain <3 Outside of that tho? He's a terror. He's so excitable. He canonically (in the old Voxtagram art) jumps on and knocks people over. This ties into him previously being a tiny adorable little thing. It was sooo cute when he jumped on your leg, back when he was the size of a large potato. It stayed cute up until they realized he was going to be so much bigger than they ever expected.

(It's like a bottle raised bull. The cute things they did when they were a little baby calf are no longer cute now that they're so large they are going to hurt you on accident just trying to be friendly and playful. RIP.)

Other service dog tasks for Vark: deep pressure therapy (of course. Interrupting behaviors such as when Vox is getting overwhelmed. Blocking to stop other people from getting too close to/touching Vox when he would shock them. I am forgetting so many things and will continue writing this list later

Vox doesn't do public access with Vark. This ties into my headcanons for Vox that he is deeply ashamed of himself and he cannot let anyone know he has problems ever.

Unfortunately, I am evil. So I also like the idea of Vark as an owner-trained service animal who is hmm not the perfect candidate for the job. In the same way shepherds aren't recommended for anxiety work, he can feed too much off of Vox's own emotions and has issues with guarding aggression that at times cause him to become reactive. (*points at my fanfic where he bites Val*)

I love bad representation.

Alsooo I don't like hammerhead sharks or animals that are too cartoon-y for me to understand as a real creature, so I'm making up a new design for Vark

Based on a Bonnethead Shark! Fun fact about Bonnethead Sharks: they are omnivorous! They eat seagrass :)

So Vark is omnivorous but unfortunately he's also like a tiger shark in that he'll eat anything even if it's not food. Tiger sharks have been found with license plates, tires, and other trash in their stomachs (sad)

Don't ask Vox how many times Vark has needed emergency exploratory surgery after eating something he shouldn't have. He doesn't want to talk about it.

Vark chews on wires like real sharks biting at undersea fiber optic cables. Chomp chomp

When Vark was a tiny baby, Velvette dressed him up in silly little outfits to post online. She doesn't do that anymore because he has mostly outgrown his cuteness stage for her: she only thought he was cute when he was little.

#oh that was NOT supposed to post yet #i am bad at editing my drafts apparently :/#vark #hazbin hotel vark #hazbin vox #Vox #i do not know if he has a standard tag that we're all using‚ i just wing everything i put on here

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borderlandsresearcher · 3 months

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Ashrah x insecure reader x Syzoth

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚

💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚

CW/TW: Reader is insecure about their body, gn reader, poly relationship. Not proofread, I am not a writer!!

(a/n @ the bottom)

* When you finally open up to both of them about your insecurities, Ashrah is slow to understand. But she knows you're suffering, and will do anything to ensure nothing less than your happiness.

* On the other hand, Syzoth understands right away. He offers up words of affirmation, reassuring you just how much they love you.

* "You are perfection my sweet. If only you could see yourself the way Ashrah and I see you ...". But he knew too much about what it was like, and that you needed more than just words. Unfortunately, he too was stuck in the same bottomless hell pit that was insecurity, just as you were.

* He takes it upon himself to explain to Ashrah just how debilitating living with such thoughts can be. Hoping she would understand and help him find a way to make their lover feel comfortable in their own body. Although he tries to hide his own insecurities, Ashrah connects the dots and sees right through him.

* Ashrah sees your and Syzoth's insecurities as sins that need to be eradicated. This leads her down a rabbit hole of studying the mortal condition and human psychology.

* Some time later, she sits the three of you down on your shared bed. Laid out on the mattress were various arts and craft tools. You and Syzoth stare curiously at the assortment of colourful strings, ribbon and paper.

* "What is all this about?" You ask, fiddling with a pair of scissors.

* "Therapy." Ashrah responded bluntly. "You both need a distraction from those terrible thoughts eating away at your conscious. I will not allow such rare beauty to tear itself down. Liu Kang did not create this timeline for the both of you to spend it hating the body he so graciously gifted you." Ashrah is stern, clearly serious about making the both of you feel better.

* Only the tiniest bit intimidated, you and Syzoth nod a long at each and every one of her orders.

* After an hour of crafting, chatting and enjoying each other's company (as well as avoiding disappointing Ashrah with your self deprecation), the three of you end up with your own handcrafted personalised journals.

* Ashrah reaches for the both of you. Holding hands, she maintains her strict yet loving tone: "Use these journals the moment those wicked thoughts return. Write them down, be in touch with your true self. Do not isolate yourselves. Acknowledge your emotions and try to work through them using these journals. And know, that no matter what, we will always have each other."

* From then on, you all worked through your feelings together, offering up a listening ear and uplifting each other whenever possible. Your insecurities never truly went away, but they were quiet and less frequent now, allowing you to focus on what-- or rather who- was more important to you ... your lovers.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚

A/N: Hope u all enjoyed :) I am new to the fanfic/hc scene. I will ONLY be taking CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, please and thank you!

P.s. Remember that you are loved!

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emry-stars-art · 10 months

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Hi, soooo I'm currently studying phisiotherapy AND at the same time I'm sucker for good cuddling and soft scenes AND I have hate love relationship with scars (visually I think they can be attractive but in a lot of other aspects they just suck). Anyway so u know how scar tissue is a bit** to work with and can cause a lot of problems like numbness in scared area, decrease in range of movement, phantom pains etc. What I'm trying to say is Neil needs A LOT of therapy sessions which should contain some salves manual work with scars and maybe needle therapy which is just prettier way to say sticking hundreds of tiny needles right thru scared tissue which most definitely will hurt BUT what if during all of this they only will learn more about themselves and will have excuse to spend long hours together away from prying eyes and most importantly being soft, clingy, touch starved wholesome dumbasses with one shared braincell?

Sorry for long, boring and probably unnecessary not so much question or message as just my thought vomit I just wanted to share.

Have a great day🫡😅🧡

WHAT DO YOU MEAN BORING AND UNNECESSARY I LOVE IT

omg thank you for bringing your expertise into this, I absolutely wrote the “long hours being touch starved wholesome dumbasses” bit into my notebook lmao. Yeah! This is good!! I’m SUCH a sucker for soft moments like this I’m right there with you. I was bouncing ideas with @paradoxolotl on it and I love the idea of Day being very methodical, he might know some of this stuff already and then he goes out of his way to learn everything he needs to know to make sure Abram can still be taken care of when he won’t let anyone else touch him. Still talking him through everything. Andrew would be as careful as we all know he can be, he never takes for granted the trust Abram has when he allows Andrew to give him more painful massages/therapy, and after, Andrew’s touch softens and neither of them ever mention that he’d already finished the actual exercise/massage a few long minutes ago… idk anything about physiotherapy so I bet there’s lots of great art/story fodder here that I’m just unaware of so if you have any specific ideas I’d love to hear them 👀👀 but here’s what I did draw, hopefully it’s not too completely incorrect 😅

(Shout out to @anon-lemon for making me realize I needed to draw Andrew with his hair down 💕)

Anyway thank you for the ask, together we can make this both incredibly angsty AND incredibly fluffy 😌🥰

#long gentle hours away from prying eyes…. I need a minute #absolutely yes #yeah when I don’t know immediately what clothes to put someone in the answer is either none or a tight turtleneck #and I will not be apologizing #great concept my friend thank you so much #fan art #my art #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #asks #royal au #tw scars #digital

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cedarxwing · 5 days

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The ending of Hannibal the novel explained

(aka the breastfeeding scene)

Here's the passage (end of Chapter 101):

I thought everyone was kidding about the breastfeeding kink jokes until my partner read Hannibal and the whole ending flew over their head. Their main takeaway was "that was weird." When I checked reddit, it seemed everyone was confused there too. I was gobsmacked to see one guy say that Thomas Harris was playing some cruel joke on the reader by writing an ending that didn't make sense!

How many people are reading Hannibal like this, completely missing the resolution to Hannibal's character arc? They must finish the book confused about what it was all about in the first place. So here's how I understand it!

First, I need to get this out of the way: a lot of people hate this scene, and from what I understand it's because they're weirded out by the "breastfeeding kink." Which is fine, but it makes me want to gently hold them by the hand and tell them that it's ok for someone to suck on a nipple. It happens all the time. Sometimes it just feels good, sometimes it's part of a breastfeeding fantasy, and sometimes it's literal breastfeeding. Between consenting adults, this is all fine and normal. Let's all move past this knee-jerk repulsion (or alternatively, sit in our discomfort and expand our horizons) so we can analyze this piece of art together. :)

Next, authors LOVE Freudian psychoanalysis. Even though it's all nonsense, it's full of literary allusion and makes for compelling narratives and character studies (childhood maladjustment, repressed memories, etc), which is basically catnip for a writer. Thomas Harris was no exception, and probably creamed himself (as I did) when he learned that Freud's oral-sadistic stage was also termed the "cannibalistic stage," referring to the time when an infant is growing teeth and begins to bite at the breast--the psychosexual urge to devour and destroy the thing you love. What could be more appropriate for Hannibal?

Next, consider the pattern of Hannibal's Il Mostro murders. He killed young couples in one of the most romantic cities in the world, then arranged them as Chloris and Zephyr from Botticelli's Primavera, exposing Chloris's left breast just like in the painting. In classical art, an exposed breast is often a symbol of fertility. Chloris is associated with spring, new growth, and transformation.

Perhaps, at the time, Hannibal rationalized these murders as retribution for rude behavior. Maybe the couples were performing disgusting PDA. Maybe they were obnoxious tourists on their honeymoons. Either way, it's clear to the reader that Hannibal has some deep-seated hang up about sex and romance.

The particulars of this hang up are open to interpretation, but based on Hannibal's obsession with the rape and transformation of Chloris as well as his embarrassment at the paintings of Leda and the Swan in the German's house, I think it's safe to say that Hannibal feels like any relationship he has with a woman who isn't aware of his true (monstrous) identity would involve a degree of violence/lack of consent. He is forever barred from normal romance.

Having given up on sex/romance, Hannibal is unable to consciously recognize his desire for Clarice, so he sublimates it into a more general familial love. He longs for a return to innocence, to return to the time before he ate Mischa and became an unlovable monster (cue the teacup metaphor).

But even familial love seems like too much to hope for, so he sublimates it further into something that seems more attainable: resurrecting the person whom he loved and devoured, and who loved him in turn (Mischa) through Clarice.

So we have the breast as a symbol of sex/fertility (Chloris/Clarice), as an object that is loved and devoured (Mischa), and as a literal source of sustenance that must be given up during infancy (mommy).

Big brain Clarice connects all these dots and, in the very same style of therapy that Hannibal has been using on her, distills Hannibal's psychological problems into a single poetic gesture that completely fixes Hannibal in an instant, proving that she's not only his intellectual equal, but is, in some ways, his superior.

When Clarice asks, "Did you ever feel that you had to relinquish the breast to Mischa? Did you ever feel you were required to give it up for her?", she's ostensibly asking Hannibal if he's stuck in the oral stage of childhood development (which yeah he probably is). On a deeper level, she's asking Hannibal to consider if he's given up on love.

When Clarice exposes her breast in the same fashion as Chloris, says, "You don’t have to give up this one", and suspends the drop of wine from her nipple, she is shifting his perception of her breast from familial devoured sustenance to a sexual object. Basically, "Why do you want me to pretend I'm your sister when we could be banging?" Hannibal is being aged out of his childlike mindset, not regressing into one.

There are other layers of meaning in this act. The hedonism of using thousand dollar wine for food play is a sign of Clarice's character development. The way Hannibal kneels before Clarice is a position of subservience, but could also be interpreted as devouring Clarice in a way that's new to him. It's the most self-actualized thing Hannibal has done since escaping prison (LOL) and marks the end of his hero's journey (as one of the first things we see him do in Hannibal Rising is nurse).

Personally, I don't read this scene as breastfeeding kink. Yeah, Clarice talks about breastfeeding, but that was more a metaphor for other stuff. Considering the direction of Hannibal's character arc, I understand this scene as him briefly licking the wine off before they have sex. But to each their own! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ANYWAY, yeah, it's unsettling. It's obviously meant to be. But it's beautifully unsettling! Hate it all you want, but this is peak cannibal romance, to me!!

#hannibal meta #hannibal #clarice starling

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atlafan · 1 year

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Carnal Attraction - Part One

a/n: sexology professor!harry is here!! Just a reminder, this is the only part being posted on here. The rest will be on Patreon. I can’t wait to know what you all think so far. This is going to be a good one, I think.

Warnings: talk of sexual acts, mentions of sexual misconduct

Words: 4.7K

Tumblr Masterlist I Patreon Masterlist

The world of academia is astounding. People stay in higher education for so many different reasons. Some go off to become medical doctors, others become doctors in specific fields like psychology or literature or philosophy. Some choose to stay in academia because they don’t want to sell their souls to industry work. Mavis always loved school. She was one of those kids that did well no matter what the subject was. She studied hard, wanting to take in more and more information. She was naturally gifted in the art of time management. Everything clicked for her. If something was puzzling, she’d figure it out.

There isn’t much she can’t figure out. Which is why she’s grown increasingly aggravated with her sexology professor. She can’t figure him out. She swears he hates her. He’s short with her, and less personable with her than he is with the other students. She’s never struggled like this with someone before. And he wasn’t even supposed to be the one teaching her courses!

When Mavis tells people she’s in graduate school for a master’s in sexology, they look at her funny. Furrowed eyebrows, puzzled facial expressions, etc. No one can ever piece together why someone would get an advanced degree in a subject like this. That’s because people can’t get their minds out of the gutter. In undergrad, Mavis majored in psychology, and minored in gender and sexuality studies. She eventually wants to produce literature and perform psychoanalysis on sexual behavior and sexual issues. She thought she wanted to be a psychiatrist, but that involves medical school. And as smart as she is, she’s rather squeamish when it comes to blood. So, then she thought maybe being a psychologist, some type of sex therapist would be good, but she honestly has a tough time speaking aloud about the various subjects. And sex therapy isn’t just for helping couples have better sex, a lot of it is helping people with history of sexual abuse recover and find ways to heal. Mavis doesn’t have the stomach for that. She cried too many times reading case studies about it in undergrad.

All that being said, she eventually wants to get her doctorate in psychology with a concentration in sexology, so when she found a graduate program to help get her started on that journey, she went for it. She could write about sexual disorders and the like all day. When she’s writing and researching, she’s quite helpful to others. She enjoys learning about sexual history, those were always her favorite courses. Learning about how trans people in the 1800’s used binders to hide their breasts, learning about how two opposite sex couples would get married, go in on a duplex together, and use the basement to sneak over to sleep with their same sex partner, learning about different gay and lesbian liberation movements, the HIV/AIDS epidemic, and so much more was where her interest was. It all just fascinated her, it all astounded her, and a lot of it just made her downright upset. Tears would litter her textbooks as she read about people being beaten senseless until they were left for dead in the streets. She’d cry because all of it was happening not too long ago. She cried because it still happens today.

She’s quite empathetic, and almost too much to a fault. But she can’t help that she cares! She enjoys studying the psychology side of things, how the brain functions of these people work, how the brains of bigots function, if there’s a disparity between the two on scans or octopuses. All Mavis wants to do is hunker down in her own academic sanctuary and research and read and write and publish.

Mavis had been assigned an advisor over the summer, one whom she emailed with frequently to make sure she was taking the correct courses in the correct sequence. Her advisor recommended courses with one specific professor, Professor Amaro. Apparently, her classes were top tier, and she was a favorite amongst the other graduate students. No brainer – sign up for Amaro’s courses.

Except when Mavis showed up for her first day of Human Sexuality, a co-requisite for her Sexual Pleasure Education course, there was a man standing at the podium, hooking his laptop up to the HDMI cable so he could project onto the screen up front. At first, she thought maybe he was a TA just setting up for Professor Amaro. She paid it no mind. She found a seat in the middle front, and got her own things set up. It’s syllabus week, so there won’t be much to go over, but Mavis still likes to take handwritten notes. She pulled her agenda, a notebook, and her copy of the syllabus out, and set them on her desk. The classroom is small, only meant to hold about twenty-five people. Mavis prefers small classrooms. She’s not a fan of lecture halls with stadium-style seating.

“Is anyone sitting here?” A woman’s voice took over Mavis’ attention. The desks are set up for two people to sit at. “If it is, I can sit somewhere else.”

“Oh! No, go right ahead.” Mavis smiled. “I’m Mavis.”

“Thanks.” The woman says with relief as she sits down. “I’m Taraji, I use she/they pronouns.”

“Nice to meet you. I use she/her. Thanks for letting me know yours.”

“Nice to meet you too, and no problem. It’s something new I’m trying out. I don’t…I don’t always feel like a she, you know?”

“Totally get that.”

“Sorry, I hope that wasn’t too much info too soon.”

“No worries.” Mavis waves her off. “We’re going to be talking about some real shit in this class, it’s best to just be open and honest.”

“Agreed.” Taraji takes out her own agenda and notebook. “I hate that we have to take this course in conjunction with the sexual pleasure class. I feel like I’ve taken a million human sexuality courses at this point.”

“I know, it seems a little odd, but I figure there must be more high level stuff to discuss since this is at the grad level. And review isn’t always a bad thing, I like refreshers.”

“Well, aren’t you full of silver linings?” Taraji smiles. “We need more people like that in this world.”

The girls continue to chat while the class fills in. At 10:30, the man at the front closes the door and turns the projector on, revealing his screen. Mavis’ stomach drops when she sees Human Sexuality – Professor Styles – M/W 10:30-12:00 in big bold letters.

“What happened to Professor Amaro?” She whispers to Taraji.

“Beats me.” Taraji shrugs. “Maybe we signed up for the wrong section?”

“That can’t be it, this is the only section being offered.”

The man, Professor Styles, clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. He’s wearing a button up, but it’s not buttoned up all the way. You can see his undershirt. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing quite a few tattoos. Round glasses are on the bridge of his nose, and his hair is pushed back with a couple of curls falling forward on his forehead. He looks young. Who the fuck is this guy?

“Morning, everyone.” His deep voice fills the room as he rounds the podium to stand in front of the desk attached to it. He leans back against it, gripping the edge behind him. “I’m Professor Harry Styles, I prefer to be called professor, so please try to remember that. I’m sure you’re very confused as to why I’m standing here and not Professor Amara.” He pauses to take a sip of water from his Nalgene. “I quite literally found out the other day that I would be taking over her courses. To be transparent with all of you, Professor Amaro is under investigation for sexual misconduct with her patients. As many of you know, a lot of the professors in the psychology department have their own practices outside of academia. Summer is when Professor Amaro picks up new patients. There was someone undercover seeing her for therapy, and she was caught taking advantage. It’s extremely disappointing. So, not only will she be losing her licensure, but she has been let go from the institution as well. We do not condone the abuse of patients. We also do not want someone so unethical being the one to teach our future therapists. How many of you are in here as part of the clinical licensure program?” More than half of the class raises their hands. “Right, I thought so. I usually teach undergraduate courses, but I’m fully prepared to teach at the graduate level just the same. I know many of you have already taken different iterations of Human Sexuality, but this course is integral for you so you can fully get what’s needed out of the Sexual Pleasure Education course. It says 10:30 to noon up here, but I’ll typically only be keeping you for about an hour, if that. Many of you have research and other time consuming things to do, and I want to be cognizant of that. I am also working towards my PhD, I’m about two years into my program and research.” He pauses again, knowing he just word vomited. The class is stunned with the bomb he just dropped about Professor Amaro, and they’re whiplashed going from that to the basic information about the course. “Any questions so far?”

“I have one.” A brave soul in the back raises their hand. “Which undergraduate courses do you teach? Will you need any TA’s since your load just got bigger?”

“Great question, thank you for asking. I will end up needing TA’s, but I have to wait to meet with the department chair to see what our budget is. I teach the undergraduate intro to gender and sexuality studies, and I also teach some of the higher level special topics courses. This semester I’m teaching the history of feminism, which is one of my favorites to teach, and I’m also teaching the film history course that focuses on how sex has been depicted in film since its start to the present.”

“You’re teaching a course about feminism?” Another person asks.

“Yes.” Professor Styles smirks. “It’s one of my main focuses of study. I may not be a woman, but I am a man that believes in equity and equality. Plus, I’m a huge history buff, so I enjoy teaching about how the movement began and how feminism has transformed over the years, both the good and the bad of it.”

Mavis swallows thickly. She’s a history buff too. Maybe she could be a TA for one of his classes. The extra money would be nice, and so would the bit of teaching experience if she were allowed to give a lecture or two.

“Let’s focus on this class. We’ll be going over a number of topics, and at times you may feel the need to giggle because of nerves. We’re going to discuss endorsement, communication, fantasy, masturbation, homosexuality, bisexuality, desensitization and resensitization, female and male sexuality, sexual enrichment, special problems, therapy, and cultural expression. So, this gives us a base for what we’ll be discussing in the co-requisite course. Now, I’m going to do something that I do with my undergrads, I’m going to say a ton of words and phrases that you’ll feel the need to giggle about as we discuss certain topics. This is your only chance to laugh. If you do it throughout the semester, then we’re going to have a problem. If you become a sex therapist, you can’t laugh at your patients. We’ll get into why these words make us feel nervous, and why we feel the need to laugh when we hear them.” He grabs the remote for the projector and clicks it. Everyone gasps and starts laughing when they see many words and phrases appear. “Alright: penis, vagina, pussy, cunt, cock, dick, mutual masturbation, anal, penetration, fingering, eating out, going down, blow job, hand job, sucking someone off, breasts, boobs, nipples, fetish, BDSM, whips, chains, handcuffs, threesomes, orgies, condoms, contraceptives, birth control pills, IUD, sex toys, dildo, vibrator, cock ring, lube, dirty talk, dominant, submissive, daddy, baby talk, douching, porn, clit, clitoris, prostate, prostate orgasm, orgasm, vaginal orgasm, stimulation, fucking, fisting, getting wet, wet, come, precome, squirt, squirting, ejaculation, and sex.”

The entire class is snickering and giggling and laughing, even Mavis. Hearing all of those things back to back and watching the words dance on the screen in an animated fashion is hilarious. What a fun approach to getting people more comfortable with these terms.

“There are many more words and phrases, obviously, but these will be the ones we use more often.” Professor Styles explains, smiling fondly to the class. “If you’d like to be considered for a TA position, please come up to me after you’re dismissed. “Any questions?” No one raises their hand. “Great, then you’re dismissed. Enjoy the nice weather.”

Mavis and Taraji exchange contact info, and agree to meet for coffee tomorrow morning before their sexual pleasure course. A few people go up to Professor Styles to tell him they’d like to be a TA, and he takes down their information. Mavis is the last in line, the last student in the classroom with Professor Styles.

“Name?” He asks, not looking up at her.

“Mavis Ashford.”

“Alright.” He looks up at her now, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Do you have a preference?”

“I’d love to help out in the feminism course or the film history course. I like the historical side of things when it comes to studying this content.”

“Great, those are usually the ones I have trouble finding help for.”

“Really? I’m surprised.”

“Since a lot of you are here to become licensed therapists or psychologists, not a lot of people are interested in the theoretical aspect of things.”

“Well, I definitely do not want to be a therapist. I want to do research, eventually get my PhD, like you, I suppose. I’m sad about Professor Amaro, I heard so many good things about her.”

“None of us knew about any of it. She hid what she was doing well. She had been doing it for years, supposedly.” He sighs and takes his glasses off, putting them into their case. Mavis catches how green his eyes are, almost like sage. “Did you have any other questions? I need to get across campus to my office so I can take some time to edit the Canvas courses a little more.”

“Oh! No, sorry. Guess I was just curious to know how long you’ve been teaching for. You mentioned you were in your second year of your doctoral program, so-“

“There’s a bio page for me. My listing lives under the Psychology department. I’ll keep you in mind for my special topics courses. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” Mavis watches the very flustered, unorganized man leave the room in a rush. His papers were all over the place, and he just shoved all his things in his bag. How chaotic. Maybe if she’s able to become his TA, she could help him with that.

Since Monday went so well, including Mavis’ other courses, she’s excited for Tuesday. She meets Taraji for coffee, as planned, and then they head to class. A course about Sexual Pleasure Education at 9AM is wild, but if coffee doesn’t wake the class up, the content of the course sure will. Harry is at the podium, connecting his computer, just as he did yesterday. Mavis and Taraji sit at the same table they did yesterday. The class eventually fills in, and Harry turns the projector on.

“Let’s see, did I scare anyone off since yesterday?” He asks out loud, but it’s more for himself, as he checks off names on his attendance sheet. “Great, you’re all here.” He smiles. “I know you’re probably thinking how I could have possibly memorized all your names already, but I haven’t. I just have your student ID pictures next to your names on my sheet.” He leans back against the table, gripping the edge of it, same as he did yesterday, and scans over the class. “Welcome to Sexual Pleasure Education. In this class, we will discuss strategies for improved sex life, sex aids, sexual approaches, and male and female pleasuring. We will also be stressing the value of various body work techniques for persons intending to work in the field of sex therapy and counseling. Lastly, we will discuss sexological exploration of objects which have been created in response to sexual desire and experience.” He pauses to take a sip of water. “Basically, this is sex ed on crack.”

“Professor Styles?” A girl in the back raises her hand, and he nods for her to continue. “So, are there going to be, like, demonstrations in class?”

“Yes. Most people learn best by doing. And it’s important for you to know what you’re talking about if you end up becoming the type of therapist that has to make recommendations for couples. The conversations we’re going to have in this class are going to feel awkward and taboo. There are going to be days where we look at various sex toys and how to use them, and why people use them.”

“I sort of meant, like, is anything going to be demonstrated on an actual person?” The same girl asks.

“Considering that this isn’t a tantric sex workshop, no.” He smirks. “We’ll look at various anatomical diagrams to go over specific areas where people find pleasure and how best to get them to feel it in those areas.”

“Professor Styles?” A boy in the front raises his hand, and Harry nods for him to continue. “I know this isn’t technically a psychology course, but are we going to get into kinks and why some people have specific ones or like using specific objects?”

“Yes and no. We’ll discuss the psychology behind kinks in our Human Sexuality course. What we do on Mondays and Wednesdays will be more theoretical, and what we do on Tuesdays and Thursdays will be more practical. Great questions so far. Anyone have anything else?”

“Will there be trigger warnings?” Taraji asks. “For both classes?”

“Yes, when we get into some of the heavier topics, there will be trigger warnings. I’m working on updating the syllabus so you’ll all know when to expect those. If the topic is so heavy that you don’t feel as though you can come to class, please let me know so we can have a one-on-one session so we can go over the material. I can meet in-person or on zoom.”

“Thank you.” Taraji smiles softly.

“Are we going to be talking about our own personal sex lives in class?” Another girl asks.

“That depends on how comfortable you feel. We may share anecdotes, and we may not. If you become a therapist, remember that what might work for you, might not work for others. However, your patients will ask you about your personal experience with some of the things you recommend to them. I’m not saying you need to shove a butt plug up your ass in order to have a frame of reference, but sometimes it helps for your patient to know you’re a real person. Just don’t cross any hard boundaries. We all know that many patients tend to experience romantic feelings towards their therapists. That can happen twice as much with sex therapy. You need to make it clear right from the start that even though it’s a safe space for them, things will still be professional. No one is to ever take their clothes off during an appointment. That’s what leads to things like what happened with Professor Amaro to happen. Respect will be integral to this course, as well as not kink-shaming. You may find something weird that someone else may love, and vice versa. You don’t have to agree, but please be mindful of how you speak to and about others.” He drums his fingers behind him as he takes another pause. “All of that being said, if we do discuss personal sexual experiences, you need to speak about them educationally. I don’t want to hear things like, ‘this one time I was fucking this dude and he,’ blah blah blah. Okay?”

The class makes a collective noise of agreement that makes Harry very happy.

“I’m hoping to have the courses updated to my liking by next Monday. I should also know by then about TA positions for my undergraduate courses. Do we have any other questions right now?” No one answers. “Excellent. For tomorrow’s Human Sexuality class, I’d like you all to fill out these surveys.” He starts handing out papers row by row. “They’re to give me a pulse check on what you already know a lot about, and the areas you need a bit more information on. It’ll help for Thursday’s lesson in here as well.” Once all of the papers are passed out, Harry goes back to the front of the room. “If no one else has any questions, you’re all free to go.”

Everyone begins packing up their things. Mavis is stuck looking over the survey questions. Her cheeks are beat red, she just knows it.

“You coming?” Taraji asks her.

“Um, yeah.” Mavis blinks and starts packing up her things. “I just have a few questions for Professor Styles. Wanna get lunch later?”

“I’d love to. Text me later.”

Mavis nods to her new friend, and goes to the back of the line of students that have questions for Harry. Just like yesterday, it’s the two of them alone in the room. He doesn’t look at her as he stuffs his papers into his bag.

“Have you ever thought to use an accordion folder for all of that?” She asks him.

“You waited in line just to ask me that?” He looks up at her, taking his glasses off and putting them into their case.

“No.” She laughs sheepishly. “I just had a few questions about this survey.”

“Alright, shoot.” He tells her, crossing his arms over his chest loosely.

“The first question says to list five common sex toys that I know of.”

“Correct.”

“Then the second questions says to explain the function of each of the toys.”

“Also correct.”

“What if you’re not familiar with well-known sex toys? Is it okay to look up the functionality?”

“No, just give your best guess as to why someone would use it.” He looks at her, studies her. He has a question of his own to ask, but it could come off as inappropriate. “I’m going to try to phrase this in the most professional way possible…do you not have much, um, first-hand experience with sex toys?”

Mavis’ eyes widen. All she can do is shake her head no. Harry nods in understanding, not being the least bit judgmental.

“It’s not that I haven’t wanted to know more about them, like, I know a lot about the history of them, the…the theoretical side of things, as you mentioned before. But in practice…I guess that’s where I need to learn more.”

“That’s fine, you can just say that on the survey. You can keep it anonymous too. I didn’t leave a space for your names at the top.”

“So, it’s not a big deal if I haven’t personally done some of the things we’re going to discuss.” She says for clarification.

“Perfectly fine. You could be a virgin for all I care. You just need to be able to discuss and write about these things knowledgably and eloquently.”

“Well, I’m not a vi-“ She’s about to scoff, but he raises his hand to halt her from finishing her sentence.

“I don’t need to know the particulars of what you have and haven’t done, Miss Ashford.”

“You just said we need to be able to discuss these things, though.”

“Yes, as a class, when other people are around. Not when you’re in here alone with me. Someone could get the wrong idea about why we’re having this very conversation.” He slings his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t over think it, it’s just a pulse check.”

He leaves her there, sweating. Did he think she was coming on to him? Did he think she was flirting? She wasn’t! She would never do something like that with a professor.

The rest of the week goes by smoothly. Mavis makes sure not to ask Harry any questions after class. In the second session of Human Sexuality, they went through all the changes Harry made to the course Canvas page and to the syllabus. They did the same for the second session of Sexual Pleasure Education. Pretty easy stuff that the students are thankful for. The other courses Mavis is taking are research methods and a high-level sociology course. So starting off on the slower side is a major bonus. Harry lets them know that he’ll post a paper on his office door on Friday with who has been selected as TA’s.

Around noon on Friday, after a work out and a hearty breakfast, Mavis makes her way to the building Harry’s office is in. She takes her headphones out as she gets inside, and makes her way upstairs and down a hallway until she gets to the psych department office suite. His door is closed, so the paper is easy to read. Her eyes scan over it, and she’s taken aback when she doesn’t see her name. Four students were chosen: Eric, Alyssa, Mohamed, and Liza. Mavis frowns deeply. How could she not have been chosen? She spoke to Harry directly about helping with his higher level courses. What made these students better choices than her?

She hears the squeak of a sneaker skidding, and turns her head in its direction. There Professor Styles is. He looks rigid, almost like he had stopped short and was about to turn around. He sighs heavily and makes his way down the hall.

“Miss Ashford.” He nods and unlocks his office door. “I would have thought you would have been here first thing this morning.”

“Why didn’t you just email the students that got selected instead of making all of us come down here?”

“Because I didn’t make my decision until very late last night.” He tells her, opening his door and setting his things down on his desk. His office looks like a tornado hit it.

“Still, you could have emailed-“

“Miss Ashford, what is it that you need? I don’t have office hours today and I’m very busy.”

“I want to know why I wasn’t selected. I told you how much I love the history courses, I could have been a major help.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but I didn’t think you were the right fit for what I needed.”

“You came to that conclusion from only a week of knowing me?”

“I know the four students I selected better. I had them in my courses as undergrad students. They already know my teaching style and the learning outcomes of the courses.”

“Again, if you knew-“

“You need to go now.” He tells her, taking a dominant step forward, making her take a step back. “Don’t take it personally.”

“How can I not when you just told me I wasn’t the right fit?” She pouts, and she swears Harry’s eyes flicker down to her mouth, only for a millisecond.

“Mavis, I don’t feel comfortable with us being alone like this. There’s no one else in the office right now, I’m one of the few instructors that actually utilizes their space on Fridays.”

“But if you had office hours, I’d be alone with you.”

“Yes, with the door open, while other people are around.”

“Are you afraid of someone accusing you of doing what Professor Amaro did? I feel like you’re being overly cautious…with me.”

“You ask a lot of questions, and it’s annoying. You’re annoying. That’s why I didn’t select you. I don’t have any desire to be around you more than I’m already obligated to.”

“Are…are you allowed to speak to me like this?”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Or maybe not. Who’s to say? It’s your word against mine, right? No one else is here. Are you picking up what I’m putting down? I already told you I felt uncomfortable, now please go before I have to call campus police to escort you out.”

Mavis is stunned, and about ready to cry. Harry rolls his eyes when she doesn’t budge, so he goes into his office and slams the door in her face. What the fuck is his problem?!

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cupcakeslushie · 2 years

Note

In the show Donnie has been canonically confirmed to be autistic I believe and Mikey with ADHD. Did those prove to affect how they were treated or raised in any way? And aside from flopping on people does Donnie still have a bit of a aversion to touch and people who are exceptions? Or does he ignore any uncomfortable feeling he has about anything because he's been through worse and if so how do the turtles help him unlearn these negitive things?

Did Mikey's ADHD ever get him in trouble with big momma and in the battle nexus? I would ask more but I don't want to overload-

Donnie is still autistic, and Draxum did try to “train out” the behavior he didn’t consider warrior-like (God he’s such an asshole in this—and I LIKE canon Draxum 🤣 but I really am making him worse than Shredder at this point). He waited to start the really heavy experiments until Three was older, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t punish him harshly when he “acted foolish”. Draxum would grab and pull Three all the time, either by the arm or he’d use his vines to restrain him where he wanted him. So most of Donnie’s touch aversion here comes from being reminded of that. I am personally of the opinion that Donnie isn’t as so much touch averse in canon—He’s seen constantly touching his family and April and though sometimes he may have a slight grimmace, you can see that he eases into the hug and even initiates a lot of them. I think his hangups are more texture based and that he doesn’t like being caught off guard, which are still present here, and unfortunately, Draxum uses against him in ways we’ll find out. But Donnie does appreciate that his brothers and Splinter give him the option of saying no. It gives him a sense of control over the situation and he finds accepting and initiating contact easy and comforting more often than not, unless it’s a real bad day.

Big Mama was very doting on Mikey, and spoiled him rotten. She got him the best tutors for his education, but Mikey drove almost all of them into quitting except for his martial arts, and art tutors. As a result Mikey has more of a classical art style, and Big Mama puts his paintings all over the lobby of her hotel. But Big Mama is fickle, and after so many years she grows bored enough with him, and sees how strong he’s gotten, that she can’t pass up the opportunity of dropping him into the Nexus. She still gives him treats for his wins, but it’s framed more like prizes to her champion than gifts for her child. Still, Mikey sees them as gifts for doing well, and imagines one day when he wins enough fights, she’ll let him out.

It isn’t until after he’s rescued that he reads up on art therapy, and tries to get back into art. Sadly he finds he doesn’t have the taste for it anymore which devastates him and causes a bout of intense depression…until April suggests that he try a whole new style, something his tutor never covered, and takes him on a tour of the city to see all the coolest street art. In days he’s got most of the lair covered in graffiti.

Mikey does have ADHD, in fact most of his scars come from times where he got distracted in the ring. At night in the barracks he tries to pull from happy memories and beneath the good times spent with Big Mama there’s something else he can’t quite grab hold of, but it comforts him enough for him to keep fighting. On the other hand, Leo remembers almost nothing from Shredder warping his memories so much.

Lastly, Shredder was a harsh taskmaster, very manipulative and told Leo lie after lie to get him to hate Splinter. Leo trained from before sunrise to after sunset, and didn’t talk to many people outside of Shredder’s inner circle of commanders. He was taught a wide range of studies, including war strategy, weaponry, and languages. Shredder was never really…cruel, without reason like Draxum, but if he ever felt Leo was lacking in training or not following his commands to the letter, he would show no mercy. Leo is treated with a lot of respect from most of the foot recruits. Of course some of the older commanders (🤐) aren’t too happy when a literal child is given such a high position of power, but they would never argue with the Shredder.

If you have any more questions please check out the Separated AU tag and my pinned post! I might’ve already answered it!

@lockoutkey @nyxthedragon225, @froggiethelesbian

#separated au #ask slushie #rottmnt separated au #that’s pretty much all I’ll say at the moment on their childhoods as i have plans to expand on them further #hopefully that’s enough to tide everyone over until i can get pages out

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karmic-vibes · 1 year

Text

If I Can Dream

16 - Too Much Rain

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr/lazyjunebug on twitter

cw: mentions of divorce

Year: 1992

Pattie and John finalized their divorce in January of 1992. Per their lawyer, they had to try couples therapy, amongst a few other things, prior to their official split. When nothing took, they officially called it quits.

While John never came around quite like Pattie did, he still tried addressing everyone by their proper names and pronouns. He never stopped by or gave anyone the time of day, but when he remembered, he would send birthday gifts or vague holiday cards to try and act like he cared (mainly to spite Pattie, showing her she wasn’t the only involved grandparent).

But, Pattie didn’t care. She had finally connected with her son and her granddaughter—she couldn’t care less what her ex-husband did.

Pattie often found herself stopping by once every weekend to bring the boys a meal and a little gift for Bobby. Since tensions had been resolved, Pattie hadn’t misgendered Eddie or even slipped up on his deadname. She addressed and introduced him as her son’s husband and Bobby’s father. She earned strange looks from people who think the way she used to, but it was second nature to her at this point.

Her son was married to a man, who also fathered her granddaughter. Totally normal, right?

Ever since she left John, she could give two shits about what others perceived as “normal”—she loved her new, free life and she’d be damned if anyone took that from her. For the first time in her adult life, she was happy—she didn’t care about the rest.

One weekend when Pattie dropped by, Eddie was getting his belongings together to head over to The Hideout for his weekly gig. Corroded Coffin hadn’t performed nearly as much since Bobby was born, but his band mates didn’t mind—they all understood where Eddie’s priorities were.

“Alright, I’m heading out!” Eddie called.

“Good luck tonight, Ed,” Pattie chirped.

“Thanks, mama.”

That was a newer development—mama. Eddie had never been close with his own mother, so once Pattie started coming around more often, she very quickly took on a motherly role for her son-in-law. He called her mom or mama, and she had an array of pet names for him that she used interchangeably.

In all honesty, it made Steve sick to his stomach hearing how gushy they were towards each other, but he figured it was better that it was happening to Eddie rather than him.

“Do you have everything?” Steve asked.

“I think so. What would I be missing?”

“I don’t know, you’re forgetful,” Steve shrugged.

“Well, if I forget something, then I’ll just call you and make you come down to The Hideout. Sound good?”

“No.”

“Great. Love you.”

“Hate you too, stupid.”

The two quickly kissed each other as Eddie ran out the door. Bobby was put to bed about an hour ago, so Eddie had covered all his goodnight bases for the evening.

“I should probably head out, too,” Pattie sighed as she slipped her coat on. “It was a pleasure, Stevie.”

“Always nice to see you, mom. See you next weekend?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Later that night, when Eddie got home from his gig, he burst into his bedroom and started bouncing on the bed, urging Steve awake. Steve grumbled to himself and hesitantly turned over to face Eddie.

“For the love of god, what, Edward?” Steve mumbled.

“Guess what!”

“No.”

“Steven Michael, guess!”

“No! Now shut up before you wake the beast down the hall.”

“Please, just one guess.”

“For the last time, no.”

“You’re no fun.”

Steve sighed and rolled back over, burying himself in their covers. Eddie straddled his husband and ripped the covers from his face. Steve hissed at the cool air and eventually gave up, caving to his spouse’s antics.

“How many guesses do I get?” Steve whined.

“Three.”

“I’m only guessing once.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“I don’t know, Eddie, for god’s sake, I want to sleep!”

“Come on!” Eddie started bouncing up and down.

“You better behave, I swear on my life.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Regardless, I’m too tired to deal with you.”

“Come on! Guess!”

“I don’t know—you bought the bar?”

“No! We got a gig as openers at the Hoosier Dome next weekend!”

“What‽” Steve was suddenly jolted awake in excitement. “You’re bullshitting me.”

“I would never,” Eddie guffawed.

“You’re really playing at the biggest arena in the state?”

“Sure am,” he smiled proudly. “You and Bobbs get to come backstage and all that. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Won’t it be past her bed– what the fuck am I saying? Screw her bedtime—she gets to see her father perform at the dome! Ugh, I’m so proud of you, Eds! Who’re you opening for?”

“Oh, no one big—just Gun N’ Roses,” Eddie said nonchalantly.

“Eds, that’s huge!”

Steve cheered as he pulled his sweaty husband down for a kiss. Eddie held onto Steve’s face and deepened their kiss, reducing it to teeth and tongues. Eddie rutted his hips into Steve, but Steve held onto him, holding him in place.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry, but I’m so tired. Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

“But Stevie,” Eddie whined.

“What, Eds?”

“We haven’t had sex in ages… making me think you don’t find me attractive anymore.”

“Okay, first and foremost, that’s asinine. You’re literally a smoke show—always have been, always will be. Second, I know, it’s killing me too, but Bee has been running me into the ground. She’s just at that age where she has endless energy. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah… but even when she was a baby, and we were going days without sleeping, we still did stuff,” he pouted.

“Ed, ‘stuff’ was just you giving me head.”

“Yeah, and? You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Do you not like how I give head?”

“What? No, I… what?”

“It’s a simple question.”

“Eddie, there’s nothing wrong with how you suck my dick, okay?”

“So, like… can I, then?”

“Eddie, for the love of all that is holy, it is three in the morning. Please, for my sanity, let me sleep.”

“It’ll take like five minutes.”

“Hey! I don’t finish that fast.”

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie smirked, cocking his head to the side.

“I don’t!”

“You have since we had the baby.”

“No… that can’t be true… can it?”

“It can be and it is. However, if you’re up for a challenge–”

“Okay, yeah, more so because I want to prove you wrong.”

Eddie chuckled to himself as he started shimmying Steve’s boxers down. The couple became intimate for the first time in ages and, much to Steve’s dismay, Eddie’s point had been proven right.

“Stevie, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. It’s infuriating. I had no idea I lost so much stamina!”

“It’s okay! Just an excuse to practice a bit more—get your times up,” Eddie teased.

“Very funny, Ed,” Steve scoffed.

“Listen, my offer with pegging still stands if you’re ever feeling lazy and just wanna lay there. Wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“Okay, we were talking about how I can’t last longer than five minutes. How on earth did you go from there to pegging?”

“I dunno.” Eddie shrugged as he cuddled up to Steve.

“No, you do know.”

“Didn’t you want to go to sleep?”

“Well, now I’m awake, dickhead. How long have you been thinking about this?”

“I don’t know, a few years, maybe.”

“Years?”

“Uh, yeah? You know how frustrating it is to be a dude without a dick? I just wanna do what you get to do. It’s not that deep.”

“Okay, well, let’s put that on the back burner for now.”

“Can we try it after my show next week?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

“Oh, god, how I love you.” Eddie gently kissed Steve’s neck as he rubbed circles into his chest. “Get some sleep, big boy—it’s your morning with the beast tomorrow.”

As the couple fell into a deep slumber, it was soon interrupted by their daughter screaming at the top of her lungs from the end of the hall. The boys were stirred awake, trying to gain a sense of where they were and what was going on.

“Is that Bobby?” Steve grumbled.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed. “It’s your night.”

“I know,” Steve mumbled, sitting up in bed. He trekked down to Bobby’s bedroom where he flicked on the light and knelt next to his toddler’s bed. “What’s up, Bee?”

“There’s ghosties under the bed!” She cried.

“What do they look like?”

“They don’t have faces…”

“I, um… what are they doing?”

“They have scissors and, and, and they’re cutting up the carpet. Daddy, I’m scared!”

“Okay, uh… hold on…”

Steve’s eyes were bulged out of his head as he made his way back to his bedroom. Sweat was collecting at his brow as he stood in the doorway of his room.

“You good over there, big boy?” Eddie teased.

“Nope, this one is yours.”

Eddie rolled his eyes as he climbed out of bed to tend to his daughter. As the couple walked back down the hall, Eddie was desperately trying to figure out what was going on.

“Why was she screaming?” Eddie yawned.

“She saw ghosts under the bed. She said they were cutting up her carpet.”

“Dear lord.” Once Eddie crossed the threshold, he embraced his daughter in a warm hug, gently kissing the crown of her head. “Papa’s here, baby girl.”

“Papa, daddy! Make the ghosties go!” she sobbed.

“Okay, okay.” Eddie got down on his knees and peered under her bed. “Hey, guys? I know you’re having fun under there, but it’s late, and she’s little, so you’re scaring her. So maybe calm down on the carpet cutting for tonight.” Eddie popped his head back up and smiled at Bobby. “They said they’re sorry and they’re going to bed. You should get back to sleep too, princess.”

“But papa, I’m scared!”

“Do you want me and daddy to stay until you’re asleep? Just to make sure you’re safe?” She nodded profusely. “Okay. Do you want a lullaby or a bedtime story?”

“Both…” She said with a slight lisp, clutching her bumble gum pink comforter close to her chest.

“Okay. Stevie, do you wanna grab a book?”

“Sure. What do you want, pumpkin?”

“Goodnight Moon, please.”

“Alright. Do you want story or song first?”

“Story, please.

“Okay.”

Steve crawled into the bed, pulling Bobby into his lap. He straightened out her strawberry printed nightgown and made sure she was cozy in his embrace. Bobby pushed her messy curls out of her face so she could get a better look at the pages. Steve began reading in a soft, calming voice, slowly easing his daughter’s nerves. By the end of the book, she was half-asleep.

Steve shimmied her over to Eddie’s lap where he held her close against his chest, similar to when she was younger. He rubbed small circles into her back, making her melt further into his touch. Eddie started out by quietly humming before he finally started singing.

“Once there was a way,” he started, but was quickly stopped.

“I don’t want Golden Slumbers, papa,” Bobby mumbled.

“Uh, okay… but I always sing it to you…”

“I want the other one,” she whispered. Steve and Eddie looked to each other, puzzled—they had never sung anything else to her.

“What other one, honey?”

“The one pop-pop always sings,” she said into his chest.

What does Wayne sing? Steve mouthed.

I don’t know! Eddie mouthed back, panicked.

“Do you know how it goes?” Eddie asked.

“I dunno...”

Then it hit Steve—it was the same song that brought him and his husband together all those years ago. He had heard Wayne sing it from time-to-time when he insisted on putting Bobby down for a nap.

“If I Can Dream,” Steve smiled. Tears brimmed at Eddie’s eyes—their first date; their song.

“I can sing that, pumpkin,” Eddie whispered. “There must be lights burning brighter somewhere… got to be birds flying higher in a sky more blue… if I can dream of a better land…”

Eddie sang the song in a slow, low voice until Bobby was fast asleep. He slipped out from under her, turned off her bedroom light, and the couple walked back to their bedroom for the night.

“How were you so calm?” Steve grit his teeth.

“Are you kidding‽ I fucking shit myself!”

The following days were filled with more or less the same. The boys would go through their morning routine, drop Bobby off with either Wayne or Pattie before heading off to work. Then, pick their little one up, have dinner as a family, put Bobby down for the night, then switch off who had to deal with her night terrors.

But then, finally, the fateful Saturday had come—Eddie was performing at the Hoosier Dome. He had to be at the arena for sound check around noon, which Steve and Bobby tagged along for. Once that was all set, it was Guns N’ Roses’ turn to take the stage and rehearse until the show that evening. Corroded Coffin was free to roam around Indianapolis until four or five—as long as they were back by six, management couldn’t care less what they were up to.

The Harrington’s roamed around the city, taking Bobby anywhere she wanted to go. Around three in the afternoon, Bobby started to get a bit tired, so she urged her dads to sit down and rest. Eddie found a quaint brick wall that he happily hopped onto, hauling Bobby up onto his lap shortly after.

The cool breeze brushed through each of their curls and Steve couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful family. All he could think was how he got so lucky. How he ended up with such a gorgeous, loving family.

As Steve was off in his own la la land, Eddie adjusted Bobby’s bright yellow puffer jacket and her pale pink skirt (which was layered on top of some thermal leggings to keep her from catching a cold). She insisted on dressing herself for this momentous occasion, but Eddie and Steve would be damned if she’d be left to freeze.

In protest of her warm outfit, Bobby demanded she’d bring along her heart-shaped sunglasses—while Steve thought it was ridiculous, Eddie fed into his daughter’s antics and brought along his black shades as well. Oh, how the two troublemakers were similar in endless ways.

By six, Eddie was back at the arena for a final run through with Corroded Coffin, while Steve took Bobby out for dinner. They weren’t going on until eight, so Steve figured they had time to kill. At seven forty-five on the dot, Steve brought Bobby back to the dressing rooms to wish her father good luck on his set.

Eddie held Bobby close in an embrace, hugging her so tight you’d think it would be the last time he’d ever see her. He pressed a kiss into her forehead before placing giant, noise-cancelling headphones over her ears to protect her from the booming chaos of the arena. The stage hands ushered Corroded Coffin to the stage-wings, with Steve and Bobby tailing closely behind.

At eight sharp, the band stormed the stage, screeching their instruments to get the crowd going. Shortly after, Eddie boomed into the microphone: “hello, Indianapolis!” The arena erupted with cheers—Eddie couldn’t help but smile.

“How’re we feeling tonight?” Everyone cheered again. “Love it, love it! You guys should know, you’re our first big gig. Make some noise for yourselves, come on!”

And they did—Steve did his best to clap for his husband as he held Bobby up on his hip. Bobby held her hands firmly against her headphones, stunned and overwhelmed by all the commotion. Steve gently bounced her up and down as he pointed to his husband on stage. Bobby eventually put two and two together and screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Papa’s on stage!” She cheered. “Daddy, look! Papa’s on stage!”

“I know, pumpkin, I see him,” he chuckled.

Corroded Coffin played their first few songs before Eddie decided to speak to the crowd again. It was when he stopped to take a sip of water, shortly chased with complimentary beer the arena provided.

“How’re we feeling, Indianapolis‽” Cheers erupted from the audience once more. “Good, good,” Eddie chuckled. “Before we sing our last few songs, I’d like to take a second to thank everyone who made tonight possible.” Eddie started rattling off names of managers, event coordinators, Guns N’ Roses themselves, and finally, his own family. “Last, but certainly not least, my own beautiful, supportive, amazing husband—and yes, you all did hear that correctly. He’s supported me since we met back in ‘85 and he hadn’t missed a gig until we had our gorgeous daughter, and even then, he told me to get back to performing as soon as I was able to. Everyone, please, give it up for my husband. None of this could’ve been possible without him.” The crowd applauded weakly. “Oh, come on, I know you can do better than that! Give it up for my husband, ladies and gents! Come on!” Cheers and applause flooded the arena. “Yeah, that’s more like it! Alright, I think you’ve earned this last song. Hit it!”

As the band closed out with their grand finale, Bobby started kicking at Steve’s stomach, wanting to be put down to dance. She ran over to the stairs leading up to the stage and eagerly jumped up and down to the beat.

When the song finished, and everyone went to go bow, Bobby slipped through the cracks of all the production coordinators (and Steve) and ran onto the stage to smother Eddie with hugs.

“Bobby, no!” Steve yelled.

But it was no use—she couldn’t hear him through the headphones. Eddie spotted the brightly colored girl out of the corner of his eye, dropped to his knees, gingerly setting down his guitar, and wrapped his daughter in a warm embrace. She tackled him to the ground, and Eddie couldn’t help but laugh.

He squeezed her tight, running his hands through her tight ringlets, and placed a million kisses all over her face. Tears prickled are Eddie’s eyes as the entire audience faded into the background.

At the end of the day, she was what made it all worth it.

“Papa, you did so good!” She yelled, not knowing the volume of her own voice.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he beamed. He sat up, still hugging her, as the stage crew started setting up for the main act. “We should go before we get in trouble. C’mon.”

He stood up, hiking Bobby up onto his hip, as he handed his guitar to a random stage-hand. He held her close as he headed for the stairs, meeting Steve with a warm hug.

“You did so good, baby,” Steve said.

“Thank you,” Eddie whispered.

“And you!” Steve started, pointing sternly at his toddler. “Never run away from me like that again, do you understand? Scared me half to death, Bobby.”

“Sorry, daddy…”

“Oh, give her a break. She was just excited,” Eddie said. “I appreciated the hugs. I wouldn’t mind if it became a post-show tradition,” he teased.

“Let’s not get carried away.” Steve rolled his eyes, hand rubbing up and down Eddie’s sweaty back.

“So, Harrington…” Eddie leaned in to whisper in his husband’s ear. “Our deal still on?” Steve’s eyes widened as he blushed up to his ears—Eddie smirked proudly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

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beanieman · 6 months

Note

what are your thoughts on an 'everyone survives au', what they would do after the death game?

(Before I get into separate headcanons, I want to add that I think every single one of these characters would be struggle with paranoia. I mean, they were put in a death game.)

Sara Chidouin - Sara ends up staying at Joe's place a lot considering her Father was taken down with the company. It's easier for her to hang out with him then to stay at home, but she still calls her Mother daily to make sure she's alright. Other than that she continues going to class and her near death experience has only made her more determined to get good grades so she can go to a good school. She also finds a local kendo and joins as a student.

Joe Tazuna - Joe finds a lot of comfort with Sara staying at place. It makes him feel more secure that they're together, and the whole experience has certainly made him value their friendship. But outside of her, he keeps going to school with the intention of getting his diploma. He's not sure of what he wants to do after high school, but his experience has left him more determined then ever to live life in the moment.

More Undercut

Gin Ibushi - Gin goes back home and gives his Mom a big hug. He missed her a lot, and he's very glad to be home safely with Mew-chan. He was walked home by Sara and his Mother ensures that he can still see big sis Sara and all his other new friends. Despite his new connections his Mother is still worried for his safety, so she moves him to a private school that is much smaller. He gets a lot more help here and makes some good friends his own age, but he's still always excited to see Sara and Joe when they come to tutor him after school.

Keiji Shinogi - Keiji is forced to finally get therapy considering his friends around him know that he can't keep ignoring his issues. He gets a lot of encouragement from them, but he knows that the healing process takes awhile. While he works on himself, he gets a job as private investigator and helps people that the police won't. Also he dyes his hair a different color to symbolize a fresh start. (Also because the person writing this post hates his hair color.)

Alice Yabusame - With ASU-NARO's grip loosened, Alice is released from jail within a few months time. He doesn't go back to making music considering Reko already has an established band and he feels like he's intruding, but he still gets what he really wants. He gets to play music with Reko again. This time for fun without the pressure of stardom. As for his career...well it comes to him while he's reapplying hair dye. He decides that he would make a great hair dresser, and Reko supports him whole heartedly.

Reko Yabusame - With a near death experience to change her life, she decides to send Alice a letter in prison and offer a chance at reconciliation. He takes it, of course, and she's glad that she's the first one to great him once he's released. Outside of Alice, she decides to tour with her band. Life is short, and she wants to play as much music as she can in that time!

Nao Egokoro - Nao goes back and finishes her collage education. That's what's most important to her, but after her education is said and done she works out a plan with Mishima to become his official mentee. She wants to teach art to some day, but in the meantime, she's more than happy to attend all the shows Reko invites her to.

Kazumi Mishima - He goes back to teaching as that's his passion. Yet now he tells his story to his students as both a cautionary tale and a tale of persevering despite all odds.

Q-taro Burgerberg - Q-Taro goes back to playing sports. It's what he loves, and he's not going to let a death game slow down his passion. He also keeps in contact with Gin and frequently takes him to watch his games.

Kai Satou - With parts of both his families taken down with ASU-NARO, he is left having to live for himself. He gets a job as a chef and his own apartment in the middle of town. It's all very new to him, as is his friendship with the rest of the group. He talks to Q-Taro and Sara the most, often checking in on them to make sure that they're doing okay. He's even let Sara crash at his place a few times if Joe wasn't around and she needed a break from home. He really feels like she's family, and it fills some of the hole Mr. Chidouin left behind.

Kanna Kizuchi - Kanna is very glad to be home with Kugie and her parents. She's also glad that she has Sara and Shin's number and can call them anytime if she wants hangout. They both frequently come to pick her up to get ice cream, and they pick her up from school so she doesn't have to walk home.

Shin Tsukimi - Shin doesn't handle being put into a death game well. Even though he survived despite all odds (or percentages) he still struggles with shaking the fear. Anyway, let me elaborate on my AU about this exact scenario where Shin ends up traveling and living in hotels so no one can truly track his location. Also very important note that he keeps with Kanna and they eventually find out that they're bio siblings after he meets Kanna's parents and they recognize the name of his parents.

Dolls

Ranmaru Kageyama - Ranmaru gets Sara's, Joe's, and Anzu's number before he leaves the death game. Despite it all, it feels...refreshing to have new friends in his life that are happy to talk with him. He spends a lot of time texting with them, and when he's not doing that he relaxes with the knowledge that he has genuine friends.

Naomichi Kurumada - He's proud of everyone that they were all able to win, and he has a new outlook on teamwork considering they were all able to win together. He continues to box, but now he has new friends coming to watch him from time to time.

Anzu Kinashi - Anzu goes back to business as usual. She likes being a funny clown girl and wants to continue her craft. She would like to see her mentor again to tell him all that's happened, but she'll be happy preforming either way.

Mai Tsurugi - Mai goes back to the bakery and uses her near death experience as a way to make money. Anytime anyone comes in she goes "I just had the roughest time,🥺" so she will get better tips.

Shunsuke Hayasaka - Shunsuke tries to find a different job that doesn't tangle him up with ASU-NARO. He figures he'll try to get some kind of desk job, but in the meantime, he enjoys taking his morning jogs again.

Hinako Mishuku - It depends on how the participants escaped the death game. If ASU-NARO was running then she'd stay with the company and wonder what was next. Maybe it would be another death game, or maybe they'd do something new, but she is loyal since ASU-NARO presumably wouldn't get the chance to betray her in this route. However, if ASU-NARO was destroyed, then she'd have to find an entire new path in life. Where that could take her I couldn't say with as little as we know about her real personality now.

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b4tracha · 8 months

Text

Getting Closer to SKZ

(Sorry I disappeared,, I have been busy with uni..)

Bang Chan: Because he is a very busy person, he honestly forgot that he gave you his number until randomly he got a message asking if you wanted to hang out. He was clueless until he realized you were the hot guy from that group hangout. He almost immediately said yes, but calmed down once he realized how insane he would probably look to him. Instead, he calmly said yes, and the very next day after a recording session, he was going to go eat with you.

Getting closer was easier than he thought it would be honestly. Chan can be very shy when it comes to very attractive men, so the fact you wanted to interact with him was mindblowing. You could make the stupidest joke in the world and Chan would giggle like a child, ears hot and red. Your smile, charm, demeanor and just attitude had the man hooked.

Now you guys were hanging out at least multiple times a week. Because Chan was a very busy guy, that usually meant you were in the JYPE building in his mini studio watching him work in awe and giving comments while he got bashful and tried to hide. He tried to keep you away from the other members, but the other members of 3racha were bound to meet you. Now you were the subject of Chan teasing. He couldn’t go outside the dorm without Jisung or Changbin going, “Going out with Y/N again~?” He hated to admit that they were actually right most of the time.

Lee Know: The second he was home with Dori after the check, he took a selfie with each individual of his cats. He talked about them alot to you while at the vet and he wanted to show them off to you(while also showing his visuals off as well.) He giggled when you fawned over Soonie and Doongi as you haven’t met them. That was then the start of the “play dates.”

The kitten you had rescued and then decided adopt and take care of was obviously too young and small for her to be around the other three, but that didn’t stop Minho from begging you to come over with her, so he could cuddle her while watching you play with his babies. He was very persuasive when he was whiney, but you didn’t mind all that much.

He kept you hidden from the members and wouldn’t mention you to the other members, not for any particular reason. He just wanted you to himself, much like a cat. Once he was on break, he would beg for you to come to his house in Gimpo to bring his baby (you or the kitten, didn’t matter the answer.)

Changbin: You weren’t exactly a regular there as he found out when he went the next day and you both ended up talking. You just had a bad muscle strain and required weeks of physical therapy to build it back up properly. He didn’t mind honestly. He actually enjoyed helping you in your workouts and even gave tips so it wouldn’t happen again.

After workouts, you guys eventually started to eat together afterwards and exchanged contacts. You could rip the loudest laugh out of him honestly. Every couple minutes, the restaurant would be a decent volume and then you’d hear Changbin’s laugh rip from the corner of the room. At some point the owners even threatened to kick you guys out before you guys just left and walked for a bit until it was time to part ways. If Stay saw a workout video or two from a new angle, it was probably from you. Not that they would need to know..

Hyunjin: Hyunjin is an artist. That meant sometimes he had try new things. Meeting you gave him just the right amount of motivation to keep doing down the art shop and buying new things. You must think he was going broke with the way he kept going in and out and at a chance of getting a glance of seeing you.

Eventually, he got the courage to ask to draw you. It came out of nowhere for you, because he doesn’t say that much to you, but he does tend to stare but it did start to make sense now. Nonetheless, you did agree and went to a local coffee chop and he started to sketch you doing random things like a boost of sudden energy to make anything under the sun. Once he was done, you both started to talk about art and your favorite styles and mediums and artists and anything you could find.

Hyunjin felt like it was easy to talk to you. He felt like it was easy to look at you. He would find himself doodling you. He didn’t mind that much as sometimes he would just change a few things and post it on Instagram or Bubble for Stay. Maybe you were easy to write about too..

Han: When you offered him ice cream, at first he thought a little small cone or something. No, you asked him what flavor he wanted and got him the biggest cup you can get for it. When Jisung went to say something, you just admitted wanted to talk to him more. Que brain circuit. No, that’s okay.

Han enjoys talking to you alot. You both ended up going to the park together more often, which was kind of a shock for the home body that his dorm mates usually knew. You guys would walk the trail, or lay in the grass and talk, or even feed the fish or ducks in the pond whenever you guys could. It was relaxing being with you and letting go for once.

One day, he brought you back to the dorm to show you a song he made and he never felt more nervous in his life. At first, your face was unreadable but once it was done there was a big goofy smile on your face that just made his heart hammer twice as much.

Felix: Before his manager could pull him away, you ended up slipping your number in his pocket. He didn’t realize at first, so he was bummed that he could never talk to the hot guy that was flirting with him again. That was until the wind blew a little too hard and he dug his hands in his pockets, finding the paper. He was shocked, yet impressed. As soon as he got privacy, he added you in his contacts and spammed you.

Neither lived in the country that the event was being hosted at and you didn’t live in South Korea, so it would be hard to meet in person. However, that didn’t mean anything to him. He loved texting you. If you thought his messages on bubble were excessive, his messages with you were even more extreme. Anything he did in his day would be accompanied with a selfie and a message. And like you were when you first met, you called him pretty and told him about your own busy day. It wasn’t perfect like he wanted it, but he enjoyed talking to you. If someone asked who his last contact was? Well, he would have to plead the fifth.

Seungmin: Because of you, the company put a restriction on how much coffee Seungmin could drink. He would come in every day before any lessons or practices starts and if your shift hasn’t ended, would come back. He enjoyed going to that little shop so much that he even had your work scheduled memorized so he didn’t come when you weren’t there.

Eventually, the conversations started outside the coffee shop (because of the restriction.) He wasn’t that big of a texter, but he did love checking up on you during dance practice or vocal lessons breaks. Even at work, you answered him quick. If a member asked who had him smiling so big, he snap with some stupid snarky comment everyone knows he doesn’t mean. He wanted to keep you his little secret just for a little longer. Even Jeongin, who goes with him everywhere, doesn’t know about you just yet.

I.N: The next time he saw you he wasn’t having a shopping spree. He honestly almost forgot about you. Being an idol, it was hard to constantly keep up with people. You tapped him on the shoulder and spoke to him casually like that was something normal to do. He was worried it was a fan, but it was just you. The store was having a slow day, so he just decided to stay there. You talked about fashion, aesthetics, and even the tips you said you wanted.

But after a while, your boss told you off about talking to customers while on the job, so you had to stop. Jeongin got annoyed about it, but you didn’t care that much. As much as you hated your boss, he wasn’t around that often and you liked working there and people-watching and seeing all the visions people had with clothes. You both decided to exchange numbers and send different things like clothes and shoes or even stupid posts you found funny. If you wanted to complain about your bosses, you’d go to each other and give each other advice as best as possible. The two of you were definitely two peas in a pod.

#skz #stray kids #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #stray kids x male reader #stray kids x reader

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phoebepheebsphibs · 19 days

Text

Subsequent to the events you have just witnessed...

ACT 1

@boots-with-the-fur-club @daboyau @tmntaucompetition @littlemissartemisia @shiveagit @shiveagit-arts @thevoidbrothers @noval1t @kathaynesart @bluepeachstudios @amevello-blue

CW: panic attacks, minor injuries, mushroom zombies, slight body horror

Prev || Next

Names and abbreviations (sorry there's a lot, we have a big cast for today's performances!) : UIFY = Until I Found You NFIF = No Fun in Fungus Leon = UIFY Leonardo 'Phael = UIFY Raphael DvD / Don = UIFY Donatello Mike/Mikey/Micheal = UIFY Michelangelo AudRaph = Swayed Raphael AudreyTello = Swayed Donatello LeonAudro = Swayed Leonardo MichelAudrelo = Swayed Michelangelo AudRai = Swayed Karai rhg!Donnie = Rise Hunger Games AU Donatello Raph = NFIF Raphael Donnie/Dee = NFIF Donatello Leo = NFIF Leonardo Angie/Angelo = NFIF Michelangelo

On with the show...

Their plan to infiltrate the competition was just way too easy. No one had seen them sneak in. No one had suspected them.

Slider-punk had even been able to disguise himself as one of the employees and hacked into the main system! His associates were outside, Spider-Dee and Spider-Gal working as employees as while Spider-Shine had gone off on his own to open a pop-up therapy stand. Business was booming, apparently. Slider-Punk was no better, he'd abandoned the real mission for a little side mission of his own, to see just how much trouble he could get himself into. He'd allowed a disembodied hand to play some Broadway showtunes over the speaker system earlier.... but the hand had disappeared shortly after, leaving Slider-Punk alone again. It was odds-bodkins, but no stranger than anything else he'd seen in this place. Anyways, what should he do next? There was so much he could do! He could practically do whatever he wanted, now...

Before he could decide, an alert showed up on the computer. Someone was trying to hack in?

Well, no joke, Sherlock! HE had ALREADY--

A line of code showed up on the screen.

Up, up, down, down, left, right, 'A'.

The computer glitched. The screen turned purple. Then blue. Slider-Punk tried rebooting. A small icon of a purple-clad ninja turtle wagging his finger and saying "Nuh-uh-uh!" popped up. Donnie. Of course. A Donnie was trying to hack in. And it didn't seem like they cared if anybody knew... which meant they were making a statement, and didn't plan on sharing their hard-earned goods.

Slider-Punk's spider sense began to tingle. He felt anxious and uneasy. His senses drew his attention away from the computer, and up to... the air vents?

Uh oh.

He immediately dashed out of the room, abandoning his bowtie and went in search of his mates -- Spider-Dee, Spider-Shine, and Spider-Gal. They would have sensed the danger as well, they needed to get to safety, see if they could protect anyone -- something bad was about to happen.

Misa struggled against Ra-Ra's tight grip on her. He was careful not to hurt her, but she still hated it. She screamed and shrieked and howled in furious anger at him, demanding that he release her.

"I'm so sorry, Misa," he wept, cradling her as he approached his prison. "But it has to be this way."

"NO! No, Ra-Ra, let go! Let go o' Misa!! Pwease, Ra-Ra!!!"

Raphael sniffled as he hugged her. He hated doing this. But... he had no choice. She was too dangerous. She knew too much, and knew too many competitors. She might have been small, but the leeway she held with everyone made her possibly the most powerful turtle mutant in this entire competition. With as many connections as she had, she could raise up an entire army against them. Raphael sighed sadly... there was no other option.

As he approached the door, Raphael saw four turtles waiting for him. The Void brothers.

"Move," he growled at them.

"I don't see why we should listen to you!" Signal hissed, Static and Waves doing their best to keep him in his "safe" form, rather than his "absolutely enraged eldritch horror" form.

"Just let me back into the room, and no one will be hurt," Raphael promised.

"And do you plan on taking the kid with you?" Radio growled back at him.

Misa whined, reaching for Waves to come and take her away. Raphael pulled her arms back down.

"Yes."

"N̴̳̆Ó̵ͅ," Signal growled, his face contorting and blackening like tar. "IÌ̵̟ ̴̯̃D̶͚͝O̶̓͜N̶̞̕'̶̹͑T̷͉̋ ̸̫̏T̸̟̅H̶͓͊Í̵̟N̷͈̾K̵͈̄ ̴̲̇Ÿ̵́͜O̴̘̓U̸̠͌'̵̯͑L̶̟̈́L̸͚̈́ ̵̯̓B̷̭̽E̵͉͘ ̷̪̚G̴̼̈Ọ̶̑I̵̭͛Ṇ̵̎G̶̛̘ ̴͖͒Ạ̶͊Ǹ̸̹Ÿ̷͙W̴͎͝H̵̯̚E̷͇̍R̵͔͛Ȩ̴̓.̴͋"

Signal reached out, his arm elongating with a horrid schlurp sound as he went for Misa.

Raph created a hologram over himself, his usually red ninpo having turned that wretched shade of blue. Misa gasped in fear, the warmth she typically felt from such a magic was bone-chillingly cold.

"D̶̒ͅȌ̵͉ ̶̣̓Y̶̛̹O̸̪̍Ų̷̇ ̵͔̀Ĥ̶͙O̴̝͑N̴̢͘Ẹ̷͘Ș̵̕T̶̫̏L̵̻͋Ỵ̶̌ ̵̭̌Ţ̶̔H̷̨̐I̵̾ͅN̴̫͛K̴͕͠ ̵͔̎T̶̢̿H̵̭̽A̶͕̐Ṫ̵̬ ̶̢͝W̷͔̌I̷̞̒L̴̟̃L̴͓̉ ̸̯̓Ŝ̴̫T̵̩̎Ö̷͕́P̸̙̈ ̵̢̌M̸̨͌Ĕ̷͙?̴̩̊!̸̡͗" Signal screeched, laughing hysterically at the boy's attempts to fend him off.

Signal started ripping apart the holographic figure, only to discover that it had been a clone -- even the Misa in his hold was a duplicate, who shed a single tear as she dissolved.

The four heads turned back to see Raphael about to enter the room behind them. Waves screeched, flying at him with barred teeth and sharpened claws, his mystic powers creating an ebony black chain-whip within his hands.

Misa was off-limits.

Raphael opened the door. A flood of spores engulfed him, Misa, and Waves, who screamed in anger and fear as the spores filled him up, hollow as he was. He coughed and hacked and howled, holding his head in pain as he reeled backwards.

"WAVES!!" Static shouted, rushing forwards and grabbing his brother, holding him down.

Signal roared at Raph, eyes turning fully black and body disfiguring into a monster. Even Radio wouldn't dare hold him back after what that punk just did to Waves.

Raphael whimpered sadly as tears streaked down his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," he wept. "I had to."

Raphael closed the door behind him, taking Misa into the dark room.

Misa pressed her hands over her mouth and nose, trying desperately to keep the spores out.

It was so cold... it was practically freezing.

Misa's eyes didn't need to adjust to the darkness, she found that as soon as the exterior light was gone, the room provided its own light... neon blue, emanating from the many eyes and mushrooms in the enclosed space. It was so absolutely terrifying, every gaze fixated on her and burning blue. Misa did her best to keep her whimpers to herself.

"Don't try to fight it," Raph begged her, as he gently laid her down in a bed of toadstools and moss. "Just... just let it happen, okay? I know it will be scary, but once you give in to the fear, it's just like sleepwalking. You won't even know it's happened, at first. I promised you would be safe, and you will be... you must simply let go, and let the fear take over."

Small vines and roots began to wrap over her, closing in like a tiny cage, keeping her from running away.

Her eyes watered as the air around her closed in. She couldn't keep holding her breath like this! Her hands shook, her chest hurt, the carbon dioxide in her lungs was getting hot and stale.

Misa gasped.

The fungus-riddled air infected her lungs, she coughed and hacked at how chilled the oxygen was in her ribs. She screamed in protest, curling up inside of herself, ready for the birds to come and scratch her shell, peck at her eyes, grab her with their claws and talons and carry her away...

Nothing happened.

Misa looked up, slowly.

She... she was in the labs?

There was a heavy weight chafing her neck, causing irritation on the sensitive skin. She lifted her hand up and felt cold metal.

The linoleum room she was being held in had a glass wall, through which she could see everyone.

EVERYONE.

Mikey, Ra-Ra, Dee-Dee, Lee-Lee, that one robotic-looking Dee that had congratulated her on stealing the moneys, the ballerina Donnie she'd gotten the Lake Water for, all the grow-ed Leos with missing arms, Poptart and Sprout, cowboy versions and bunnies and dragons and beetles and --

EVERYONE.

Claire and Draxum -- the orchestrators of this whole terrible captivity -- walked through the halls, talking to each other and even laughing together. Draxum's vines were dragging a Mikey behind him carelessly, the body scraping across the floor. He was still alive, she could see him struggling against his captors and she could hear him crying. Claire turned to look at Misa as she passed by her cell.

"Oh, hello little thing! Before I forget, I wanted to thank you for leading me to all these funny friends of yours! Now they can all suffer the same fate as you..."

"No! NO! NO NO NO NONONONO--"

Misa sobbed, began slamming her tiny fists against the glass, begging Claire to release all her friends and families. Claire only chortled like a Disney villain, walking away with Draxum and dragging the poor Mikey along with them. Misa would not stop, she'd never stop fighting against this!! SHE WOULD NOT GIVE IN TO THE FEAR! She continued to pound her fists against the glass, screaming angrily at the hallucination that kept her prisoner.

"...Are you sure she won't suffer?" AudRaph asked, his hands wringing.

"Not unless she fights against the fear," AudreyTello answered flatly as he began to type on his wrist tech, starting the hack to contaminate the entire arena.

"She is still young, I suspect she won't know how to fight against it," AudRai added, as she walked over to the little prisoner to inspect her as she sobbed uncontrollably in her cell. "It shouldn't be much longer now."

"It doesn't matter much either way," MichelAudrelo interjected angrily as he examined the new scars on his arms. "If she gives in, she becomes one of us. If not... we can feed off her fear." He looked over at the last Hamato in the room, still held in place against the wall, eyes drowsily watching the rest as they spoke.

"Like him."

"He is one of us," AudreyTello corrected. "But he was the first, so he had to make the sacrifice and give the necessary nutrients for our true form."

"I sense apprehension from Raphael's form," MichelAudrelo noted, scowling. "You do not approve of our survival?"

"...Raphael does not want his brother to die," AudRaph explained. "He would rather they all stay alive. It is his weakness..."

"Unfortunately, to be as strong as we are now -- and to produce as many spores as we have -- we need a physical form to feed off of. So Leonardo stays where he is," AudreyTello explained. "You know this. Choke down that pathetic worm and don't let him speak again. It's irritating."

"He has some immunity, or tolerance to invading hive minds. You recall from his memories, he has dealt with it before."

"Ah, yes. Well, even he cannot stop us soon enough," AudreyTello said with a chuckle. "Karai, Michelangelo, you know what to do now."

The two zombies nodded, and together created an enormous flow of spores. AudreyTello typed in a final command on his wrist tech, and the air vents promptly popped open. The spores filled the ventilation system.

"Now, for a little announcement..."

Ghost had unofficially adopted two more kids. Abby, a cat mutant, with her big and bright personality, though her figure was small. She'd gotten injured during the preliminaries -- apparently she'd attempted some kind of extravagant musical number -- and had to use a crutch to hobble around for the past several weeks while it healed up. She'd only just recently been released from the med ward, along with her friend and protector Diana, the second adoptee. The two girls were laughing and making quite the ruckus as they danced around Ghost's cape.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like me to carry you?" Ghost asked, fretting over her injury.

"I'm fine!" Abby laughed, waving her hand as a dismissal. "I've been used to this for a while. No worries!"

"Besides --" Diana added, "-- she needs the exercise if she wants to get rid of the crutch as soon as possible--"

Diana was cut short by a sudden burst of light and a loud roaring whoosh. A wind picked up, and a spark ignited behind them as a portal opened.

rhg!Donnie wanted to hold his father close. He hated, absolutely despised how the other competitors are holding his attention. He, more than anything, he wanted to run over to where his father was and hold him close, sob into his chest like when he was so much younger and so much more naive and so much more innocent. He wanted to talk for hours, ask how Raph is, how Leo is doing, if Mikey is okay. He wanted to say absolutely nothing and just sit in his company. He couldn't decide what to do first, and it utterly galled him how open he was with everyone, how chummy they all were with him. How dare Cassandra hug him like that. How dare Kendra pretend to be cordial. It might have been selfish, but he wanted his Papa all to himself. He tried to get as close to dear Papa as he could without making it obvious. The last thing he needed was everyone thinking he was childish. But Atomo Grey opened the doors to the elevators and made a stupid joke about how "the District Twelve tributes will get to their apartment before we can even set foot into ours!" which only got one laugh from the escort as he ushered the competitors into the lift. rhg!Donatello slowly entered the elevator as the doors closed behind him...

The lights flickered, the people in the lift start to vanish one by one, thunder and wind ripped through the box and caused a horrible feeling of claustrophobia in rhg!Dee. rhg!Donatello nervously backed up against the wall, confused and scared. Was this a trick from the Capitol? Or the Gamemakers?? He wanted to shout for his Papa, shout for anyone, but the elevator was empty now and the lights had all gone out. A multicoloured portal opened at his feet, and rhg!Donnie was sucked in, shouting his protest.

rhg!Donnie landed on the floor for the second time this night. But rather than being pancaked by Cassandra Jones, he slid on his stomach and arrived at the feet of three odd strangers. A giant turtle mutt, a cat mutt, and a regular human girl.

"...Well, that was out of the blue..."

rhg!Donnie slowly backed away from the characters, taking in the strange scene around him. He needed to get back, he has to get back, if they find out he'd been portalled away or something then they'll punish his family --

Wait, he knew this place...

He's... back at the AU competition? The one with all the strange turtles and different versions of his brothers...?

But... he was sent back home... why was he here now?

The large middle-aged turtle mutant kneeled down next to him, his joints popping as he did. He inspected the teen, analyzing every little scratch and every major scar with worry. His silent inquisitiveness was starting to annoy him.

"Who are you?" rhg!Dee asked, passing paranoid glances between the trio before him.

"I'm Abby," said the cat, smiling as she offered him her hand to help him up. "This is Diana, my bff, and the big guy is called 'Ghost'! But I'm pretty sure he's a Donatello, hence the purple mask..."

Abby gestured to the tall turtle mutt mutant. He smiled, his white eyes hiding years of trauma and loneliness. rhg!Donnie recognized that loneliness. He'd seen it in his father's eyes. He's seen it in his own reflection.

"Hey there, kid," the 'Ghost' said, his voice low yet overpowering. "Are you alright?"

"I... how did I get here?"

"No clue, but -- wait, I recognize you!" Diana said suddenly. "You were part of the preliminaries, right? The Rise Hunger Games AU!"

"Y-yes, that's me," rhg!Donnie mumbled, shooing away Abby's hands as he stood up by himself.

"We were in the prelims, too!" Diana noted, pointing to herself and then Abby.

"Great. Congratulations."

"We didn't win our round, though..."

"How unfortunate for you," rhg!Donnie sighed as he looked around, getting his bearings. Something about this place seemed off... different now. Something had changed. There was fear amongst these halls, now... an unspoken chill in the air.

"I didn't win, either -- wait... I was sent back because I lost the preliminary round... so, why...?"

"Why weren't we sent back?" Abby finished. "Or... why were you returned?"

rhg!Donnie looked around anxiously.

"I don't know if it's mandatory to leave the contest once you lose a round," Ghost interjected. "But perhaps the Mods sent you home so you could get back to the contest without -- oh, you've got something on your head..."

rhg!Donnie started smacking the top of his head frantically, worried that it might be something dangerous sent by the Gamemakers. Mutated hornets, or a tracking device that would explode if he strayed too far....

Instead, a small note floated off of his cranium and landed at his feet. Somewhat embarrassed by his reaction, rhg!Donnie leaned down and inspected the note with caution.

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔! 𝚆𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙…

"What does that mean?" Abby asked as she read over rgh!Dee's shoulder.

"I'm... I'm not sure... who wrote this, who needs my help...? And what could I possibly have to do with --"

"Wait, did you hear that?" Ghost interrupted, having caught the echo of a garbled glitching noise from the speakers.

The lights suddenly shut off, as hundreds of unprepared contestants and supporters started yelling in a panic.

A tinny voice echoed over the intercom speakers.

"Hello everyone in the competition! It’s your new overlord, Audrey III!"

"That's Donnie's voice," Abbey noted nervously.

"But which Donnie?" Diana asked. "I don't know any Donatellos who go by the name Audrey III..."

"Well, obviously it isn't me or the big guy," Donatello noted, gesturing to Ghost. "But I don't like this --"

"Shh, kids, listen...!"

Ghost could hear a slight hissing sound. He wasn't sure where in the area it was coming from. It sounded like a gas leak, air slowly spilling into the room. It had to be from the vents. Where was the closest vent?? He searched the halls, and found one not too far away. A small cloud of electric blue was pouring out.

Without hesitation, Ghost grabbed the kids and started running.

"EVERYONE, CLEAR THE HALLS! THERE'S A GAS LEAK!"

People began screaming as they all ran in different directions, trying to get away.

“Don’t resist," the Donatello on the intercom said. "Or do, your fear is tastier that way.”

"WHAT THE HECK DOES THAT MEAN, OUR FEAR IS TASTIER?!" Diana shrieked. "WHAT IS GOING ON??"

"Do you see a fire alarm anywhere?" Ghost yelled over the panicked mob around them.

"Over there!" rhg!Donnie shouted, pointing to a small glass box on the wall ahead of them, a fire extinguisher by its side.

Ghost rushed over, pulled the alarm, and grabbed the extinguisher.

"What exactly do you expect to do with a fire extinguisher?!" rhg!Donatello shouted, finally wrestling himself free from the old man's hold.

Ghost wasn't sure, there weren’t any fires -- yet. But years of experience taught him to always be prepared.

He most certainly was not prepared for what happened next.

The vent covers were blown right off their panels, slamming into the walls across, or in some cases, a few contestants. Abby screamed in fright as she ducked, Diana ducking over her as well to shield her, and Ghost shielding the three teens together. Blue fog filled the halls, slowly covering the floors. A few contestants starting coughing and choking. Then the sobs. The screams. The weeping and wailing.

rhg!Donatello didn't know what was going on, but he could guess. The smoke must be drugged, he thought to himself, staring at the oddly coloured gas that started to cover the floors. Was this... was this the Capitol’s doing? Had they discovered his previous absence and this was their attempt to punish him? To capture this new dimension or realm or world or whatever it was, and use it for their Hunger Games?? But how?! How could they have followed him? He was portalled here alone, twice now, and when he was returned there had been no time passed in his world and no change in his appearance, so they could never have known... This must be something else.

Ghost lifted the girls up onto his shoulders before they could inhale the hallucinogen and began to run again, grabbing rhg!Donatello by the hand and dragging him along, effectively snapping him out of his shock.

A father who had been shielding his little "SweetPea" from the vent panels was on his hands and knees, gasping for air as his eyes widened and slowly turned blue. His daughter August kept begging him to get up, crying for her Papa. She started coughing, shaking, blue panic filling her eyes as she began to succumb to the gas as well. A Feral Leo had inhaled the gas and was starting to attack his brothers. A pair of finely-dressed Gemini twins were clutching onto each other, shaking violently as they pressed themselves into a corner, watching as the gas closed in on them... rhg!Donatello was horrified by it all. It felt too much like something that the Capital or the Gamemakers would do...

Ghost could see the panic on the teen's face. It was pure terror, pure fear. He was worried that maybe he'd inhaled some of the smoke... But his eyes weren't blue... so he must just be regular scared, not infected by whatever was happening now. Ghost had to find some place that would be safe from the vapour... but where?! What room wouldn't have ventilation??

A television screen on a single rolling stand zipped past him, an electric Donatello voice shouting over the mayhem in the room. A dial tone was playing from its speakers, as if a call had gone to voicemail.

"LEO? MIKEY? APRIL! WHY WON'T ANYONE PICK UP?!"

"Watch out!" Ghost yelled, grabbing the TV by its stand and lifting it up just before it could run over a convulsing body on the ground.

"WHOAH! HEY!! Put me down, I demand that you put me down this instant, this is no way to treat a creation of the great and late Hamato Donatello--!!"

"Oi, mate!" a voice shouted. A door opened, and a brightly-costumed punk-rock turtle with a guitar strapped across his back leaned out quickly. "In here!!"

Ghost flung himself, the kids, and the sentient television into the room as quickly as he could, the door slamming and locking behind them all.

The medical masks worked surprisingly well. They kept out the spores, in any case. DvD had been worried that they wouldn't be strong enough, they should find some gas masks or ventilators. He didn't want to take any chances, but with time running thin they had no choice. The Hand.PNG had assured them that the masks would work for the time being.

They made their way through the halls, DvD using a torch-light feature on his tech-bō and April using her phone to light the way. Mikey stumbled as he tiptoed along with them, tripping and falling to his knees, the blue spores clouding around his head. He froze, terrified that the airborne fungus was going to seep in somehow... through the mask, through his open and untreated wounds... He couldn't move. He wanted to run, he wanted to scream, he wanted to go home. But his limbs didn't listen to him. His head clouded over, his thoughts disappeared.

Fight, flight, freeze or fawn. He froze, vanishing into himself...

DvD stopped at the sound of Mikey's knees hitting the floor, turned around to see if he was alright. Michael had started shaking and whimpering, near-silent terrified chirps escaping from him. He was too weak to walk on his own. 'Phael was busy carrying the TNT, Leon the container of weird ninpo stuff. DvD could manage carrying the weightless teen...

"Micheal?" he whispered, coming over to him and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

That was a stupid question. Of course he was not okay. The kid had literally died not ten minutes ago, and 15 minutes prior to that he'd used his mystic abilities to the max and run himself dry of all possible energy, as well as reopening his scars and losing a lot of blood as a result. And even before that, he'd given away some of his strength to help aid the swayed NFIF Donatello. Mikey had been run through the ringer, and it had barely been over an hour. It was no wonder he was shaking as much as he was, unable to pick himself back up.

"Would you like me to carry you?" DvD asked, rubbing circles onto his back.

Michael didn't answer, at least not verbally. After a pause he nodded softly, squeezing his eyes shut as the tremors continued. DvD turned around and kneeled in front of him, letting the box turtle slowly climb onto his back and drape his arms over his brother's shoulders. DvD slipped the boy's legs over his hips, making sure he was secure before standing back up.

"All good back there?"

He didn't answer.

"Michael?"

He gently nuzzled his face into DvD's shoulder.

"All good--" he rasped, coughing afterwards.

Right, his throat was raw from screaming and crying.

"Alright then. Let's get going."

DvD continued, catching up quite easily to his family (and the Hand.PNG). They were taking it slow, trying to remain inconspicuous as best as possible. They saw something glowing blue approaching, and the Hand.PNG warned them to get back, slip into a side hall and wait for them to pass.... The group turned off all their lights, watching in horror as a swayed Swanatello sluggishly meandered through the corridor, his face stained with glowing blue tears and his eyes matching the shade. Mikey stifled a gasp. He was horrified viewing first face he'd seen upon entering this whole competition now taken by the spores. He buried his face into DvD's neck and shoulder blades, trying not to cry.

"We may continue," the hand whispered once the zombie was gone.

They continued, searching for a place that would shield them from the zombies and the spores.

DvD passed by a small opening of the arena, an overturned box of cake pops crushed under the feet of panicked rioters and spored contestants. Mikey must've seen it; he gripped DvD's tear-soaked vest as tightly as he could manage. Which wasn't very tight. His fingers trembled and shook, the fabric constantly slipped through his meager grip. DvD could feel Mikey's heartbeat speeding up through his chest, the breaths coming in ragged and shaky as he started to hyperventilate.

"Michael?" DvD whispered. "What's wrong?"

Mikey couldn't answer. He tried, DvD could hear him try. Tiny squeaks and cracks in his voice as he attempted a response. In the end he pressed his face into DvD's neck, hiding his vision from the warzone they were traipsing through.

"Right, can't really talk... here, try this: tap once for yes, twice for no. Are you having a panic attack?"

Mikey tapped DvD's chest once.

Tap.

"I see. Is it... the spores? Did you inhale any?"

Tap. Tap.

"Hm. Is it just... being around them? Being surrounded by the spores?"

Tap.

"I see. I'm sorry. But I won't let anything happen to you, Michael, you can be sure of that. And you can tell me if anything's wrong, you know? I want to be able to help if you see Draxum again--"

Michael's face scrunched up as he leaned over DvD's shoulder to look him in the eye.

"W-what? What did you say?" he squeaked.

"I said -- oh. I said more than I meant to." DvD cleared his throat. "Yes, well... 'Phael might've told us that you'd been having dreams."

Michael's head snapped around to glare at 'Phael, who saw the look and immediately knew what it was for. He slowed his pace and nervously hid behind Leon.

"I'm gonna kill him."

"You can't really blame him for it, you were struggling and we couldn't understand why..."

Mikey sighed sadly, resting his head against DvD's back.

"Y-yeah... I know. S-so, wh-what else did he... say... ab-bout me...?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just that you'd been having visions and recurring nightmares since Karai showed up and that you'd seen everything that happened to you."

"Dang it, 'Phael," Mikey croaked. "I w-wish he'd just -- let ME tell you, y'know? I-I would've l-liked to... tell you myself..."

"I understand. But you should have told us before. I... I would have wanted to know. Even if it hurt me. I'd rather have known you and I could have helped each other, than us both stay hurting on our own..."

"...Wait, what else did 'Phael say?" Mikey asked, knowing exactly what DvD was hinting to.

"He may have mentioned the reasoning behind you keeping your secret..."

Mikey grumbled.

"Okay, now I really am gonna kill him--"

"No you're not," Donnie interjected. "He did what he felt was right."

"I understand... but... why do I have to be so weak and pathetic??" Mikey whined. "Why can't I just... take care o-of m-m-myself? I keep getting hu-hurt and I keep having to rely on everyone to s-s-save me. To protect m-me. I mean, look at me right n-now-w!"

"Physically I can't look at you, since you are on my back...."

DvD wasn't sure why Michael hoarsely chuckled at that. But he was glad the kid could laugh at anything currently.

"...But I understand what you're getting at. You aren't weak, Michael, you're surprisingly strong. To have been through what you've experienced, and to keep your innocence, your joy, your love for everyone, and your trust? That's not an easy feat. Even I can't say that I've retained that sort of strength."

"Emotionally unavailable bad boy..." Mikey joked.

"Exactly. But you aren't weak or pathetic; you've handled so much."

"But... shouldn't I be able to take care of myself? I don't want to keep being a burden to you guys. Is it always going to be like this? Me getting hurt, and you having to carry me home?" Mikey asked softly.

"...I don't know. Hopefully not the former, but I'll always be in favour of the latter."

DvD could feel Mikey smile through his mask, the corners of his mouth turning up as he nuzzled closer to his protective and loving older brother.

"...I'm so tired. I'd fall asleep if I wasn't in a panic-fueled state of adrenaline..."

"I bet. I promise you can sleep for as long as you want once this whole thing is over--"

"Quiet!" Leon snapped. "Someone's coming!!"

The group halted, pressing against the walls in any way they could. April extinguished her light.

"DvD!" she hissed. "Your tech-bō! Get the light off!"

"I'm trying," he hissed back. He was struggling to deactivate it, what with Mikey clinging onto his back and requiring DvD's arms to keep him supported.

A group of zombies approached them. They saw the light... They started running at them.

"Run!" Leon shouted.

The UIFY group darted away, DvD gripping onto Mikey as tightly as he could with one hand, and holding his tech-bō with the other.

"This way, lads!" 'Phael called out, directing them down a side hall that would have lead to an open area for new arrivals.

It lead to doom.

The group froze upon entering the arrival arena. It was swarmed.

"NOT GOOD!" Leon shouted. "Back up, back up, BACK UP!"

An army of swayed zombies started coming at them, each one smiling evilly as they all started chanting together...

"Feed me... feed me.... feed me!"

Mikey shrieked in terror as the zombies closed in on them from both sides.

"We're surrounded!" April yelled over the roar.

"Well, you stupid disembodied hand?!" Leon shouted. "What's your brilliant plan now?!"

"Don't worry," it said, though the quiver in its voice hinted that there was some small reason to worry. "It isn't meant to end this way..."

A shout rang out from above them, followed by two small explosions that cut the zombies off from the group. High up in the rafters, high above the smoke line, a teenage boy watched his handiwork.

"TAKE THAT, YOU STUPID MUTTS!!" he shouted.

"Nice Derry and Toms, kid!" Slider-Punk laughed, as he wrapped an arm around him and jumped down from the rafters, shooting a web that slowed their descent.

From behind the group, a door burst open. Out popped a familiar middle-aged Donatello, who reached forwards and grabbed the kids.

"GET IN, QUICK! That won't hold them back for long!!"

rhg!Donnie and Slider-Punk rushed inside the room after the UIFY group, slamming and bolting the door behind them. A few moments later, the door began to pound with zombies, the faint sound of their cries coming from beyond.

Leon gasped for air, but didn't dare rest before he could see where he was and who was in here.

It was quite an assortment of characters...

A human Donatello, a Donatello who was called "Ghost", spider-themed superhero versions of Donnie, Mikey, April, and Leo, a Cat mutant and her human friend, and... a giant computer with Donnie's face on it? Okay, weird...

"I'm assuming the lack of masks means that it is safe to breath in here?"

"It's safe," Spider-Shine said. "We blocked off the vents with our webs, and Omega an' Ghostie here helped build a makeshift air generator!"

"Is that everyone?" rhg!Donnie asked, short of breath as he examined the new arrivals to their little resistance.

"Yeah, it's just us," April gasped, pulling the mask from her face as she breathed in the clean air. "Dang, that was too close for comfort! Thanks for your help, uh... I'm guessing 'Donnie'?"

rhg!Donatello looked her over cautiously. She was used to that look, everyone who had ever met her after the mutation gave her that look. But what surprised her was how eerily familiar this Donatello was, despite being so entirely different. He really looked exactly like DvD... if DvD had ten fingers instead of six, dark curly hair and human skin, and was not quite so heavily built and muscular as the turtle mutant she knew. This one was a lot thinner, though he had muscle tone too. But he was mostly covered in scars and scrapes and... was that dried blood? She smiled nervously at him as she held out a hand.

"I'm April."

"...You would be, wouldn't you?"

He took her hand and shook it gently.

"You're not a turtle," he said, continuing to eye her over.

"Well, neither are you!" she chuckled anxiously.

He could tell she felt uncomfortable. He recognized the feeling, it was how he felt in the capitol and under the gaze of so many who cheered him on as he prepared to end a life. But this was different. He'd seen enough Aprils here to know they weren't supposed to be... not human. He could tell she hadn't been like this for too long, based on how she sort of hid herself, moved away from the others as if she couldn't tell she was one of them or a part of their group. The way she rubbed the fur on her arms, kept pressing her tongue against her miniature tusk and moving it around anxiously like a loose tooth that might fall out.

"...No kidding. Anyways, who are those guys?" he asked, tilting his head to look behind her at the others.

"I can answer that!" Abby said with a giggle as she skipped over to the teens panting on the floor. "This is the Until I Found You AU team! I met DvD here a few weeks prior to the prelims! And then again in the med ward while Mikey was being treated for hypoglycemia -- speaking of which, when was the last time you ate something? You're shaking pretty bad."

"I'm okay for the moment," Mikey gasped, trying to clear his throat. "But I should probably get something to eat while I can..."

"I've met them, too," Ghost said, as he came over and leaned over to the two orphan teens, reaching over to rub their heads affectionately. "I got them a pizza. How're you kids doing?"

Mikey smiled up at him. It was a weak smile, trying desperately to hide the red eyes and the tear stains on his mask, the sore and reopened wounds on his arms and the shakiness of his frail frame. Leo didn't try at all to mask his emotional state.

"Could be better," he griped.

"I imagine," Ghost sighed, bringing the two close and wrapping his cloak around them -- especially Mikey, who couldn't stop shivering. "Let's get some warm food in you, hmm?"

Mikey nodded, reaching up and asking to be carried. Ghost obliged, scooping the child into his arms and taking him to the other side of the room where there was a heater and a kitchenette, stocked with small snacks and a few easy-bake items. Leon followed after them, just like he had when they'd first met. rhg!Donnie followed after them, having caught sight of how small and frail this Mikey was, as well as the injuries on his arms...

Ghost took the tiny teen and laid him down on the couch by the fireplace. It was a much nicer lounge than the one they'd occupied previously. As mentioned, there was a mini kitchen and a decorative faux fireplace with a heater that warmed the room up quite nicely; and there were also more seating arrangements here than the other room. Mikey settled into the sofa comfortably, snuggling in with a wiggle and a giggle like he typically did. Leon scoffed at him, though he did so with a smile. Mikey always managed to find the positive and cheery moments in even the most dire of situations. Ghost grabbed a few blankets from a small basket in the corner and draped one over Leon, who smiled and nodded a quick 'thank you' at him. He went to tuck in Mikey when noticed his arms, which DvD had failed to re-wrap.

"...What happened here?" Ghost asked, gently taking Mikey's hands and lifting his forearms closer to his face. Mikey gently pulled them away.

"Just a little... um... m-m-mystic mishap," he chuckled. "It-it's alright... really!"

"I'm going to get the antiseptics," Ghost informed. "These should be bandaged. No sense in leaving them open to get infected."

"I can treat the wounds," a voice said from behind them, causing Leon to jump slightly. It was rhg!Donnie, already holding the first aid kit. "You can go get him something to eat instead."

"Alright then," Ghost consented, then turned back to Mikey. "But you will tell me how you got these, okay? If only so we can treat them properly."

Mikey swallowed nervously and nodded. Ghost stood with a soft grunt and walked over to the kitchen, getting warm snacks ready for the guests as rhg!Donnie kneeled by the sofa and started to rub disinfectant on the wounds. Mikey hissed at the touch.

"Ow! That stings," he whinged.

"That means it's working. Stop moving so much."

Mikey did as he was told. There was something about this Donnie that was... different, but familiar. He was overprotective of Mikey, he knew the feeling of someone playing mother hen. DvD acted like this a lot, especially after everything that happened with Draxum. He wondered what could have happened to his Mikey to make him want to protect him like this... the protective drive was the same, but the reactions were different. DvD was overly gentle with him. rhg!Donnie was firm and stern. Driven. Serious. He reminded him of DvD when they'd first met each other. Far too grown-up for their age, and with a determination that could kill you if you crossed them the wrong way.

rhg!Donnie was careful, but not entirely gentle. His rough and calloused hands were strict and commanding, no room for error or hesitance. Mikey winced as he took his wrist and turned it over a little too forcefully.

"Hey, careful!" Leon scolded.

"Do you want me to bandage him, or not? He has cuts all over his arms, I have to move him to get to them."

"Well, you could be a little more sympathetic with the guy!"

rhg!Donnie glared at Leon. He sighed.

"Sorry. I'll try to be more... sympathetic."

rhg!Donnie cleaned the wounds with a bit more grace than before. Mikey still whimpered and gasped in discomfort at the antibacterial and iodine.

"So, tell me... how did you get these?"

"M-m-mystic mishap," Mikey managed, coughing afterwards.

"Nice try," rhg!Donnie scoffed. "How'd you really get them?"

"What are you talking about?" Leon asked angrily. "It was mystic! He was using his magic powers too much and then--"

"Look, I'm not an idiot, I know that those scars were made by a knife, so I'm asking you, who cut your brother like this--"

"It happened a while ago," Mikey interrupted, forcing his voice to be a little louder so rhg!Donnie could hear him properly. Even still, it was low and raspy and the effort made him cough and hack profusely afterwards. Leon immediately rushed to the sink and got him some water. Mikey downed the cup, choking for a half second and spilling some of the tap water on his shirt.

"Sorry, sorry... I'm okay, I'm...!"

"It's okay, Mike, it's only water," Leon said, clapping his hand on his little brother's back to help him. "Just chillax for a sec, let your voice come back, okay? I'll do the talking."

Mikey nodded as he continued to slurp down the water.

"Anyways, Mikey here was sorta kidnapped not too long ago and experimented on -- geez, are you okay?" he asked, grimacing at the human sitting across from him.

rhg!Donnie had gone awfully pale, his eyes wide and glazed over with panic.

"...Fine," he mumbled. "Go on."

"Uh... yeah... anyways, Mike was kidnapped by Draxum -- do you have a Draxum in your universe? Ah, whatever, he was kidnapped by a bad dude and this bad dude did bad dude evil scientist stuff to Mikey and that's where he got the scars from. But that was like, weeks ago. Mikey accidentally reopened his wounds when his ninpo went into overdrive--"

"His what?" rhg!Donnie asked.

"His ninpo... y'know, like magic?"

"I said not to lie to me--!"

"They're not lying," Ghost said, standing over them with a tray of hot chocolate and some cookies. "I should've realized this sooner, but I'm guessing that since you're human that means you don't have any mutants or magic in your world," he said as he gently ruffled the teen's hair. rhg!Donnie shooed the affection away, suspicious of ulterior motives. Ghost sighed and continued.

"These kids come from a universe where their family has special abilities, mystic powers that are unique to them. And sometimes, using those powers too much have... unforeseen consequences," Ghost noted, taking Mikey's hand once again and looking at the wounds.

Michael nodded sadly. Ghost smiled and placed the warm mug into his hand.

"Just be careful next time, okay kid?" he asked, rubbing his head to assure him he wasn't mad, only concerned.

"...Very well, then," rhg!Donnie exhaled, finally admitting defeat. "In that case, I'm not sure I know how to tend to 'mystic' injuries."

"I got it," Ghost volunteered, searching in the first aid for anything especially sparkly or glowing. That would be a good sign. After some rummaging, he managed to procure some mystic cream and began to salve the cuts and sores.

rhg!Donnie watched with interest and concern. He studied the label for future reference. He memorized the patterns in which Ghost anointed the child. He took internal photographs of the angles and shapes of Mikey's scars... and prayed that he would never have to see them on his baby brother back home. He had been concerned that this was the same Mikey he'd met earlier... they looked very much alike upon first glance. But after closer inspection, he saw that they had some differences. The scars were obvious. But this one was younger, and much smaller. Not just shorter, but skinnier too. He looked a lot like his brother in that sense. As for the Leon beside him -- the one that kept giving rhg!Donnie dirty side glances -- he looked like his twin brother. Except bald. No sign of the beautiful and soft hair that rhg!Dee used to braid and style for him before he'd left. He was frightfully thin, too. A thick scarf surrounded his neck to help insulate the miniscule amount of warmth his body could provide. rhg!Donnie happened to glance over at him when he didn't expect it, and saw him pocket a few extra medical supplies, subconsciously stuffing them into his pants. There were quite a few things already in his pockets, rhg!Dee realized. This kid was a thief. Not that it bothered him, he and his Leo had been sneaky like that on more than one occasion. District 4 wasn't a very generous place to live.

rhg!Donnie found himself reaching for his hand the next time he went to snatch something. Not so much to stop him as to simply just... hold something that was so similar to his brother. He knew he wouldn't get a chance like this again for a long time. If ever. It might be stupid, but for a moment he wanted to pretend that this was his Leo. It worked for half a moment, he could almost see his brother here in the room with him.

Leon turned to him as he grabbed his hand, wide-eyed in surprise before realizing that he'd been caught.

"Oh... Old habits die hard, I guess," he explained, sheepishly dropping the tube of ointment he'd taken.

"Next time, try it like this," rhg!Donnie whispered, showing him how to take the tube with better efficiency, while simultaneously distracting the victim while you repurposed their possessions. But he got the feeling this teen already knew all the tricks of the trade.

Leon smiled weakly at him.

"Thanks, but... well, there's not really supposed to be a 'next time'," he explained, while looking back at DvD and 'Phael. "I kinda have a family now... and a home."

"Congratulations," rhg!Donnie said, hoping the genuine delight that this Leon had his family all around him came through, despite the monotonous tone in his voice.

"The kleptomania just sorta... flares up when I'm stressed," he mumbled. "When I feel like I'm not safe. I take stuff so I can pretend that I have everything I might need in an emergency." He laughed as he pulled out all the band-aids and alcohol wipes and gauze from his pockets. "I don't even know what I'd do with half of this stuff!"

"It's better to have most of this than not," rhg!Donnie mentioned, taking half of the pile and stuffing them into his own pockets, despite knowing that if he were to be portalled home again the items wouldn't be going with him. "Just in case..."

DvD had strolled right up to the giant tv screen in the room with a 2D icon of his face... or rather, a face greatly resembling his.

The icon looked down at him, it made an expression. It looked skeptical of him. It could express emotions, and could have thoughts. It must be an AI.

"How fascinating..." DvD murmured, looking the screen over. "What kind of CPU do you run on...?"

"That is classified information," the voice responded. And as flat-toned as most Donatellos tended to be, this one had actual emotion in its voice! It sounded just like him.

"What kind of program are you? You operate like a mimicry program, copying expressions and reactions..." he poked around behind the screen, investigating a few wires and buttons. "What's back here--"

"HEY NOW!" the AI reeled, two mechanical arms grabbing DvD's wrists and pulling him away as the screen moved back on its tiny little wheelie stand. "Hands to yourself, thank you very much!"

DvD's eyes widened. This was much more than a simple AI...

"What... who are you?" he asked.

"My name is OMEGA BOOTYYYSHAKER9000. Most people simply refer to me as 'Omega'. I am a replica of Hamato Donatello."

"Replica..." DvD looked the screen over as his brain pieced together the information. "...Oh."

This was always Omega's least favourite part of the competition, when the younger versions of his family understood that the future was not only unkind, but in most cases it took more than it gave.

"...Well, at the very least, you have achieved the perfect form -- man and machine, finally as one!" DvD said with a grin.

"You sound like Leonardo."

"You take that slander back."

Omega chuckled. When his Leo had first met him, he'd said something almost exactly like that...

"Do you think... do you think that this will be my fate?" DvD asked cautiously, as he continued to inspect the replica. "I've met a few older versions of myself in this competition. One was a demon-void-thing. One is tending to my brother now. I know better than to alter the course of time, I wouldn't dream of... well. But I'd like to know the probabilities, weigh out the outcomes and prepare myself mentally."

"You want to know if... you might end up as a digital duplicate?" Omega asked nervously.

"Only the statistical probability of it happening."

Omega wasn't sure about this. Yes, this teenager seemed highly intelligent and had an iron-clad determination, but he knew better than to actually tell him the truth. For whatever reason -- perhaps his own insatiable curiosity and need to know the outcome and 'create a fix' -- he crunched the numbers. He ran the simulation to test his theory. He knew the outcome of their storyline. And he was right, there was no real benefit to tell him the truth of his future... There was no benefit to telling him how -- in the wrong timeline -- his brother Leon would be the first to go, sacrificing himself to save the others during the first few years of the invasion. And Mikey would follow some time after, his hypoglycemia becoming too much of a strain for his body in a society where food was scarce and rations were slim. There was no point in telling him of the pain that he and 'Phael would bear, caring for the lone orphan son of their late comrade Cassandra Jones. No point in DvD knowing that he would be the one to invent time travel, only to use the machine once -- to send his surrogate nephew into the past to remedy everything. Omega smiled at him, keeping the simulation to himself.

"...Who can say what will happen next?"

'Phael looked in awe at the spider-themed teens in the corner who all jibbered and jabbered away. He was a little too nervous to actually approach them. They were superheroes, weren't they? He'd seen how superheroes looked in the movies! And these blokes looked just like 'em. But 'Phael's social anxiety started kicking into high gear, he fidgeted with his hands, picking at the fingernails which he'd nibbled down to stubs. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he tried not to think about what they were thinking about, which was probably him and about how embarrassing he was --

One of the spider-teetlez turned to look at him. Oh no. OH HEADS NO, he caught him staring. He stared back. OH HEADS. The spider kid smiled and skipped over to him, his hair bouncing with each and every step.

"Hey there, big guy! You okay?"

"Oh, uh, s-sure!" 'Phael mumbled nervously. "W-w-why wouldn't I be?"

"Oi, is that another Brit I hear!?"

'Phael jumped suddenly as the blue and red turtle that had helped them in the halls immediately pounced at him, wrapping an arm around his neck with a great big smile.

"I was 'bout to lose hope for this Johnny Horner, I thought the entire arena was filled with yanks!"

"Uh heh, yeh," 'Phael chuckled, thinking maybe this wasn't the best time to tell him he technically was a 'Yank', having been born and raised in the Colonies. He was just brought up around folks with British accents...

"Hey, lads (and April)! Come 'ere, I wanna introduce ya to one of the dustbin lids that just arrived! This here is a BRITISH RAPHAEL!"

'Phael smiled nervously as he was passed around from hero to hero -- and they all were very nice and friendly, if not a bit intimidating. But then again, everyone was intimidating to him.

Everyone had gathered in the center of the room, squeezing together on the couches and sofas and ottomans and even one rocking chair. Now that everyone had introduced themselves, and Mikey had been taken care of -- his arms rebandaged and his stomach filled with tea and cookies -- it was time to come up with a plan of action.

There wasn't much time left...

End of Act 1

Act 2

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here4kpopfics · 1 year

Text

Feeling in Chaos - Fall pt. 2 | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader

Genre: drama, angst, smut

AU: art college!au, friends to lovers, best friend’s brother

Wordcount: 12,670

Summary: It’s time to talk about it.

Rating: M / 18+

Warnings: Language. Grief. Panic attacks. MC has PTSD and is learning how to get through it. Jealousy. Self-loathing. Ryujin’s trying. Koo’s going through something. Possibly problematic friendship/relationship.

Smut Warnings: None, just mentions of the smut in the previous chapter.

AN: Ah, so…surprise? Over two months later…This chapter has a lot going on. A lot of much needed conversations and finally some attempts to move forward. I have nothing further to add, except for my apologies for it being late. 😅Thank you to the soulmate @playmetheclassics for beta reading. ily

Banner and Divider by @classicscreations

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When you finally get to the club, you glance around to ensure Ryujin isn’t outside. You walk to the front of the line and get the security guard’s attention.

“I’m sorry, my friend is in there, she’s drunk, and I just need to get her out and take her home. Is there any way I can just go in and grab her?”

The tall buff man that could honestly give The Rock a run for his money shakes his head.

“Sorry, miss. I’ve heard that line one too many times. You’ll have to wait in line with the others.”

“Please? She’s grieving, and I just. I need to get her home before she does something she regrets.”

He only shakes his head again and points towards the back of the line. You sigh, grabbing your phone and calling her again. She answers, but you can barely hear her over the thumping bass.

“Ry? I’m outside. They won’t let me in. Come out, and we can go home.”

“Wha? Where are yo—?”

Her voice cuts off as the call ends. You groan in annoyance, getting in the stupid long line to get in the shitty building.

The sense of panic sets in again as you wait. How do you get her home? What do you say? Do you let her speak? Do you wait until she’s sober to talk? Or do you yell at her now and hope she remembers? How the fuck are you going to get her home? Yoongi was right. But, fuck, you can’t get him involved in this. You’ve already gotten too close to him tonight. You can’t do it anymore.

You go to your contacts, pressing the call button and hating yourself already. It only rings twice before he picks up.

“Y/n? Are you okay? Are you still at the studio?” Your heart cracks at the voice laced with worry.

“No, Jungkook. I left already.”

“Where are you? Because you’re not at your apartment.”

“Have you been waiting there?” Your voice falters. The image of him waiting in your apartment while you’re on the couch in your studio getting fucked and almost confessed to by your group therapy buddy flashing in your mind makes you want to scream.

He stays silent, answering your question without saying a word.

“Kookie…I need your help.” You exhale a shaky breath, trying to stay focused.

“What happened? Did he do something?” There’s a certain bite in his voice that feels like an attack on you, but you set it aside, planning on stressing over it later.

“No, Koo. He didn’t do anything. It’s Ry. She’s at this club or bar or whatever, she’s shitfaced and called me, and I’m waiting outside, but I…I don’t know how to get her home.”

He gives it a moment after your voice trails off, finally speaking again after a while.

“You want me to come get you two?” His voice is softer, but still tense, and you hate it.

“Yes, please…” you quietly admit, and you can hear the sound of his keys moving as he tells you to send the address via text and to wait for him.

This feels too familiar.

“Jungkook?” You quickly speak up before he hangs up.

“Yes, y/n?”

“Please drive carefully.” you feel your stomach twist, “get here safely, okay?”

He doesn’t need to ask why you’re saying these things. He knows. You know he knows. He reassures you he’ll be okay, hanging up only when you’re ready, and you look back down at your phone as the call ends.

Five minutes later, you’re almost at the front of the line when you see Ryujin stumbling out of the building, looking around in confusion.

“Ry!” You shout as you finally escape the line, much to the satisfaction of the people behind you. You want to run to her, but she’s still a ticking time bomb, and you’re already on edge enough that you don’t want to risk her wrath even if she was the one that called you.

“Y/n!” She shouts back, tears streaming down her face as she runs to you. You let her hug you first, hesitantly hugging her back and only tightening your hold when she starts sobbing against your shoulder.

“Hey hey hey, I’m here. It’s okay, Ry. What happened?” You don’t expect an answer and don’t let go, just letting her desperately hold onto you and cry.

When she finally lets go of you, you guide her to sit on the curb. It’s gross, but it’s away from the club goers passing by, and it’s still within sight of the security guard. Your hands never leave her, one on her back and the other gripping one of hers like if you let go, she’d vanish from you too.

You stay silent for her, watching her battle with the thoughts in her head and the words behind her ruby-red lips. You look away, down the street to see if Jungkook’s car would be in view, but you wanted to give her more space.

“I don’t blame you.” Her voice cracks, and your neck almost snaps when turning back to her.

“What?” You’re afraid to ask in case it all goes wrong.

“For…for Kai’s death. I don’t blame you. I never did.” Her grip on your hand tightens, and the tears fall again across her beautiful face. “I know it’s not your fault. But I just…I needed someone to hate, someone that isn’t me.”

Her? Why? Why would she…?

“Ry, what do you mean someone that isn’t you?”

She finally looks up at you, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she relives memories you have no idea about. Moments she wishes she could forget or do over.

“It doesn't matter now.” She shakes her head, holding your hand close to her chest. “Please, y/n. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You’re my best friend and there’s no excuse for the things I said. Please don’t hate me. I can’t lose you, too.”

You look at your best friend. The girl that was born a day before you in the same hospital. The girl that asked to draw with you on the playground. The girl that yelled at anyone and everyone that dared say anything bad about you. The girl that held you as you cried over your first heartbreak. And your second, third, fourth…

The girl that, despite coming across as perfect to the world, bared her soul, fears, and insecurities to you one night after sneaking into her parents’ liquor cabinet. The girl that promised to be by your side for forever when your parents said you’d be nothing. The girl you watched fall in love with your brother, having the most beautiful and loving relationship with him.

The girl who fell apart just as badly as you did. But instead of seeking help, she burned the world around her down, starting with you.

Her name quietly escapes your lips, but before you can say anything else, Jungkook pulls up against the curb next to you. He quickly exits the car to squat down in front of you both, eyes meeting yours briefly before turning his attention to his sister.

He looks exhausted.

“Hey, Rybread. You okay?” He gently grabs her free hand, bringing her attention away from you and to him instead. She nods, a broken sob escaping when Jungkook helps her stand, you having to stand with her because her hand is still tightly gripping yours.

“Let’s get you two home, yeah?” He gently speaks to only her, still refusing to look at you for more than a second. You carefully pull your hand away from Ryujin, watching Jungkook help his sister enter the backseat. When she’s finally in, seatbelt on, head leaning back, eyes closed, he looks back at you.

You hate the sadness in those big beautiful brown eyes. Hate the dark bags forming underneath them. Hate that you’re probably the cause of some of it.

“Are you okay to sit in the backseat or do you need to be upfront?” His question is as monotone as he can make it, but you can still pick up on the notes of concern in his words.

You open your mouth to speak, eyes glancing between the backseat and the passenger’s seat, when Jungkook shuts Ryujin’s door a little harsher than necessary, causing you both to jump.

“Upfront it is. Come on.” He mumbles, opening the passenger’s side door before returning to the driver’s seat with a huff.

You get in only when he’s put his seatbelt on and turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. You put your seatbelt on, backpack across your lap and fingers toying with the straps for a moment before a big hand reaches for your left hand.

His fingers intertwine with yours, settling on his lap, his free hand on the steering wheel, effortlessly pulling away from the curb and driving off.

Your eyes stay on the road, trying to watch every car while simultaneously trying to remind yourself to breathe. At every stop light, Jungkook brings your joined hand to his chest, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand until the light turns green and you’re past the intersection.

You say nothing, forcing the fear deep down inside to deal with when you’re alone. Your right hand grips the door handle like you’re bracing for impact, and it takes everything in you not to scream to pull over. The last time you were in a car was on the way home from the funeral. You were so ready to jump out of the car on the highway, actually opening the door at one point, not caring what happened to you, only about getting out.

“You need to breathe, y/n.” His voice is gentle but still in that monotone voice. It doesn’t match the way his thumb is soothing over your hand or how tightly he’s holding it.

You hadn’t realized you were barely taking any breaths, afraid if you did, you’d scream or cry. You still don’t respond, only squeezing his hand in response as you take a deep breath, shakingly exhaling after.

“I’m trying. It’s just—” you look down for a moment, your free hand playing with the zipper on your back, “I’m too focused on not panicking. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” His voice is losing the monotone effect, and you sneak a glance at his face. His jaw is clenched, and he looks anything but soft, more stoic instead.

“I don’t know…I’m sure there’s a list of shit I need to apologize for that’s so long, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“The top, usually.” He’s quick to respond, and you have to fight the urge to give even the smallest smile.

“The top…the top says ‘I’m sorry you met me and got dragged into this.’”

“Well, that’s a stupid apology.” He says after a moment. “You didn’t know what would happen when we were kids. If you did, I’d have many questions. One being lottery numbers.”

You quietly laugh to yourself. Eyes jumping from the roads, to your hand in his, and his face that still won’t look at you. You’re partially relieved he’s keeping his eyes on the road.

“And I’m not sorry I met you. You’re insanely frustrating at times. You drive me to be a jealous mess of hopelessness plagued by unrequited love. But I’m not sorry I met you. Not even a little bit. I’d rather have you in my life than out of it.”

You stare at him, lips parting with no words able to form. He’s confessed in various ways so many times now, and it feels like a punch in the gut every time. This time, however, feels more like a stab to the heart.

“…it’s not hopeless, Jungkook.” You swallow thickly, looking away from him and focusing on his hand wrapped around your own instead. “And it’s not unrequited…”

“Feels a lot like it…”

You say nothing, the car stopping in the apartment complex.

You barely even registered the rest of the drive home once he started talking. Your breathing was steadied, your heart rate was racing, albeit for a different reason, and you weren’t trying to escape the car.

Jungkook gets out first, walking around to get to Ryujin sitting behind you. You quietly get out, watching him try to coax her awake, eventually giving up and handing you the keys before scooping her out of the car.

You lock the car when he’s got her, following behind inside to the elevator and to the apartment, neither speaking except for random gibberish from your tipsy sleeping best friend.

He sits her down on the counter in the bathroom while you grab her a change of clothes. He leaves the both of you alone so you can help her remove her makeup and do your best to take her through her beauty routine. She'd always go on about how she could never miss a day, walking you through each step for moments like this.

What feels like ages later, you finally emerge from the bathroom, letting her change in private, and head back down to the living room. Jungkook is sitting on the armrest of the couch with palms running across his face while you lean against the wall.

The atmosphere is awkward. You don’t know what to say, so you pull out your phone, remembering your spat with Yoongi.

Y/N (3:35 am): hey. I’m home. I hope you made it back okay. I’m really sorry about what I said. You didn’t deserve that.

You hit send and watch as it switches from delivered to read within seconds. The typing bubbles appear moments later.

Yoongi (3:35 am): Apologize with pie.

A shaky giggle escapes your lungs before you can catch it, and Jungkook scoffs.

Your head snaps up to the sound, wide eyes and body frozen. He shakes his head, eyes cast to the floor. You lower your gaze back to the phone, trying to decide what to type next when he finally speaks to you.

“So why didn’t Yoongi come with you to get Ry?” You look back up at him; he’s still trying to stay neutral, a stoic demeanor that doesn’t care.

“Koo–”

“I mean, it’s kind of a dick move to let a woman walk alone at this hour, isn’t it?” He crosses his arms, repositioning his stance as if he’s uncomfortable.

“I didn’t want him to come with me. He insisted but I yelled at him…” you sigh, briefly looking back at your phone before tucking it back in your pocket. “I didn’t want him to get involved in all of this.” you gesture all around you, mostly towards Ryujin’s door and Jungkook himself.

He stares you down, tilting his head to the side and even though he’s not directly in front of you or right next to you, his stare makes you feel small. It feels suffocating - like he’s hovering above you and you’re backed into a corner.

His eyes scan your face, your bruised lips, the very light, barely there yet hickies on your neck as well as the guilty expression. His eyes widen, and the stoic demeanor is gone, replaced by one you can’t quite read, but know all too well.

“It’s not just sex, is it? There are feelings there.” His question knocks the wind out of you, and you shrink down even more.

“I don’t know.” the only response you can bring yourself to say that won’t hurt either of you.

You were wrong.

“What do you mean you don’t know? Either you like him, or you don’t.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Ryujin’s door opens just as you do. She stands at the top of the stairs in the pajamas you picked out, and she looks exhausted, eyes swollen and puffy from crying. You rip your attention away from her brother when she mumbles your name.

You rush to grab her hand, bringing her back to her room and guiding her to her bed. She gets in, but the tears start streaming again.

“He’s really gone…” she whispers, pulling the covers to her chin.

You nod, Jungkook comes in after you with water and pills for her to take. Ryujin shakes her head.

“No. The smell. He’s gone. I could sleep because I could smell him in the sheets. Now it’s gone.”

This is the longest she’s spoken to you since before the crash. And you’re still scared of her reaction to your responses. So you tell her to wait, going back to her bathroom and forcing yourself to open the cabinet he took over when he kept staying the night, finding the little bottle you were hoping to find.

You were secretly hoping to break into her room one day to find the bottle and keep it for yourself. But you kept reminding yourself she probably needed it more.

When you come back, you tell her to give you her pillow, and she obliges. You take the cap off the cologne bottle, spraying the pillow lightly as it dangles in your hand away from you. You hand it back to her, smiling a little when she hugs it, taking a deep breath.

“It smells like him…” she murmurs, laying back down, pillow resting under her head.

“I know it’s not the same, but hopefully it helps enough.” You whisper, lightly petting her hair as her eyes close and a small smile forms.

“We should buy it in bulk. So it can always smell like him.” you let out a shaky laugh.

“I’ll get right on that, Ry. Now get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

You get up to leave the room, Jungkook starting to lead the way when a small hand wraps around your wrist. You turn to look at Ryujin who looks panicked.

“Y/n, you forgive me, right?”

You open your mouth to respond but, for what feels like the millionth time tonight, are cut off before you can form words.

“You do, right? You know I didn’t mean any of it. I would never. Please. Please say you forgive me.”

You say nothing, looking to Jungkook for help. He stands at the doorway, hands in his hoodie’s pocket, seemingly uninterested in this conversation. You sigh, turning back to her, gently grabbing the hand attached to your wrist to peel her off you, but her grip tightens.

“We’ll talk about this when you’re sober, Ry, okay? Get some sleep.”

“No. Not until you forgive me.”

“Ry.” your voice shakes, a piercing pain in your eyes as you can feel the tears forming.

“Y/n, please,”

“I…–”

“Ryujin, stop.” Jungkook interjects, both you and his sister looking towards the owner of the stern voice.

“Let her go. Go to bed. She’ll talk to you about it when you’re sober.”

You both stay silent, your eyes glued to her grip on your wrist, hers bouncing between you, her brother, and her hold on you. After a few moments, she finally lets go, laying back down and hugging her pillow.

“Okay. Tomorrow…” she whispers in defeat.

“Tomorrow.” you mimic the word, pulling her blanket back over her to keep her warm before finally shuffling out of the room, walking past Jungkook, who closes the door once you’re both out.

You run your fingers through your hair, steadying your breathing, so you don’t cry in front of Jungkook more than you already have.

You both lean against the back of the couch this time. Both are dead silent as you figure out who should speak first. Your eyes cast down to the floor, watching his feet shift as he tries to find a more comfortable stance.

“You shouldn’t forgive her.” You look up at him to see he was doing the same thing as you, eyes to the ground.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t forgive Ryujin.”

“Jungkook. She…she didn’t mean it—”

“No, y/n. Have you not heard the shit she’s been screaming at you? Have you not heard the shit she’s accused you of?” He turns to face you, his voice a harsh whisper.

“Do you not remember how fucking terrible she’s made your life the last two months? You’ve had to fucking sneak into your apartment, change your schedules to be the opposite of hers, so you don’t run into her.”

“I…” your words stumble over one another in your mind.

“She’s my best friend, Jungkook. She’s grieving. I…her world just got crushed. What do you expect me to do? Just sever all ties with her and leave? Leave her to be all by herself? And what about you? You’re her brother, Jungkook. If I do that with her, I do that with you. And I’m not going to do that. Not with the two people that mean more than anything to me.”

Fuck not again. Please don’t cry again.

“I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow. I won’t forgive her until I know she means it. I’m so fucking tired right now, so can we please just end this conversation?”

The words rush out in a few short breaths, tears still threatening to escape when you look at him. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. His facial expression holds many different emotions. His eyes are sad, angry, desperate, and scared.

“Fine.”

You fucked up again. Twice in one night. Way to go, y/n, you idiot.

“I’ll head home. Good luck.” He turns away from you, but before you can think it through, your hand grabs his wrist like his sister did to you moments ago.

“It…it’s almost three in the morning. Just stay here.”

You’re both staring at his wrist, captured by your fingers, and in the quiet, you give a small squeeze, pleading. But his next words feel like a direct stab to the heart.

“Is your boyfriend gonna be okay with that?”

“He’s not…”

“Please stop lying to me. Just admit there’s something there so I can try to move on, like really try.”

No.

Don’t move on.

You’re mine.

I won’t let you go.

“Koo…” the name barely falls from your lips. “I can’t.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s trapped you between his body and the back of the couch. Both hands, yours still clutching his wrist, cup your face and tilting you to look up at him.

“You can’t be honest with me? Or you can’t admit there’s something there with him?”

You close your eyes to prevent the tears, but they win, escaping down your cheeks only to be caught and wiped away by his thumbs.

Your name is a soft pleading whisper on his lips, making you want to crawl into a cave forever. You can only say the first thing that comes to your mind.

“Please…just stay.”

You feel his forehead press against yours, noses touching, lips mere inches away from his.

Just do it. Lean forward. His lips are right there. Just give in. You know it’s always going to be him.

Do it.

But you don’t, and neither does he, instead breathing out a heavy sigh, pulling away from you, and unwrapping your grip from his wrist.

“I can’t be your second anymore, y/n.”

“You’re not.” Just say it. Admit it. Fucking do it.

“I am, though. If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t hesitate. You wouldn’t look at me with all that fear in your eyes. Tell me, do you hesitate with him?”

You don’t respond, trying to find the best answer.

“Your silence is so loud, y/n.” He backs away from you, heading upstairs to your room to grab the extra blankets and pillows you’d usually have on standby for when he’d stay over. He walks back into the living room, ignoring your hurt expression.

“I’ll sleep on the couch and be out before you wake up.”

“Jungkook…”

“Stop, y/n. Just…end it there, okay?” you want to run to him, kiss him, tell him he’s number one. He will always be number one. Yoongi is nothing compared to him. You should. You should move your feet right now.

But you don’t.

You hesitate.

And instead, he sets up the bedding on the couch before looking at you again.

“Goodnight.” He turns off the living room light, covering the area in complete darkness as he lays down on the couch.

You sniffle, muttering a quiet apology before slinking away to the stairs to your room. Once the door is closed, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, screaming internally. You allow yourself five seconds to cry before opening your eyes and staring off into space in an attempt to silence the voices and the pain.

It doesn’t.

They just get louder.

You force yourself into your bathroom to turn on the shower. You watch yourself in the mirror as you slowly shed your clothing, piece by piece, like you’re removing everything that happened today with every fabric. Once you’re in your bra and underwear, you look back in the mirror at the bites and handprints on your hips where Yoongi had gripped you tight at one point.

The painting of the music notes on your thigh.

You feel sick.

You quickly shed the bra and underwear, throwing them in the trash before showering. You grab your body wash, squeezing out more than needed onto your loofah and scrubbing away at your skin.

You cry out in pain, not realizing you’re scrubbing yourself raw, trying to get the feeling of Yoongi off your skin. Anywhere he touched, breathed, or kissed suddenly felt like acid, and you needed it off you. You stay in the scalding hot shower for thirty minutes, trying to get him off your skin and out of your hair, muttering curse words the entire time.

When you finally leave the shower, you feel like you are running on autopilot. You change into some clean pajamas, dry your hair, and drag yourself through a quick skin routine, playing some music on your AirPods while doing so.

You sit on your bed, staring at your closed bedroom door. You want to open it and get on the couch with him, cuddle with him like you used to, tell him it’s always him, and just be with him in every way you can.

Stop hesitating.

You throw the blankets off you, forcing yourself out of bed and padding over to the bedroom door, opening it confidently and heading down the stairs.

But you stop halfway.

Your body stills as you listen to him lightly snoring, and you flash to a few weeks ago when he confessed to having trouble sleeping. He wouldn’t say why, he wouldn’t say if it was related to Kai, and he didn’t go any further in his explanation other than it’s hard for him to sleep lately.

So you back away from the doorway, leaving the door open, and crawl back in bed. You won’t be why he can’t get back to sleep just because you need him.

An hour later, you wake up to someone crying. You sit up in bed, rubbing your eyes to get rid of the tears you assume you’re shedding. But there’s nothing there. No tears, just a puffy and tired face.

You listen closer. It can’t be Ryujin. Her door is closed, and she’s out cold. It’s shockingly not you, which means it’s only one other person.

Jungkook?

You throw the blankets off of you, quietly rushing down the stairs and peaking into the living room. He’s on the couch, still asleep but sniffling and whimpering.

You tip-toe over to him as he lays there in his sleep, tears escaping closed eyes and body shaking in fear.

Is this what he was talking about?

Is this every night?

Why didn’t he say anything?

“Jungkook?” You try whispering his name, but he doesn’t respond. You try again, a little louder, and place a hand on his shoulder to gently shake him awake.

Gently, being the keyword.

It apparently wasn’t.

Jungkook wakes up terrified, smacking your hand away from him and cowering back into the couch in fear.

“Koo, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s y/n. I’m sorry. I’m so sor—.”

You’re pulled into a hug before you can finish apologizing, one hand grabbing your arm to pull you to him, the other wrapping around your shoulders. You instinctively crawl onto the couch, curling up with him as he buries his face in your neck, tears streaming down his cheeks as he hyperventilates in your arms.

You hold him as close as you can, your legs wrapped around him, acting as a weighted blanket.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” You whisper against his temple, wincing a little when the hand gripping your arm finds your back, grasping your shirt. His nails dig into the skin on the back of your neck.

You give him a few more minutes to panic in your arms before easing his face away from your neck, cradling his face in your hands.

“How often has this been happening, Koo?” His eyes close, shaking his head as he tries to bury back into your neck. You stop him, pulling further away.

“Jungkook, talk to me.”

“Almost every night…”

Not again.

“Why didn’t you say anything? To me? To Ryujin?”

He stumbles over a few words, trying to figure out the answer. His hands let go of your shirt before grabbing it again seconds later, as if he has to remind himself he has control and isn’t dreaming anymore.

“It’s nothing.”

“It's not nothing, Jungkook, if you’re having nightmares again every night...”

“They’re not nightmares.”

“No?” You raise an eyebrow, “then what are they?”

“They’re just dreams, y/n.” He shuts down the conversation, and you have no choice but to follow along.

“Fine. Let’s go back to my bed and sleep there, then.”

“I’m fine down here.”

“I don’t care. I want to make sure you’re okay. Can I do that? You do it for Ry and me every day. Let someone else be there for you. Please?”

He lets out a heavy sigh before mumbling in agreement. You disconnect from him, getting off the couch and helping him get up. His eyes meet yours, and your heart cracks at the sight. His eyes are red, eyelids puffy from the tears he never shows. You frown, wrapping his hand in yours, keeping it close as you climb the stairs to your room.

He lets go of your hand as you both crawl into your bed, laying on your back to let him curl up against you. His face finds its way back between your neck and shoulder, and you can’t help the goosebumps that appear all over your body from his breath on your skin.

Neither of you say anything. Probably for the best.

You fall asleep in that position, Jungkook’s tattooed fingers mindlessly dancing along the side of your waist over your shirt. One hand tangled in his hair, softly massaging his head while your other hand rests on his forearm draped across your stomach.

For just a moment, you forget everything that’s wrong with this. For just a moment, it’s back before everything went to shit, and this was enough for both of you.

When you wake up the next morning, which was really a few hours later, you’re still in the same position. The only difference is Jungkook’s legs have tangled up with yours, and his hand found a way under your shirt, lightly holding onto your side. His touch feels scalding hot against your skin. The breathing on your neck gives you goosebumps. Your hands are still in the same position.

You’re about to wake him up when there’s a soft knock on the door before it slowly opens.

Ryujin enters quietly; her eyes cast to the ground like a child knowing she’s in trouble. You know that look all too well. It’s the same look Jungkook gave when he accidentally broke the bottle of one of your more expensive paints, letting it spill all over the floor.

Big round brown eyes, like a puppy pleading its innocence.

When she looks up, her eyes widen at seeing her brother wrapped around your body. She shoots you a questioning look, and you have no choice but to quietly whisper nightmare in hopes she doesn’t get it confused.

Her face softens with a frown at the realization of the word.

“That’s supposed to be my job…I’m supposed to be there for him when it happens.”

You sigh, your hand moving from his hair.

“We’re all still trying to figure this out, Ry. Don’t take it personally.”

“I’m not… I’m… I’m not. I just feel like I failed him. Like I failed you…”

“You’re not failing any—” You cut yourself off when Jungkook’s head moves, pressing his face even closer to your neck for a moment before his eyes open.

“Who are you talking to?” He mumbles, still half asleep. His voice is low and husky and it kills you that you have to ignore it, as well as ignore the way his hand squeezes your side as he readjusts to get comfortable.

“Ryujin’s here…”

He lifts his head to look around the room, tired eyes landing on his sister. His fingers dig into your side momentarily as the siblings make eye contact. Jungkook finally lets go of you, muttering a soft oh, and pulling away from you and out of the bed.

“I’m gonna make breakfast…” he speaks softly, giving his sister a small hug before turning back to you.

“Thank you…for earlier…” you nod in response, not sure what to say to either of them anymore.

When he leaves the room, there’s an awkward silence in the air. Ryujin’s gaze is locked on where her brother was just laying and yours is on her, trying to figure out what’s happening.

And then it hits you.

All the times she’d come over after a fight with another friend, a disagreement with Jungkook, one of the few fights with Kai, or just when all the pressures of life got too much. She’d crawl into your bed just like Jungkook did and wrap her body around yours and fall asleep in your arms.

You called it a Jeon Thing.

You opened your arms up hesitantly, second guessing if that’s what she’s thinking of. But you didn’t have to wait too long before her eyes lit up a little and she’s hurrying to crawl in next to you, replicating the position Jungkook was just in, except her head rests softly on your shoulder and the hand across your stomach is playing with the fabric rather than touching your skin.

You stay completely still, still terrified of her explosions. But they don’t come, instead she sniffles.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmm?” You have to stay calm. Don’t give in too easily.

“I’m really fucking sorry, y/n”

“Be more specific.” You slow your breathing, making sure you’re not the one that explodes.

But maybe you should.

Ryujin buries her face in your shoulder before speaking.

“For everything. Being horrible to you. Blaming you. Saying the shit that I said…”

That’s it? That’s the apology?

Jungkook’s words from last night loop in your head rapidly, and you’re speaking before you can stop yourself, sitting up and dislodging her, forcing her to sit up facing you.

“You accused me of killing my brother, Ryujin. My brother. The one fucking person I could always count on. The one person in my family that believed in me and encouraged me to do what I wanted to do. You called me a murderer. You said it should’ve been me, Ry. You said you’d rather I have died instead of Kai. You said that about your best friend. Me. Do you hear how fucked up that is?”

Her eyes well up with tears, yours already escaping like a pro, as she fists the blankets in her hands, scared to look up.

“I…I’m sor—”

“Ry, I’m terrified of you. You know that, right? I have to fucking sneak into our apartment. I changed my schedule at school to avoid you. I fucking went to the studio last night because I never want to come home. I stay with Yoongi a few times after group therapy until I think you might be asleep because, as stupid of a decision that is, it hurts less than coming home to my best friend telling me I murdered my fucking brother.”

Ryujin opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She continues pulling at the fabric of the sheets in front of her as you watch the gears in her mind turn, trying desperately to come up with some form of words.

This was always her weakness. Being told she did wrong, being told she fucked up, and there wasn’t some easy fix. One time in high school, she was so sleep-deprived from studying the night before a midterm, that she mismarked every answer on the scantron, thinking the answers were for the question before. When the teacher told her she had failed, she lost all ability to function, too shocked to speak. You had to talk to the teacher to find out what was wrong, begging him to let her retake it the next day.

But this isn’t high school. This isn’t a test she can just retake. There is no fix for this. The only thing she can do is accept that she fucked up.

The silence is deafening, save for the sound of Jungkook downstairs in your kitchen making food and the morning hustle and bustle outside. She keeps trying to speak, but it’s getting harder and harder for you to tolerate.

“Ry…” she stays frozen. “Ry, look at me.” You grab both of her hands, stopping her from potentially ripping your sheets. When she finally looks up, tears running down her face, you give her a tiny comforting smile.

“I love you, Ryujin. You know I do, and I always will,” you start, and she whispers I love you, too back, smiling through the tears. “Our bond is unbreakable, and you and I both know we will always be there for each other through thick and thin. But this? The things you said? Ry, I can’t just easily forgive you when you say sorry.”

“I…I know. But what do I do? How? How do I fix this?”

“You can’t. That’s the problem. This is something that only time can fix, and I wish that wasn’t the case. But I’m scared of being around you right now, Ry. Even right now, I’m afraid you’ll launch an attack and spew vile accusations at me.”

“No. I won’t. I won’t do that. Ever again.”

You smile, but it falters fast.

“I don’t think it’ll be okay until you take the initiative to get help. Talk to someone, Ry—a professional. And stop drinking so much, eat something, design your pretty dresses again, work on the showcase, and take time for yourself. It sucks, it’s scary, and it sounds miserable, I know. But until you come back to being my Ryujin? I can’t do this with you anymore.”

Her eyes widen, hands gripping yours.

“What does that mean?”

Suddenly it’s hard to look at her. You’ve been sitting on this decision for a while but didn’t think you’d ever have to make it officially.

“I think it might be better for us both if I move out for a bit…”

“…no”

“Ry…” she shakes her head repeatedly. “We need to figure this out separately. I can’t baby you into getting help. And you can’t deal with me and my bullshit while you’re trying to heal. I’ll still be here when you need me. I’ll be here if you need help with your project. I’m not leaving, leaving. I could never leave you. You’re my person.”

“But where are you gonna go?”

“I…don’t know. Maybe the studio?”

“But there’s no shower there.”

Fuck. There isn’t.

“What if you stay with Jungkook?”

Your face heats up at the idea of living with Jungkook, but your stomach drops at the idea of being so close to Kai’s stuff.

“I don’t think I can…”

“He’s miserable, you know.” Her voice softens, and her hands move out from under yours to be the ones holding on this time.

“I think he’s afraid to be alone. He hasn’t talked about Kai unless someone starts the conversation, but he shuts it down fast. He’s so focused on you that I don’t think he’s realized how much help he needs. Maybe staying with him can help.”

“I didn’t ask him to focus on me.” You try not to sound defensive. She knows that, choosing to ignore the tone.

“We both know he didn’t choose to. It’s a part of who he is. You are a part of who he is, no matter what.”

Are you, though? Or is he a part of who you are? He could replace you so easily if you just let him go. You know that. He must know that. Maybe that’s why he wants you to tell him to move on. That you and Yoongi are a thing.

He wants to replace you with anyone who makes him less sad.

Anyone but you.

“Hey,” Ryujin’s voice cuts through your thoughts, your eyes looking up at her in a panic. “I see where your mind is right now. Stop whatever it is you’re thinking.”

“But—”

“I don’t care. Whatever you’re telling yourself to make yourself think he wouldn’t want to have you by his side every moment of every day is a lie, and you know it.”

You don’t respond, mind running a mile a second, and all you want to do is go back to sleep.

“I…I understand if you feel you need to move out and get some space from me temporarily. I would never hold that against you, y/n. But please go with someone I know so I can know you’re okay. What even is a Yoongi?”

Your body freezes at his name. Of course she doesn’t know Yoongi. Of course she doesn’t know you’re sleeping with someone from group therapy. Of course she doesn’t know you went to the studio with him last night and fucked on your couch while you only thought about Jungkook.

“A mistake. I think…” your gaze stays focused on Ryujin’s hands holding yours, eyes burning from the tears threatening to return for the nth time.

“Y/n…you’re doing it again, aren’t you?” She’s careful not to sound judgmental, but you can still feel it.

“No. No. I’m…I’m not.” You shake your head, shutting your eyes tight. “I’m trying not to. It’s just sex. But last night…I fucked up. And then you called. And then we argued. And then Jungkook…”

She stays silent, and it drives you crazy that you can’t read her mind.

“I’m gonna end it with him. Whatever it is. I can’t…keep doing this. I’m tired, Ry. I’m so fucking tired.”

“I know, babes. And I know a good amount of it is my fault, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

You try to speak, but nothing comes out as her thumbs rub back and forth on the back of your hands just like Jungkook was doing last night.

“What if I temporarily move out instead? You stay here. I’ll stay with Jungkook and stay in Kai’s room. You can stay here and try to heal on your own terms. It’ll be less stressful for you. You don’t always have to be the one making changes to your life for others, y/n. Let us make changes instead.”

You finally look up at her. Both of you have tear-stained faces, but she’s holding a smile that breaks your heart.

“Ry…”

“I’m doing it. I’ve decided.”

You smile back at her briefly.

“Are you sure you’re even ready to go in his room? I went to his studio last night and couldn’t breathe.”

She pauses momentarily, eyes on the ceiling as she thinks.

“I think…I think I’m ready. I mean… No one will ever be with something like this, right? It’s always going to be scary. It’s always going to hurt. Even the smallest task will sometimes feel like a punch in the gut, right?” She takes a deep breath, seeing you smile again.

“I miss him. I think being around his stuff can help me.” she quietly speaks.

“Yeah?”

She smiles, nodding. There’s something in her expression that is still broken. Something you must not know about. But you don’t question it. Everyone has their secrets. You tell yourself that she’ll talk about it when she’s ready..

She doesn’t let you try to dissuade her, instead getting off your bed and dragging you to the kitchen where Jungkook has put together a full breakfast.

He turns to you both, eyes widening at your hand in hers before looking at you.

“Everything good?” He asks slowly. You nod silently, letting go of her hand to grab a plate and scoot past him to pile some pancakes on with some eggs.

“Hopefully soon, yes,” Ryujin answers for you, looking nervously at her brother. “But I’m moving in with you for a bit. Until we figure out how to be, I guess…” she copies your moves, grabbing a plate and scooting past her befuddled brother.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“She wanted to move out to put some space between us. I offered instead. I’m going to stay in Kai’s room…”

“But…” he starts, but you interrupt.

“But we haven’t gone in there yet. We’re gonna do that tomorrow morning. If you want to join, we can do it together. Maybe it’ll help you, too.”

“Yeah, JK. Y/n said you’ve been having nightmares again. And I know you’ve been sleeping on our couch more than your bed. Maybe having someone else there can help you?”

Jungkook stares at you both, sitting on opposite sides of the table with the same amount of food on your plates. Neither looking at him. Both making decisions without him. He grips the counter with both hands, pushing down every emotion. You almost miss it when you look up.

“Jungkook? Are you okay?” You move to get up, but you hesitate, again, when he closes his eyes and nods.

“I’m fine.”

Liar.

“Don’t you have group therapy tomorrow morning?” He changes the subject back to you, an easy task for him. It’s easier to focus on you, Ryujin, school, work, anything and everything but himself.

Your eyes drop back down to your food, pushing it around.

“I’m not going.” You state, hoping he doesn’t question it further.

But of course, it’s Jungkook.

“Why not?”

Your chest tightens, your throat closing in on itself. When did it get so hot? Are you sweating? Is that your heart or your brain pounding?

“I don’t feel like going.” You try sounding confident, but your voice shakes, betraying you.

“Y/n.” Your eyes meet his, begging him to drop it.

“Jungkook, if she doesn’t want to go, she’s not going. Let her make decisions for herself.”

“I’m not telling her what to do, Ry. I’m trying to help her.”

“Sounds like the same thing.”

Both of you, stop. Please.

“It’s not, though. If she wants to learn to grieve and move on in her own way, that’s what she’ll do. You can’t control her.”

“Well, obviously, but—”

Snap.

Your fist slams down on the table, dishes rattling and silencing the room.

“Please stop! Both of you. Stop talking about me like I’m not here. I’m right fucking here. Right here.”

You’re so tired of crying, of feeling. It’s exhausting. Every single little thing makes you want to cry. It’s ridiculous.

“Jungkook, I’m not going. I’ll go to the next one, and I still have my regular appointment with Dr. Adams on Monday. But I’d rather help Ry, okay?” You wait for him to nod in understanding before turning to his sister.

“And Ry. He is trying to help. He’s been pushing me to do what I want to avoid, and I appreciate it. I’d still be curled up in my room if it wasn’t for him. So if he has to be pushy, it’s for a reason. Leave it.”

She nods, and everything goes silent.

This is why you need space.

This is suffocating.

“I have to get ready for class. I have to head back to the studio and pick up my canvas, so I need to leave in twenty minutes…” you get up from the table, rinsing the plate before placing it in the dishwasher.

“Thank you for breakfast, Koo. It was delicious.” You try walking past him, but a hand lands on your stomach, preventing you from leaving.

“Do you want a ride? You seemed more or less okay with it last night.”

You should say no. You want to distance yourself from everyone right now. You need to distance yourself. Everything is happening all at once, and you should say no, walk to the studio, and walk to campus.

But it was easier being in a car with him.

But you should say no anyway.

“Okay…I’ll get ready quickly.” You whisper, walking past him when his hand moves.

You hear the two of them whisper as you climb the stairs, but you’re too tired to care, so you slink back to your room. You grab your phone to charge it while you get ready, ignoring the notifications glaring at you as you plug it in and walk away.

When it’s time to leave, Ryujin is already back in her room, making a list of things to bring to Jungkook’s while he’s sitting on the couch, keys in hand.

The walk to his car is quiet. Getting in is just as silent, but he repeats the night before, grabbing your hand in his and holding it close to his chest through every intersection it takes to get to the studio. When he parks in his usual spot, his squeeze tightens on you, head lolling back against the headrest.

He looks nervous. He feels nervous. His hand is getting sweaty while his grip switches between a death grip and shaking, barely holding on.

“Jungkook?” You inquire softly, waiting for him to give some sign that he's okay. “Do you wanna come in?”

He exhales a small breath, shaking his head.

“I don’t think I can.”

You shift in your seat, removing your seatbelt and grabbing the hand wrapped around yours. His eyes find yours, and you’re right. He’s scared.

Is this how you looked last night?

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Koo. It sucks. The second you step into the studio, you’re back at the moments before finals. You go into his studio, and you fully expect him to be in there working his ass off on whatever assignment he has. But he’s not. And it’s like having to relive that night all over again. And it fucking sucks.” You sniffle, playing with his tattooed hand.

“And I know the last thing you want me to do right now is mention Yoongi,” he groans out a small laugh, and the corner of your lips twitch into a smirk, “but he made a good point, Koo. The longer you hold off on doing this, on going into the rooms, reliving the memories with him, talking about him, the more it’s going to hurt you.”

He sighs, closing his eyes. “I’m going to pretend he didn’t say that and that it’s just you being all wise.”

“Well, I am all wise. We’ve established this many times.” You both grin, enjoying the brief moment of normalcy before he agrees to go in with you. His hand never leaves yours, but this time you’re the one rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand.

When you both reach the the front door, you unlock it, letting go of his hand. You give him a second before he opens the door fully, letting him step inside first.

You watch him from the front door as he stands in the middle of the living area, eyes scanning every inch of the room. When he turns back around, facing you, his eyes cast to his studio room.

You can’t decipher the look on his face.

He’s so good at pretending to be okay that it makes it impossible to read him sometimes. He looks as if he’s dazed; his mind is far away from the studio to somewhere you don’t know.

“You good?” You hesitantly ask, taking two steps closer to him.

He blinks a few times, eyes finding your worried expression before offering a small smile.

“I’m okay. I need to get something from my room. A lens I need for class.”

“Oh. Okay.” You nod, expecting him to move, but he’s standing perfectly still. “Well, I’m going to get my canvas and clean up really quickly since I left abruptly last night…” you quietly walk to your room, turning to see him finally at his door, fingers hesitating over the pin pad before finally putting in the number and walking in.

You enter your room, your canvas still leaning against your old ones. Black and white still. Paints dried up on the palette, and brushes stiff as a result. You dump the brushes into a jar of water and the palette onto the desk, making a mental note to return later tonight to clean up correctly. You swear you see a hint of purple as you put the canvas in a tote after ensuring it was dry.

You turn and are greeted by the cat painting Yoongi was obsessed with. Should you still give it to him? Even if you plan on ending things? You don’t want it, and it would look good in a cat cafe. If anything, you could give it to the cafe directly.

God, you don’t want to talk to Yoongi. But you don’t want to ghost him completely. And before the sex, he was actually starting to be a good friend and an excellent partner in helping each other through your traumas.

You look at the couch, resisting the urge to deep clean every inch of it. Maybe a new couch. One that won’t make you feel dirty and wrong every time you look at it.

You have to apologize. And you have to cut ties with him.

You have to.

You’re just going to hurt him in the end.

You’re so good at hurting people.

You hear the beeping of a keypad, turning your head to the doorway before grabbing your tote, setting the cat painting aside, and leaving your room.

Kai’s door is open.

“Jungkook?” You softly call out, leaving the tote on the couch in the living area. You call out his name again, slowly approaching your brother’s room. Your heart breaks at the sight.

Jungkook’s sitting on the small couch with his knees pressed to his chest and his arms around his shins. His head is buried in between his knees, but he’s silent.

“Koo?” You try again, slowly approaching, moving some of Kai’s scattered papers out of the way, and sitting next to him.

When he still doesn’t respond, you stop trying. You’ll sit and wait by his side, ready to be there for whatever he needs.

The most important rule in helping someone grieve: never push them to grieve how you think they should. Just be there when they’re ready.

A mantra of sorts drilled into your brain in group therapy.

His body finally moves, his back rising suddenly as he takes a deep breath before slowly letting it out and raising his head. He doesn’t look at you, instead looking at the room he’s in. The same way you did the night before.

His face is flush, like he was forcing himself to hold his breath. His eyes are dry, and he looks exhausted.

“How did it go last night, coming in here?” He finally asks, head leaning back to rest on the couch.

You flatten your hands on the couch, sliding them back and forth to feel the texture. It’s a nice distraction to keep your hands apart and not claw at your skin.

“I had a full blown panic attack. Felt like I was dying. Like my brain was on the verge of exploding, and I kept hearing voices screaming, and I couldn’t see.” You let out a nervous laugh, keeping your eyes on the couch.

“Voices?”

“Uh…yeah. Like, like my own thoughts, but amplified. I don’t know how to explain it…I’d rather not try, honestly.”

“You don’t have to.” He whispers, a hand stopping one of yours and softly holding onto it.

“How’d you get through it?”

“Jungkook…”

“What?”

“Stop…doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

“Diverting. You already know the answer. When I say Yoongi got me through it, you’re going to say something about how I feel about him, and then we’ll fight. You know it’s always going to be you in the end. I don’t understand why you keep saying it’s so one-sided when it’s clearly not. It’s just messy and complicated right now, okay? I don’t want to have that scene play out again. Specifically not here.”

He doesn’t respond, instead, staring at your hand in his, his thumb running over your ring finger. Your eyes flick up to his face, jaw clenched tight and eyes sad. There’s no sparkle in them like there usually is, and you’re not sure how long they’ve been so dull.

How have you not noticed that?

“Have you allowed yourself to cry yet?” You hesitate to ask, but you have to. It’s been months since Kai passed, and you haven’t seen him cry since the crash or last night in his sleep. You want to be wrong. Please let him tell you you’re wrong.

“No.” His voice cracks as he shakes your head, and you can feel your heart drop with it.

“Koo. You have to let it out at some point. Or else you’ll be stuck and have those nightmares forever.”

You turn your body to face him better, bringing your entwined hands to your lap.

“I’m scared.” He shuts his eyes tight.

“Scared of what?”

“If I cry, I’m scared I’ll never stop.”

“Koo…”

And that’s all it takes for the dam to break, tears streaming down his face as he begins to sob. He buries his head back into his knees and lets the floodgates open. You do nothing. You don’t want to. You want him to finally let it out and focus on himself and his own grief.

So you sit.

And you wait. His hand stays in yours as he finally lets go of months of emotional trauma, stress, and fears.

You’ve only seen Jungkook cry like this once. It was after his parents divorced just before he graduated high school. He had so much going on, from finishing up high school to getting accepted to the same school as you and Ryujin. He had finals, projects, an internship, a part-time job, and a social life.

All at the same time as he watched his parents argue, his mother packing up her stuff and moving out the day after his graduation. It became too overwhelming for him. He pushed everything down as far as he could and pretended he was fine.

But you could see it in his eyes. Just like now, that sparkle was gone. He barely spoke, and if he did, it was about anyone else. He just focused on finishing the day and praying no one talked to him the entire time.

Until one day, you both went to a street fair to celebrate high school being over. There were a few booths with carnival games and one that let you break plates. You dragged him over, encouraging him to destroy some ceramic dinnerware and let it all out. He did, but after breaking a good handful of plates, it was as if something in him snapped.

You rushed him out of the booth, taking him to a darkened alley to fully cry in peace. He hated crying in front of others. He hated the idea of people perceiving him as weak. You’ve told him many times it doesn’t, but you still take him somewhere quiet and safe when you know he’s upset.

He cried in your arms in that alley for thirty minutes, finally letting you take him home and having him fall asleep in your arms.

You’re pulled from the memory when Jungkook’s hand pulls yours closer. You shift on the couch, wrapping your arms around him as he curls into your side. His tear stained face finds its home in the space between your neck and shoulder, his hands tightly grabbing at any part of you he can like you’re his lifeline.

In a way, you are, to him at least.

Just like he’s yours.

He cries in your arms for what feels like fifteen minutes, random words stumbling out of his sobs, followed by questions that will never get answered and wishes that will never be granted. You continue to stay silent, only ever whispering that he’s okay, he’s safe, and to let it out. Every now and again kissing the top of his head when he grew silent, clutching him harder when the sobs returned stronger.

Somewhere in the living room, your phone rings. You ignore it.

Not right now.

It rings again. You bury your face in Jungkook’s messy curls, focusing on the smell of his conditioner instead.

Please stop.

On the third call, Jungkook lifts his face from your neck just enough to look at you.

“You should get that.” His voice is a hoarse whisper. Your hand softly cradles his cheek as you shake your head.

“Nah. My top priority right now is making sure you’re okay.”

He smiles. It’s broken and weak, but it’s there as he pulls away from you, sitting up straight and rubbing his hands across his puffy face.

“I’m okay.” He mumbles behind his hands, “I’m puffy and probably need to rehydrate. But I’m okay.”

“We can wrap an ice pack in a towel to reduce the puffiness. And there’s water in the fridge, I’m sure.” You mimic how he sits, brushing some of his hair out of his face.

“Mmm. We should do a spa day. Once you and Ry are a little better, that is.”

“I look forward to it. Full on facemasks and mani/pedis.” It's a soft whisper. You do genuinely hope there will be a time when you three can go back to normal. Or as normal as you can without your brother.

“You sure you’re okay, Koo?” He nods, but you shake your head. “I need you to promise me you’ll stop blocking everything out. We’re all hurting. We’re all scared of a future without him. We’re all going through this together. You don’t have to always try to be the big brave hero.”

“But then what am I? I feel like I need to be something or do something so I’m not…so I don’t—”

“Remember that he’s gone?”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes dancing around his best friend’s studio where he’s spent countless hours pacing the floor while Kai was at his desk or on the couch talking about complete nonsense, complaining about Ryujin or ranting about your latest relationship failures.

“Yeah…” his head drops, eyes falling to the floor in defeat. “I just want to forget. Focusing on anything else helps with that.” You stop yourself from reaching out to touch him again, instead placing both your hands on your lap, twiddling your fingers in place.

“Jungkook?” You tilt your head to the side, eyebrows knit together as you focus on your hands, carefully forming the words in your brain before speaking again.

“Kai’s gone. He died. I was there. I held his hand as he died. So, I understand wanting to forget that he’s gone and distracting yourself from remembering. But I relive that moment every day. I don’t have that same luxury you do of being able to forget. I wake up every morning thinking this is a sick nightmare and that he’ll be on the couch or in the kitchen stealing our food. But then he’s not. And I have to remember what it felt like to hold his hand for the last time. I have to remember watching them take his body away.”

You don’t even realize you’re crying until the feeling of Jungkook’s hands holding yours makes you flinch, causing the tears to fall on them.

“So please, please, understand what I’m saying when I say how lucky you are that you have that option to forget, but also how ridiculous and rude it is to Kai to want to forget that he’s gone.”

“Y/n…that’s…I would nev—”

“He was your best friend, Jungkook. He always will be in a way. He would've been your brother-in-law once he and Ry got married. Don’t do that disservice to your best friend by trying to forget that he died. Forget the fights, forget the disagreements and all the bad moments you had with him. That’s fine. But don’t forget Kai, okay?”

He remains silent, lips shut tight, and eyes watering again. But he nods, squeezing your hands with his as a quiet okay escapes his lips.

Your phone rings a fourth time, and you groan, letting go of Jungkook’s hands and getting up. You stomp over to your phone and glare at the screen.

Mother (7) Missed Call

Mother (12) Text Message

Father (1) Text Message

Yoongi (3) Text Message

You put your phone on silent, slipping it into your backpack all the way at the bottom.

The door to Kai’s room closes, and Jungkook appears behind you.

“Was that Yoongi?” His voice carries no negative tone for once, no malice or anger. You shake your head, picking up the canvas tote that’s quickly taken away from you by Jungkook.

“My mother…” your voice trails as you watch him walk towards the front door. He grimaces in your direction when your feet finally catch up to him.

“Gross.” He steps out of the studio, letting you lock the door. You both silently head down the elevator and back to his car, where he waits until you both have your seatbelts on and your hand is back in his when he pulls out of the parking space.

“What does she want now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. Probably asking when I’m gonna come back home and get a real job now that they’re left with the lesser child.” You scoff, eyes on the road.

“That or she already wants me to make plans for Christmas. Which I don’t want to think about at all.”

Jungkook smirks, bringing your hand to his chest at a stop light. It takes you a second until you realize you’ve made it several blocks without your heart rate skyrocketing. Your eyes have been watching every car just like last night, but it feels less stressful.

Because it’s him. It’s always him.

“Why is it always you?”

“Hmm?” The light turns green, and he steps on the gas. The feeling of panic is still there. But you’re able to push it back down. You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t question you further as he pulls into the school’s parking lot.

He exits the car first, helping you out next and putting your canvas tote on his shoulder. His hand finds yours again as you both walk to the art building in silence.

“So when do I get to see the painting?” He questions, handing you the tote.

“At the showcase.” You smile at his pout.

“But that's months away.”

“Exactly. I don’t think I want anyone important to see any of it until then. It’s hard enough that I can’t see the colors right now. I don’t need other people seeing whatever mess I’ve made.”

“I’m sure it’s beautiful. Just like everything you create.” His hand squeezes yours, and you smile at the feel of his hand wrapped around yours. Your safety blanket.

“I can’t wait to see your showcase next year. It’s gonna be great. You should use that one photo you took when we all went on that hike and saw all those stars.” You grin, the memory is still so bright and real in your mind. The meteor shower you wanted to see so badly that you convinced the three of them to hike up a mountain with you just to see it.

“You and that damn mountain. You bamboozled us.” Jungkook groans.

“Excuse me. You said you had fun and would do it again!”

“Only if you wanted to. And had a better reason. And without Ryujin. She complained the entire time. Even Kai was getting annoyed.”

“Okay. We’ll go back, just the two of us, the next time there’s a good meteor shower.”

“It’s a date.”

You nod, but don’t respond. That phrase suddenly has such a bigger meaning than it did before. Instead, you focus on climbing the stairs to the third floor and approaching your classroom. His voice eventually breaks you out of your racing thoughts.

“Do you want a ride home tonight?”

“I need to actually clean my brushes from last night. So I’ll be at the studio. Besides, isn’t your last class later than mine?”

“Fair. I can come get you after? Or bring food?” Your silence makes him panic, “or not. I just hate the idea of you out on your own so late…that’s all. I’m not trying to control you or anything.”

“No, no. I get it. Yeah. Come by after class. That’s fine. I just. I don’t know. Sorry.” You shake your head, gripping the straps to the tote. Confused, Jungkook opens his mouth to ask you to clarify what you’re saying, but the sound of his and your name from down the hall stops him.

Your eyes find the source of the shout and land on Joshua and Jimin. Joshua glances down to your hand in Jungkook’s before shooting you a smirk. You let go out of instinct and readjust your grasp on your tote with both hands and avoid how Jungkook looks at you.

“Hey, Jimin. How’s your second to last year so far?” You smile at him. His face flashes from confusion towards Jungkook to the same friendly smile you have towards him.

“It’s great! Frustrating moments when my equipment decides not to function, but that’s expected. How—, uh, how’s your painting?”

You can’t blame him for sounding hesitant. You haven’t seen Jimin since the funeral, and with the way everything that happened that day, you’d be treading lightly too.

“It’s…going. I’m trying to change the way I paint. I’m not excited about the showcase, though.”

“Oh, yeah. Taehyung’s been going on about it. You two have a lot to do, huh?” You smile at the mention of his boyfriend, missing the nights you’d invite them out to drink with the rest of the sQuad.

“Yeah. I’m not sure how to get it all done in time. But I can’t wait to see what Taehyung does.”

He smiles in return, and it’s suddenly awkward. You don’t know what you’re supposed to say next. Jimin looks just as lost, and Joshua is on his phone. Jungkook sniffs for the sake of making a noise.

“We should go out to that karaoke bar again soon.” His voice breaks the silence, the three of you looking up at him.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Joshua chimes in, “but first, we have a class that starts in forty-five seconds. See ya, friends.” He grabs your wrist, spinning you around in the direction of the classroom, dragging you with him.

“Shua, class starts in ten minutes. Not forty-five seconds.” You whine as he sits you down in your seat, sitting next to you after going across the room and coming back with two blank canvases, setting one on his easel and the other on yours.

“I know. But I needed to get you away from Jungkook so you could tell me why y’all were holding hands.” He grins, turning to face you once his stuff is set up.

“This isn’t elementary school, Joshua. We can hold hands without it being anything.” You glare at him, slowly pulling your tools out of your bag, and placing them neatly on the table next to your easel. You grab a second easel, a much smaller one, and place it next to the big window.

“While that is true, y/n, it’s you and Jungkook. Everything either of you do with one another means something. Always has been, always will.”

You look down at your canvas tote with a frown. He’s not wrong. That’s how you two are. Every action, every sentence, every thought. It all means something. Even if that something is meaningless to others, it’s the world to you both.

“I guess…” you sigh, opening the tote and pulling out your canvas. Suddenly very hyper aware others can see it as you set it down on the easel by the window.

“Oh, holy shit, that’s beautiful, y/n.” Joshua says, standing up to look closer, “the colors are stunning.”

“Are they…?” You squint at the painting. Some colors are just barely visible. You see the purple a little stronger, and a bit of what you think is yellow? You’re still not sure.

“Yeah, the way you blended the green with the—”

“No! Don’t tell me. I wanna wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For when I can see the colors again.” You grin, actually feeling hopeful for once. Joshua smiles back, patting your shoulder and sitting back down. Before Joshua can question further, Professor Varon walks in exactly as class is set to begin.

“Okay, everyone! Let’s get to it! The first week is done, and now down to serious business!”

The class goes by so fast you’re not even sure you registered any information in your brain. You spent too much time glancing between the professor and your finished painting. At one point, while walking the room, he stopped by you, eyes on the finished piece as he asked you to stay after class.

Joshua packs up his stuff, saying goodbye to you with the promise of getting together for clothes shopping in a week or two. Professor Varon makes his way to your seat next to the big window once everyone is out.

“So, how was the process?”

“The what?” You look up at him, his eyes still on the painting. “Oh. Uh, shit? Yesterday after I left I went to our shared studio for the first time…”

How was that only yesterday?

“And how’d that go? Being in a place you used to spend a lot of time with him in?”

“Horribly?” You let out an exasperated laugh, “I went in his room, had a panic attack, made a horrible decision, woke up, sat in his room talking to nothing, and then finished the painting.” He gives it a beat of silence before he smiles.

“So it sounds like it went pretty well.” You both laugh as you slowly put your stuff away.

“I guess so. It felt good painting…I just kinda zoned out for a few hours, and when I came back, it was done more or less.”

“And what about the colors?”

“Joshua said there was green in it. I can kind of see purple, and I think there’s yellow. But I’ve decided to stop straining to see it.”

“That’s a good idea,” he smiles at you, “just keep painting, y/n. You’ll see it again.”

“Thank you…I’m trying.”

“That’s all you can do sometimes.” He shrugs, walking back to his desk as you put the canvases back in your tote. “And put that one in your showcase. Everyone should see it.”

Hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think, any ideas on where it’s going or any questions. The next chapter is Ryujin’s POV and oh boy is that not gonna be fun to write. 😖

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