A silly little thing, I am weak for Found Family Tropes or any kind of Family Feels lmao JUST LET THEM BE HAPPY AND BE THE TEENAGE DISASTERS THEY REALLY ARE HHHHHH-
Aleksandra "Sasha" Alexeyev and Astrid Rundström are characters of my own creation and therefore the only thing I take credit for.
Warning for copious amounts of swearing and suggestive humour!
[Crossposted on my blog]
[more info below]
a loud house
It was almost ironic how time seemed to slow down when disaster was about to happen – infuriatingly more so, when you can't prevent the said disaster in time. So, with a painful sounding thump!, Bryan slid another few inches forward on his belly over the wooden floorboards, arms outstretched as the expensive looking ming vase shattered into, what he felt like, a million of pieces. He could even feel the impact on his very finger tips, it made him both angry and irritated because oh fuck, that particular vase was Boss Lady's favourite.
They're so dead.
"We're so dead," he muttered horrified, wide eyes still glued to the pathetic heap of shards in front of him. Behind him, Spencer made a sound between a terrified squeak and pained groan. The two teenage boys proceeded to look at each other with various levels of fear and Bryan was sure, Spencer's face journeyed through the entire stages of grief in a span of 10 seconds. He would've laughed if he wasn't so hellbent on trying to convince himself that all of this was a fucked up nightmare – Boss Lady will ground their asses well into the next century.
"What was that sound?"
Speaking of the devil. They had to act quick if they wanted to keep their generous outdoor life privileges, so Bryan quickly heaved himself onto his knees and hastily tried to scrape the shards together, mindful of the sharp edges. He threw a panicked look over his shoulder.
"C'mon Spence! Help me, it was your fault anyway!"
To his confusion however, instead of helping him, Spencer's face went somber as the telltale sound of footsteps ascending the nearby stairs rang through the house. Slowly, Spencer backed away from Bryan, regret in his eyes as he shook his head. Bryan gaped at him.
"Spencer. Don't you dare–"
The blond stood within his room he shared with Ian, slowly closing his door, face hard.
"Long live the king, Bryan."
"Spencer, I swear– did you just quote The Lion King at me?!" Bryan hissed, "Spence– Spencer, get your ass–"
The door clicked close and he could only stare at the door in absolute disbelief – betrayed, in cold blood, by his very own brethren. Was this how heartbreak felt like? He couldn't mull over it too much when a shadow fell over him. Bryan cringed.
"Is that my favourite vase?"
Oh man, and he was really looking forward to that Friday Sale at the local Arts & Crafts Store.
Sasha lifted off the rattling pot lid, mindful of the hot steam emerging from underneath. She took a good whiff, smiling contently at the pleasant smell of food. Swiftly, she picked up the ladle she had put aside previously, stirring the contents in the pot. Attempting a taste, Sasha scooped some of the curry out of the pot, free hand clawing at the countertop next to her. After coming up empty, she furrowed her brows, finally looking away from the pot.
"Huh," she mumbled. Weird, she was sure she left the fork from before right there. Shrugging, she turned down the heat, checked the rice cooker and then opened the drawer where she put all her cutlery. There, she fished out another fork, only to blink, stunned, again.
Where did her wire whisk go? She could've sworn it wasn't missing before, she didn't even use it today. Now suspicious, she pierced a potato within the curry, blowing on it to dispel some of the heat before eating it. Deeming the curry ready, she went on to get the plates. To her surprise, when she opened the plate cabinet, she was greeted by the sight of the electric hand mixer.
"What on earth–" Sasha muttered, taking the utensil out of it's wrong spot, only to notice how much lighter it felt than normal. Then, as if on cue, one of the surrounding plastic shells dropped from its unscrewed position, allowing Sasha to discover that the entire motor was missing inside.
A beat of silence. Then, she turned her gaze towards the ceiling.
"IAN!"
Snickering, Bryan took in Tala's dismayed look and the split lip the other was sporting. Meanwhile, Sasha was busy brewing tea and fussing at the same time.
"I can't believe you punched that kid at the festival!"
Tala grunted, "He deserved it."
The woman gave him an unimpressed look.
"Well," Bryan drawled, "the guy did try to kiss Astrid without her permission, he had it coming."
"He deserved more than a punch," Tala grumbled further, leaning his head back against the couch. The Alexeyevs had decided to visit the local festival for a fun day and a chance to meet up with one of Sasha's former daughters, Astrid Rundström, a sweet but incredibly shy young scandinavian woman, who had left the household to attend her scholarship at a prestigious art school abroad. She had been the first 'sibling' the boys had met, and though the woman towered over almost half of them, her personality was meek but kind. And despite initially low-key teasing her constantly how her looks didn't match her character, Tala had taken an incredibly protective stance on her – sure, the other boys did too, Ian was even ready to deck the guy at the festival after Astrid had broken into a fit of anxious tears, but Tala had always been the one to fend off unwanted attention.
"So you just break a guy's nose?" Sasha's voice brought him back from his reverie.
"He also lost a tooth," Bryan informed unhelpfully her, which earned him a scornful glare from Tala. Realising his mistake, Bryan shrugged as if to say 'my bad' and ducked out of the living room, back outside.
The traitor.
Tala heard Sasha sigh and he watched how she craned her neck to look out of the window – no doubt trying to see if the others were still outside. Spencer and Ian had taken up the task to calm Astrid down, the youngest pelting a joining Bryan with snowballs in an effort to make Astrid smile again. The redhead prepared himself for a long lecture, when a small bag of special festival-only dried chocolate-covered strawberries was shoved under his nose. He looked up to see Sasha grinning down at him.
"Don't tell your siblings, Pretty One," she said, winking, "good job on that jerk."
Tala snorted, taking the bag and opening it eagerly – he had a taste of them before and they were absolutely delicious.
"You're so full of shit, Babushka."
He got another bag from Astrid later, who smiled down at him serenely.
"Bryan, you absolute piece of shit!"
Tala's screech greeted the entire family seated at the table in the morning as he came thundering down the stairs. Sasha, halfway through her usual morning tea, immediately looked up, appalled and ready to rip her second eldest a new one. That was, until she saw his face.
"Ay, Pretty One, what happened to your face?" she blurted out, causing the rest to finally turn around. Ian snorted into his cereal, immediately cackling loudly as he pointed at Tala, whose usual clear skin was now mottled with what looked like green paint. Spencer avoided eye contact altogether in favour of trying to conceal his twitching lips. Bryan, however, unabashedly grinned at Tala's misfortune while taking a huge bite out of his peanut butter-strawberry jam toast. Icy blue eyes immediately zeroed in on him.
"You," Tala hissed, "you did this!"
Bryan only shrugged, finishing his toast.
"Dunno what you're talking about, Red, but I hope that teaches you not spill juice on other people's sketch books."
"Oddly specific for someone who doesn't know what's going on," Spencer muttered behind his mug before taking a gulp. Sasha put her hands on her hips, ready for a lecture but Tala interrupted her as he leaned forward, glaring at Bryan with such ferocity, the other actually started sweating a little.
"I shall piss on everything you love," he threatened and Bryan would've laughed if he didn't know what Tala was truly capable of. Ian sniggered again.
"Kinky,"
Spencer choked on his drink.
"IAN!"
"Guys, this is a bad idea."
"Spence, you always think it's a bad idea."
"Yeah, because that shit usually blows up."
"Hey, you gotta sacrifice some things for innovation!"
"Well, your innovations always catch fire, Ian."
"Uh, no they don't."
"The automatic potato peeler."
"Self-serving coffee pot."
"Automatic can opener slash jellybeans dispenser."
"Oh god, that one was a mess."
"You guys are all shitheads, you know that, right?"
"Shut up, pipsqueak, and fire it up."
"Don't tell me what to do, Bryan!"
"10 bucks says it's gonna blow up."
"You're on, Red!"
"Oh, fuck off, guys."
"If you ain't moving, I'll do it myself then."
"I– wait, Bryan, no! That– ouch! That is very sensitive, you can't just–!"
"Eh, what could go wrong?"
"I really hate when you say that."
"Zip it, Spencer. Bryan, turn…whatever that is on."
Sasha sat at her desk in her workshop, sketching up a new watch design, when a sudden explosion shook her room. Not a minute later, a barrage of angry russian floated through her open window, followed by roaring laughter. She shook her head, chuckling slightly.
My, what a handful they are.
She left her seat, sticking her head out of the window.
"Boys!"
Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it – let me know in the comments!
FURTHER A/N:
This story has been crossposted on my beyblade sideblog, but because the whole thing somehow blew up my nice formatting, I decided to publish it here too so my readers can read the full piece WITHOUT THE UGLY TEXT BLOCK IT HAS BEEN REDUCED TO (yes, i'm still bitter).
My beyblade blog can be found under .com
Want to know more about Sasha and how she got involved with the Blitzkrieg Boys? Find her on my blog under the Bladerfile button (OC Tag) or under her individual tag sasha file.
QUESTION: With more space here – what are you're thoughts on making this a multi chapter/snippet collection?
Have a wonderful day everyone!