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ff66dc81b5ec45d4826d7f768e7ed702 | ['068ea2216453400e874f627922d3f25d'] |
1. A City of Fools
**Author's Note:**
> quick warning: there's implications of sex and some heavy things about witch burnings so please be wary when reading if you're sensitive to things like that
“You won’t leave, will you?” Todoroki looks down at Kaminari, at his innocent face and wide, golden eyes.
“I will do my best to stay.”
“Then I shall be fine, I will keep you safe.” Todoroki hums and runs his fingers through Kaminari’s hair. The magic that runs through his fingertips soothes his lovers worried mind, lulling him to sleep. “You are too brave, my love,” he murmurs, kissing the beautiful sleeping face.
~~
“Witch hunts are growing, Shouto, you shouldn’t be going out so much.”
Midoriya’s right, as usual, but Todoroki can’t bear to stay inside. He has places to be.
“I cannot stay here.”
“Then bring Kaminari here!”
“He has a life to live...”
Midoriya’s green eyes burn with passion, tears unshed, “and so do you.”
He knows he is right, but he does not stay inside. He will be safe, keep his magic indoors. He will not be murdered by the close minded fools running around he countries.
~~
“My love, it is dangerous, you shouldn’t be here.”
Todoroki sighs softly and places a kiss against his forehead. “I am alive, and you keep me safe, we have no worries,” he promises.
Kaminari shivers and pulls him closer, “I am a fool, don’t be like me.”
“If you are a fool you are the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen.”
“Compliments will not save you, should they catch you.”
“They will not.”
Golden eyes meet mismatched irises swimming with magic. “Don’t be a fool, please.”
~~
“You are not a witch.”
“So? I have money, let me buy things.”
The ash blond leans on the counter, “how’d you find this place, huh?”
Kaminari shudders as red eyes peer into his soul, “I followed the magic trail.”
The eyes narrow. “Then we aren’t safe here. Don’t come here again, we will be gone.”
“The staff, sir, let me buy it.”
There’s silence, a foot tapping thoughtfully. “Let him but it, if it kills him it kills him, it is not our problem once it leaves our hands.” Kaminari cannot see the speaker, but he can hear the strange tilt of the voice and the avian screech at the end of his sentences. He does not _want_ to see the speaker.
“...fine, pay now and I’ll give it to you.”
Kaminari drops the small pouch of his savings on the counter. The blond takes it and slowly counts the money.
“There’s enough.....” Kaminari nods once, murmuring his thanks as he takes the staff. He tucks it into his cloak and pulls up this hood. “Don’t be a fool, kid.”
Kaminari glances back, “I won’t be.”
~~
“You’re a _fool!”_ The snarl rips into Todoroki’s heart. Bakugou stalks forward, finger jabbing at his chest with the furious authority of a sharpened sword. “You could’ve killed all of us! Me, Tokoyami, Yaoyorozu! We could all be dead because of your little stunt!”
He knew he was wrong, but he didn’t regret it.
“I will not choose between you and the man I love!” Todoroki thunders, anger being the only language Bakugou seemed to understand. Strong arms crossed and a sharp face screwed up as though holding back tears.
“You already have.”
Bakugou stalks away furiously, and Todoroki watches him go silently.
~~
“They’re angry with you, your family... Is it because of me?”
Todoroki sighs softly, curling closer into Kaminari’s side. “It’s my own fault, you have nothing to be blamed of.”
The blonde smiles softly, “you’re too kind, my prince.”
He chuckles softly, “call my something else, my love, for I am no more a prince any more than you.”
“To me, you will always be a prince.” The love in those golden eyes feels malleable. He rises slowly, pressing a kiss to awaiting lips.
“Come, let me show you my admiration for you.~”
He chuckles once more, following his lover to the bedroom. Worries could wait for another day.
~~
“You must be Kaminari, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The blond shrinks away from the door, “who are you? What do you want?”
The little witch fidgets, “I apologize.” He holds out a hand pleasantly, “I am Midoriya, a friend of Todoroki.”
He looks over the newcomer, his black hair and green garments. He looks earthy, and definitely not pure human.
“Wait here,” he says, shutting the door. Midoriya makes no moves to open it. Kaminari walks further into the house, “my love, someone is here for you.” Todoroki rises slowly from the makeshift bed they’d fashioned on the floor. The waning sunlight lights up the blond in his hair and makes him look more angelic than ever.
“Who?”
“Said his name is Midoriya.” Todoroki’s expression is troubled, but not distraught or angry. Kaminari presses a kiss to his furrowed brow.
“Peace, love, all is well here.” He smiles and returns the kiss before going out to meet Midoriya.
~~
“Kacchan is furious with you, I’ve never seen him so upset,” Midoriya mumbles, feet kicking softly in his chair. The bartender watches them with narrowed eyes.
“I do not regret my actions.”
Midoriya sighs. “I know, ‘Roki, I know. But you can’t stay away forever, come home. Make things right with Kacchan, please..”
“Bakugou made it clear that I am not to return.”
“That’s not true!”
“Don’t lie to me, Midoriya!”
The shorter witch flinches back, accustomed to spells flying with harsh words. A pang of guilt squeezes his heart.
“...I would never lie to you, you know that, don’t you?”
Todoroki can only sigh as he rises from his seat. The bartender only stares more intensely. | 56c7e0d22347410ea68358813f94ae97 | ['068ea2216453400e874f627922d3f25d'] | When Bakugou woke up he was in a forest he didn’t recognize, blood seeping from wounds he didn’t remember getting. A few feet from him, a large body slumbered: human in shape, but unnervingly red. He scans the trees, mind racing and searching for any other signs of people, friend or foe. He forces himself to his feet, muscles fine but skin aching. Blood drips down his cheek, a cut not scabbed over on his temple.
“What the fuck,” he mutters, wondering how there were cuts on his chest, under his pajamas. The slumbering form twitches, a low pitched grumble coming from it. Bakugou readied his hands, pleased to find his quirk in effect still. He wasn’t defenseless at least, even if he was confused.
“Katsukiii,” the form mumbles. “Don’t set the forest on fire.” The body rolls over, sleepy eyes cracking open. The shapes began to be less of a blob, the red becoming hair and eyes and _scales_ dotting the skin.
“Who the fuck-“ Bakugou begins. He cuts himself off as the body stretches. “Kirishima?”
Kirishima’s eyes open wider, faster, more alert. “Eh? I do something stupid last night?” This scaled version of his friend looks at him, frowning. His eyes scan him, like Bakugou were the weird one. “What are you wearing..? And did you get smaller?”
“Oi- What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”
Kirishima rises, hands up as Bakugou lets out a small boom. “Katsuki, What the hell is going on?”
“Yeah don’t call me that you freak,” he snaps, face feeling hot. Kirishima opens his mouth but says nothing as a second familiar voice rings in the trees.
“Kirishima~ Brat King!~ I found breakfast!” A light pink girl joins them, a dead rabbit in her hands. She too is bloody, cuts along her arms and shoulders.
“Mina, something happened to Ka- Bakugou. Something happened to Bakugou,” Kirishima says. He looks pained as he changes the name, face twisting.
Mina observes him. She’s not really different, but she seems to find a difference in him.
“He’s wearing a shirt, and doesn’t have his sword,” she says. “Also, he got shorter, he’s so tiny!”
Bakugou growls lowly, hands firing up.
“Hey, hey! We’re in a forest! Don’t blow it up!” Kirishima yelps, darting forward and grasping his hands. The blond rips them away, uncomfortable at the sudden touch and the way Kirishima seemed to know his mannerisms and where his hands were going.
“You think this has something to do with the battle from last night? Cause I was out before Kingy went down,” Mina hums, leaning close. She looks.. older? Her muscles were more defined, revealing clothes showing them off. Her horns were bigger too, eyes a little darker and irises a little more eerie. Kirishima frowns. His teeth seem a little too big for his mouth, horns curling from his head. He seemed taller and buffer as well. His hair was half up, falling from sleep. And, of course, his skin was covered in scales.
“I was too, the wizard hit me with a confusion charm when I was draconic, it hit _hard_ and it knocked my head.. he didn’t kill us, which is nice, but what _did_ he do?”
Mina drops the rabbit to the ground and licks the blood off her fingers. Worry didn’t seem to plague her like it did Kirishima. Bakugou himself found worry slowly rising in him. “Well, the wizard did talk a lot. Didn’t he say something about reality?”
Kirishima looks a little sick as he meets Bakugou’s eyes. He has to look down, which Bakugou wasn’t too fond of. “Does this mean... this isn’t _our_ Bakugou?”
~~
Kirishima had decided they needed to see an ‘expert’, whatever that meant. They began a journey, the red hued mimes of his friends explaining the world they lived in.
“I’m a demon,” Mina explains, grinning too wide with teeth too sharp. She gestured to Kirishima, “and he’s a _dragon._ ” It was all a little much to take in. Bakugou had stamina, but he wasn’t used to long walks like this, full days spent traversing the forest in search of some witch that could help them.
“We’re nineteen, well, Mina isn’t but me and you are here,” Kirishima explains.
“I’m fifteen.”
Kirishima frowns, one fang poking out of his lips. He looks... cute? Handsome? _Good._ The thought worries him. The trees seem impossibly tall, the path impossibly long. All he wanted was to stop thinking about the League of Villains and the pressing weights of chains and fingers on his neck.
“Here, you’re a king,” Kirishima says.
Mina laughs, “a runaway king!”
“What?”
“Well, your kingdom was overrun by a neighboring kingdom, they were bigger and sneakier than yours..”
“They poisoned you and your parents and left you for dead!” Mina adds, not shy.
“Mina! This is a lot to take in for him!” Kirishima scolds, bopping her on the head. He smiles apologetically, “the poison didn’t kill you, your mom fed it to you over the years and you built up an immunity. You fled into the forest to build up power until you could take the kingdom back.”
“And my parents?”
The two exchange glances.
“Your dad died trying to fight them off,” Kirishima says slowly.
Mina taps her claws together, “and your mom... well, she’s one of us now. She fell into necromancy and became a corrupted demon. She’s in hell, with the others like her.”
Bakugou quietly thinks that’s fitting. His father a warrior, his mother a demon. It sets something painful in his stomach, curling in on itself. He wasn’t prepared for this world, not even a little bit. Though he hoped that this world wasn’t ready for him either.
2. Lunch and Dragon Dongs
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Katsuki begins to figure things out. Bakugou goes on a trip. |
b1857c7eee114f18b0859994f823ae34 | ['06a0596126a048f3ad35faf2e13cb1c8'] |
Back in Black
**Author's Note:**
> Was I foolhardy to try this? Maybe? But hell, if I couldn't see two of my favourite characters bitching at each other, I would cry.
>
> This fic exists in a setting whereby Crooked Kingdom and Ruin and Rising take place at the same time. The Darkling is the one to bargain for Kuwei's life and not our beloved neighborhood pirate king. I imagine he returns to Ravka later that week to make his attack on the Fold and die tragically in Alina's arms.
>
> Until then, please enjoy my interpretation of the encounter that will never be!
Kaz hated surprises. Especially when they came in a tidal waves. There was no rest for the wicked and he was Dirtyhands after all. It certainly explained the hellish pulse in his bad leg and the exhaustion that pulled at his eyelids. He finally took the opportunity to rest his leg on an overstuffed ottoman when Jesper traipsed to the window.
He frowned. "There are guards outside.
"It's probably the stadwatch." Wylan answered.
"No you dont get it. It looks like they're wearing keftas." A bolt of electricity shocked the room, almost as if the air pressure had dropped.
Kaz took up his cane and hobbled to the window. Nina came to join them.
Several silhouettes stood sentinel at the breach of the hotel lobby. Kaz almost mistook them for comedie brute characters. They were indeed wearing keftas, a charcoal gray and muted against the smog of a Ketterdam night. The same emblem marked each one of them: a sun in eclipse.
Oh how he hated surprises.
"Saints. He's coming." Nina said to herself under her breath. She ducked away to leave and was struck by Matthias' chest. The fjerdan searched her face for answers while putting a nauseating amount of care into holding her shoulders.
"Those are his colours and his symbol" Nina breathed a constitutional breath and a pinch of terror entered her voice. "The Darkling is coming." her eyes darted back to the window pane.
"What? Why is the Darkling coming" Wylan spluttered. His hands wrung at the material of his sleeves as he took a turn to press his face to the window. If Kaz wasnt so tired he would have smacked Wylan just for levity.
"Same reason as everyone that came today, he wants a leg up in the race to Kuwei." Inej was beside Kaz again, stating the words in a calmness he wasn't sure he could possess at the moment.
"We gotta go, he could be here in seconds." Nina went for the double doors across the room.
Kaz's mind, now functioning only on the memory of sleep and rest, kicked into high performance. The stadwatch and the barrel had banned together; the pits of Ketterdam turned out its pockets to fight them. He had had Colm Fahey interview the highest ranking members of the merchers council. But apparently that wouldn't be the weirdest thing to happen. He didnt think this evening would end with the most powerful grisha on the planet stalking up to their hotel room while he was still covered in blood. The Darkling and the second army stood to lose the most in this auction. And Kaz had more than a hunch telling him the Darkling wouldn't stop at a no.
"Kuwei, go to the other side of the building, there is an out of use dumb waiter. Get in and hide. Don't move until one of us comes to get you." Kaz ordered the Shu boy who nodded and dashed out as fast as his legs could take him.
"Matthias, take Nina." Kaz snapped at the two steadying each other.
"Why?" Nina bit back, incensed. He rolled his eyes.
"Fine, Nina take Matthias and go to the other side of the building." he repeated sarcastically.
"Why?!" Matthias yelled back.
"Ex-grisha and ex-druskelle who have their hands in each other's pockets, oh yes, he's going to love that." Kaz mocked in a voice too high pitch to belong to either of them.
"I'm staying." Inej's declaration made him angry. She was somehow beside him again, vowing more than he deserved and more than he could stomach.
"No, he only needs to see me." He studied the curve of her mouth and the inkiness of her hair like a starving man.
"He is a monster and a dark summoner Kaz, he doessnt reason with others." Matthias warned, halfway out of the door with Nina.
"Ironically I still don't care about your Fjerdan bed time stories, go."
"I'm not leaving you to him." Inej had fallen into position adjacent to him.
"What should we do?" Wylan tried to cover up the unadulterated fear in his voice.
Kaz would not get the chance to rankle off at Wylan.
The doors to the suite opened and a dark figure walked in like night on fog. Silence fell on the six of them as they found the Darkling himself in their suite flanked by no doubt his most powerful heart renders.
His mind ambled to archive the Darkling into a category. He was no snotty merchling or mob boss. The closest thing Kaz could call him was a statue, a marble one and just as pale. The darkest corners of the world congregated to drape a simple kefta over his frame and a glare of pure quartz to match. Surety peeled off of him in waves with every step he took. He looked like his hair had never been mussed and carried himself like he never lost.
Kaz didn't care. He had been to the Ice Court and escaped. He beat and manipulated the grimiest of Ketterdam's horrors, and one goth peacock wasn't about to change that.
He was Dirtyhands, Bastard of the Barrel and he had a ledger of his own impressive sins.
Kaz took a step forward and cracked his neck for an entirely different beast of a fight. | 5e5cf3dc8bb04383a1869d6cc9b7e6e9 | ['06a0596126a048f3ad35faf2e13cb1c8'] |
The Picture of Walter Stricklander
**Author's Note:**
> EDIT: Thank you to the people who helped me identify the grammatical errors and spelling mistakes in the text! I was very tired when I ended up posting it! It should have fewer mistakes now!
>
> I love this show so much. And I am so happy that we got this romance, especially in season three. But it always struck me that there was a scene missing. It went from Barbara telling Claire's parents and Toby's Nana: "He tried to kill me son" to her having the idea to comfortably and comically beat him with a broom. While I am not one to complain, I wanted to explore how they got there. I feel like I didn't get the all out yelling match with messy feelings we deserved. So I decided to write it!
>
> I also took issue with Strickler telling Jim that he only came back to protect Barbara when there is literally a whole episode in season one dedicated to showing that Strickler cares about Jim.
Walter had worn many faces; and if Janus was the god of the Changelings it was a shame his namesake only invoked two. Changelings required dexterity of character after all.
In the incalculable years he had lived as one of the Impure he had shuffled his faces and personalities to better deceive and survive. One could call him an expert in keeping himself alive among his other skills. Keeping others and putting their needs first...well...it was not in a Changeling’s nature. Their marginalization wrote selfishness into all their destinies.
But he had no such excuses for what he had done for Barbara, he wasn’t a Changeling fresh in his stone flesh. No, he had worn this human face and evolved to match it for so long that he was a disgrace to his kind. He knew full well what he had done and why the blanket of tension between them was as thick as night.
The Nunez’s and the Domzalski grandmother were preoccupied with their newfound knowledge of their children’s nocturnal activities. Thus, they were far too busy to absorb the coldness with which Barbara had treated him, and how he bowed his head and took it.
The conversation in the living room was turning too heated. Mr. Strickler had been to enough parent-teacher conferences to know when to bow out for a breather. The moment he left the parents his shoulders slumped, his back sought support on the wall facing the basement door. Lamp light pooled from the living room entrance to barely reach the tip of his well kept shoes. He kept to the shadows, they were always a bit of a comfort, if not to think then to let the human guise down.
He could do neither at the moment, and not by choice. All he could think of were the children on a quest they absolutely were not ready for.
Again.
For a logical and, above all, scrutinizing mind Strickler was taken by the worry knotted in his chest. Even he convinced himself at time of his own heartlessness.
Contrary to popular belief: Walter Strickler did care for Jim Lake JR. He had always been his favourite student. Bular hadn’t chosen to jeopardize Walter’s ambitions with Gunmar over any mortal child.
Anxiety writhed like a fractious ball in his chest; it kept him in and around the crisis. Otherwise he might follow his base instinct to find a safe space and batten down the hatches. He pinched his eyes and wondered frustratingly if there was any coffee. Maybe Barbara would not mind if he made some for the lot of them.
Walter took a glance about.
No Barbara in the kitchen, hallway, or living room. Where had she gone?
A thought, but really more of an action, took root at the back of his mind.
It wasn’t his place.
It really really wasn’t.
He shouldn’t go looking for her.
Again, for such a scrupulous and smart man he did indeed commit a stunning quantity of stupidities where Barbara Lake was considered. It was hard to tell. His feet began to move at their own accord. After jiggling the handle the door to the basement the light definitely appeared on. The leather of his soles padded down the steps so as not to alarm a soul.
Memories of a blundered confession to Barbara raked at his nerves only to freeze completely at the sound of her voice.
“-I told you I cannot take a shift-I know that we are short staffed but-” Barbara could be heard suppressing a grunt. Peeking over the bannister Strickler caught the view of her red hair casting a halo under a naked light bulb. Surrounding the doctor was a painting area complete with upright canvases. The subjects were indistinguishable from this vantage point on the stairs.
He hadn’t known Barbara to be an artistically inclined individual? The information puzzled him, and as a naturally inquisitive person Walter made the apprehensive decision to take a couple steps forward.
“Look, I have always taken every shift you could throw at me in Emergency since I was a medical intern.” Barbara continued firmly to her opponent on the phone.
Walter ventured a few more steps until he hit the rough unfinished floor of the basement. “Rain or shine I was there. I think I’m entitled to a couple of personal days because I absolutely cannot make it.”
Her voice tapered off to listen to whatever inane remark was fired back at her. With as much disdain as humanly possible, she pressed the end call button. She hadn't noticed him yet.
Walter was glad she wasn’t looking at him. She paused at the sound of his breath catching. A moment nor a thousand could prepare him for the canvas staring back at him.
Nearly swallowing his own tongue, Walter took a shaking step back into the wall.
“BARBARA?” His voice came out cracked and raw. |
23d806291cf24996b657ac447498b1b7 | ['06b7d4342136483aa855867704d279ca'] | “Hey! Easy there Captain! There might be some problem at his end. Just tell somebody to check up on him or call his friends or something.” Came a deep, calm voice of her best friend Trafalgar law.
“I tried Law! I gave call to two of his friends I knew from his office, he has not been going to the office lately. He had a friend named Bluno who worked at the Bob’s. I called them, they said he quit the job the same day we left the city. I mean what the hell? He has this friend who has long nose just like Usopp, I tried calling him too, his number is just not reachable since four days! I mean, What the fuck is going on??”
“Hey! Don’t go on calling people long nose, you ghost eyes!” Usopp was uploading the information they had gathered so far on the Agency servers snapped at Jane after hearing the word long nose.
“Please Usopp! We have bigger issues to deal with than your big nose!!” Jane said clearly enraged.
“Hey!” Usopp backed off as he knew he was no match for the angry Jane.
“Hold it you two! Usopp-ya just check her guy’s number, trace it. I mean you can tell where is it! Big deal?” Law said shrugging.
“NO!” Jane yelled.
“Why not!!” Usopp asked making questioning face.
“That would get registered into our system and servers, Bro would see it. Last thing I want is the Bro noticing anything related to Lucci. He is already mad at him for the incident of 2 years back; he will kill poor Lucci if he finds out that I still date him like this. Why you guys think that I have always kept our people and our devices away from him? He is simple guy who works at a software company; I don’t want to make his life complicated. Plus it is not good, he would feel that I am spying on him. I trust him. I am just mad that he is not calling or picking up my call. I just wanna know if he is alright. That’s it!”
“So, that is why you won’t use the office cellphones. But things are not that simple Jane-ya! What if something really had happened to him?” Law said while checking the notification he was getting on his office cell.
“No. He is crazy strong. I mean he is stronger than all of us”
“No, He is not. He is way too thin compared to me. Now get your asses inside the car or I am gonna leave you here.” yelled the hotheaded Red-head! Eustass Kid thought that he was the strongest of all the field agents. He was insanely proud of his tall, tanned, very muscular, powerful and well-built body. He only acknowledged Shank’s and his bunch, Mihawk’s, Law's and Jane's Strength, rests were all just weaklings to him.
“I know him Kid, he is strong. He can beat you to the pulp, just try and fight him.” Jane said narrowing her eyes on Kid.
“Shuutup Jane. C’mon, I am bored of this place. We are leaving!” they rolled their eyes at Kid’s yells of ‘let’s go’, ‘let’s go’ and finally sat inside the car.
They all started their journey to the airport.
\---------------
**_In the car speeding away from Ohara_ **
“Relax Jane, if you don’t wanna track his cell and don’t want any of us to help, all you can do is to wait till you reach the city, complete the day’s task and leave the tower. Till then thinking like this and making your blood boil is not gonna help you know.” Usopp said worriedly to his friend Jane who was massaging her temple and had a scowl on her face.
“He is right Jane-ya. You know what? We already know him. Why don’t you bring him to the Vivi’s party next month? I mean none of us is going to tell Mihawk-ya. He won’t be there in our party. So, it’s safe.” Law said smiling and wanting to distract her mind.
“I don’t know Law. He is not a people person. I mean once you get to know him, he really great guy. But I don’t know if he would agree to come. I mean I have never seen him befriending others that easily. He only has four friends since all these years I have known him for.”
“Oh! You can get him do anything! Don’t ya! He practically comes at the tower daily to just have a coffee with you. I mean who does that for fucking five years? Just bring him at the Brook’s, I wanna see how strong is he!” said Kid.
“Yeah! Sure muscle brain!” Jane said smacking him on the shoulder.
\-----------------------
In the evening, after they reached the Grand line city, she completed the day’s tasks, reports and went to her condo. She took a nice bath to get rid of all the stress of the work her body had been handling. She had thought of going to Lucci’s place and find out what exactly had happened.
She wore a light gray t-shirt which actually was Lucci’s so was kind of too big for her and slim fit black jeans, she put a jacket to fight off the cold and put on her regular work shoes. She took out her dark green bike glows, black helmet and decided to ride a bike to his place. She locked her apartment with her voice-activated lock and then her floor which had a biometric lock which only opened for her, her brother and of course for Shanks.
She took elevator to the parking, started bike and went to busy roads leading to Lucci’s apartments.
She stopped seeing red lights of the traffic signal. She saw a man having green hair waving hands at her. She looked at his direction and nodded her head as if to ask what he wanted. | 5e7817486e894728acafc8ce984040ee | ['06b7d4342136483aa855867704d279ca'] | > Kiyomi and Byakuya finally figure out their feelings for each other and Byakuya confesses his love for her. Ukitake feels bad as he finds out.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Kiyomi's Soul slayers are reveled. Abilities would be soon revealed in following chapters. i really had to do lot of thinking and brainstorming for finding out names and the Japanese verbs and sentences to make them work you know!! :)
Kiyomi was happy to have a life of a shinigami, her days in Gotei 13 were as normal as that of her fellow shinigami. She continued training to achieve perfection in shinigami fighting skills. She was a good student and very hard worker. She had a few fights against hollows of her own in rukongai area to be proud about, she had showed no mercy to hollows and defeated them with ease, she even had fought huge hollow and won. Days in squad 8 were cheerful and she had become close friend of lisa, Vice-captain of 8 th division and also found a new little girl as a friend named Nanao Ise. Those three girls were like sisters, always together if not been separated by their duties. Kiyomi has been spending lot of time outside the mansion as amount of her work and number of her friends had increased considerably. Few things remained same though, she always found time for the close ones, Yoruichi san, Byakuya san, Kisuke kun, Soi fon, Soura along with Ukitake san and her Shunsui-nii-san.
**In squad 8 barracks**
Kiyomi had just returned from a two-day mission in the world of the living.
**Kiyomi’s POV**
“Kiyomi-san, you just have returned form mission, just relax a bit. You look tired. You can take the rest day off today! There is not much work as it is and it’s almost evening so no need to wright report now, you now” Shu-nii-san said , he was gawking at the wine bottle in his hand when I glanced at him.
“Thanks Shu-Nii san but it’s better to write reports when it’s fresh, I would just complete these and deliver them to _Sou Taichou’s_ office and finish my task one and for all.” I said while writing the report. ‘I always felt uncomfortable if some work is kept pending, it would keep me feel uneasy and I would never be able to relax if I keep it for later. It’s not my way of doing things.’
“Stubborn as always, aren’t we?” lisa-chan teased and we all laughed. ‘It is always easy when these two are around’, I thought.
I was writing the report and sitting on chair near my desk and Shu- _Taichou_ was sitting on couch in the reading reports I have written so far and lisa-chan was looking for a book in the book shelf near my desk.
Suddenly the door opened with soft swing and we all tuned our heads in the direction form where light and strong wind came through to find Ukitake-san entering the office without a knock. ‘He never does that, how come he just barged in! Something is wrong with him! He is always so polite and happy but he seems gloomy today! No, in fact he is been like this for a while now? Is he ill? Yeah! Definitely, he looks ill and pale’
“So, here you are Shunsui! I went to your office looking for you” He said in tired voice and then looked at me and smiled, it was forced smile, or at least I thoughts so,
“I see, you have return from the world of the living Kiyomi san, how was your first mission in The real World?” he tried to sound enthusiastic but his voice didn’t help it.
“It was good, living world is such an interesting place Ukitake-san. I really loved it and the mission was simple really. I did enjoy my stay there. Buy you, Ukitake san, look pale, are you all right?” I asked worried.
“I am fine dear; I just recovered from another of those sessions of coughing fits, no need to worry!” he said closing his eye while he talked.
“I don’t believe they haven’t found the cure yet! Why have not you tried to search for a cure in the World of living” I said, I was pissed. We had whole division of medical experts and he still was as ill and exhausted as ever.
“There is no cure, Just let it go Kiyomi san. I would not want to talk about it now. Please.” He said while walking towards couch so as to sit beside Onii san but stopped and looked at me when I said,
“Anyways, it’s really good that you came here Ukitake san, I was just going to visit you today after completing reports. Here, this is for you.” I took out the packet covered in green paper form the bag lying on my desk and holding it out for him to take. He came, took the packet and looked at keenly, “It is a packet of medicinal tea for you. I brought it from The world of the living, hope you will like it and it will help your lung condition”
“Thank you, Kiyomi san, that’s very sweet of you”
“I got a wine bottle and lisa-chan got bracelet, I wonder what would Byakuya get?” Shunsui Taichou exclaimed showing Ukitake san a bottle in his hand. ‘He acts like 2 year old sometimes, look at his expressions! Feels like he is a kid who had got a bag of candy!! And with all that innocence on his face he still manages to tease me! Why bring up Byakuya san’s name! Of course I would buy him a gift! That is but obvious; I did it for all my special friends! He is so special! He is …’ my thoughts were abruptly cut off by yet another taunt; it was Lisa chan this time. |
9267fda4c0c14257ba16c02e4bb237c4 | ['06dde7549e274330aa93308463fabcd5'] | _I think that you might just be paranoid. I mean, I thought I felt something weird too, but…_ Emily cut herself off as she realized Lavan was staring at _her_. The tall girl smirked, her blue-gray eyes glinting, and looked away. She leaned back in her seat and drummed her fingers against the table. If her partner was comically short, Lavan was awkwardly tall, her legs being too long for the desk she sat in. Her eyes spoke of some great amusement that Emily had a hard time placing, and there was something distinctively animalistic about the way her lips curled. It would have put her on edge if it didn't make her stomach churn first.
_No, no, they were definitely staring at us,_ Emily decided.
_I've seen clothes like that on Aldenmor. And Mica's ears are pointed! Should we investigate?_
_We should let Kara know first, just in case._
Of course, the distance between them and Kara was too great for them to just telepathically talk to her, so they had to wait until the end of class to actually contact her. The three passed each other in the halls, Emily and Kara in the halls near the lockers and Adriane and Kara near the cafeteria.
_There are two new magical potential-threats hanging around the school,_ Adriane reported.
_I know! The short one was like, totally staring at me during Geography this morning._
_Geography sucks._
_Yes, it does. Anyway, what do you think's up with them anyway?_
_Dunno. I don't think that they're warlocks…_
_What? Door locks? You're cutting in and out. I'll have to call you back later. Bye, Xena._
_Later, Barbie._
Walking into her Geometry class, she noticed Lavan looking out the window near the back of the room. Mica was reading beside her. Occasionally, they would exchange a glance, or Mica would grin as she read, but her face would always return to the default expression of vague guardedness. When Lavan glanced up at Adriane, the warrior was immediately put on edge. There was an odd predatory glint in her eye that made her seem like she fully intended to eat her alive.
_Hey there, warrior. I find your paranoia adorable, but I would appreciate it if you would stop glaring at Mica like that. Oh, and you can stop looking at me like I'm going to eat you. I don't bite._
Adriane started and scowled.
_Much._ Lavan smiled like she was going to laugh. She ran a hand through her short, unruly dark hair. It was messily tied back near the base of her skull, as if she hadn't really tried at all. She stretched and yawned, giving Adriane a sidelong glance. _You look so surprised! We're just mages like you, you know._ She pointed to a word on Mica's page and appeared to say something crass, as Mica promptly turned to her and flicked her on the forehead.
Adriane took her seat in the most nonchalant way possible, sitting on the opposite end of the room. She tossed an equally nonchalant glare to the other side of the room. Heather asked her what the answer to the last question on the homework was. As Adriane attempted to explain it, she spoke to Lavan.
_How do I know I can trust you with anything? You could be dark mages or something. Where are you bondeds? Stones? Where did you even come from?_ Adriane set down her pencil and Heather thanked her. Lavan grinned broadly, looking back at her shorter companion. She played with a dark colored shard hanging at the end of a leather cord.
_Oh, they're around…_ Lavan took to playing with Mica's long near-black ponytail, which hung from the base of her neck. A lazy smile stretched itself across her face.
Mica closed her book, looking both flushed and slightly annoyed.
_Lavan, I thought I told you it would not be wise to reveal ourselves here._ The girl's this time voice was soft, bordering on soothing. It was very different from her speaking voice. Adriane quirked an eyebrow and almost looked up in surprise.
_But she keeps glaring at you! And you and I both know that nothing good can come of her suspecting us all day._
_Even so, you can stand to be a bit more tactful. Teasing people at first contact is not the best way to earn trust._ Mica picked up a leather-bound notebook near her and went to go speak to the teacher at the front of the room. As she pointed to something on the page, she briefly glanced at Adriane. _I apologize on her behalf._ As she sat down, she turned to Lavan and said, "You got the formula wrong again. It goes like this…" Lavan scratched her head embarrassedly.
_We have to ask you mages something important. Is there any place we can meet you?_ Mica pointed at a few numbers as Lavan nodded. The two of them cast a glance at Adriane.
_I don't trust you_ , Adriane replied with narrowed eyes. She saw Lavan shrug from across the room. Mica looked at Adriane as the Geometry teacher walked to the front of the class and the late bell rang.
_We'll find you regardless,_ Lavan's voice teasingly. _There's only one portal in this general area, after all._ Class started, and Adriane couldn't concentrate on the mages across the room, what with the evil of Geometry happening.
She was still way too tired for this.
The second the bell rang, Adriane rushed out to find Emily and Kara. She found them both in the front of the school, talking to Joey, Heather, and Molly.
"We need to go to the preserve," she said, grabbing Kara and Emily by the wrists and dragging them away. Kara waved to Molly and Heather. | abb19a55cb494b01a07450ed4ffd31f0 | ['06dde7549e274330aa93308463fabcd5'] | "L-Lun Racht, Keeper sir!" He straightened his back and gripped his stave with a strong determination. Lilty though he was, Synelwyn liked his courage, and she gave him a quiet nod as she passed.
"Keep watch, as always, young soldier. Work hard so you may not have to join my caravan before your time."
"Y-y-yes sir!"
Synelwyn felt herself smile for a moment, then began her trek again.
Tipa was only a short time away.
_May the wind guide you; may the earth steady every step you take._
Tipa was known for its warmth. Its caravan returned each year with a smile, and its citizens were more diverse than any town she had ever seen. The crystal glowed from the center of town, and the people flourished like plants beneath a gentle sun and nourishing rain. Synelwyn had to stop herself every time she almost compared its brightness to the lost town of Tida.
A nightmare, even for a Keeper.
Today, it seemed the light had dimmed, and it wasn't because of the angry rain. Tipa, just as it celebrated, mourned more deeply than any other place Synelwyn had ever seen.
And even knowing that, Synelwyn felt something different about this welcoming of death.
"Ho, Keeper," Roland's tired voice hailed from below. Synelwyn climbed down from the driver's box and stood before the elder. She bowed respectfully.
"Greetings, Tipa's Elder. I came with haste, as usual."
"Indeed. We thank you for that as usual, noble Keeper. But perhaps this time, we would have wished for a stall in your arrival…more so than usual, I suppose." He grappled with a smile, but it came out as a grimace.
"May I ask why?" Synelwyn searched. A giggling Clavat girl fell at her feet, took one look at her, and scurried away again, laughter gone. Her mother embraced her and dragged her away, muttering something under her breath. Synelwyn kept her gaze on the elder before her, who looked smaller by the minute.
"We are having…complications with the body," Roland answered slowly.
"Any complication, I can fix," the Keeper said. "Please show me the body, and I will handle it."
"It is…not the complication you would expect, noble Keeper."
The Keeper suppressed a sigh. "Little surprises me anymore," she grumbled. A Selkie boy-child gave her a fearful, dirty look and stumbled away, pulling his mother with him. The Keeper shrugged her black-covered shoulders. "Show me the body, elder."
The old man's brows knit together and he sighed. "I am sorry for the inconvenience," he muttered. "It's been a difficult few weeks, you must understand…" He shook his head.
"Please follow me."
_May the fire of the soul fuel your fighting hearts; may the water of life nourish your noble spirits, just as it saves ours._
The body that lay on the cold stone table was Liltian. Though covered, some…parts stuck out, and she could see the way the sprout on the head was already withered. The room smelled distinctly of rotting vegetable.
Though she held some distaste for the Lilties, their bodies had always disturbed her the most.
A caravanner in life, she assessed from the doorway. She observed with a fascinated, nauseated gaze, imagining that tiny body swinging a lance, determined to retrieve another drop of liquid life. Now here it lay, drying and decomposing in the quiet dark. She breathed in and choked.
If she wasn't so fond of the taste, she never would have touched a food plant ever again.
A child sat next to the covered body, holding tightly onto the armored hand that hung off the table. The child's legs were drawn close to its chest, and stormy, red-rimmed eyes glared vigil out the door and into the eyeholes stamped into the Keeper's helm.
"Why," the Keeper said after a time, "is the body still clothed?" Roland's eyebrows shot up at this observation. "The child is of no consequence. It must simply let go."
"That's the problem," Roland said quietly. "She hasn't let go in three weeks, Keeper." The Keeper slowly turned to him.
"How has she eaten?"
"With one hand. Her grandfather has tended to her."
"Slept?"
"On the floor."
The Keeper paused.
"Used…used the latrine?"
"That…chamber pot over there, noble Keeper."
At this mention, she noticed a faint smell of urine. It was overpowered by the smell of plant rot, but still present. The child looked ashamed for a fraction of a moment before her stormy eyes became steel once again and her grip tightened. A chinking of armor bounced around the candlelit room.
The Keeper eyed the child. "It sounds like you enabled her, then," she said steadily. "She is a _child_. You could have withheld food for a day. That usually breaks their will."
"…We held out for two, actually. No food, little water. Her grandmother got worried and snuck some food in, and there the child was, holding onto that hand. Fal Iseul is a stubborn girl."
The child glanced at Roland when she heard her name, but said nothing. The Keeper tapped her fingers along the doorway.
"You could have tried brute force, then. Have you attempted to pry her away?"
"She bit them last night. The men who were summoned. One was looking for infection this morning."
The child seemed to bite back a laugh before shame flashed through her eyes again. She stared up at the Keeper, and the Keeper stared back.
Silver-blue hair with eyes the color of iron. A Selkie if she'd ever seen one. But a cropping of young leaves sprouted from the top of the little girl's head, and the Keeper was forced to assume that this child was, indeed, an odd Selkie-Lilty half-breed.
Which meant a troublesome temperament.
"Aye, she's a stubborn bugger," grumbled a tired voice. Fal Iseul seemed to look past the pair and into the darkness of the hallway. "You make all out lives harder, love." |
557aafa5a44a496ea2e67f9b8e723562 | ['06e0b208219249d483cfde5870c11ef9'] | Dan continues staring at Phil, but the adorable plush puppy in his face is demanding attention, and he doesn’t even notice how he starts running his hands through Yuka’s soft curly fur while she licks every inch of skin she can reach.
He digs his face into the puppy’s fur and takes a deep breath. She smells like warmth, and like a dog and a little bit of shampoo. It’s so good. So easy. So relaxing. He sees Phil gently petting Yuka as well and their hands brush each other in her fur every once in a while. Dan’s chest is getting tight and he is so grateful that Phil stays silent, because he’s afraid that if he opens his mouth a ragged sob would come out and that would be embarrassing, wouldn’t it.
After some time and some intense petting, Yuka settles in curled up under Dan’s side, cuddled up close to him, her breathing slows and she falls asleep. Both Dan and Phil continue running their fingers softly through her fur, and Dan looks up at Phil again. He’s too tired right now, but when he has the energy, he’s going to take some time to cry about how much he loves his partner at this moment, and in general. And how adorable Phil looks right now, with his quiff all messy, glasses askew and a soft smile on his face. About how Phil went out of his way and traveled somewhere to get a dog to cheer Dan up. How much he loves and cares for him. Not now, now he just wants to rest.
He carefully curls his lanky body around the tiny dog and presses her to his chest with both arms. Phil pulls away his hand and starts to stand, and Dan catches his fingers in his and gently squeezes them. He knows Phil will understand.
He lets go of Phil’s hand and closes his eyes. The soft breathing of the dog in his arms and the feeling of her body moving slightly and the smell of her fur makes him feel so comfortable for some reason. He feels his brain starting to fall asleep, and his limbs relax.
In the back of his mind he registers Phil turning off the light, and walking into the bathroom to shower.
By the time Phil comes out of the bathroom, puts on pajamas and climbs into bed, Dan is already deeply asleep with a tiny puppy in his arms.
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think!
>
> Come talk to me on LINK or click LINK to reblog. | 155e060ec18a4b278c616dedf89f13be | ['06e0b208219249d483cfde5870c11ef9'] |
With you in my bed
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> This is a gift for @templeofshame. Thank you so much for your support and endless kindness.
>
> A gigantic thank you to @insectbah for being an amazing beta!
2009
The grandfather clock downstairs just rang out 3 am and Dan is still wide awake. He was sure that all the excitement of seeing Phil again, all the hours spent breathless from making out and the incredibly exciting grinding session that took place right here in this bed just a couple hours ago would be more than enough to knock him out. But no luck.
Perhaps, one of the reasons he can’t sleep is that he still can’t fully believe that he is in Phil’s bed. That the actual AmazingPhil has invited him over yet again and is still genuinely interested in being next to Dan. It feels incredible, unbelievable and absolutely surreal. That the actual Phil Lester is right next to him, out cold and drooling a little bit, with his warm breath tickling the hairs on Dan’s neck.
Or maybe the reason is precisely that. That Phil is close. Impossibly close. He is pressing his entire body to Dan’s side and his hand is sprawled across Dan’s stomach, smushing them together even closer. In theory, it’s incredibly romantic. The person you are hopelessly and desperately in love with fell asleep holding you close, murmuring sweet things into your ear and clutching to you like you are the most precious thing in the world.
In reality, it’s horribly uncomfortable. Phil is heavy and incredibly warm. The parts of their bodies that where their bare skin is touching are uncomfortably sweaty and Dan lost feeling in one of his shoulders about an hour ago. Also, Phil’s breath is tickling his neck ever so slightly and it’s a little gross. The back of Dan’s knee itches and he would desperately love to scratch it, but moving would definitely wake up Phil. The knowledge that he can’t freely move around the bed is making Dan a tiny bit claustrophobic.
But at the same time, he thinks about how this must look. How the two bodies are intertwined with each other. This is cute. Romantic. This is how it’s supposed to be. And it is. If someone took a picture and posted it, Dan would feel so proud that it’s him Phil is crushing with his weight. It feels exhilarating to be in this position, in this bed, with this beautiful human being by his side… The side that has now totally lost all feeling and has probably started to decompose by now.
_This is literally the thing I’ve dreamed about for months_ , Dan thinks to himself, _what the hell is wrong with me? Romantic movies make this look so easy._
Dan tries to carefully pull himself from under Phil, but as soon as he shifts his body, Phil grunts and clutches to him even tighter. His black hair softly pokes Dan’s cheek and the part of Dan’s thigh that is pressed against Phil’s skin starts to itch terribly.
Dan sighs quietly, careful not to move too much.
_Do I even need my shoulder? I can live without a shoulder, right?_ he thinks to himself. He glances down to where their feet are tangled on the bed. It makes his chest hurt a little, and not in a ‘a six foot man is crushing my ribs’ way.
In a couple days he will have to take the train back home again. To his house where there is no Phil to suffocate him in the night. Or to laugh with. Or to snog until they both lose the feeling in their lips. He can sleep then. Right now, he just lies still and tries to focus on Phil’s steady breathing.
_I wonder if feeling so in love is something you can ever get used to_ , wonders Dan as he lies in the dark room and watches the light slowly creep into the window.
***
2018
“Fuck off,” Dan grunts sleepily, pushing away Phil’s ice cold hands.
“It’s coooold,” Phil whines, pressing his chest against Dan’s broad back and sliding his hands across Dan’s chest.
“Fuck Phil, let me sleep,” grunts Dan in a futile attempt to push Phil away. “I was almost asleep, you fucker, get your freezing hands away from me.”
“Mmmhmhm,” Phil murmurs, attempting to fully spoon Dan and sliding his hands down to his crotch.
“Don’t you dare put those freezing things on my dick, I’ll actually murder you,” Dan shrieks. He pushes Phil away harder this time, making him roll back onto his side of the bed.
It was pretty unusual for Dan to go to bed before Phil, but he spent almost the entire previous night playing Guild Wars and then had to get up early for a meeting with their management team, so the only thing he wanted right now was to go to sleep. He had gone to bed at an ungodly early hour of midnight and was almost fully asleep by the time Phil wandered into the bedroom and got under the covers.
“You’re mean,” mumbled Phil, and Dan could hear the frown on his face. Dan resisted the temptation to turn around and check how upset Phil actually was. He needed sleep. And that asshole knew that Dan couldn’t sleep cuddling anyone. He was expecting Phil to continue his attempts to spoon him, but none came.
There were a couple of minutes of silence, disturbed only by quiet breaths.
_Shit_. It was impossible to fall asleep wondering if Phil was actually cross. Urgh.
Dan rolled around to face Phil in their bed. Phil was lying on his back, hands on his chest and looking up into the ceiling. Dan could see that his eyes were open. He looked peaceful, slowly breathing in and out and silently twiddling his thumbs. The darkness of the room made it impossible to distinguish every detail of his face, but Dan knew it well enough to see it even in the dark.
They lie in the dark room like that for a minute. Or maybe five. It’s hard to tell because Dan is focused on the soft rise and fall of Phil’s chest.
Finally, Dan reaches his arm out, takes Phil’s hand off his chest and pulls it to his lips. Phil instantly turns his face towards Dan and even in the dark Dan can see how widely Phil is smiling.
Dan presses Phil’s cold hand to his chest, curls around it and closes his eyes. He can feel Phil rolling to him, gently kissing him on the cheek and then rolling back onto his back, but keeping his arm securely next to Dan’s chest.
_Marriage is compromise,_ he remembers Kath saying a couple of months ago, when Nigel was refusing to try out a new shirt. The memory makes him smile and he presses another gentle kiss on Phil’s knuckles and falls asleep.
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think!
>
> Come talk to me on LINK or click LINK to reblog. |
76eebb4aa14d449f81b053537d6dc4a7 | ['06ea81d56a964be1b4769274554165d7'] | “Liam” Zayn said seeing Liam’s eyes darken with lust as his grip on Zayn’s waist tightened. Zayn didn’t know what to do I mean he like Liam very much but he was dating Niall. He didn’t get enough time to think because Liam leaned to his ear.
“I know you want me Zayn” Liam whispered. Zayn whimpered putting his hands on Liam chest, but instead of pushing away he held Liam’s shirt.
“You know your bad for me right” Zayn said being honest because Zayn was not the one to like bad boys but Liam had a special effect on him.
“It make this a whole lot funner” Liam said before pressing Zayn more against the door fitting a leg between his thighs and kissing the innocent boy. Zayn took it without a second thought, he wanted Liam. Zayn kissed back just as hard feeling Liam’s tongue lick into his mouth pressing to his cheek then nipping at his bottom lip. Zayn moaned feeling arousal, because even though he had a boyfriend it had been a while since Niall and he had sex. Liam flipped Zayn around kissing down his neck nipping at the skin pulling Zayn’s arms behind Zayn’s body. Liam took of his own leather jacket from Zayn, flipping Zayn around yet again and pulling away. When Liam looked at Zayn he saw the raven hair boy’s lips swollen from the kissing and his hair was a disheveled mess.
“Why are you taking you jacket” Zayn asked looking at Liam, his pants were so tight abut he knew if it went further it would be wrong.
“Because baby, you get to keep it when I get to have you but right now you got three problems, the one in your pants, the one that your dating, and the last one that is keeping me away from you” Liam said winking leaving Zayn sweating, hot and extremely bothered.
_Maybe I like this roller coaster, Maybe it keeps me high, Maybe the speed it brings me closer, I could sparkle up your eye_
* * *
Zayn had been thinking all week. He had been thinking about three weeks from now which was his and Nialls anniversary. He thought about the fact that he was soon going to have to tell Niall that Harry and Louis decided to put a full time 5 am through 10 pm work shift giving free coffee to whoever comes, and he was going to be working it. He didn’t like the idea of having to work on their special day but he had to in able to keep the apartment. It was like a war within himself, one on side he felt like Niall would be sad about his having to work and would throw in some romance the day after, one side was saying Niall wouldn’t even care it’s not like he was planning something anyway, and lastly the side that was winning the one saying choose Liam. He sighed getting up to take a walk maybe go to his cousins art studio and painting. He got some new clothes on just a pair of black briefs and blue skinnies to match his pain white t shirt and of course Liam’s leather jacket. He walked out getting his apartment key and his cousin’s studio key and wallet. When he walked out it was a nice crisp cold air not too hot or too cold, Zayn loved this type of weather. I was nice to just walk through the night streets in New York, and of course it was also when danger came to its highest.
At night in New York there was not much people walking in the city and Zayn was happy about that because it let him breathe a little easier and think a little better. As he walked in the cold he could hear the Cars in the midnight honking, speeding, driving, and then he could hear the wind the way it moved the decoration trees and filled the empty noise. He could hear the flicker of a lamp post and he loved the nature of it. The reason Zayn moved to New York, or the big apple was because the nature the was the city moved fast and rapidly having been a place of dreams and achievements, the city was literally know for thing such as Wall street or theater and show like Broadway, then you had the other music aspect of New York home to Madison square garden the world’s most famous arena, and that about sums it up. New York could make you or break you, he came here because the idea of a place with so much passion drove him crazy and when he had his old beat up apartment in lower New York he thought he would make it, and he really didn’t but he had a good job working at a café famously known and being partners with a CEO he didn't rely on his own accomplishments but others and Zayn knew that maybe if he tried, he could have an accomplishment of his own.
So here he was a head full of thoughts and a freshly lit cigarette in his hand, got enough on his mind walking to the studio a little further up the long streets of New York City. As he was walking the essence of the city jolting him alive he heard a car with the engine giving a loud rumble and when he looked he saw a crowd of people with a lot of nice big fancy cars blasting music and he knew it was a drag racing event. So he fled turning a corner eventually realizing it was now going to take him a little longer, then when he was out from the small alley he saw a car looking oddly familiar, the sleek black mustang with a small dent in the bumper driving and he knew it was Liam. | 6313886981704d9ead4ffcdc9464bb69 | ['06ea81d56a964be1b4769274554165d7'] | Liam wasn't sure when it happened but it did happen. Liam had noticed the jaw line first the way the fat was consistently disappearing off his face making his jawline poke out provocatively. Liam first thought maybe the boy was just losing a bit of weight with all the exercising they all had been doing. Then while they were all in rehearsal they were singing total eclipse of the heart and when Zayn high note was coming up his voice went down an octave and then back up two. It was apparently Zayn’s first voice crack and Zayn smiled but it wasn't his normal squished cheeks smile it was a smirk almost looking smug. Liam thought okay Zayn is sick then and went on making sure Zayn was okay worried that the boy’s throat would end up hurting or something.
* * *
They were just dancing having some fun during rehearsals when a couple girl contestants stopped by just chatting up Harry and having a laugh with Louis and Niall when Liam looked in the corner. He saw Zayn chatting with Rebecca, Zayn throwing his head back in laughter mirroring Rebecca. Liam knows he shouldn't be mad at Zayn and that it was probably just friendly chatter until Zayn pulled his phone out typing in a number as Rebecca recited her number a blush on her face as she ducked her head down. Liam knows it was rude to glare at Rebecca and to ignore Zayn the next day when it turned out on the papers that they went on a ‘date’ and were ‘happily together’ the next day. Liam wasn't thinking at all when he and Louis were watching the other acts practice their performance. He wasn't thinking when he made a comment about one the dancers saying she was fit. He almost exploded when Louis went to the microphone, while the dancer he complemented was stretching, saying,
“Hey girl I’m sorry love but my friend Liam over here thinks your fit” Louis said loudly into the microphone, Liam eyes flew open and he went to Louis and shoved him lightly. The girl laughed blush scattering on her cheeks.
“Hello my name is Danielle thank you but you should know I think you’re quite fit too” she said winking at a red Liam and walking off. Louis shoved him back laughing at Liam. Liam knew that the only reason he said that was because he was still mad at Zayn. Two nights after that Liam was so mad that Zayn didn't even care that Liam was ignoring him and decided on setting up a date with Danielle the dancer. Liam probably wasn't thinking because at the end of the night he kissed Danielle and when he woke up to the door being slammed he knew Zayn finally gave a damn.
* * *
They were practicing rehearsing their positions and dancing and Liam and Zayn were ignoring each other when there dance coordinator stopped them.
“Look I’m not stupid I know something going up between Zayn and Liam I mean you could bloody cut the tension with a knife and it’s still be 10 feet thick” The man said, Zayn and Liam looked at each other from across the stage. Liam hadn’t really taken a look at Zayn since the day Zayn and Rebecca happened and what he saw was new and unfimiluar. Zayn’s Jawline was sharp it could literally cut diamonds and his eyes shrunk almost fitting to his face as his cheek bones now stood out dominating his face his hair was longer and was now styled in a quiff and Zayn went from adorable to hot. If Liam thought he was adorable before it was amazing how hot and sexy he looked now.
“I going to sit outside till you put your differences aside and Louis, Harry, Niall come with me” the man said walking out with the rest of the boys. Liam looked at Zayn, hot Zayn, and the Zayn he wondered what sound he would make when Liam tugged on his hair.
“So Leeyum are you going to tell me why you have been ignoring me” Zayn said.
“I wasn’t ignoring you I was just distracted by other things and…” Liam started.
“You mean people, I saw the papers Liam who is she is she a fling” Zayn said almost angrily losing the sweet Leeyum part.
“She is someone I’ve been talking to and what about you I mean Rebecca honestly Zayn you’re going against her not with her, you’re with me, I-I mean with us, the boys y’know, One Direction” Liam said stuttering.
“I like her she’s funny and adorably shy and nice and she’s a girl and you know I already doubt my sexuality but she’s different and I know were against each other but I like her” Zayn said walking closer to Liam. Zayn completely ignored the part where Liam called him his, oh how Zayn wished he was Liam’s.
“I didn’t know you felt that way and Zayn what’s wrong with being bisexual it’s not a crime I mean if you think that then I see why we can’t be friends now” Liam said hiding the hurt coursing through him.
“Look Leeyum I like you way more than a band mate or best friend I like you loads and Rebecca doesn't compare to you but were in a band and you probably don’t even like me like that” Zayn said looking down almost shamefully.
“You doughnut I do like you like that maybe even more now that I notice your jawline and cheekbones and your eyes Zayn god your eyes there hazel and perfect and I could stare into them all day” Liam admitted walking up to Zayn taking Zayn hands off his face and cupping his face in his own hands.
“Liam I didn’t know you thought that about me but “Zayn said. |
f352e2434e2b4ec88ec0a717d929d85b | ['06eba663c4804cdaa1957e2b3505a5c5'] | It seems more timid than cocky this time, but it is still a game, their game, so...
"Maybe next time, Kakashi-san."
And this time, Iruka thinks, he might just actually mean it. Kakashi's eye only arches even more but somehow, to Iruka, it doesn't seem as genuine anymore.
"Sure, next time..."
He looks after Kakashi as he is walking out the mission's room and if his shoulders appear to have slumped slightly more than usual, it is just Iruka's imagination.
_Will you go out with me, Iruka-sensei?_
_Maybe next time, Kakashi-san._
_Maybe._
_Probably._
_Definitely._
And then he is running after Kakashi because they are shinobi and maybe there won't be a next time.
**Author's Note:**
> when i first got the idea Kakashi was to die, leaving Iruka with regrets, but then i just couldn't be that mean to them (at least not that much). | 0b30e01107cb4182b5e125fcd132bd97 | ['06eba663c4804cdaa1957e2b3505a5c5'] | Don't you know
**Author's Note:**
> I was feeling a bit down which is bad for me, but apparently good for you ‘cause it got me to write this. Sorry for the randomness and probably jumbled content. No beta so every mistake is my own.
Don’t you know what you’re doing to me? That smile you’re gracing everyone but me with. Your laugh that is as clear as bell ringing on an early morning of spring.
If I could I would try to make you that happy for the rest of my life. Every single day. Seeing you this happy, surrounded by everyone you care for, I wish I could be a part of that. I wish I could touch your lips to trace the contours of that smile. Run my fingers through your hair that look so soft gleaming in the sun. Smell your skin that surely still holds the dry exhalation of chalk dust. Hold you tight against me, feeling your warmth slowly melting the ice that I have to cover my heart with every single time I do what I have to. For this is the only way I know how to exist. I’ve got no other purpose. But you whisper to me that it is okay. That you will be there no matter what. But I am invisible. A shadow lurking in the dark. I have no right to penetrate your radiance with my darkness.
Even though, if you could just look at me with that smile on your face once in a while ... I think that might already be enough. But until then I will have to watch you from far, so far, away. Watching you is all I can really do. Because I’m too scared that to you I’ll only ever be insignificant.
I look at you one last time with a sad smile of my own. Then I turn around and leave for the next mission. I run swiftly, trying to flee from your image that will forever haunt me. Maybe when I’ll come back I will have the courage to talk to you. Finally I will tell you how I feel. How you are my sun, might light guiding me home.
But I already know that I won’t. So please bear with me just a little longer until I can finally find that courage.
Until then I will try my best to protect you. And I will continue to carry your smile deep within my heart to keep me warm. |
d86a2dbda1e34c7ea15b0ae2126ecd05 | ['06eeafc66217405f8d9b9612b9a47fc6'] |
Friday Nights
It was a ritual for both of them, really.
At the end of the week to put on a movie and get wrapped up in each other’s arms. It was something they both looked forward to, especially since they barely had time to spend together because of how busy hero work was.
Sero, alone in their apartment, begins to prepare. He brings out the softest blanket they own - a king size sherpa that his boyfriend was hell bent on buying last week- and starts to make the hot cocoa.
The week had really taken a toll on him. His elbows ached, more than usual, but knows it’ll be gone soon enough. Instead of focusing on the dull pain, he rips open the bag of marshmallows and pours in a hefty amount— just like Kaminari loves. He makes a face as he leaves his own mug untouched, shoving the bag back into the cabinet.
A small crash near the doorway piques his interest, head turning upwards to see a familiar shade of yellow popping up and grinning at him from the ground. He doesn’t look hurt, but Sero still hurries over, extending his arm for him to take.
“Are you okay?” The tape user asks, momentarily searching his body for any bruises or anything. He seems fine enough, and Kaminari winks at him.
“I am _now_ ”, He playfully sticks his tongue out. Through all the years they’ve known each other, Kaminari’s attitude never changed, “I swear! C’mon, Hanta, I’m fine.”
Sero clicks his tongue, pecking his cheek before shutting the door, “Last time you said that you fractured your arm.”
He hears a soft huff behind him as he goes to finish setting up. Under the couch lies a box in a silk bag- it’s a surprise for later, and he knows that Kaminari will like it.
Returning back to the living room, he finds his own surprise: A human shaped burrito blanket nestled comfortably into the couch cushions. Slowly approaching it, he hums quietly. “I wonder where my boyfriend went. He was just here a second ago..”
Candy yellow hair peeks out of one side of the blanket, and Sero does his best to stifle a laugh. He sticks his fingers into his side, tickling him mercilessly. Immediately, Kaminari squeals and desperately shimmies away from the taller male, attempting to bat his hands away, “Ah, Sero!”
He giggles, flopping onto the floor as Sero eventually gives up. Rolling out of the blanket, he glares at him. It barely looks intimidating, especially when he suddenly smiles, “Meanie.”
Sero sticks his tongue out at him and easily scoops him back onto the couch. Kaminari puts up no fight, instead melting into the touch and draping his arms around his taller frame.
“Missed you.” The blond mumbles, burying his face into his shoulder, “But I still don’t forgive you.”
Sero gently pats his hair, maneuvering so he was on his back and Kaminari was pulled flush to his chest. Blindly, he reaches out and grabs the blanket to place over him.
“Missed you more, Denks. I’ve got Blade Runner in, alright?”
He feels a nod against his chest and presses play.
Both of them have seen the movie before, but it also was their favorite, so neither of them minded watching it again. Sero was careful not to pick a movie that Kaminari would most likely fall asleep to, however it happened more often than not. He supposes that if he did fall asleep, he would surprise him next time.
It was nice to have these moments of peace and quiet. And don’t get him wrong, he loved working to protect civilians and did his best to do so, but everyone needed some time to wind down.
Running his hand along Kaminari’s side, his eyes continued to stay glued to the television screen. It was nothing more than a loving touch, but he turned slightly to look at Kaminari as his hand slowly moved lower. He wondered if he even noticed his movements or if he was simply too focused on the movie.
His other hand began a journey of its own as well. Snaking alongside the blond’s hip and moving upwards, he cupped his chin and whispered softly, “Denki.”
Kaminari’s head tilted curiously to the side as his name was called, slowly blinking his eyes at Sero, “Mhm?”
Instead of replying, Sero leaned in and pressed his lips against Kaminari’s. He pulled away, letting their noses bump against each other. He lifted his head up, planting a soft kiss on the tip of Kaminari’s nose. Being pulled away from the movie makes the smaller male whine a bit, but he quiets down as Sero runs a hand through his hair, tugging him closer.
“Hanta,” Kaminari mumbles, squirming slightly against his body to get more comfortable.
Sero suddenly notices a new hardness brushing against his leg, and he quirked an eyebrow.
“Already, huh? We’ve barely done anything.” He teased, hands returning to grope at his backside.
Kaminari flushes immediately and shakes his head quickly, eye contact now lost, “I can’t help it!”
The raven haired male feels his lips curl up into a tiny grin, rocking his hips against him, “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll take care of it, okay? Just go back to watching the movie.”
The smaller nods once again and returned his attention back to the screen. Some sort of action scene was playing, but Sero paid no mind to it. Instead, he began to pepper kisses down Kaminari’s throat, biting and sucking dark marks into his skin. The soft whimpers coming from above him fueled his desires, and he gave a final nip before sitting up.
Kaminari looked a little confused, blinking curiously. His boyfriend picked him up and switched their positions so that he was instead hovering above the blond, laying him against the armrest. | 6f532058c0924cc2b6ecf4fd46830692 | ['06eeafc66217405f8d9b9612b9a47fc6'] | “Please, touch me!” He whined, nearly sobbing as Sero took his hand away and flipped him on his stomach. Kaminari hugged a pillow, turning his head to watch as Sero raised his hips into the air. He whimpered, embarassed at the new position.
Sero bit his lip, entranced by the sight before him. His beautiful boyfriend splayed out for him, ass in the air with his hole exposed almost invitingly. He grabbed the bottle of lube from his bedside table, opening it with an audible ‘click’. Tipping it over, he let a small stream run down Kaminari’s crack to his hole. Kaminari tensed from the coldness, but Sero rubbed his hip reassuringly.
A long, slender finger slowly inched inside of the blond’s twitching hole, causing him to moan quietly. As much as Sero wanted to nail him into the mattress, he cared more about taking things slow as to not hurt his lover.
He gave a few shallow thrusts, watching Kaminari’s face for any sign of discomfort. Once he was used to the single finger, he removed it all together, much to Kaminari’s disapproval.
He turned his head to protest before Sero’s mouth latched on and a tongue was pressed inside instead. The pillow could barely contain his moans as Sero licked and prodded. He used his hands to grab onto his backside, spreading his cheeks apart as he fucked him open using his tongue. Kaminari squealed, doing his damn best to stay still, but it was nearly impossible.
A sound of protest was heard from the squirming blond beneath him as Sero sat back up, licking his lips. He gave himself a few strokes, a soft sigh slipping out. “Mhm? What’s wrong, Denks? Do you want more?”
Kaminari desperately nodded, lifting his hips eagerly. “Please, H-.. Hanta, fuck me..” He panted, “Please, please.. Ruin me..”
And how was Sero supposed to say no to that? He was going to make Kaminari beg just a little more, but he was too pent up to wait any longer. Sero slicked up his cock with lube, positioning himself behind Kaminari and slowly pressing the tip inside. He waited for the blond to calm down a little before continuing to feed his length into Denki. “Hanta… S-so full..” He moaned, fingers curled around the sheets.
Sero drank up the smaller boy’s moans, hips shifting back a few inches before plunging back inside. Another loud noise was ellicted, so Sero started at a decent pace before Kaminari was begging for him to move faster.
Sero held his hips with both hands, thrusting deep inside of him. Immediately, Kaminari mewled, back arched impossibly. He knew that he had hit the bundle of nerves when he heard him. He fucked Kaminari roughly, angling his hips so that he could hit his sweet spot more easily.
Snaking a hand around Kaminari, he grabbed hold of his length and began to stroke in time with his thrusts. He felt a surge of pride as he looked down- Kaminari in his favorite, oversized hoodie as he was ruined by his cock. His movements quickly became erratic, with him chanting a soft chorus of _“..Mine, mine, mine…”_.
Sero’s hips stuttered as the coil in his belly suddenly snapped, coating Kaminari’s insides with his come. He continued to jerk off his boyfriend until he came with a sharp moan, slumping against the bed soon after. Carefully, he pulled out, kissing the sweaty blond’s cheek before going to grab some old laundry to clean up their mess. Making a face, he threw it in the hamper and tugged his boxers back on.
The tape user crawled next to Kaminari, smiling softly as he went to curl up at his side. Sero patted his head lovingly, nuzzling his forehead against his. Kaminari buried his face in Sero’s shoulder. “Mm.. All yours..” He said dreamily.
Sero pulled him closer, covering their bodies with his blanket. “All mine.” He said, emphasizing each word with a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you, Denks.”
“I love you too, Hanta.” Came a sleepy reply, and not soon after, both of them had fallen asleep.
**Author's Note:**
> Hello all! Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it! If you did, please consider dropping kudos or leaving a comment. If you want to talk, my twitter is @gothlemonade . Thank you! |
8a50e0f89a14415a9571570fa106efb1 | ['0700375cad464c319d30578020030f91'] |
It's such a shame for us to part
Steve goes off to return the stones, Peggy catches him and won’t let go, so he stays. He stays, cause he knows sam will take care of Bucky and he really can’t go on for 50ish more years with him and not tell him how he feels so the only other option is to stay in a time where Bucky isn’t. And Peggy is great, she really is. They live a life that he is proud of in any decade. No kids, but a dog named Wilson that he swears Peggy named not him but still put a smile on his face every day.
When he returns as an old man he sits down with Bucky to talk and after all this time he can’t help but tell the truth for once. Admit that of the two loves of his life, he knew he only had the chance at a life with one of them and that he was sorry for leaving him alone here but he wouldn’t have survived any other way.
What he doesn’t expect is for Bucky to start laughing.
“You know, I always knew you were dumb, but I didn’t know just how much of a moron you were until now” Bucky says with a stray tear in his eye.
“Buck, I said I was sorry but I just couldn’t be around you everyday knowing that my feelings would never go away but that I couldn’t tell you or I might lose the only two people I ever loved so I did what I had to. If you can’t forgive me just yet, well I can live with that, but I couldn’t live with the alternative and if that makes me an idiot than so be it.”
“No, you are an idiot cause you didn’t talk to me first.”
“If I had you would have tried to talk me out of staying there or you would have come with me and neither of those options would have solved my problem.”
“Or I would have pointed out that I’ve been following you like a lovesick puppy since we were kids and that you doing this leaves me hopelessly in love with an old man.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Or did your hearing go with your sanity? I said I’m in love with you. Always have been, always will be. Quite unfortunate if you think about it.”
The look on Steve’s face can not quite be categorized singularly but instead a mix of many things, not the least of which was horror. Suddenly Bucky can’t find the humor in the situation anymore. He instead feels sad, for the life he could have had, anger at Steve for not having seen what he had missed as well and jealousy over the only woman who could ever have taken his love from him.
They sit there in a heavy silence for a bit. A silence that would have been comfortable not more that 10 minutes ago for Bucky, a lifetime for Steve. Until finally Bucky breaks the silence, “I get it, you know? I get why you would have stayed for her. She was amazing and I always thought that she would be the one to steal you away from me for good but when we found each other again and it was the future, I mean come on! What are the chances that we’d both ended up 70 years in the future in a time where two guys getting together isn’t so bad? I really thought that maybe, just maybe we had a chance. I was going to say something to you when you got back because I knew that after this you were done trying to be a hero and thought that maybe, just maybe, we could have some type of life together.”
“I never knew Buck, I swear I never had any idea.”
“yeah…. I know bud. I know.”
It’s right about now that Bucky gets to thinking, “Wait, what about her kids? and what about the rest of her family? Oh my God! What about Sharon?!? Dude did you kiss your niece?”
“NO! When I chose to stay it must have fractured the timeline because her sister never had any daughters, she had three sons. Turns out the man Peggy married in this timeline is the one who introduced her sister and brother in law so they were totally different kids. Although, they don’t exist here I guess” Bucky could see Steve deflate a bit as he realizes what he has lost.
“Were- are you happy? and don’t think about me while you answer, just answer. Are you glad you stayed?”
Steve takes a long slow breath before answering, “I’ll always wonder what could have- and maybe should have- been between you and me, but yeah, I was happy.”
“Well at least something good came out of it” Bucky says, and means.
“I did a lot of good you know? It became clear that my timeline was not linked up correctly with this one so I wasn’t too worried about what I changed and I did as much as I could to make things better. We- Peggy and I, we cleaned out shield and made it what it was always supposed to be. We shut down Hydra buck, we found you. I found you. It wasn’t always the plan but I knew what they were doing to you and I couldn’t let that happen. It was really hard to bring you back though. Without Shuri and Wakanda’s help it was really hard to truly bring you back and you did your best but it was never really you. You didn’t remember much about me or our past but we set you and your family up in this cabin where you stayed until the early 90s when we lost you. Wasn’t anything we could do but I think you and Matt were happy.” | 3e377d48e49742a2b2314132fd701c08 | ['0700375cad464c319d30578020030f91'] | Steve is smirking when he sees the look on Bucky’s face change.
“Matt?”
“Yeah, your husband Matt. He was from the same hydra program you were in but they hadn’t broken him yet when we found you. He was one of the few who understood the program but wasn’t under the influence of it so he was really helpful to trying to help you and all that time you spent together left you in love. He was able to keep an eye on you if anything here went bad and you lived your life.”
“Was he hot?” Bucky couldn’t help but laugh as he asked but come on, he had to know.
“Smoke show”
They both laugh a bit until they quiet down and it’s quiet again. This time though it’s comfortable. Yeah, this isn’t how Bucky thought this was going to go but Steve was happy- really, really, happy- and maybe, just maybe, he could be happy too. Maybe find himself a Peggy or even a Matt.
**Author's Note:**
> Please think about commenting even if you didn't like it so that I can improve. I'm still very new to this.
>
> I know it didn't really fix the ending, but it is enough to make me not hate the end of Steve's MCU arc which is where I was at when I first watched Endgame.
> I literally forgot I had written this and just found it sitting in a file on my computer, still not entirely sure when I wrote it but I finished it and figured I might as well publish it.
>
> BIG thanks to the Marvel Writers Room gc on twitter for inspiring me to write again and thank you to Zee for the quick beta.
>
> (I still have to mention that I didn't go back and edit to closely I just kinda slapped it together so please don't judge it too harshly) |
4bb693e30a86498483e01f2c8891680a | ['07243878c9c740a1b89284bae9583eb8'] | I let him pulled me to my feet and into a hug. I knew Once was still under Pitch Black’s control, but he was still _Once_. I didn’t want to turn away from him again, it had almost killed me the first time
Maybe if I went with him I could figure a way to break him free
* * *
A shadowy figure watched from the blackness, and smiled. The fool girl couldn't be Turned by hate and fear like the other two. No. She would be Turned by what she wanted the most. Love. And the boy was the perfect pawn. A good minion but slightly clueless, he would have no idea that they were both being used.
The Shadow watched as The Once-ler pulled the girl to her feet and as she wiped away her tears with his handkerchief. Alas if only she had a mirror. She could’ve then seen that her eyes were no longer emerald green.
25. Chapter 25
Rapunzel sat curled up in a corner, tears slowly leaking from her eyes. It had been hours since Breeze had been taken; any hope Rapunzel had had was now gone. There was no other explanation. She was now the lone Guardian left. There was no one else she could turn to for help. Well...except Father Time. And he was nuts.
She could hear the old man muttering indistinctly to himself in the other side of the room. Ever since his outburst when they'd first arrived, he’d kept to himself, and the other and herself had also kept away from him; Breeze had seemed especially unnerved by his condition.
Rapunzel felt a pang in her chest for her lost friends and to keep her tears at bay, she began to sing to herself.
Flower gleam and glow
Let your power shine
Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine
She could feel the change in her hair, and saw the familiar glow as it raced down the the end on her hair.
Then for the first time since she could remember, something else, something different began to happen and change. Her wings began to glow.
At first it was only the tips and outline of them, but then swirling designs and patterns began to glow, and for the first time since she got there, the dungeon was illuminated. Both amazed and frightened she continued to sing.
Heal what has been hurt
Change the Fate’s design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine
What once was mine…
Her dress was now alight with the same swirling patterns of her wings, and any rips mended themselves. Any cuts she had healed and she felt clean. At the second to last line of her song the room blazed with light. As she sang the last line and trailed off into silence the light in the room condensed until her wings only glowed faintly.
She felt stronger though than she had in days, more determined, more hopeful. She stood up and saw the old man looking at her in awe. Rapunzel felt suddenly very self conscious and blushed.
Father Time grinned “HA!” he rasped “HA! You have broken his darkness, my young sprite. He will have a hard time turning you”
“Pitch?” Rapunzel asked
“Pitch? no no” The old man said “Pitch Black is no more in control than you are.”
Rapunzel frowned “He isn’t” Breeze and Jack had been sure it was him…
“Oh Pitch thinks he is in command” Father Time said with a ghastly smile “But he’s a pawn just like you friends now”
“Who’s pawn” Rapunzel asked quietly “My mother’s?”
“Nirrhiti” He whispered “The Spirit of Corruption. He finds weaknesses in people and bends them to his will. Pitch wanted nothing more than to be believed and feared in, and Nirrhiti took advantage of that and used him.”
“He didn’t break you” Rapunzel said quietly
He gave her a sad smile. “He has nothing to manipulate me with. I lost all who I love a long time ago. I gave no help to Pitch to chase you through time, but I am much to weak to help you now”
“Help me now?” She whispered
“Yes he said urgently “You are the only one left, you must stop him!” Rapunzel slowly stood up, a grim determination taking hold of her. “You are stronger than him, my dear” Father Time said “Much stronger”
Rapunzel knelt back down and hugged him. “Thank you” She whispered.
“Least I could do” He whispered “Spread hope, my dear. And love, peace and joy. Remind the children of all that we do for them.”
“I will” Rapunzel said smiling for the first time in days.
“Now go, and good luck!”
Rapunzel hurried over to the door. It was thick solid wood. Getting out would be easier said than done. If only she had a weapon of some sort but even if she did she wouldn't know how to use it.
No point thinking of what I don’t have. She thought What do I have. She hadn’t gotten the hang on creating things out of light, she could make her hair grow, but that wouldn’t help her now. The only other things she could do was heal and make things younger. Wait
An idea struck her and she placed a hand on the door and began to sing. As she sang, the door changed shaped and size. When she finished a seed fell to the ground along with two metal hinges.
Rapunzel stepped out into the hallway and started to run.
* * *
Excitement and terror shot through her, as she raced down the dark hallway. She extinguished the light that she had been emitting, think that it probably do her more harm than good. | d33be5a73f2a44a1a8a9831fdf91e117 | ['07243878c9c740a1b89284bae9583eb8'] | “Yeah” Jack said “I always wondered where they came from though”
“They’re the eggs that go bad before Easter” I said. There was a silence.
“How do you know this exactly” Jack asked
“Don’t ask” I mumbled
“There’s Toothiana. She’s the Tooth Fairy. She collects kids teeth with help from the Baby Teeth. She says that they hold the most important memories of childhood” Merida said
“The Sandman’s a Guardian too.” I said
“Who’s the Sandman?” Rapunzel asked
“You’ve never heard of the Sandman!” Jack exclaimed. She shook her head. “He’s the reason you wake up with yellow sand in your eyes. The guy who makes sure kids have sweet dreams.”
She shrugged “Gothel never told me mutch. I mostly got my knowledge of the outside from the books I read and she made sure they were mostly bad things that I read.”
Sensing that this was still a sore topic for Punz, I directed it back to the Guardians. “Sandy’s the Guardian of Dreams. He’s a short yellow guy who never talks. I’ve never understood why though”
“I think it’s because he doesn't want to wake the kids up” Jack said “Either that or he just can’t, I haven’t been able to figure it out.”
“So is Sandy the opposite of Pitch?” Rapunzel asked “Is he the Spirit of Nightmares?”
“He’s not exactly his opposite.” I said “He’s the Spirit of Fear and Darkness. He can control them because they cause fear, but he’s not their master. They can turn on him if he’s feeling enough fear.”
“Why does he even exist?” Punz asked “If MIM chooses all the spirits, why does are there Spirits like Pitch”
“He exists because of belief” Jack said. We turned to him “I had the same question after we fought Pitch 3 years ago and North explained it to me.”
“Didn’t he start that war because he wasn’t believed in” Merida asked
“It wasn’t him that kids and adults believed in.” Jack said “It was his center.” We still looked confused so he continued to explain. “You know how I wasn’t believed in for 300 years, and how Breeze and Punz still aren’t.”
“Yeah” I said
“Well, I was confused on how I was still very powerful for all that time” Jack said “When the Guardians lost all but one believer they were extremely weak. But I had managed to stay strong for centuries without one believer. North said it was because my center was believed in. Fun wasn’t directly connected to Winter or to me and so kids still believed in fun. But the Guardians centers were strongly tied to their holidays their person. So when the kids stopped believing in them they stopped believing in their centers as well.”
“Like Sandy and Dreams” Merida said “When he stopped being believed in, so were dreams.”
“But wonder isn’t directly connected to Christmas or Santa” Meri said
“I think it is” I said remembering something “Remember the song Its the Most ‘Wonder’-ful Time of the Year. People connect their centers with the Guardians person and holiday”
“That also why losing Easter during the fight with Pitch hit Bunny so hard.” Jack said “Easter that year represented the hope that the Guardians still existed. Sandy was gone and so were dreams with Nightmares in their place. Kids teeth weren't getting collected fast enough. When Easter never came, that hope was destroyed.”
“What happened to the Kangaroo” I asked
“He turned into a small cute bunny”
I imaged that in my head and began to chuckle which soon spread to Meri and Punzel and grew into full out laughter.
“I’m trying to be serious here” Jack complained
“Imagine that” I giggled “Jack Frost, being serious. The world must really be in trouble”
“You guys are hilarious”
We stayed there all day talking and laughing untill the sun began to sink below the horizon.
“We’d better get going” I said “We might want to keep moving, incase Pitch figures out somehow, a way to track us. We going to get the Viking this time. His name’s Hiccup, right?”
We all moved to join hands. I turned to Merida. “Meri?” She seemed distant. “Meri are you alright?” She shook her head and seemed to snap out of it.
“I’m fine. Did you want something?”
“I just though that we might want to change up who wears the watch” I said “Pitch knows that I have it, we might want someone else to be wearing it if he targets me” She accepted the watch and we all joined hands.
“Here we go again” I groaned and we were off.
10. Chapter 10
We ended up inside a village/city something. There was a castle in the distance. I recognised the place as somewhere in Scotland.
“Hey Mer, do you recognize this place?” I asked “Merida?” We all turned to her. She was pale and was breathing hard.
“It can’t be” She whispered “Not again” Without warning she took off in direction of the shoar. Even without her horse, Merida was extremely fast. Jack and I could have kept up with her, but Punzie had just barely gotten her wings and was still getting used to flying. Merida quickly sprinted out of sight.
“What’s with her” Jack said
“I dunno” I said “I’ve never seen her like that, but I’ve only known her for a short while. Has she ever acted like that before?”
He shook his head “We’d better catch up to her” We we did catch up to Merida she was standing on a small ledge looking over the beach, tears pouring silently down her face. Down on the beach there was a lot of people. Some I recognised as Vikings with their Helmets with horns. The others I guessed were Scots. It looked like a funeral was taking place. It was a Viking funeral and there was a boat sailing away. |
92bf176eb93f429084449bbc8a8e0d27 | ['0749fc1d4229496ea422dbd086665ae4'] | “Kim Namjoon, right?” Jungkook receives a curt nod in response. He doesn’t know why he is nervous speaking to Namjoon. Namjoon might be taller than him, might be stockier even, but up close he gives off the aura of a cuddly koala bear rather than an intimidating bodyguard. He is reminded of what Yoongi said before, how Namjoon isn’t the type to take on this sort of physical work, how his lauded efforts are all in the academic field. “I’m Jeon Jungkook. You’ve probably seen me around Taehyung a lot. We’re… uh… together but not really – if that makes any sense?”
Thankfully Namjoon doesn’t cringe at Jungkook’s embarrassed tone, how his voice quietened with every word that came out of his mouth. He doesn’t even flinch at Jungkook mentioning his boss doing dirty deeds. But he does frown, an obvious downward curving and thinning of his lips. “You’re Jeon Jungkook?”
Hesitating, unsure of where the conversation is leading, Jungkook replies, “Yes?”
Namjoon drops his voice to a whisper. Jungkook can smell the odour of what he is vaping. Namjoon narrows his eyes and asks, “You’re Commissioner Jeon’s second son?”
Caught speechless, Jungkook opens and closes his mouth like a flabbergast fish, wondering if he should lie. How does Namjoon know so much about his family? It can’t be common knowledge that he is the second son. Or to even be able to guess they are related when there are plenty of Jeon surnames. The number of people with a vendetta against his family are immeasurable, and he hopes Namjoon isn’t one of them. Jungkook looks him dead in the eyes and nods. “Why? What does it matter?”
A fiery countenance overtakes Namjoon. He steps close, into Jungkook’s personal bubble reserved for very few people. “Get out,” and Jungkook’s expression hardens, wondering if Namjoon has any right to speak to him like this, to demand his leave when he had been invited here by Taehyung. Jungkook hadn’t even gotten around to mentioning Yoongi, but Namjoon continues, sounding desperate and hurried. “Get out right now. You’re in danger here—”
“Ah! Jungkookie!” Taehyung calls out, interrupting them as he sidles from the mist of the crowd to beside Jungkook, hugging him one-armed. “There you are. Guess what I got!”
Jungkook rips his gaze away from Namjoon, confused. Namjoon has already stepped away to give them distance, staring at the ground instead of either of them. What had Namjoon meant? He had sounded serious. But who is he in danger from? Bogum? Or did he mean danger in a more general sense, considering who his father is?
“ _Jungkookie_!” Taehyung whines, grabbing at Jungkook’s arm and pulling him forward straight into him. “Don’t ignore me.”
Noticing Taehyung’s pout and ruddy cheeks, Jungkook wraps an arm around him, turning away from Namjoon, the foreboding easily replaced by the blooming warmth of seeing Taehyung’s happy smile. “What is it?”
Taehyung sticks his tongue out. A round white pill stamped with the image of a sun. Jungkook can already guess what drug it is, but Taehyung confirms, “E! Ecstasy! And the pure type too. Not mixed with the bullshit those street rats might sell.”
“You sure this is a good idea?” Jungkook asks as he cradles Taehyung’s face. Taehyung’s pupils are already dilated. Jungkook knows he doesn’t have any right to stop him from taking party drugs, but he does want to shake some sense, some responsibility into Taehyung. That could also be the part of him that hates addiction speaking out. His father is addicted to work. His mother is addicted to perfection. And Taehyung? Glancing towards the pool, Jungkook says, “Isn’t it dangerous?”
Taehyung pulls Jungkook in for a kiss, licking at the seam of his lips, and Jungkook opens his mouth, greedy for more even if more is something he shouldn’t have. The ecstasy pill shifts to the top of Jungkook’s tongue, and he pulls away to swallow it down.
“I guess it is dangerous…” Taehyung grins, pulls Jungkook by the hand towards the pool. “But what’s the fun if there’s no danger?”
Jungkook wades into the pool via the stony steps, trailing right behind Taehyung. The effects of the drug aren’t immediate. No drowsiness. No nausea. He isn’t sure what to expect in all honesty. He notices the other party-goers in the pool climbing out as though they are fleeing from them. They seem skittish, not daring to look either of them. “Damn, Bogum’s friends sure are homophobic as fuck,” Jungkook comments, hugging Taehyung’s back. The cool chlorinated water laps at his hips.
Taehyung giggles. “They’re scared of me,” he mock-whispers.
“Scared of you?” Jungkook laughs at the thought of anyone finding Taehyung terrifying. “But you’re so adorable.” He reaches up to pinch Taehyung’s cheek. Taehyung bats his hand away, spinning around in the water to pout at him. “Maybe scared of how much they like you.”
“Oh my, you’re such a sweet talker.” Taehyung dives in for another eager kiss, returned with equal fervour. “It’s because they revere Bogum, and since I used to date him, they see me as this incredible holier-than-thou figure. So, just by association, they worship me but they’re also scared of pissing me off.”
“Right,” Jungkook drawls, cornering Taehyung against the edge of the pool. True to his word, the pool side of the terrace has emptied out, no lingering bystanders, no voyeuristic onlookers. They have all crowded back towards the patio and the inside of the penthouse where the endless flow of food and drugs are. If anyone walks past them, they are quick to disappear before Jungkook can notice. One hand on Taehyung’s waist, one hand sliding down his swimming shorts, Jungkook gropes a handful of ass, revelling in the squeal he receives. The palm of his hand is the perfect fit for Taehyung’s beautiful ass. “Stop talking about your ex. Talk about me instead.” | 63d7b1cfaf894031ac5d4054a53d4bf6 | ['0749fc1d4229496ea422dbd086665ae4'] | “It’s painful,” Jungkook says finally, meeting Taehyung’s eyes for what feels like the first time since the incident. When Taehyung’s confusion shows, Jungkook explains, “Everyone thinks this was a mistake we made, but… I like you, Taehyung hyung. My feelings for you, regardless of whether I end up presenting as an alpha or whatever, aren’t gonna go away as easily as some people think it might. We bonded for a reason.”
“I know, Jungkookie,” Taehyung replies, a small smile blossoming. Pulling Jungkook into a quick hug and letting go before anyone notices them, he says, “We’ll be fine. Even if it means we’ll be watched more vigilantly by the managers and stuff, at least we have each other, right?”
Jungkook nods, unable to stop the warmth of Taehyung’s eyes from reaching inside him and tugging at his heart strings. If this is what being bonded feels like, even if the world turns against them, Jungkook does not mind, so long as he has Taehyung.
*
For the most part, the days are the same. Jungkook is always warned that things will change when and if he presents as an alpha, but that possibility feels eons away. The status quo that has developed though is fine by Jungkook. No one acts awkward; no one bats an eyelash whenever Taehyung is feeling just that tad bit more in need of affection, clinging tightly to Jungkook as they walk around. This is the norm they have developed, and both the fans and the management are okay with it.
Sometimes, fan-signs do get a bit weird. Because they see a plethora of fans, and now that Jungkook is bonded, he is slightly more sensitive to scents. Each individual has a distinctive scent, although they can all be broadly categorised under alpha, omega, or beta.
Whenever a fan is too touchy-feely with Taehyung, Jungkook finds his eyes glued to them, wondering if he should intervene or if this is normal. It has to be normal, since this is hardly the first time they have done fan-signs. Despite this, Jungkook finds discomfort in seeing Taehyung mingling with those who may be too zealous.
The stereotypes for each do have a small sort of basis, after all. Alphas can become possessive and demanding, although their leadership skills are often portrayed through aggressive and violent tendencies in popular culture. On the contrary, omegas can be nurturing and docile, and sometimes are shown to only be sex toys for others in society. Meanwhile, betas are in the middle ground. But what Jungkook has realised is that there are people on all sides of the spectrum, with alphas being motherly and omegas having dominating personalities. In the end, personalities are not defined by these traits, even if their bodies are influenced.
Jungkook watches one particular alpha fan dote on Taehyung. The fan has a kitty headband in her hands, and instead of asking for Taehyung’s permission, she goes straight to trying to place it atop his head. Taehyung pays no mind to the intrusion of privacy, allowing her to accessorise his hair and even saying thank you after.
Once there are no fans in front of him, Jungkook unravels his red scarf and places it around Taehyung’s neck.
Taehyung glances at him. “What are you doing?” Taehyung asks, eyes wide. The fan who is waiting for Taehyung’s signature does not seem to mind the intrusion, cooing at how Taehyung looks cute with Jungkook’s scarf.
“I want you to wear it,” Jungkook says, looping the scarf around Taehyung further and not wanting to explain that it is because he wants Taehyung to smell more like him and less like the fan. “Stay warm, okay? Don’t catch a cold.”
Taehyung smiles, his eyes curving into crescents. “Okay, Kookie,” he says, burying his nose deep into the scarf and breathing in the scent. Jungkook tries not to blush at that.
So, the fan-signs are like that, with Jungkook often feeling like he needs to compete with the fans for Taehyung’s attention. Taehyung does not seem to mind, citing the reason as, “Well, I heard that once you’re bonded, your partner often feels the need to scent the other. I can’t really scent you because you haven’t presented yet, but even so, it kinda seems like you’re already trying to scent me without even realising?”
Jungkook turns red at the realisation, embarrassed. “Ah, I wasn’t trying, hyung,” Jungkook replies, burying his face in Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung smells like peaches and something more. Jungkook pulls away before he can find himself addicted to the scent and before anyone can accuse him of being a pervert.
Taehyung pats him on the head, fingers brushing through the strands of Jungkook’s hair. “It’s okay, baby,” Taehyung says, and maybe he doesn’t mean anything by the pet name, but Jungkook preens at the word and finds himself melting into Taehyung’s touch.
The days soon pass into months with the humdrum of idol life keeping them busy, reminding them of why they strove for this life. Their fan-base grows larger with every day, and even with the occasional negative press by a pissed off journalist, their name gains renown. Maybe the public don’t know about Taehyung and Jungkook being bonded, but for now, their secret is safe thanks to the normality of fan-service. Their secret being safe equates to their relationship being safe – their relationship being the same, and perhaps relationships are not meant to grow static over time, but Jungkook thinks they have reached a reasonable status quo. There is the equal push and pull, the few kisses here and there when they are stressed and in need of a pick me up, the normalised cuddling when they just _need_ to be there for each other. For Jungkook, Taehyung’s presence is a necessary constant, and even on days when Jungkook worries that being bonded might prevent Taehyung from befriending whoever he pleases, there is no logical basis for those fears. |
7dc1aeeec7a24c79a24e8d40c0db5cd5 | ['074bb4867521457d9b991c3b39fc506f'] | He knows which he would prefer to happen first, but expects the other.
In the end, neither happen the way they’re supposed to.
The clinic explodes, throwing a flaming pile of debris into the cogs of their plan.
People comes streaming-and screaming-out, and it’s only when Hizashi begins recognizing them that he realizes they’re criminals.
Which means this must be the right place.
Suddenly, a sound reachers Hizashi’s ears and he whips around, but recognizes it in time to stop himself from punching his husband.
“Sho-” he coughs. “Eraserhead.” The other man nods in acknowledgment.
Hizashi hesitates, glancing over his shoulder. The other heroes are working on putting out the fire, so he takes a moment to converse with his husband.
_ You look like shit. _ He signs. They had decided to keep their verbal conversations profesional when out in the field, but sign language was another thing entirely. Hizashi had already known it for several reasons, first and foremost being his inability to control his voice level as a child.
_ Thanks for the confidence boost. _ Shouta signs back, and Hizashi represses the smile at his partner’s usual wit.
Cries of alarm in the background draw their attention in time to see a figure stumble out of the burning building, dragging a body behind them.
Smoke clears, the figure draws nearer, and Hizashi recognizes the permanent bed-head of Midoriya Izuku, mass-murderer and former student.
“Get back!” Shouta snarls, bolting forward. Hizashi follows close on his heels, mind spinning faster and faster.
The child stops, and throws the body a few feet in front of him, landing almost on the shoes of Shouta and Hizashi.
“Here. I brought you something.” His voice is cold, calculated, but there was a hint of… elation, that made Hizashi sick.
Shouta flicks his wrist, two fingers out, at Hizashi, a subtle sign of ‘watch him’ established over years of silent communication. The blond steps forward and to the right of Shouta as the dark-haired man crouches down to examine the body.
A sharp gasp almost drew Hizashi’s attention, but years of training prevented him from averting his gaze away from the teen in front of him.
“It’s… All For One. He appears to be dead.” His voice is low, so as not to alert the other, more ignorant pros. Hizashi swallows.
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Shit.” Shouta agrees, pulling out his phone and sending a quick text.
“Midoriya Izuku.” Shouta yells. The green haired boy shows no outward reaction, merely adjusting his stance.
“You have committed several heinous, unspeakable crimes. I won’t say things will be better if you come easily, but you have more of a chance of surviving. Surrender.”
A soft laugh. “Nice try, Aizawa, but I can’t tell what you’re trying to appeal to. My humane nature? My survival instincts? I don’t have any. Not anymore. Not for a long time.”
He reaches behind him, and pulls something out.
It’s a gun. Hizashi jerks back. Guns are rarely seen nowadays, usually only on TV.
Midoriya brings it up to his face, looking almost fond. “You know, I remember when these were first being made. It was… so long ago.” He laughs, and laughs and laughs. Insane, bloodcurdling, hurt.
Sad.
It ends abruptly, and the silence is filled with the sound of the fire crackling.
“Aizawa. Activate your quirk on me, or I’ll use mine to kill as many nearby civilians as possible.”
Hizashi’s head whips around to his husband, who still kneels over the body. His face is lowered, not that the blond could have read his expression anyway.
Shouta stands slowly, and raises his head, making eye contact with Midoriya.
Hizashi flinches as the tell-tale red of his quirk consumes his iris. He can’t look away, and so he misses what exactly happens next.
All he knows, is a gun fires, his husband’s quirk deactivates, and Midoriya Izuku’s lifeless body falls to the ground, a hole drilled straight through from one side of his skull to the other.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> wow. i uh. sorry? i left this for a really long time haha. there was just so much to cover in this chapter i felt slight dread when i would think about working on it.
>
> anyway, leave me angry comments, send me angry asks, and suffer as you wait for the next chapter.
12. In the end
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> guess i'm not dead yet
Reflecting on his last year as a teacher at U.A, Shouta supposes it could have gone worse.
Not to say it wasn’t terrible, but in the end, he only lost one student. One, of all twenty.
One of the ten he thought were gone.
It’s not really funny, but laying in his bed in the cool darkness of a winter morning, Shouta snorts to himself, quiet enough to not disturb his husband. It’s been… twenty years, since the day Midoriya Izuku shot himself.
After, Shouta can’t really remember what happens, but he knows he ends up in the police station with Naomasa, and Hizashi.
He was there when the tip was called in.
“Check the green warehouse. You’ll know which one.”
The tip was vague, and ominous, but of course they had to investigate. Inside were nine unconscious teenagers. Nine U.A students.
The nine they thought were lost. All living.
It was… unexplainable, but it didn’t really matter. They were rushed to the hospital, but no serious injuries had been sustained.
To this day, no one’s really sure how they survived.
They released Midoriya Izuku’s name to the public, asking anyone with information on him to step forward. The offer still stands, twenty years later, but nothing has come of it, really.
Shouta wishes he could put it out of his mind, he really does. The public’s forgotten. The people who were in power when it was happening have moved on. Hell, even his kids have moved on. But he’s stuck. | 686d68684eeb494e965401db2326eea5 | ['074bb4867521457d9b991c3b39fc506f'] | His student is there. His skin has been devoured by time and maggots. They crawl through every open space he can see.
And yet. His eyes are untouched. They judge, they accuse, they burn into the depths of his soul.
He falls in and voices that had been picking and prying at his ears grow louder drowning out his own heart and pulse and thoughts-
_ Why why why why _
_ Why _
_ Why _
_ Why _
_ Why _
**WHY**
Opening his eyes was hard.
Moving was hard.
Breathing was hard.
Living was hard.
* * *
The students were informed. Of course they were. Their parents, too.
Midoriya Inko was the only one left.
All Might volunteered, and no one argued.
Some of the other teachers gave Hizashi sympathetic looks, and some asked about Shouta, but he had no news to give.
There was.. Nothing.
* * *
“Sir, we found him…”
‘This was too easy,’ Naomasa thinks, having caught the phrase as it was spoken to the director of the police department.
‘What’s his game…?’
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> god
11. Here we stand at last, in the crumbled remains of our pitiful existence
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> hey uh quick note: please re-read the tags. it's pretty important this chapter, and i don't want to blindside you guys with potentially triggering content.
Rushing in was not the Pro hero’s usual plan of action, but they’re so, _ so _ desperate at this point that any lead, no matter how convoluted or untrustworthy is worth pursuing
Unfortunately, Shouta can’t seem to drag himself out of bed. Oh, he’s tried. He even rolled over at one point, planning on tumbling out of bed to encourage himself to stand, but instead he just laid on the edge of the bed, staring at the hard, wood floor of his and his husband’s room.
‘ _ The others will get him, right?’ _ he reasons, eyes trained on the specific grains and knots of the shiny wood planks. One of his cats softly pads over on his covers and lays on top of his legs. He can’t work up the will to look and see which one, but if he had to guess it would be Emperor Meiji.
‘ _ Yeah. They can handle this. They don't need me. Not like I’ve been useful lately, anyway.’ _ He rolls away from the edge, into the middle of the bed. His cat shrieks in protest, insulted, and he realizes it was Roosevelt, not Meiji.
Shouta stares at the empty side of the bed, and past it to the night stand. A pair of glasses sits on it, thin and round. He can see himself in them, and god does he look pitiful. His bags look about ready to absorb his neck, and his eyes have pretty much turned red even without his quirk. His hair is a worse mess than usual, greasy and limp.
He rolls onto his back, and stares at the ceiling fan. It’s turning slowly, slowly. He tracks one blade, then another.
He can’t do this. Laying in bed, worried. Alone.
He swings his legs over the edge, Roosevelt uttering another cry as he was disturbed from his newly-acquired position across Shouta’s arm.
Pacing isn’t much better, so he tries watching TV. He feeds the cats, gives them water, waters Hizashi’s plants, something he usually leaves up to the blond man. Then he cleans, and sorts, and overthinks.
Finally, he gives in.
He pulls on his hero costume, wrapping his capture weapon around his neck, and leaves, kicking Tawagoto away from the door.
The invitation to go on the raid had been extended to him when they decided to go, but he hadn’t really acknowledged it.
Turning the corner, he considers what he should do. Just show up? Or would that endanger the other heroes? Who all was there, anyway?
Hizashi, for sure, and Endeavor, unfortunately.
Shouta had never liked the man, for several reasons, but that’s not what he should be focusing on.
Kamui Woods had agreed to go, and Midnight, along with some newly debuted Pros. Someone else, too… who?
Oh. That’s right. Recovery Girl had agreed to go, since they weren’t sure what they would be up against…
Midoriya possessed All-Might’s strength, a cunning sharper than a knife, and unknown variables.
He might even have a quirk they didn’t know about, but it was sort of unlikely due to the x-rays he received as a child.
Unless those were fake. No, that wouldn’t really make sense.
Shouta curses under his breath, trying to remain focused.
He pauses long enough to text Hizashi.
_ >I’m on my way. _
* * *
Hizashi receives the text a few minutes before they’re about to enter the danger zone, and smiles. _ ‘Of course he is,’ _ he thinks to himself. To the others he says “Eraserhead is on his way.”
The others nod in grim recognition, the younger heroes looking a little relieved to have another of the more experienced hero there to help.
Chiyo shoots him a look, a question disguised as a calm glance. It’s not hard to catch the meaning.
_ Is he okay? Is he good to come with us? Should he really be here? _
Hizashi shrugs in response. He doesn’t know, but he trusts Shouta.
In the meantime, they have more important things to think about.
Like the seemingly innocent child’s clinic in front of them. It was small, and had a caving roof. It looked to have been abandoned years ago, and a corner was destroyed from unnatural causes, if the vague footprint outline was anything to go by. It looked painfully nondescript, but apparently a mass-murderer was hiding inside.
Hizashi swallowed uncomfortably, reminded of what the object of the mission was.
Obtain Midoriya Izuku, preferably alive.
Preferably.
He swallows again, and waits for the signal to head out, or for his partner to arrive. |
e5cc753208c849c69de33fee9b13e500 | ['076542d24cb14ccb87bea22ef80f6980'] | Gavin giggle-snorted at Jeremy’s lighthearted retort. “Anyway, where have you been? You’ve been gone for a while!”
“Sorry, Gav. I got sick.” As if to back up his point, Ryan let out a wet cough. “Didn’t want to give you my cold.”
“Oh, that-”
“Hey, wait just a minute.” Michael pushed Gavin away and stalked up to Ryan, staring straight up at the older lad. “I remember you. You’re the guy who saved me from the angry baker!” The redhead’s face squished up in disbelief. “I wanted to say thank you, but before I could, you ran away!”
Ryan shrugged, though he felt internally guilty. “Sorry, Michael. I had somewhere to be. And don’t worry about it; I’d do it for anyone who needed help.”
Gavin looked quizzically at Michael. “What are you on about?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Michael waved the Brit off. “But! I have to pay you back somehow, Ryan.” He grinned triumphantly at the taller blonde. “And that means we have to be friends now. And you also must be friends with Jeremy and that dummy that walked us home the other day. What was his name again? Geoff?”
“Geoff? That tired-looking guy who always hangs out with Jack Pattillo?”
“I don’t know who Jack is, but sure.” Michael nodded.
Ryan bit back a laugh. “Geoff and Jack are two idiots in the class above me. We’ve only talked a few times, but they’re cool. And if Jeremy wants to be friends, I don’t see why not.”
“Yay! We’re all friends now!” Jeremy fist-pumped the air happily. “Anyway, we were talking about going to the park after school. Wanna come along?”
Ryan nodded. “Sure, if I won’t be in the way.”
“What? No way! We’d love to have you there!” Gavin jumped happily, before the screeching chime of the bell caused him to wince. “Aww, bugger. Class is starting. We’d better go. See you later, Ryan?”
“Yeah.” Ryan headed for the stairs. He turned back, noticing the lads were behind him. “See you guys later!”
\--
Jack felt like he was walking on eggshells.
Ever since Geoff had returned to his house that morning, both boys were uncharacteristically silent. Jack had initially tried asking him what had happened, but Geoff had refused to give him an answer. He had periodically disappeared throughout the course of the day, and whenever he returned, his face was red, and his eyes were puffy, signaling that he’d been crying. The mother hen side of Jack wanted to pry for answers and help his friend, but he didn’t want to push Geoff into talking before he was ready. He decided to carry on with the day, pretending he didn’t notice the tear tracks on his friend’s face, or the way his breath hitched every so often.
Geoff had continued his silent vigil throughout most of the school day, occasionally breaking the silence to release a hollow laugh at a joke or answer a question in class, and before long, it started to grate on Jack’s nerves and make him anxious. During their last period, which was a P.E class the two shared, Jack pulled Geoff into the corner and asked “Geoff, what the fuck happened this morning?”
Geoff sighed, looking up at Jack. Realizing he wouldn’t be able to hide the truth any longer, he muttered “Mom kicked me out this morning…”
“What?!” Jack felt his heart twinge in sympathy. “She just decided to kick you out? No warning?” He raised an eyebrow. “Did you guys get into a fight about something?”
“She got mad at me because I didn’t come home for three days, and I didn’t call her.” He huffed angrily and glanced at the wall, avoiding eye contact. “I may have been a bit of an asshole, but I told her that communication was a two-way street and that she could have called me, too. We got into a huge fight and she slapped me.”
Jack hissed under his breath and felt rage bubble below the surface. He chose not to show his anger, however, and said “I’m sorry, Geoff. That’s awful.”
Geoff nodded. “We got into another fight after that, and she told me I had to get my shit and leave. But…”
“But what, Geoff?” Jack’s voice was gentle.
“She said she wished I’d died instead of my dad.” The elder male’s voice cracked as he recalled the memory. “Hearing her say that… It really fucking hurt. I should have been expecting something like this to happen, but I…” He put his head in his hands, shaking slightly as a few silent tears shed. “I just… wasn’t ready to hear that.”
The ginger male put his hand on Geoff’s shoulder. “You never would have been ready for that, no matter how bad things had become.”
“Huh?”
“Geoff, she’s your mother. No matter what had happened between you two, the last thing a child would expect to hear is ‘I wish you were dead’. You should never even _think_ about her saying something like that.”
Geoff snorted. “God, you sound like a therapist.”
Jack laughed softly. “Well, as your resident therapist and best friend, may I propose we ditch P.E and head back home? My Xbox and a round of Call of Duty are sitting there with your name written all over them.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” Geoff offered a smile in return and wiped a few stray tears from his eyes. “You’re the best, Jack.”
“That’s what friends are for, Geoff. I’ve got your back, no matter what.”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks.”
\--
Jeremy was sat atop Ryan’s shoulders, laughing manically as Ryan sprinted away from Michael and Gavin. “Hurry up, guys!” Jeremy yelled. “Mad King Ryan’s escaping! Help me Gavin! Help me, Mogar!” | 186d02b458b64f27bb970a0fa91f90b7 | ['076542d24cb14ccb87bea22ef80f6980'] |
1. Prologue
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> My favorite part about myself is starting 900 fics and then finishing them in a weird order. :D
Gavin Free was only two years old when his parents moved to America. Having been so young and without friends or playmates, the move was relatively easy for the young lad. The new start in a new country would hardly affect him.
When he was four, his parents were killed in a car accident. With no family in the United States, and no established contact with his family back in England, Gavin was taken in as a ward of the state of Texas and placed in an overfilled orphanage. When Gavin saw that there were other kids to play with, he did his best to be friendly, but the kids in the orphanage were nothing like the kids he’d met in the park. These kids were mean, and made fun of Gavin’s accent. So, Gavin left them alone, and played by himself. He didn’t like it here. He just wanted his mommy and daddy. He just wanted to go home.
Three months before his fifth birthday, Gavin saw some hope. The orphanage began to see regular visits from a tattooed couple, and Gavin was absolutely mesmerized by them. They’d been spending a lot of time talking to Gavin, and then the head of the orphanage, and they were nice. They didn’t make fun of him for having a British accent, and they liked hearing him talk about his cool-looking block structures. Gavin liked the tall man because he was big and strong, like his daddy, and he liked the nice lady because she reminded him of his mother; kind and caring, with enough love to go around. He’d seen other couples come in and talk to him before, but those ones never came back. As much as he liked this new couple, he didn’t hold much hope for them. He was stuck being alone.
It was a surprise when the last couple, known as the Ramsey’s, took him out to play for the first time. That first time merged into a second, and then a third, before Gavin got the news that the Ramsey’s were going to take him home forever. It was overwhelming for the child, but also exciting. He was going to have a home again!
When he arrived to his new home, he felt like he’d been there forever. Neither adult pressured him to call them ‘mom’ or ‘dad’, as he would do so whenever he felt comfortable. For the first time in forever, he felt loved. Griffon, the nice lady, would make him cookies and read to him. She’d even listen to him as he tried to read a story to _her_ , even if he had to make up the words if he couldn’t read them by looking at the pictures. The tall, strong man, Geoff, took him outside and taught him how to play catch, even if he wasn’t very good at it. At night, they’d watch movies with Griffon or play video games together until Gavin fell asleep. Sometimes, Geoff would fall asleep first!
–
It was no secret that Geoff and Griffon Ramsey wanted a child. Though each attempt ended unsuccessfully for them, they refused to give up.
It was much later on that Griffon found out she couldn’t have children, and her heart was crushed. How would she be able to start her little family now? In a matter of quick thinking, Geoff brought up the idea of adoption, which Griffon had decided to think on. The next day, Geoff and Griffon found themselves at the local orphanage.
The overfull orphanage had many kids they could have chosen from, but only one managed to catch their eyes. The small blonde with blue/green eyes that sat by himself every day, looking out the window and daydreaming. Griffon would always remember the way his eyes lit up when the orphanage director said that they wanted to meet him. She knew then that he was the one. The child – named Gavin – fit in with them instantly, babbling like crazy and giving them the best hugs. They didn’t want to leave him there, but they always promised to come back the next day. Soon enough, the paperwork was sorted out, and Gavin Free-Ramsey came to live with them.
While Geoff and Griffon were ready to give him all the time he needed to adjust, they found that it didn’t take him long. Though he’d had every reason to be sad, he was full of live, and had a lot of love to give. Geoff and Griffon then knew that they couldn’t have chosen better.
Maybe, Griffon thought, life worked the way it did for a reason.
2. Gavin's Camera
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I swear the only reason I'm updating this before Panacea is because I have most of this one pre-written. D:
Though the Ramsey’s had only taken Gavin into their lives a few months ago, they noticed his adapting period had been rather short. He hadn’t made any friends yet, having chosen to follow Geoff and Griffon around like a baby duck, but he was slowly showing interest in things outside the house.
“Griffy…” The short five-year-old tugged on Griffon’s pant leg to get her attention, and looked up at her with innocent eyes. “I have a question…”
Griffon smiled and knelt to his height. “Go ahead, Gav. What do you need?”
“Well…” The Brit looked down at the ground, as if embarrassed to be asking for anything. “I wanted to… Uh… Can I have a video camera?”
“A video camera?” Griffon showed genuine confusion on her face. “Whatever for?”
“Well… I saw you and Geoffy taping some of your cool chainsaw stuff the other night, and I wanted to do that too!” His eyes suddenly lit up, and he bounced in place. “I really wanna try! Please, Griffy? I promise to be careful!” |
3b6e61ca776d4256839b8af5ebffbd1a | ['0765ad43cdb9466e8b8292c750c8983c'] |
1. Bahrain Aftershocks (Philinda)
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
Melinda sat in the room crying. She remembered Katya and Eva.
_"I want to_ feel _your pain."_ her dreams said.
_No._ She thought. _I dont want you to._
_"Take my hand. I want to feel your pain. I'm so scared. Please help me. Take my hand. I want to feel your pain."_
The shadowy figures slowly emerged into a life-size form of Katya, her midnight tormentor.
_"We can help you. Just let the others go."_ Melinda pleaded.
_"I WANT TO FEEL YOUR PAIN!"_
**_Melinda._ **
_"GIVE ME YOUR PAIN!"_
With trembling hands, she took the gun.
**_Melinda._ **
She shot the girl. Again.
**_Melinda_!**
She woke up with a start, looking at Phil Coulson.
"Phil? What are you doing here?"
"You were crying, Melinda, it was Bahrain wasn't it?"
Melinda nodded.
"Go back to sleep Phil, I will be quiet now." She said as she lay back down.
She received no answer from Phil, but as she closed her eyes, an arm came and pulled her into the security of his arms.
She slept better.
2. Chapter 2
Their little girl have been missing for well over a year now and Melinda was still having a hard time moving on and she was holding out hope that her and Phil baby girl was alright somewhere.But she miss her little Skye and cry every night for what was take away from her.
There was this one song that no matter how many time it would play she would be crying by by the end of it.after what happened in Bahrain,she wasn't the same and she knew that someone else should have gone in but they have a little girl that remind her so much of own daughter that missing but she have to make the hard call and kill young girl.
She hate the nickname that everyone was calling her by,the nightmares have became a part of her sleep every night.Phil have try his best to get her open up about it but she just wouldn't talk about it because it hurt too much and there was always a reminds of what she have lost back there and that was herself.
This was her prayer for her daughter to find them someday and to have her family back together again.
_" I pray you'll be my eyes and watch her where goes and help her to be wise help me to let go. Every mother prayer every child knows_
_Lead her to a place Guide her with your grace To place where she'll be safe I pray she find finds your light and hold it in her heart As darkness fall each night Remind her where you are Every mother prayer every child knows Need to find a place Guide her to a place Give her faith so she'll be safe. Lead her to a place guide her with your grace to a place where she'll be safe."_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Here a link to a video for the song that I use in this chapter
> http://youtu.be/gqT3M2sfeWU
3. Mother Daughter
Melinda looked at the screen. The girl was so beautiful, and she had the same curly mop of hair her little Skye had had.
That was until Phil asked her name.
"What's your name?"
"Skye."
"What's your real name?" Ward asked. Melinda gritted her teeth. She hated him already, and they have only been a team for only an hour.
"That can wait. That is something we need."
_I wonder how the girl spells her name. Oh come on Melinda, she's not Skye. Atleast, not your Skye. Stop._ Her conscience told her.
Phil came up to her and held her in his arms.
"Do think she is-"
"No."
"I dont know myself."
They stayed that way, wondering about the girl interrogating Ward.
4. Skye POV
Skye don't know how to take news a few days ago that she was Coulson and May daughter, she have been hoping for so long that she would find them.
What was know is that she have gone missing as a baby, May tell her that they have give up of finding her years ago. May have always hold on to hope that Skye would find them and somehow she did.
5. Mama.
Mama, you taught me to do the right things.
So, now you have to let your baby fly.
You've given me everything that I will need.
To make it through this crazy thing called life.
And I know you watched me grow up,
and only want what's best for me.
And I think I found the answer to your prayers.
When Skye announced that she was getting married, her life was a song.
And he Is good, so good.
He treats your little girl,
like a real man should.
He is good, SO good.
He makes promises he keeps.
No, he's never gonna leave.
So, don't you worry about me.
Don't you worry about me.
Skye was getting married to Ward.
Mama, there's no way you'll ever lose me.
Giving me away is not goodbye.
As you watch me walk down to my future,
I hope tears of joy are in your eyes.
Phil was not happy.
Cause, he is good, so good.
And, he treats your little girl,
like a real man should.
He is good, SO good.
He makes promises he keeps.
No, he's never gonna leave.
So, don't you worry about me.
Don't you worry about me.
She only wanted the best for her daughter.
And when I watch my baby grow up,
I'll only want what's best for her.
And I hope she'll find,
the answer to my prayers.
And that she'll say...
But somehow, it didn't feel right.
He is good, so good.
And he treats your little girl,
like a real man should.
He is good, SO good.
He makes promises he keeps.
No, he's never gonna leave.
So, don't you worry about me.
Don't you worry about me.
Mama, don't you worry about me.
Don't you worry about me.
Like a piece of her is torn away. | 4e5b555058f941a6ba24a5c7190e1b37 | ['0765ad43cdb9466e8b8292c750c8983c'] | She would tell already that her body was wreaking and she was really hard time but she try to take her mind with doing thing with everyone. Skye only trying to make things best that she would for the time Anna have.May have sit beside Anna bedside and was there for Anna if she need a shoulder to cried on or someone to talk to. Coulson come in to check on her time to time, sometime Anna would find him reading by her bedside at night when he won't awake that she was up.
7. Birthdays
Melinda May's POV.
2 more days. Today was Anna's birthday. The team had gone to Disneyland, Universal, and ate tons of candy. Skye went on Space Mountain. 20 times. Anna seemed to love It is a small world, so she went multiple times with Phil, Melinda and Skye. But, Melinda knew, there was a tear glistening on her cheek every time.
Anna seemed to be fascinated with animals, so Melinda got her multiple stuffed animals.
They ate a nice dinner at an Italian restaurant, came home, and Anna went to sleep. Melinda came later on that night to check on her. It was what she feared.
Anna slipped into a coma.
8. birthday (Anna POV)
Anna have so much fun today going to Disneyland and Universal,this was the best birthday she ever have and ate so much candy that it kept her and Skye on sugar high which Anna knew her and Skye would regret it later.
Anna and Skye both went on Space Mountain once,Skye get on Space Mountain other 20 times after that,Anna love It is a small world and she went on it multiple times with Phil,Melinda and Skye.
She love seeing animals and May get her multiple stuffed animals.
That night they went out to nice Italian restaurant and have a really nice time.once they get back home,she was going to bed because it have been a long day.
So she tell Skye that she meet her in gym in morning before closed the door to her room,take her shower before putting on her favorite movie City of Angels on and fall asleep while watch it.
Anna didn't know that she would never wake up again as she close her eyes one last time
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> City of Angels is one of my all time favorite movie so that why I mention it here and the song Angels from this movie will be use in a chapter later in this story
9. Hours
Melinda May
12 hours. 12. 12...12..
12 was an unlucky number.
12th was Bahrain
12th was when phil died.
12th was when Andrew divorced her.
12th was when Phil came back.
12th was when Anna never woke up.
12 hours since she closed her eyes.
Melinda sat by her bed, waiting for some sign of life. Nothing came.
10. Chapter 10: (Anna POV)
Anna knew what was going around her and would hear everything but she try and try to open her or move but nothing happened. She would knew that someone was by her bed because of the hand that was holding her, May have been only one by her side most of the time. That all Anna ever want was someone to care for her since her own mom was kill back when she was only 10 years old.
Skye have been sitting by her bed crying endless just want Anna wake up or give some hope that she would pull thought this.
Sometime after that May have come to sit by Anna bedside after finding what Anna left for her on her laptop
11. flat line (Anna POV)
“I dreamed I was missing you were so scared but no one would listen cause no one else cared”
Anna knew her time was coming to an end, she wasn’t with everything that was happened. She wasn’t with her body as she looking up and down hallway, seeing that life was going on without her.
“After my dreaming I woke with this fear what am I leaving when I’m done here?”
Her time here wasn’t done not yet anyway, Anna want stay to watch over team. They were the only family she has, staying was in her own way to see that everyone moving on.
“So if you’re asking me I want you to know”
“When my time comes forget the wrong that I’ve done help me leave behind some reasons to be missed and don’t resent me and when you’re feeling empty keep me in your memory leave out all the rest leave out all the rest”
This was her home and family, leave like was never something she plan on.
“Don’t be afraid I’ve taken my beating I’ve shared what I’ve made I’m strong on the surface not all way thought I’ve never been perfect but neither have you”
“So if you’re asking me I want you to know”
“When my time comes forget the wrong that I’ve done help me leave behind some reasons to be missed and don’t resent me and when you’re feeling empty keep me in your memory leave out all the rest leave out all the rest”
“Forgetting all the hurt inside you’ve learned to hide so well pretending someone else can come and save me from myself I can’t be who you are”
“When time comes forget the wrong that I’ve done help me leave behind some reasons to be missed and don’t resent me and when you’re feeling empty keep me in your memory leave out all the rest leave out all the rest”
“Forgetting all the hurt inside you’ve learned to hide so well pretending someone else can come and save me from myself I can’t be who you are I can’t be who you are” |
e935d44805e84f259ea3129de4278cbf | ['07882d51bb29491da84d4a114bcfcf13'] | Kihyun snorts. "Different from my brother?" He stands up to clear the table, stacking the dirty dishware and standing up. Minhyuk's gaze is heavy on him, tracking his movements. "What?" he asks defensively and almost stumbles. Minhyuk stands up, following him to place a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"You're different from everyone I know," he says, earnestly. Heat spreads throughout Kihyun's body from that single point of contact, and he quickly turns away to place the bowls and used cutlery in the sink. Minhyuk leans back against the counter, hand falling away easily.
"That's because you only see celebrities now," Kihyun mutters as he starts running water over the dishes but Minhyuk shakes his head.
"I don't actually know that many other idols," he says, tipping his head back so that he can look at Kihyun's face. "That's why I think we should become friends."
"We've already dropped formalities," Kihyun points out, scrubbing harder than he probably needs to.
Minhyuk pouts, pushing his shoulder into Kihyun's. "That's not the same thing at all."
Kihyun rinses the bowls and places them on the dish rack to dry, the absurdity of the situation finally catching up to him. He's not — there's nothing special about Kihyun. He does well enough in school but he's just been rejected from two internships this week (and today probably makes three), and he has no idea what he's going to do with his visual arts degree after he graduates if he can't get a job.
And then there's Minhyuk standing into the corner of his room. Minhyuk who is an idol in a group that's still struggling to get recognized on the street, who works with Kihyun's brother and smiles so prettily at Kihyun when he calls him cute. Minhyuk's hair looks like it’s glowing under the fluorescent ceiling light, a blurry-edged halo.
Kihyun carefully wipes his hand clean on a dish towel and then leans forward to kiss him, a soft half-breath against Minhyuk's lips which part with a sigh. It’s not entirely unexpected — Kihyun wouldn’t have, if he hadn’t thought he could see it, the quiet suggestion, in Minhyuk’s eyes as well — but a shivering jolt of electricity goes down his spine.
The inside of Minhyuk’s mouth tastes a bit like onions, which should be strange, but mostly it reminds him that Minhyuk is here with him, in his shoebox apartment. Kihyun twists his hand into the side of Minhyuk’s jacket, gasping when cool fingers slide up along the side of his neck, cradling his face.
"You're so cute," Minhyuk whispers between a trail of kisses and gentle nips down Kihyun's jaw. Kihyun lets out a small noise that sounds embarrassingly close to a squeak when Minhyuk's teeth scrape roughly against his throat. Flushed, Kihyun pulls away but Minhyuk chases after him, grinning as he places a messy wet kiss to the back of Kihyun's hand.
"Gross," says Kihyun, willing away the heat in his cheeks. "Go brush your teeth first if you're going to slobber all over me."
"I'll need a toothbrush."
"I have extras."
"Really?"
"It's late," Kihyun says, stubbornly looking away from Minhyuk's face. "You should just stay the night. I'll let my brother know." Minhyuk hums his agreement.
Feeling self-conscious, Kihyun shows Minhyuk to the bathroom, setting out a new toothbrush and a clean set of sleep clothes. With the door shut between them, he quickly changes into a pair of loose sweatpants and, after a moment's hesitation, an over-sized t-shirt that reaches his thighs. Then he starts a new message on his phone.
_Minhyuk-ssi_ , he types out on his phone before pausing and hitting the backspace button. _Minhyuk is at my place tonight. We ran into each other and had dinner together. Since it's late I told him he could stay overnight._
He waits as the small _'1'_ by the message disappears, indicating that his message has been read, but there's no reply for over a minute.
_Is that okay since you're not promoting right now?
I'll help him get back in the morning._
This time there's a response within a few seconds. _That's fine_. And then, _Sleep well, Kihyun-ah_.
Minhyuk seems content to flop onto Kihyun's bed with his phone while he waits for Kihyun to do his own washing up. When Kihyun steps back out into the main room, the overhead light has already been turned off, leaving only his bedside lamp on. Minhyuk has wormed his way under the covers, tucked cozily against the wall.
"'s so cold," he complains when Kihyun pulls the edge of the duvet out from underneath him to join him in bed.
"If you stopped hogging the blankets to yourself maybe we could both get warmer faster," Kihyun grumbles. He does his best to pull the sheets around him like a shared cocoon.
"Oh my, Kihyun-ssi, what are you suggesting!"
Kihyun stares at Minhyuk in disbelief. "You aren't going to start being polite now."
Minhyuk's gaze slides sideways, sly. "I guess not."
"Go to sleep," Kihyun tells him irritably, and Minhyuk's eyes flutter shut obediently. His mouth is still curved up into a smile. Kihyun can feel the corners of his own mouth trying to sneak up in response and he tamps down the urge. "My alarm's set for six," he warns. Minhyuk whines something unintelligible into the blankets and Kihyun presses his cold feet against Minhyuk's, unlocking his phone to make sure the alarm is actually set.
There's an email notification that must have popped up while he was getting ready for bed. His finger hovers the screen, frozen with indecision. | 21f73d81c6734efd84b61d1bd3a1946c | ['07882d51bb29491da84d4a114bcfcf13'] |
mean what you say
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> dear moon_blitz: happy yuletide!! i hope you enjoy this small piece from my heart.
>
> note: this takes place in some nebulous time after the musashino match & momokan's father pitch coaching but before the senda match.
The late afternoon sun was casting long shadows across the field. Practice was finally over for the day and Takaya felt even more tired than usual.
"No pitching when you get home," Takaya warned Mihashi. Mihashi deflated, looking shiftily away from him. " _Mihashi_ ," Takaya started before Izumi closed his locker door with a loud bang.
"Give it a rest, Abe," Izumi called out, exasperation written clearly across his face. "You go through this every single day."
That was a bit unfair, Takaya thought. He wouldn’t have reminded Mihashi every day if he knew that he didn’t have to. He had half a mind to say so, when he noticed Mihashi glancing fitfully between them, looking alarmed. "Fine," he said, disgruntled. Mihashi continued to fidget and Takaya held his breath. Patience didn't come easily to Takaya off the baseball field, but he was trying.
"I understand," Mihashi finally said, eyes wide and sad. "Abe-kun worrying... about me."
Hearing Mihashi say it like that sparked a flash of embarrassment in Takaya, which he quickly squashed. It was normal for Mihashi to transform the most mundane interactions and transform them into signs of incredible virtue. More importantly, Mihashi was still staring at the ground, which meant that he was probably thinking about something troublesome again, like how he wasn't a strong enough pitcher for Takaya.
"I'll walk you home," Takaya offered. He'd talk to Mihashi along the way — that ought to nip whatever it was in the bud.
To his surprise, Mihashi shook his head. "F- forgot book… in classroom," Mihashi said. "See you… tomorrow?" His voice trailed off at the end, as if there were any doubt that Takaya would be there at practice the next morning, catching his pitches for him.
"Yeah, sure," Takaya replied, bemused. "Tomorrow." Mihashi seemed to brighten anyway at that, the corners of his mouth curving up into a shy grin. Takaya’s stomach did a little flip at that. Mihashi had started smiling at him more recently since his leg had healed, which Takaya had taken as a good sign (they _were_ friends, no matter what Takaya’s father had said). It was still a little surprising though, each time that Mihashi turned that smile on him.
"Later, Abe!" Tajima yelled, followed by a chorus of goodbyes from the rest of their teammates.
Walking home, Takaya considered his performance at practice that day. For now, he'd been able to adjust to Mihashi's altered form, but he wasn't sure how they would hold up in a match, when Mihashi could be throwing close to one hundred pitches. It galled a little, how easily Mihashi had been swayed by one word from Haruna, but even Takaya was forced to admit that there was a limit to how far they could go as they were now. Takaya had promised Mihashi a shot at Koushien within the next two years and he planned to make good on it.
First though, Takaya had to make somehow teach the mechanics of the backspin to Mihashi. Shun probably had some beginner-level books in his room that he wasn't using. Reaching into his pocket for his phone, Takaya frowned when his fingers closed on empty air. Thinking back, Takaya concluded that he'd most likely forgotten it in his locker after practice.
Mihashi’s bicycle was still there, chained to the rack near the field. Frowning, Takaya walked closer. It shouldn’t have taken Mihashi more than a few minutes to walk to the classrooms and back. Mihashi couldn't be practicing by himself at school, could he? Takaya gritted his teeth, jogging toward the practice grounds with a lecture already forming at his lips.
Coming closer, Takaya could see that the area around the field was empty except for the buzzing of the cicadas under the orange sky. Mihashi was nowhere to be seen and all the equipment and all the equipment was still neatly put away, just as the team had left it at the end of practice. Takaya’s anger bottomed out, turning in on itself into an uneasy worry. It hadn't been that long since Takaya had been out. If Nishiura lost another player so soon, and Mihashi at that...
Hearing a muffled noise coming from the locker rooms, Takaya rushed inside. In the back row of lockers was Mihashi, bent over himself on the ground with one hand pressed against his abdomen.
"A... ah —" Mihashi curled further in on himself.
"Mihashi!" Takaya rushed forward to crouch down next to him and Mihashi's head whipped up at the sound. Mihashi pitched forward, losing his balance, and Takaya's arm shot out to catch him. In this position, Takaya could now see that Mihashi's pants were unbuttoned and rumpled in the front, revealing a flash of dark cloth and pale skin... He stiffened. Mihashi followed his gaze downward and hastily tugged his shirt down.
"H-home... parents..." Mihashi stammered. An image of Mihashi's mother flashed through Takaya's mind and he nodded at Mihashi in understanding.
"I get it," Takaya said. It was hard to find privacy at home. Takaya's mom liked to barge in at times, telling him to put away his laundry or to come down and eat dinner, and his dad was always asking questions about the team, pressing him about his relationship with Mihashi. Takaya tried to keep his gaze up and away from where Mihashi's hands were twisting into the hem of his shirt.
"Sorry — I... Abe-kun..." |
295da6863516486cb8282ea0fb6d3c12 | ['079fc10a2b1247bd9b7635ba3a2a79bb'] | he couldn't focus on what hoseok was saying, only focus on how he thought that this was the end. hoseok's grip on his neck only getting tighter, before completely disappearing. fell to the floor trying to catch his breath. it felt like the air he was inhaling, wasn't making it all the way down to his lungs, and for the first time, hyungwon cried.
he couldn't hold it in any longer. his cries started out quietly but as it became hard to find his breath again while crying as well, his cries turned to sobs and was way more vocal than hyungwon wanted. but he couldn't stop. he couldn't stop crying as his hand held his neck, almost like he thought it would help the situation.
all while hoseok was only standing there in front of him, staring at him.
"fucking whore" hyungwon had tried to ignore his words. but everything had become too real and he couldn't deny the situation anymore. he was trying so hard to tell himself, that all of this was happening because hoseok loved him. but hoseok only walked away and left hyungwon sitting there on the floor.
hyungwon was the last to join the bed later that night. immediately crawling into hoseok's arms and listening to the way he told him that he loved him. believing him because there on the sheets. nothing had happened.
he told him how beautiful he was and how happy he was with him. and hyungwon believed him. because there on the sheets. nothing had ever happened.
3. Chapter 3
the alarm woke them early that morning. hyungwon's eyes instantly landing on hoseok's face that was dimly lit by the sun rising outside. his eyes still closed and hyungwon had to let a finger run under his right eye. going down to run over his lips.
hoseok opened his eyes slightly, staring back at hyungwon before leaning in to kiss him. the kiss deepening and hoseok rolled onto his back, still with hyungwon tightly wrapped in his arms, and placed the younger boy on top of him.
even if they knew they had to get up, they stayed a little longer together that morning. until hoseok had to get up as he had to go to work an hour before hyungwon.
hyungwon was standing against the counter, waiting for his bread to toast as he just stared at hoseok. the guy sitting there and eating his own breakfast while scrolling through his phone.
"my parents are coming over for dinner tonight. just wanted to let you know" hoseok flashed him a quick smile, his tone soft and inviting. something inside hyungwon's chest had felt warm and he knew that he missed moments like that. outside the bed and the sheets, where hoseok would be warm and such a loving boyfriend.
had to stroll over to him and lift his head up a little so he could lean down and kiss his pretty lips. hoseok's hand coming up to hold onto hyungwon's cheek, rub his thumb over it. the moment didn't last as long as hyungwon had wanted it to.
hyungwon never looked in the mirror anymore. afraid he'd end up seeing something that would show how much the abuse had affected him. he never sees his parents anymore either. afraid they'll see what goes on in the apartment.
but as hyungwon never looks in the mirror anymore, he didn't know how hoseok had ended up leaving a big red mark on his neck from the incident the day before. not being aware of it and walking into the office like any other normal day. but minhyuk, the co-worker hoseok beats hyungwon up over, he was quick to ask him about it. the concern coating his voice, and at first, hyungwon had no idea what he was talking about. but minhyuk took a picture of his neck, as there were no mirrors in sight, and showed it to hyungwon.
hyungwon couldn't speak. didn't know what to say. the only thing he could think about was how to hide it before hoseok's parents came by later that evening. because if he didn't and they would end up questioning it, he wouldn't know what to say just like with minhyuk. hoseok would scold him for it. tell him that it was his fault and that he should be more cautious with things like that.
he was always told that. so many times that hyungwon had started to believe it.
minhyuk didn't know what was going on between hyungwon and hoseok. he never dared say it to anyone, but jooheon had noticed how both of their behaviours had changed and was quick to figure out why hyungwon would always have some kind of bruise covering his skin. he never directly told hyungwon that he knew it, but would always tell him to get out of the relationship, in the form of acting like he was talking about someone else.
and by the time hyungwon met up with jooheon for lunch the same day, the boy couldn't hold himself back any longer and had to speak.
"is this the first time he's ever choked you?" jooheon's voice had been low and gentle, but hyungwon didn't focus on those things. he had instantly stopped up in place, looked at jooheon for a second before excusing himself and running back to the company. afraid that jooheon knew. afraid that he would make him leave hoseok.
later that day when hyungwon returned from work at around five-thirty, hoseok wasn't home. probably out buying groceries. the apartment was nicely quiet, hyungwon taking his time to fill a glass with water.
though the doorbell rang for a moment and hyungwon got up from the chair to open up the door for the person. it was the neighbour, standing in the door with a pot in her hands. the smile on her lips very warm and hyungwon could only smile back. | 2caa1581d2cf41d693b768f8aac54471 | ['079fc10a2b1247bd9b7635ba3a2a79bb'] | hoseok had never minded him. never really thought much about him. sure he was beautiful. and sure, it did seem strange how he only cared about his studies, and maybe sometimes minhyuk when he was around. but hoseok had never been curious about people. not in that way. so he just always stayed silent and just listened when the two was talking about the boy.
though the class was suddenly interrupted as the door opened. heavy breathing sounding through the room as minhyuk stepped through the door. hoseok's head turning to the boy far from him, watching how his head turned to the door and his eyes lighting up as he realized who had shown up.
minhyuk himself not listening to the professor scolding him for being late, but just finding a way up to the lone boy on the side.
hoseok didn't want to watch how he came to sit down with he boy, just turning his head back to the direction of the professor.
-
"you should really get yourself a boyfriend" changkyun swung an arm around hoseok's shoulder, pulling him closer so they could both fit through the door. jooheon trailing just behind them.
changkyun let go of hoseok as he found a table and sat down, deciding that one of the other two could order for him so he didn't have to get up again.
"what makes you think it isn't your time to order" jooheon lightly kicked the leg of the chair changkyun had sat down in. the boy instantly taking out his hand indicating he wanted to decide via rock paper scissor. jooheon pulling his out two only waiting for hoseok to join in too but the older just shook his head.
"i'll order, you kids" changkyun ignored the last part and just shot hoseok a finger heart, pulling out the second chair for jooheon to sit down too.
hoseok didn't mind ordering. maybe he even preferred it a little. always having had some kind of love for talking, especially to strangers. there was just some kind of thrill over it. though changkyun and jooheon would usually just argue about it, but hoseok liked doing it. so why shouldn't he?
he knew what to get. both of them always just sticking with the same things, where hoseok would always try out something new. making it pretty easy to just order without having to wait for anyone to decide, besides himself.
the mcdonald's was close to crowded as always, knowing that it'll it end up taking years for the food to get ready, just earning him another text from one of the boys asking where the food were. it happened before. hoseok having waited for ten minutes, before suddenly getting a text from jooheon, saying that changkyun was asking when the food was ready. both of them too lazy to just get up and walk five meters to find hoseok.
it was cute.
though today it went quite fast. the two back at the table even surprised themselves as hoseok came back with the tray in hand, handing out each of their items of food.
"so back to what i was saying. you need a boyfriend" hoseok only scuffed at the boy, taking a single fry and biting off half of it. "do you have someone in mind?" hoseok looked back up at changkyun, the younger just putting on a proud smile as he flipped the lid to his burger open.
"yes in fact i do. chae hyungwon" both of them heard how jooheon chocked in the background, though only hoseok's eyes turning to him for a swift second, landing back on changkyun immediately after. hoseok only shook is head in question, just waiting for the younger to continue.
obviously changkyun hadn't meant anything bad with it. he never would because none of them had anything against the boy. and it also didn't seem like it was teasing of any sort to any person, that just being another reason why hoseok got confused about it.
"listen. he's pretty and he seems like your ideal type. i don't know if he's gay, but he certainly will be if you try to hit on him" the proud smile on changkyun's lips stayed as the boy laid a hand on hoseok's shoulder. "he _is_ my ideal type, but he seems like a person who just wants to get through university without bothering anyone, and therefore i won't bother him either"
changkyun let out a way too loud groan, throwing his head back not caring that other people around them started to look at him.
"you're so fucking boring. too fucking kind" hoseok could only laugh at him, continuing on eating his fries as jooheon took it as his cue to start talking himself.
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> i have a really good idea for the end of this but i don't know if i'll go through with it since it's quite gruesome :/
his lungs were screaming for air, his breathing having gotten so desperate and he kept ignoring the way his thighs were burning. just a little more. just a little longer. hoseok didn't have any classes before noon, therefore deciding to just go on a run. not entirely knowing how long he had run, but as he came back to the dorms and stopped abruptly, his phone told him that it had been 6 km.
hoseok took a little time to get his breath back, feeling how the sweat was dripping off his forehead and as he got his senses back, he couldn't help but smile in victory. standing up straight after having been bent over, his eyes caught onto a person a few meters from him. the person standing there with their books clutched to their chest. their eyes on hoseok. their body seeming stiff.
hyungwon. it was hyungwon. |
cc2c6da857b143e8990cad6dafbf0753 | ['07a353cd84e34db5b75d767ee45f3c16'] | “Well, I think it suits her.” She laughs. “Now you have to hope she won’t turn out like me.”
“I don’t think that’d be such a terrible thing.” Aurora adds as she leans her head on Mulan shoulder.
\- - -
They continue their habit of weekly get-togethers. Sometimes it’s coffee, but most often its afternoons with Rose. Soon enough, it’s daily. Philip comes in and out as they spend time together, sometimes going off to do things with Eric and Ariel, sometimes helping out around the town.
As much as Philip is, or was, her friend to, Mulan relishes the time alone with Aurora. It’s not that her feelings are his fault, but they’re a lot easier to live with when he’s not around. It’s a lot easier to hope when he’s not walking through the front door.
Mulan can’t help but notice how much more relaxed Aurora is when Philip’s not around. She seems to smile more, and Mulan hopes…
They joke, reminisce and story-tell. Mulan tells Aurora of the time the Merry Men all bet who’d win an arm wrestle against her, and how none had bested her but Roland (she’d let him win, but had made a big show of trying). Aurora tells Mulan that in her time talking with Snow they'd been reminded of their big adventure and she misses the excitement.
It’s then that Mulan comes up with a plan. “Then let’s go on our own adventure.”
When Aurora looks puzzled, she replies “Oh, come on, we’ve barely explored half of this town or it’s adjacent forest. Let’s just pick a direction and go. See what we find.”
Aurora looks down at her daughter in her arms “But what about Rose? What-”
Mulan interrupts “Get Snow to babysit. I’m sure the kids would love a playdate.” She grimaces and adds “Or get Philip to take him for a day. It’s his kid too.”
It takes some work, but Aurora finally concedes and Mulan is happier than she’s been in a year. It might not be exactly the situation she wanted, but she can’t deny it’s nice having Aurora back in her life again.
\- - -
They’re trekking through the forest behind the town and Aurora is having a hard time keeping up.
Mulan grumbles “You know, if you hadn’t worn boots with heels it’d be a lot easier to walk around in all this mud and roots.”
Aurora protests “It’s all I have. Just give me a minute to rest and I’ll have a better chance at keeping up.”
“Fine, but only a brief rest or this won’t be much of an adventure, now will it?” Mulan feigns annoyance, but it reminds her of an impractically dressed princess wandering about the enchanted forest getting caught in every branch that crossed their path, and she can’t say she’s too upset at the reminder of why she fell in love with the woman.
Twenty minutes later they get to a particularly dense patch of trees and roots and Aurora trips. Mulan reaches to break her fall and in a split-second she loves those ridiculous boots because Aurora’s only a few inches from her face and she smells so good and they stand there, as still as statues, for a few moments. In those few seconds Mulan thinks she sees the same emotions she’s been feeling in Aurora’s eyes and she’s about to lean in and go for it when -
“Mulan! I’m so glad I found you.” Will’s a great friend, but Mulan almost wanted to smack him for his horrible timing.
She turns, slowly. “What do you need, Will?” She stares him down pointedly.
“Well, I was looking for someone to help with that thing I’d mentioned to you a few days ago.” He stops, finally reading the situation he’d interrupted. “It can wait if you’re busy” He pauses, a pained look on his face. In that expression, Mulan reads two things: this has to do with the love he lost in another realm, and it’s rather time-sensitive.
She turns to Aurora and offers “I’m so sorry. It’s really important I help him take care of this. Are you okay to get back yourself? We can walk you half the way back if you’d like.”
Aurora frowns, but nods. “I know my way back. I’ll see you later.” She has a sad look on her face and Mulan hopes that in helping Will, she hasn’t just thrown away her second chance at getting what she wants.
“I’m sorry. I’ll come see you after I’m done with this.” Mulan offers last attempt to reassure Aurora that if their moment meant what Mulan thought it did, her interest wasn't unwelcome.
\- - -
Aurora walks back towards her apartment through Storybrooke’s woods, slowly. She’s sulking and she knows it, but she’s indulging herself. She’s more confused than she’d ever been.
It had occurred to her once, back in the enchanted forest, that she might feel that way about her friend, but she’d found out she was having Rose and Mulan left and there’d been no time to address those feelings. Seeing more of Mulan these last few weeks made Aurora more certain of her feelings than she’d ever been.
Yet, in the moment that she’d tried to act on these feelings, Mulan walked away.
Aurora wasn’t sure what to think.
There were times, back on their grand adventure, that she thought Mulan had felt that way about her, too. She hadn’t known what to do about it then, but she thought did now. She wondered if she’d missed the opportunity.
\- - -
Mulan resolves to bring their moment up the next time they see each other. To her surprise, it’s Aurora who starts the conversation.
“Are you and Will seeing each other?” Aurora asks rather bluntly.
“No.” Mulan forces back a laugh. “He’s a great friend, but that’s all.” | 0cfdc326a93148658e7f9600b028f930 | ['07a353cd84e34db5b75d767ee45f3c16'] |
The Rock and the Tide: Prologue
Temperance Brennan stood at the entrance to the U.S army base outside Baghdad. Her brown hair blowing in the breeze, she waited, poised behind a particularly enigmatic reporter who seemed to have been trying to arrange a meeting she didn’t have the clearance for. The feisty blonde, who’s bright features never seemed to tire was determined, Temperance would give her that; only when it was absolutely clear that pushing the matter was going to move her away from her objective did she concede. One could only assume the story she was looking for was the one Temperance had been called in on. She agreed to her scheduled interview with public relations and proceeded onwards.
Slightly irritated that the journalist’s persistence had cost her valuable minutes and she was bordering on late, Temperance walked up to security and flashed her credentials: “Dr. Brennan, forensic anthropologist. I’ve been called in to consult”. The guard gave her badge a purposeful scan, handed it back to her and waved her through the gates.
As she entered the base, she was relieved to be removed from the heat, temporary as it was. The Iraqi weather was a double-edged sword. On one hand, it was hot enough to demand short sleeves and shorts, yet its wind and frequent sandstorms made these clothing choices undesirable. She’d been prepared regardless; as a recognized and trusted forensic anthropologist, it was not the first time she’d examined human remains in a Middle-Eastern country. She’d received a call from General Richards requiring her skills to solve a particularly delicate case. From what they told her, the body had been found inside the grounds of the base, but only just. They needed to know both who the body was and how it got there in order to plan their next move.
She walked through the doors and a soldier led her down the hall towards the back of the base. It soon became clear, however, that the air-conditioned interior of the base would provide only a brief reprise from the sweltering heat outside. She was led out the rear entrance to a convergence of personnel a few meters away from the door. The army physician waved her over. Temperance took a breath and joined those circling the remains: a partially exposed skeleton, buried in the dry desert sand.
“Temperance Brennan, forensic anthropologist”, she flashed her badge as formality; these people invited her into their territory, they knew who she was. Still, protocol existed for a reason. She did her initial inspection of the body, checking for age, sex and any other visible identity markers. After a few minutes she concluded, “Victim appears to be a caucasian male in his mid-twenties. Body’s been exposed to extreme temperatures for at least a year, most likely more. Judging by the dental work, most likely of North American origins. Regardless, dental records should speed up the process of identifying the body,” she stated while one of the individuals surrounding the body jotted it down.
“Are you sure about that?” the General seemed unsure of her conclusion. Temperance was never amused with people who assumed she’d come to her doctorate by chance instead of study and drive.
“We’ve only been here six months, there’s no way it could be any of our men.” He seemed worried in the way one does when they are trying really hard not to appear so.
Temperance added, in the hopes of reassuring him “I haven’t concluded positively that it’s an American or a even soldier for that matter. I’d need further examination and dental records to verify identity without error,” her retort came out a bit brasher than it should have, and it was obvious.
“There is another addendum to this body, Dr. Brennan,” he explained apologetically. “Just prior to your arrival, we found these in the vicinity of the body,” he pulled out a baggie containing a set of army dog tags. Richards clarified “They were picked up to make a quick I.D, although with skeletonized remains we can never be too sure, which is why we called for a consult.”
“Which means you are now trying to solve a murder and a disappearance,” the anthropologist clarified.
General Richards gestured for her to follow him as he walked towards his office, “It also means we have to handle this with the utmost discretion. I don’t know who this body we have was, but I’d rather be sure before we alert any media or authorities.”
\- - - - -
Hannah Burley was used to dry heat. This was just another of many days in the sweltering Iraqi sun. After getting into a heated debate with the security officer at the entrance to the base she had been assigned, she finally went inside to wait for her scheduled meeting with their “this is what we want you to know” guy. Where she was, in fact, still waiting. Her afternoon was becoming a tad more interesting than usual. She’d known something was different when she’d arrived at the base: she could make out personnel scurrying to attend to some commotion happening just outside her line of vision. She thought it was just one of those army experiences she could add to her correspondence to give it some reality. Something that wasn’t planned and given to her in direct, policed, statements.
She gauged by the fact that she’d just seen a woman walk towards the supposed commotion, regal and most definitely not dressed for the army, this was a lot more than just some occasional staple of life in the war. From what she could pick up with her handy eavesdropping skills: there was a body somewhere in the vicinity, and she was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to know about it. |
6d11c942dab24ceb8f38210e7642d099 | ['07fb6523632f4040b32d237f03c626a0'] | "Can you believe this? A week away, its going to be amazing" Liam smiled falling on his bed bringing Grayson down with an "ommpf" sound leaving his mouth as he landed on the bed. They laid their and talked about what a good week it would be and Liam had even convinced Grayson to sit on the dock with him one night and look at the stars as they always showed up better in the country, far away from the city and from the sounds of it thats where they were going.
-
As Ian was no longer working as an EMT because of him starting school in a few months when the kids went back he took Liam and Grayson to get some last minute things before they left. As they would do a huge grocery shop once they got their they went to buy a shit one of floats for the lake, a lot of alcohol and snacks for the ride up, all of them talking about the bin fires and things they would be doing. Even Ian was excited for this.
By 5 everyone had their bags packed and ready to go, Mickey sorted them into cars and they left. Mickey was driving car one that held him, Ian, Liam,Grayson and yev and all the floats they had to blow up once they got their. Car two, driven by lip, held him, Lily, Carl and Mandy along with all the drinks and possible joints that Carl had brought along for some fun times. And in car three was just Sophia and Iggy along with all of the bags because their car had more room. All of them were their but svet who was extremely sick and couldn't go but they promised to talk lots of pictures for her of Yev swimming and making smores. With everyone packed up and ready to go they left, saying goodbye to the drama and the hurt that had happened over the weeks and saying hello to beautiful weather and a beautiful home away from home.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This prechapter before 3 chapters of their vacation! Longest chapter i've wrote so far!
19. Vacation-Part One
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Vacation part one!
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> The picture of the house in linked in the first sentence!
> Guys..
> Im so sorry I haven't updated in a while, Things aren't going very well for me right now.
> Next chapter will be all about they fun they are having!
> I hope you liked this.
When the 3 cars pulled into the drive way everyones mouth dropped. It was It was the most amazing thing Ian had ever seen, LINKand you could see a huge boat house in the distance, Ian was going to enjoy this week more than any other, that he was sure off. Everyone got out of the car, walking over to stand with Ian and Mickey followed by "wow"s and "Holy fuck"s.
"You did all of this Mickey?" Sophia asked as Iggy came around and wrapping his arm around her waist, although neither of them had made it official yet, they both knew that they had feelings for one another and thats really all they needed to know right now. Neither of them did very well with relationships and they didn't want to push things or ruin them, they liked how things were. They hung out, kissed, even cuddled when Iggy spent the night. It was still all new to them, things had only been like this for a month or so and when the time was right Iggy would ask her out, but not yet.
"Theres 8 rooms, most rooms have a bathroom attached, a game room, a living room, hot tub, trampoline and the lake. The boat shed has a bed and bath in it as well. Boats at the bottom. Go" Mickey told them and as soon as he said go they all ran, leaving Mickey and Ian standing alone.
"You had them lock the master right?" Ian asked causing his boyfriend to laugh and pull Ian into a kiss.
"Of course I did goof" Ian smiled at Mickeys response, he loved the little names Mickey would call him. To others they might get offended or upset but Ian knew thats how Mickey showed love and affection and it made Ian happy that Mickey showed him that, even in the weird ways he does.
Ian and Mickey first started unpacking all the alcohol first, putting the beer, vodka and coolers in the fridge, putting the rest in a cupboard before calling Carl and Liam to help bring all the bags in, for only staying for a week the girls had packed like they were staying for a month and lord knows that most of the time everyone would be in bathing suits so half of the clothes weren't even needed but none of the boys said anything. Lily and Grayson had been sitting on the floor blowing up floats while sophia and Iggy started making lunch. Mickey looked around to see smiles on everyones faces and it made him happy, he did something right,that was until he noticed that Liam was no where to be found, Mickey worried of course set out to find him.
He found him a few minutes later, sitting on one of the wooden adirondack chairs that sat on the deck by the boat house. Liam was lost in thought,sad looking and alone. Mickey first thought that something had happened between him and Grayson but he was in the main house smiling so Mickey scratched that Idea because he knew that Grayson would have been the same way as Liam was now. | aee33bdf9d3340dbb97e4250fee50bdb | ['07fb6523632f4040b32d237f03c626a0'] | "We have enough Money to worry about pills, food, all of that. Plus I know you have a lot saved so if an emergency happened we would be okay, plus I think its amazing idea. Younger Mickey wished you would have saved him too. You could make a difference to these kids lives Ian and I support it" Mickey said kissing Ian's forehead before laying his head on his chest and closing his eyes. Ian just smiled, placing his arms around his lovers and closing his eyes. He couldn't believe Mickey supported it all. But Mickey would support anything Ian wanted.
14. Fights and coming out
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Grayson pushes too far and causing liam to come out to Ian and mickey
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Longest chapter Ive written!
> Follow me on tumblr: Shameless-addicted!
> Kudos and comments appreciated!
> Love yall
"Liam, can we please talk about this" Grayson asked as he walked into the kitchen. They had both agreed to take the late night shift that took place on Saturday to clean the whole place while no one was in it and make sure it was ready for the next week. Liam had been stalking the dishwasher while Grayson was filling sugar jars, normally they would do these things together, sure it took more time but they spent it kissing and being loving knowing no one would catch them. Grayson craved Saturday nights to come, because for once they weren't locked in a bedroom or far out in the country where no one was around but they were in the place they first met and that meant so much to him. Grayson was so open with his emotions, even more so with how he felt with the younger boy.
"No" He said not turning to look at his boyfriend. Liam couldn't have this conversation again. He couldn't hear the sadness in Grayson's voice one more time when he said "I understand" because he knew he didn't. Liam hated hiding too, he hated the sadness when gray saw Ian and Mickey or Lily and Carl being all coupely but they couldn't and what Liam hated even more was that it was his fault the boy felt that sadness. He hated all of it. He didn't want to hide, he had tried telling Fiona and he just couldn't form the words, _he was scared._
"Why? Please" He begged, bringing his hand softly to Liam's chin and turning his face to look at his.
"What do you want to talk about? That hiding isn't what you want? That it hurts you? Like i can't tell that it hurts you when we go out and we have to pretend that we aren't us because of me? Because I know Grayson and Im fucking sorry okay?" Liam said, sadly and angrily at the same time. Grayson had said a few times that his hurt him or made him sad and how he wished they could be normal and happy in public and it just broke Liam's heart even more each time and he wouldn't stop reminding him.
"Liam don't be like that, I just don't understand why its a big deal. If they support Ian they will support you" He said, _again._
"its just not the same Gray i'm sorry" Liam said looking to his feet.
"If you cared about me you'd come out Liam" He said, ruder than he had intended it to be. Liam couldn't believe he had said. Liam was the one who calmed Grayson down after a panic attack, stayed on the phone with him until he felt back asleep after a nightmare, walked to him anytime anywhere when he wanted, took care of him when he was sick. They had been dating for 6 months and now if he didn't tell the world he was gay he didn't care. _He was hurt_.
"Liam I didn-" He started but didn't finish as Liam cut him off.
"Just leave me alone"
"No baby I didn't mean it like that I just.." Grayson trailed off, trying to figure out how to take back what he said, because he knew he was being selfish.
"No, just go find someone who cares okay?! You've made it clear that I don't now go" He snapped, he was hurt and tired and sad, he wanted to be alone.
"Maybe I will, they will be a hell of a lot better than whatever the fuck is" He spat, he was just as sad, angry and tired as Liam was and at this point he didn't have a brain anymore, he had no filter, he just said what ever came out first, even if he didn't mean it.
"Well I hope the next one makes you happy then. We're over" Liam said moving away from Grayson and leaving the kitchen, leaving the cafe and running.
Liam had never experienced this feeling, this hurt. It was like with each step he took everything in that kitchen became real, it was like every step he took his heart broke more and more. He found himself running to Ian and Mickys house, because he knew they would know what to say and if anyone wasn't going to judge him it was Mickey. Mickey knew what it was like to hide from everybody for so long, to love someone and hide it.
Liam and Grayson hadn't said those words to each other, the three words that your partner always loves to hear. But Liam showed it in his actions everyday, and so did Grayson. Thats what fucked up Liam the most, because he knew he cared about him but yet Gray said those things anyways. |
65f1ee8874034e198012a26498ccb6e1 | ['08343049cb1d432faf5eaea21729e84d'] | "I don't want to hurt him any more than I already have. I just want to apologize and to tell him that he has every reason to hate me. I love him, Isabelle-"
She laughs and shakes her head. "You were angry. I get it. He didn't tell you about the Soul Sword and you lashed out. But that doesn't change the fact that you aligned yourself with someone who wants to destroy our entire species. You aligned yourself with someone who is _just_ like Valentine. I can't speak for Alec, but our friendship is done." She steps back and straightens herself up. He can see how easily she falls into the guise of a representative of the Clave. "I'm sure the Head of the Institute will contact you shortly if we need anything and do not hesitate to let us know if the Institute can do anything to assist you."
He opens his mouth to say something else, but she cuts him off.
"Good day, Mr. Bane," she turns around and goes back to Max's bedside, sitting with her younger brother and holding his hand. Her mask still stays in place, cold, and foreign.
He doesn't linger in the room. He _does_ stop by Alec's room and grabs one of Alec's shirts to track him.
* * *
He finds himself being lead to an apartment building close to the Institute, but unknown to Magnus. He starts to look at the directory of tenants when he hears someone coming down the steps in a fast pace. He watches and is surprised when he sees Jace coming down the steps, absent-mindedly. He's dressed casually, unassuming. His runes are even covered, but he knows enough of the Nephilim to know that Jace is not unarmed. He stops in front of the gate and goes to open it when he notices Magnus standing there. He doesn't open the gate, but stares at the warlock.
"Not here," Jace says, voice cold as ice. "You won't find him."
"I tracked him here. I _know_ he's here," Magnus explains.
Jace shakes his head. "He doesn't _want_ to see you. I don't care why you want to see him. I told you before that I wasn't going to let anyone hurt him. You've not only hurt him, but you got him _killed_."
"I messed up, I know. I didn't intend for her to hurt Alec. I thought she just wanted to talk to him as the Head of the Institute, a representative of the Clave. I would have never brought him there if I'd known what she really wanted," he pleads.
"What did you think she would do? With someone she thought had betrayed her? Did you _honestly_ think he'd be okay, _alone_ , in the Seelie Realm? Because if you did, you're an idiot. If you knew there was a chance he could be hurt, then you didn't care. Which is it?"
"Idiot. I trusted her," he admits. "And I shouldn't have."
Jace stares at him before shaking his head. "Alec doesn't want to see you," he repeats. "If he ever does, one of us will let you know. You don't call him, you don't track him, you don't see him until he's ready. If you _truly_ want to make things right with him, then you'll give him _time_." He opens the gate and walks out, closing it before Magnus can step inside. Not that he would. "He's okay now. Shaken up and doesn't know what he'll do, but he's okay. I'm making sure of it."
"If I can do anything to help-"
"Don't," Jace holds up his hand to stop Magnus from saying anything else. "We have it handled. We're figuring out how to deal with this. Me, Alec, and Izzy."
"Is he living here?" Magnus asks, looking over at the stairs.
"Yes," Jace says.
"Would he be okay with me putting up wards for him? To make sure no one who wishes him harm can enter."
Jace thinks for a moment. "I can ask. I hope you'll include yourself on the list of people who can't enter."
Magnus looks away and nods. "Yes. Until he wants me to, I will stay away."
The blond nods in return. "I'll tell Clary when Alec's ready. She'll tell you." He steps closer. "Until then? Forget we exist."
He stands there, making sure that Magnus will have to go through him to get to Alec. Magnus doesn't push. He turns away and leaves. He steps out of the building's doors and looks back. He almost thinks he can see Alec watching him from one of the windows, but a blonde woman comes to stand next to the man and Magnus knows, instantly, that it can't be Alec. But, Alec is up there somewhere.
He needs to make this right.
**Author's Note:**
> **requested by _anonymous_ :** _For your series 'Epiphany' do you think you could write one where Magnus tries to talk to Alec but he avoids him. Everyone (Luke, Raphael, Izzy, Jace, Clary, Simon and Maia) are against their meet. When they talk Alec is really angry at him, because Magnus left him to the seelie queen. Something really angsty..I would love to have an angry and cold Alec...Thank you <3_
>
> hope this is what you were looking for! sorry it took me so long to get to! i'm going to do alec & magnus meeting in a seperate part because this one got too long! | d8f9a74f17c04e6fbb08521ca7fe8373 | ['08343049cb1d432faf5eaea21729e84d'] |
Hiraeth
**Author's Note:**
> this could be seen as romantic jalec and, honestly, i'm not sure if it is or not. for now, it's just them having a very close bond.
"This is stupid. Of all of your ideas, this is your worst one."
He doesn't drop the staff in his hand, though. He twirls it in his hand with a grin on his face. If he ignores literally everything that's different, he can almost pretend they're back on the Institute's rooftops, sparring. But, he can't ignore that and has to face the fact that they're a vampire and a shadowhunter, _sparring_. He has a newfound strength that could, possibly, snap Jace like a twig.
Yet, _Jace_ is the one itching for the fight. He'd been trying to goad Alec into training with him for hours after he'd gotten back from his trip on the phone - and subsequent talk with Magnus. Alec wasn't an idiot, he knew that he had an ability to hear things he wasn't supposed to now, and he used that to his advantage. Magnus was trying to find him, to talk to him. Alec didn't want to talk to him. He had nothing to say to the Warlock, not anymore. He didn't care how sorry Magnus was, it didn't change the fact that Magnus was the reason it had happened.
"Come on, it's been weeks since you got out and you're starting to get lazy. Besides, who else to practice on than the _best_ Shadowhunter in existence?" Jace laughs.
They're on the roof of the apartment building, both glamoured so that they are hidden from the mundanes' view. They're safe, but Alec is still afraid of hurting his _parabatai_.
Alec rolls his eyes, but can't help but laugh at Jace's ego. He could stand to be knocked down a peg or two. Jace twirls the staff and waits for Alec to make the first move. Alec understands _why_ Jace is doing this, helping him figure out how to use these new abilities, and trying to get both of their frustrations out.
Alec takes a deep breath and ignores the smell of Jace's blood. It's become a familiar scent by now with the blond offering himself up as a meal at every opportunity. He watches Jace shed his jacket and sees the runes covering his body. It makes his own body ache in the places his runes _should_ be. He looks away momentarily before charging forward, slamming his staff into Jace's. The blond pushes back with just as much force, then shoves him backwards - making Alec stumble. He catches his footing and they begin a dance of hits and misses. Alec's blood sings with the fight and they fall into a routine, almost anticipating each other's moves. They slam into each other, grunt in pain, and look at each other with fire. Finally, Jace drops his staff and holds up his hands in surrender, breathing heavily.
"With some more training, you may actually kick my ass," Jace taunts.
Alec, still abuzz with the fight, uses his staff to kick Jace's legs out from under him, sending the blond crashing to the rooftop, knocking the wind out of him. Alec moves quickly and straddles him, placing the staff against Jace's windpipe. Jace breathes heavily, but doesn't struggle. He stares up at Alec and it feels all too familiar, all too like an old fight where they were fighting for their bond, where they'd almost broken it completely.
Alec tosses the staff aside, but stays where he is. Jace doesn't move.
"Better?" He asks.
Alec nods, "Yeah."
He moves off of Jace and sits down next to him. Jace sits up and looks at him. "You're going to have to talk to him eventually. He won't let up."
Alec nods again. "I know. Just.. not right now. He needs to respect that."
"I don't trust him for a second," Jace admits. "You tell us when you're ready. We'll tell Clary and she'll tell Magnus."
"Thanks," Alec replies with a smile. "Glad to know you and Izzy have my back."
Jace grins. "Always. You're my _parabatai-_ "
Alec shakes his head. He's _not_. Not anymore. It was the most painful of his runes to lose. Not just physically, but emotionally. Waking up and being unable to feel his _parabatai_ was devastating. Jace's emotions had become such a constant that being cut off from them felt suffocating. At first, he'd thought _Jace_ had died, but then the memories of what had happened came rushing back. The Seelie Knight cutting into his skin, removing the runes on his body, the toxic flowers that had been forced down his throat that caused so many hallucinations of his family until he couldn't distinguish between reality and fantasy, the liquids that had been poured into his mouth by the gallon.
He didn't even know his _sire_. He never met the vampire whose blood had been given to him. Or if it was even _one_. He didn't know how much blood was given to him or if it had been multiple vampires bloods.
Then, finally, there was the killing blow. He didn't get a quick death, he didn't _deserve_ a quick death. They had drained him of his blood until he couldn't even lift a finger, too weak to fight back against them. Then, everything had gone dark and he'd woken up to enhanced senses and an emptiness inside him. A hunger.
"Hey," Jace places a hand on Alec's to stop it from shaking. Alec looks at him. "You back with me?"
Alec laughs and looks away, embarrassed. "Sorry," he apologizes, squeezing Jace's hand. "We're _technically_ not _parabatai_ , you know." |
47f65b4650314d609fe06dbde5962b81 | ['08382767aefa4b6494d1c239e31d7e9f'] | Lance felt his face grow hot and he scuttled backwards, as if he had just been hit. “W-w-w-hat?” Lance stammered.
Hunk stood up and picked up his drink. A wide grin spread across his face. “You guys are so gay for each other,” he said.
No no no. Lance was just helping a bro out. There was no homo there. Bros help each other out. They helped each other out by cuddling with them. He was straight.
“N-no!” Lance stuttered. “I like girls! Not boys!” He begun flailing his arms around as he tried to defend his sexuality.
Hunk threw his head back and laughed. “You’re as straight as a wet noodle!”
“Noodles are straight!” Lance said, blushing heavily.
“Not when they’re wet!” Hunk argued. “When they’re wet, they’re all hot and curvy and not straight.”
“Don’t assume my sexuality!” Lance argued back. He stood up and rushed out of the training room, his face bright red. He heard Hunk’s laugh as the door shut.
He didn’t think about Keith that way. He liked girls. He didn’t do homo. He definitely did not think about Keith’s lips or about the way his body fit perfectly against his. Lance raked his hands through his hair and bit his lower lip. Shit shit shit. Those were gay thoughts. He shook his head, as if to clear them. But that did nothing. Of course it would do nothing.
Lance found himself bumping into someone. Their heads bumped into each other’s painfully and they both fell down. Lance thought it was Coran or Pidge that he ran into. He opened his eyes, an apology at the tip of his lips, but he stopped.
It was Keith.
The gay thoughts hit Lance at full force.
“K-keith!” Lance stuttered out. Lance was extremely conscious of how close his hands were to Keith’s head. His leg was nestled between Keith’s legs.
“L-lance!” Keith replied, matching Lance’s tone.
“Go here often?” Lance asked. He made no move to get up. Shit, Lance thought, Keith looks freaking hot. No gay thoughts get away.
“Kinda live here, so I’d say so,” Keith replied. He opened his mouth but then closed it. Lance’s heart started to pound painfully in his chest. “Are you flirting with me?”
Lance’s face grew extremely hot. No no no. “What do you think?” Lance croaked out.
Keith shrugged. “I mean…” Keith said, averting his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind if you were flirting with me.” A light pink dusted across his cheeks.
Lance’s mind went into cuteness overload.
Next thing Lance knew, his mouth was on Keith’s. His mouth was softer than Lance expected. Keith gasped in surprise. Lance’s slid his hands into Keith’s.
Lance jerked back. Keith’s eyes fluttered open.
“I think…” Lance said slowly, his breathing heavy. “I am flirting with you.” | 6e8a5ae55c8245068c6461f78d982a93 | ['08382767aefa4b6494d1c239e31d7e9f'] | 1. Chapter 1
Alec held his hand tight around the handle of his seraph blade as he walked around the perimeter of the room. He casually glanced at Magnus through the corner of his eye. They were currently on a mission at a werewolf restaurant to see if they had been poisoning their customers. It was a dumb mission in Alec’s mind, but it had to be done.
“Do you think I could take a look in your kitchen?” Magnus asked, gesturing to the kitchen door. The husband begun visibly sweating while the wife stared out into the distance. “If there is nothing to hide, as you say, then a check won’t hurt anything.”
Alec wasn’t sure why Magnus came on this mission. Jace had said that Magnus would know if there was any sort of corruption. The husband nodded and lead the two into the kitchen. Magnus turned towards Alec and gave him a smile that said see? I got this.
The kitchen looked like any other restaurant kitchen to Alec. Magnus dragged his finger along a counter top. “Do you think we could look here alone?” Magnus asked, gesturing to Alec.
“S-sure,” the husband stuttered. He grabbed his wife’s hand and lead her out of the room. As soon as the door closed, Alec turned towards Magnus.
“The husband is hiding something,” Alec said, folding his arms across his chest.
“I think so too,” Magnus replied, “The wife looked brain dead.” He walked over to the fridge and threw the doors open.
“I’ll tell the clave,” Alec replied. He opened up a few cupboards and begun fishing through them. Nothing really struck him as odd. It was all generic cooking stuff. When he was finished, he glanced over at Magnus.
Magnus had glamored his eyes to a boring brown. Whenever they went out in public, Magnus always glamored his eyes. Alec knew why he did it. If mundanes saw his eyes, they would freak out. At least that’s what Magnus said. Alec had brought this topic up before, many times. He had brought it up so many times that Magnus knew that he was thinking about when he caught Alec staring at his eyes.
Magnus noticed his staring and raised an eyebrow. “I glamour my eyes for the mundanes, Alexander,” Magnus said, sniffing a container. He cringed and put the container back in the fridge.
“I know,” Alec pouted. “But I like your eyes.”
“We’ve had this talk before many times,” Magnus repeated.
“Still,” Alec said.
Magnus waved his fingers over his eyes, turning them blue like Alec’s. “Is that better?” he asked.
Alec was dumbfounded. He didn’t expect Magnus to do that. Alec frowned and looked away. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
Magnus threw his head back and laughed.
There was a loud crashing noise. Alec jerked his seraph blade out and bolted through the kitchen doors.
The wife’s body laid on the ground, a big slash through her neck. Alec could tell that she was already dead. Her eyes were glossed over and her skin had lost all of its color. The husband was nowhere in sight. Alec jumped over her body and ran out the back door. One end of the alley lead out into the street while the other end was a dead end. He tightened his grip on his blade and returned inside.
He saw that Magnus was hunched over the lady’s body. “She’s been dead this entire time,” he said, standing up. Magnus walked over to where Alec stood and took the seraph blade from Alec’s hand. “I presume the husband got away?”
"I need to contact the clave,” Alec said. He stared into Magnus’s now blue eyes. “My eyes aren’t that blue.”
“Oh contraire,” Magnus said, tucking the blade back into Alec’s belt.
2. Chapter 2
The dead-wife-necromancer-husband case was solved rather quick, in Magnus’s opinion. The next day the husband had been found and the day after that he was put on trial. He kind of felt bad for the husband, but not really. That’s what you got for killing your wife and bringing her back, unjust punishment from shadowhunters.
Magnus scooped up Chairman Meow from the floor and sat down on the couch. He begun flipping through his netflix list, looking for a movie to watch. The doorknob jiggled and Alec walked through.
“Hey,” Magnus said, looking up. “How was the- what did you do to your eyes.” Alec was wearing contacts that looked like cat eyes.
Alec shrugged and sat down next to Magnus.
“Those are contacts right?” Magnus asked.
“Yeah, of course,” Alec said, “what else would they be?”
Magnus looked down at Chairman Meow, completely dumbfounded. “Alec why?”
“You changed your eyes to blue,” Alec retorted.
“Yeah but I didn’t actually spend money and time on them.”
“Why are you so shocked?”
“I’ve never seen you do something so petty.”
“This isn’t petty.” Alec gestured to his eyes, fighting back a smile.
“If you liked my eyes so much, you should’ve said something.”
“I did say something.”
“You should’ve said it louder.”
“This isn’t the end of the world, Magnus.”
“To me it is, Alexander.”
Alec responded by resting his head on Magnus’s shoulder.
“What did Isabelle have to say to this?” Magnus asked.
Alec blushed and buried his face into the crook of Magnus’s neck. “She said that we’re both dorks.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Magnus said, hooking his arms around Alec’s waist.
“Jace and Clary think so too,” Alec mumbled.
“They’re dorks,” Magnus retorted.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> they're such dorks like hooonestly
>
> that went downhill fast. I dunno what I even wrote this is such trash kill meh |
fa4c28c95f644c6399019577b8713648 | ['0838966f9e7842c3a32d24bd520c0ce1'] | He was kissing Zhang PD and Zhang PD was kissing him back. This was almost too good to be true. A small part of Xukun wondered if he was dreaming or something but he quickly pushed that thought away and directed all of his attention towards the man he was currently lip-locking with. He moved his hands slowly, leaving prints with his fingertips along the hem of PD's jeans. Xukun only hesitated a second before boldly sliding a hand into one of the other's back pockets. Zhang PD's breath got stuck in his throat and he pulled away.
"Is this okay?" Xukun asked, slightly worried. Zhang PD hummed and shifted his weight so he could pull at Xukun's stray locks of hair, tucking them behind his ear only to watch them fall back again.
"This is very okay with me. Are you okay?"
The concern in his voice only made Xukun more gone for the man.
"I just can't believe this is real," he said. "Me, in a dark corridor, kissing Zhang PD."
"I think that we're close enough that you could call me Yixing now," Zhang PD laughed. Xukun felt something click into place within him.
"Well in that case," he said, pulling back his hand from Zhang PD, no, Yixing's pocket. He put his hands on Yixing's waist, and yes, he was freaking out but nonetheless, he pushed himself off the wall and turned the other man around, pressing him against the wall this time. Yixing had only had a moment to look surprised before he had realised what was going on.
Now Xukun was the one with his hands on either side of Yixing's face, heart racing. Yixing smiled one of his dimpled smiles and bit his lip absentmindedly before grabbing onto Xukun's waist and pulling him closer, putting his hand in one of the younger's back pockets while the other traced a pattern up to the back of his neck. Chills went through Xukun's whole body and he smiled into Yixing's mouth before kissing him again. And again. And again.
Then they talked. For some that might’ve felt like nothing compared to snogging but to actually get to know the real person you’ve just been pressing up against a wall and not just their idol persona was pretty nice. The floor was hard and a bit cold but Xukun didn’t mind. He and Yixing were cuddled up close, alternating between holding hands and holding each other, taking turns in who got to lean their head on the other’s shoulder. He had accidentally breathed against Yixing’s neck and that way found out how sensitive it was and in between sentences he either blew on or poked the sensitive skin which made Yixing cringe away but Xukun laugh and he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he were to kiss Yixing there. He’d have to find out another day. Their kisses had at one point gotten a little bit too heated and once Yixing had slipped his hand underneath Xukun’s shirt against his ribs it had been a bit too exciting for Xukun and he’d had to calm down for a bit so to speak. Yixing had confirmed that not making out for a while was indeed a good idea.
At one point, when they’d already been talking for hours, Jackson had poked his head around the corner.
”Just checking in,” he’d said. ”Do you need anything? No?” Xukun had just stared wide-eyed at his other mentor. Yixing had put his head in his hand before waving at Jackson to leave.
”Are you guys sure? You don’t need a condom?” Xukun had buried his face deep in his arms against Yixing’s chest out of embarrassment.
”Leave!” Yixing shouted before cussing at Jackson. Jackson had just winked at him and given him a cheeky grin before turning around and walking back the same way he came. But when Jackson reached the end of that corridor instead of turning right and going to the staff dorms he turned left. In one of the small lounging areas the long forgotten trainees were held up, most of them looking sleepy, some of them dozing off against each other.
The ones that were awake quickly woke up the rest when they saw Jackson enter. He waited for everyone to wake up with a serious face before speaking.
He cleared his throat and looked collected before throwing his hands in the air with uncontaminated glee.
”They’re holding hands!”
The room exploded with roars the way only a room full of trainees can.
**Author's Note:**
> Again, thanks to my better half for helping me along the way <3 Jag älskar dig.
>
> Also to unshamedly give kudos to myself, I'm pretty happy with this fic.
> If you're looking for more IP content you can turn to SlytherinSpaceCat, she has a lot going on over on her page (which you already know if you've been in this fandom for more than 2 minutes). I do believe I might have some more Xingkun in me though if anyone is interested. I don't know, the future is a mystery.
>
> Loads of love to y'all <3
>
> Xiexie for reading <3
>
>
>
> Important authors note:
> Even though I ship Xingkun I don't support relationships that have such an power inbalance and though Xukun is of legal age I believe the age gap isn't appropriate.
> I'm also putting lots of emphasize on communication and straightforward concent because it's extremely important.
> Strawberry out | aa569f639b25421d88442c881f0aa500 | ['0838966f9e7842c3a32d24bd520c0ce1'] | ”Hi, Jeremy. Yes I’m buying coffee. No, I’m not forgetting the tea. Yes, I know what tea you drink we’ve been married for six years.” She looked at Chelsea and rolled her eyes.
”Yeah she’s awake,” she said and turned to coo at Rosie. ”Is it daddy calling? Yes it’s daddy calling. He’s checking up that I’m not forgetting about his tea even though I never do, yes he is.” Rosie answered with words only she understood. ”She tells you to chill. Yes. I love you too.” She hung up.
After the woman had bought her coffee and the super-important-tea-she-couldn’t-possibly-allow-herself-to-forget and the bell had closed behind her and the stroller Chelsea turned towards Keith.
”If that’s what marriage is like, I want it. She was so nice. I love it when we get customers we can actually talk to,” she said while walking around the counter to join Keith behind it.
”Yeah, she seemed like a really nice person,” Keith agreed. He didn't like most people, he wasn’t a people person, but he wouldn’t mind having someone like that woman in his life.
”So what are you up to later?” Chelsea leant against the counter beside Keith and picked up a pen. She started to doodle on a paper which had been forgotten there the day before so the notes weren’t important anymore.
”Shiro’s coming by with his boyfriend. He feels sorry for me with the work conditions, you know, so he insisted to cook for me today.” His colleague sighed dreamily at the thought of Shiro.
”I’m telling you, if he was single, I’d be all over him,” she said with her chin in her hand. ”With his consent of course. I’m not a creep.” She held her hands up in defence. Keith rolled his eyes. By now he was used to Chelsea’s silly talk about Shiro. Shiro was kind of Keith’s brother, or cousin really, and objectively he was, well, attractive. They were cousins by law but not by blood but it couldn’t matter less. Shiro and Keith were as close as brothers. Keith’s mother’s sister and her husband had adopted Shiro about the same time as Keith’s mother had disappeared, or left or whatever. His father had to struggle to get by so Keith stayed a lot at his aunt’s house. Shiro had been in foster care for some time since his parents had died and knew a lot about broken homes. They became each other’s safe points in the universe and somewhere between point A and point B Keith had realized that Shiro was above average when it came to exterior looks. On the other hand, Keith was above average when it came to sarcasm, which made it kinda even.
Keith was used to people swooning over Shiro by now and rarely felt jealous since he rarely was interested in anyone anyways. Shiro amazingly believed everyone just exaggerated when it came to him. He could have been the biggest fuckboy in the world. Thank the heavens he wasn’t.
Chelsea went from babbling about Shiro to babbling about other people she found good looking and Keith found himself laughing and actually being kind of happy.
* * *
”Huuunk,” Lance groaned. ”Huuuuunk?”
”What?” Hunk mumbled from the other side of his computer screen.
”I can’t stop thinking about him,” Lance said, poking Hunk in the ribs with his foot. Lance was sprawled out on the sofa, head almost hanging off the edge due to him being scrambled together since he couldn't lay stretched out with Hunk sitting at the other end.
”Who?” Hunk didn’t look up from his screen. He was doing something important, Lance guessed.
”You know who,” Lance pouted.
”I don’t?”
”Keeeeith!” Hunk smiled, still without looking at Lance.
”Keith who?” He said.
”Ugh,” Lance said and sat up straight. ”You know who Keith is, Hunk.”
”Oh you mean the cute boy you delivered pizza to and flirted with and desperately want to see again?”
Lance groaned loudly and rolled over so he fell to the floor, face first. Hunk rolled his eyes.
”Drama queen.”
”I’m not a drama queen,” Lance mumbled into the carpet.
”You know what?” Hunk asked, still smiling towards the screen.
”What?”
”I bet Keith wants to see you too.”
”How could you possibly know that?”
”I just do,” Hunk said simply. What Lance didn't know was that Hunk had a sparkle in his eyes ’cause he was looking at the review page for the Flower palace pizza place and was currently reading the words ”Flowers don’t fear lawnmowers”.
A couple of days later Lance got a call while he was out on a delivery. He’d delivered two pizzas to some guy he could just describe as a classic, sad, gamer guy. Overweight, sweaty and in a desperate need of a shave. He felt how the guy somehow wanted to socialize and while Lance did believe in giving everyone a chance, he did not approve of the hentai shirt this guy was wearing. He was saved by the phone call from Jeremy. Lance picked up his vibrating phone and held it up in front of the guy with a face that said ”Sorry, ’d love to chat but I gotta take this,” and turned away as he accepted the call.
”Whaddup, bro?” He could hear Jeremy suppress a sigh at the other end.
”You have another delivery to make, like right away, so get back as fast as you can alright?” |
c605f295d12545fdb8a0f900fd32387f | ['083b7c866dcd4f1cbe279e138af1c839'] |
Kagamine Len and the Smash Mouth Concert
It was a normal day in the land of... wait, where the Hell do Vocaloids live? What town? ..Well, it was a city, I guess. They live somewhere. And it was a normal day there, apparently. Meiko was reading a magazine dedicated entirely to milk, Luka was on her laptop looking at pictures of Amy Rose from Sonic, Rin was lying on the couch peeling an orange, and Miku, next to her, was simply contemplating life. ....wait, someone's missing.
"Where's Len?" Miku asked Rin. Rin shrugged, peeling a small piece of skin off of the orange.
"I think he died again." Rin answered, as she wondered if she should just peel the orange with her teeth. Miku sighed. "Or maybe he's sleeping. I don't know. I woke up first, so.."
"Wait, Kaito's missing too." Luka pointed out. "Meiko, where is he?"
"Passed out on the bed." Meiko answered, flipping to the next page in her milk magazine. "Last night was wild. He almost got killed by three clowns and an old woman with a Nerf gun. I had to take care of him."
"Why does that always happen?" Rin asked, sinking her teeth into the orange's skin. "One of us always has a near-death experience involving a clown or something. It's so stupid."
"That's just how it is on this bitch of an earth." Luka said. Suddenly, a door opened really loudly, and a strange, almost happy sounding scream sounded throughout the house. It almost sounded like...Len?
"Guys!! Guys!! I have good news!!!" Len screamed, running down the staircase holding his bright yellow phone with a banana on the case.
"Jesus Christ, what happened?" Rin asked. "You're acting like Piko got brought back from the dead or something."
"Wait, when did he die?" Miku questioned, and Rin shrugged.
"No!! Better news!! Piko was never dead to begin with, anyway!" Len yelled, showing Rin and Miku his phone screen.
"It's not on." Miku said.
"..Ah... One second-" Len turned around, turned his phone on, and got back to the screen he wanted to show. "This is the good news!!!" He showed the two girls his phone.
"...A Smash Mouth concert, and it's only two hours away?" Miku asked, and Len nodded.
"They're my favorite band... Even though I've only heard All Star and I'm a Believer!!"
"The latter isn't even a Smash Mouth song, Len." Meiko said, looking up from above her milk magazine.
"Still!" Len said, excitedly. "Can we get tickets? They're $15 for people under 18, and $39 for adults!!"
"Hey!! It should be the other way around!!" Miku scolded. "That's a good number!!"
"...So, can we go, Meiko?" Len asked. Meiko thought for a bit.
"..It'd add up to $162 in total... hey, that's kind of a good deal, for multiple tickets." Meiko said under her breath. "It's official, everyone! We're going to a Smash Mouth concert!"
"Wait! I don't get a say in this?!!" Luka said, distraught. "I don't even like Smash Mouth!"
"This is very important to Len, Luka." Meiko explained. "It doesn't seem impossible to accomplish, either. So there's no point in making him unhappy, right?"
"He can go, but I refuse to!!" Luka scoffed, folding her arms. "I only listen to real music!! Music that isn't associated with Shrek!!"
"..You were singing along to the Chowder theme song last night, Luka." Rin said, peeling the last bit of skin off her orange.
"And the other night you wouldn't stop blasting What Kind of Mouse Am I from Bear in the Big Blue House!!" Miku added.
"...uh, I can explain those." Luka muttered.
"Didn't you try to get us to go to a Rick and Morty concert once, Luka?" Rin asked. Upon hearing that question, Luka felt insulted by the thought of that.
"That was Len, wasn't it?!!" Luka contradicted, and Len nodded.
"We didn't go because the tickets were $100,000 per person..." Len said, sadly. "At least I saw footage of it online. It looked really cool.."
"What, did Pickle Rick rap or something?" Rin asked, and Len nodded.
"It was so beautiful, I almost cried." Len answered, wiping the tears from his left eye. "Anyway... can we go wake up Kaito and inform him of the good news?"
"I'll do it." Meiko responded, getting up from her couch and putting her magazine about milk aside. She walked upstairs, and Len sat on the couch where Meiko was before, and smiled.
"I've always wanted to see Smash Mouth live.." Len said, tapping his fingers on the couch cushion. "I hope they're as good as everyone says they are live.."
"Why would they be good?" Luka asked, now searching up pictures of the caterpillar from A Bug's Life.
"Of course it'd be you who doesn't know what real music is~" Len says, opening up YouTube on his phone. "You clearly haven't heard All Star."
"I have. Too many times." Luka said. "Every time I hear it my internal organs explode."
"Please don't put it on." Rin said, tearing a piece of the orange off and putting it in her mouth.
"...Some BODY once told me the WORLD was gonna roll me...." He put it on anyway, much to Luka's dismay.
"Turn that off!!" Luka yelled, opening up YouTube on her laptop and typing up "Chowder Theme Song" in the search bar.
"I'm going to my room." Rin said under her breath, getting up from the couch and walking over to her and Len's bedroom. "Wanna go play Minecraft or something, Miku?"
"Sure!" Miku said, following her into her room.
~later~
Len was in his and Rin's bedroom, sitting on one of the beanbags watching a show on how to eat glass safely. Suddenly, someone knocked on their door.
"Rin, you go answer it. This show seems really informative," Len muttered, and Rin sighed, got up from her chair, and walked up to the door, opening it up. Meiko was standing there, holding the printed out concert tickets. | 72a1b12db2b74e2eacf5b8bde6c5e3ac | ['083b7c866dcd4f1cbe279e138af1c839'] | Dr. Phil leaned in closer to you. "I love you, Y/N. More than anything." He reached into his pocket, and handed you a small figure of Dipsy from Teletubbies. You gasped... how did he know.. that Dipsy was your favorite Teletubby, and that you were begging for a figure of him to God for months? He reached into his other pocket, and took out a small figure of Peter Griffin in BDSM gear. You gasped again... you've been begging to God for THAT one since you found out about it five years ago, when you had a Family Guy obsession..!
"Do you accept these gifts, from me to you, Y/N? I searched the ends of the Earth for them.." You nodded, and you took the figures, shoving them into your jean pockets, hugging Dr. Phil, embracing his warmth.
"Thank you so much, Dr. Phil..!" you nearly gasped for air. Now you know. He was the one for you. He accepted your Teletubbies obsession; most people you've tried to be with thought you were a fucking idiot for liking Teletubbies that much. And you couldn't even get started on the Family Guy thing; everyone made fun of you because you thought Peter Griffin was the most well-written character in cartoon history. "I don't know how I can repay you, Phil... I can't thank you enough...holy shit..."
"Well, I know one way you can thank me." Dr. Phil mentioned. Your (color) eyes lit up.
"How?"
"Well... Come home with me tonight, and I'll show you." He handed you a slip of paper, oh God it was the ugliest fucking color you've ever seen, and his address was written right on it, in neon green Comic Sans, against a vomit colored background with light pink polka dots and a low-opacity image of the 2018 Grinch in the back. Who the fuck designed this? It was so sexy.
Dr. Phil proceeded to walk towards the exit of the Toys-R-Us. "I have to go to LA to film my show now, Y/N. I'll see you at 8:00 tonight. Be late if you want." He walked away, and you could tell he was sharpening a knife as he exited the abandoned toy store. You stared at the slip of paper, and shoved it into your pocket with your Dipsy figurine. You sighed a deep sigh.
Tonight was gonna be the night Dr. Phil sucks your toes, wasn't it? I hate this story.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I hope I'm going to Hell for this fanfic or else there's no point writing it. Gamers rise up |
a23ca85779cf45ae881dad643dc92a10 | ['083cb093105746af886de70e270974ef'] |
But Keep Your Enemies Closer
**Author's Note:**
> Apologies for the confusion of the order of these chapters in the site auto "next" links. Once I had posted, then reposted in the correct order, I couldn't change them around. This is chapter ONE, The Night is Ripe with Secrets is TWO, Silk Pillows tell no Tales is THREE, and Chased By Dragons is FOUR.
>
> This is the first fanfic I've ever written. Eventually, a show comes along that inspires enough to take the plunge! Thanks to my wonderful Beta Aislinn.
Marco couldn’t help but watch the dark wisps of hair that had escaped Prince Jingim’s bun float around his face as he paced impatiently back and forth. He wondered what Jingim's hair would smell like. He imagined what it would be like to gently touch the tip of his tongue to the corner of Jingim's full mouth where it was pressed tightly together in annoyance. Jingim's lips always looked like moist pillows, rarely parted in a smile. Now, Jingim's dark eyes were flashing and dangerous.
Marco and Jingim's half-brother Byamba had just returned from a scouting and spying trip to Kochkor. What they had learned had been revealed only to the Khan moments before the Prince had stalked into the room, too late to hear the details, raging and pacing at the thought of conspiracies against his father, the Great Khan of Mongolia. The Khan had growled at hearing the news, bid silence from Marco and Byamba, and taken his leave of the hall, leaving his favourite son with Marco and Byamba. The Prince's obvious distrust and jealousy of Marco made all of their brief conversations tense and with an underlying threat of harm. On more than one occasion, the Prince had threatened to remove one or another of Marco's body parts. Marco's merchant family had left him with the Great Khan as a “gift”. The Khan, in turn, had given Marco to his son as a slave. However, as time passed, Marco had been befriended by the Khan, and in that trust, became a confident. The closer Marco got to the Khan, the more Jingim's jealousy and distrust grew.
“Are you LISTENING to me Latin??,” raged Jingim, tearing Marco out of his thoughts with a lurch of his stomach. A sudden flush rushed over Marco's neck with a fleeting thought that Jingim could read his mind.
“Yes, Prince,” muttered Marco as his mind scrambled to catch up with the conversation. “We did not learn any further information,” he lied, hoping he sounded more convincing than he felt.
His clothes were dusty and dishevelled from a long fast ride across the steppes from Kochkor, and Marco’s nervous shifting left dirty footprints on the shiny tiled floor of the palace hall.
“If you are hiding any information about Kochkor from me, Latin, I will tear it from your hide!”
“No, no Prince, I assure you, there is nothing more to reveal. I beg of you to let me take my leave,” his thick Italian accent made heavier by confusion and fluster. Marco crossed his arms over his waist and started a shallow bow, hoping to escape before he made a total fool of himself, but Jingim stopped him with a swipe of his palm in the air.
“Latin, I will receive you in my quarters later. We have much more to discuss. Now, go.” Jingim swept out of the room with a swirl of his golden robes, leaving Marco standing alone with the silent guards that were still as statues in shadows against the walls, his mouth open in an un-uttered protest. Marco stumbled out of the palace into the street and down the narrow alley towards his small house, wondering if he would still be breathing come morning. What on Earth could compel the Prince to summon him to his private quarters? Marco feared the Prince somehow did know of the information they had given to the Khan. The Khan bid them to silence, saying only to not bother the Prince or any others with it. Marco wondered if his head would leave his shoulders tonight. And yet, there still harboured a tiny thrill in the back of Marco's mind to be alone with the Prince. His body betrayed him every time he was in the Prince's presence. The young man, though fierce and angry more often than not, was of an uncommon beauty. Tall and stoic, he sat by the Khan's side during palace functions, very still with his back straight, legs apart with a long horse hair sash falling between his knees over the folds of his full length robe. His role of heir was heavy upon his shoulders, and the worry created a tightness to his expression. Each time Marco was in a room with him, he could not look away, but studied the features and form of the man. It occurred to Marco that it was curious, indeed, to be so taken by one that caused so much fear in him at the same time.
And now, tonight, he had been summoned to the Prince's private quarters. Marco's months at the palace had allowed him to know the layout well, that the Prince and his wives all kept rooms in the East wing. What if the Prince's wives saw him there? The whole palace would know he was there in no time at all. What was the meaning of it? Marco washed the road dirt off his face and body and tried to relax for a few hours, knowing there would be no sleep for him that night. | deddf69affe54dcba97d6adc565a3e93 | ['083cb093105746af886de70e270974ef'] | The next day Byamba sought out Marco to say goodbye as he was leaving again on a military campaign to South China. Marco ended up not telling him of Ahmad's attack on him. Byamba told him that the piece of leather with the drawing of the Khan's private apartment on it was locked away safely and that there were no new leads as to the origin of the document. The path leading to Ahmad was a dead end, and with no other leads to follow, there was nothing more either of them could do. Marco feared for both their lives if he accused Ahmad of treachery again. He had experienced how far Ahmad's arm reached, and he had no desire to be targeted again. So, as Byamba and his guards rode away, Marco watched one of his only friends leave, with a sinking heart. He felt truly alone now, even though he counted one of the most powerful men in the world as a friend.
The Khan seemed to be completely taken in by Ahmad, he had given Ahmad total access to the Hall of Fragrance, the private rooms of the palace concubines. Marco believed Ahmad already had several children by a few different women. Ahmad would never divulge his own hand in the treachery against the Khan, and his power and influence over the Khan and Prince Jingim only grew. Marco was always wary and stayed out of his way as much as possible.
Jingim's work at the Secretariat had begun, and he also spent many hours in study of Confucian philosophy with Hundred Eyes. Marco rarely saw him anymore, other than in audiences with the Khan at various functions. The Khan was relying on Jingim more and more to handle affairs of the central state. Kokachin was heavily pregnant and Jingim's face beamed with happiness in unguarded moments.
One evening a few months after their wild ride across the steppes, Marco was walking alone through the Imperial Gardens, making sketches in his journal of the stark winter outlines. He heard a step behind him and whirled, his heart beating rapidly. It was Jingim, smiling slightly, eyebrows raised in question.
“You look like you've seen the spirit of your ancestor, Latin. Why so jumpy?”
Marco gazed intently at Jingim for a moment, taking note of his red and gold robe under a full length fur robe hanging open, the confident tilt of his face, his tidy hair. He was looking more and more like a Khan in training every day.
Marco smiled widely and bowed, “Prince. I was lost in thought, you startled me is all. You look well.” Marco's words were neutral but his eyes betrayed the passion he felt.
Jingim moved closer to Marco, ran his fingers through Marco's curls and leaned down to kiss him lightly on the lips. Marco closed his eyes, savouring the feel of Jingim's lips. He leaned in for more, and Jingim took him into his arms firmly and with conviction. The kiss only served to heat them both up, and Jingim whispered into Marco's ear, “Come to me tonight, late, after the moon is high when all is quiet. The women have been busy for weeks preparing for the arrival of the child. None of them are interested in me at the moment.” He kissed Marco's cheek, inhaled his scent and left quickly, disappearing into the shadows of the garden.
As he washed and prepared himself for his visit with the Prince, Marco thought how far Jingim had grown in confidence this past year. The Khan had been wise in giving his son responsibilities of decision making for the dynasty. And now with the imminent birth of a child, which Marco hoped was a boy, Jingim was far less anxious for his father's approval. It made Jingim that much more desirable to, and yet, that much more removed from, Marco. It was a bittersweet feeling.
Much later, Marco slipped past silent, acquiescing guards, and into the darkened bedchamber of the Prince. Jingim lay beneath silk sheets watching Marco's approach. There was one candle only on the side table for light in the room.
Marco stood by the bed for a moment, then slowly began to remove his clothes. The cool air hit his skin and he gladly slid beneath the sheets to move against Jingim's warmth. Without a word, Jingim began to kiss his body all over, gentle nips and bites, licks on Marco's hardening nipples, rubbing teeth gently over the jut of hipbones, nose brushing the hair on Marco's abdomen. Jingim took his time, fingers stroking up Marco's legs, buttocks and back, planting a kiss on the tip of his hardened cock. Marco ran his fingers through Jingim's hair and arched his back a little, moving his cock closer to Jingim's face. Jingim blew at it and snickered softly. Marco groaned in impatience and wiggled his ass. Starting at the tip, Jingim took Marco's cock into his hot mouth slowly sliding his tongue down to the base, then sucking up hard, then doing it again. Marco squirmed and gasp at the intense rush of feeling.
“Stop! I don't want to finish too soon,” Marco panted. Jingim answered by running his tongue under the foreskin, pulling it fully back then licking the drop of liquid at the slit. Marco gasped, “That's not helping...”
“First you want more, then you want less. You are very needy tonight,” Jingim murmured against Marco's tummy, swooping his tongue into the navel then kissing it with a tiny smack.
“I want... I want us to climax together, Prince.” Marco breathed the words. |
c6974e0b36cd4eb1ae25176ffc051a32 | ['085084142889426ba174c2b8dc175464'] | "It was terrible, especially since my house is right there on the edge of the town square", Romeo reminded Wendy, causing the poor girl eyes to widen in shock, "This were happening right outside my bedroom window. People calling for the death of the Dragon King, the crazies calling for sacrifices, and worse of all, seeing some of the guys from Fairy Tail mixed in with the crowd."
"They were there?", Wendy gasped.
"It was mostly just Jet and Dory, they were pretty broken up over Levy's "death", thankfully they were only for taking down Acno, not the sacrifice part. There were a few others from the guild, but they're gone now, but that was more than enough to convince me not to tell anyone about Acno cause it got me thinking, if people were willing to believe that killing people would make him go away, what was stopping them from believing that I had the very thing that they were so afraid of hiding inside of me if I ever told anyone; what would have stopped them from taking a drastic measure against me?", Romeo said.
"Your dad would never let that happen!", Wendy protested.
"I know that, but he's just one man. What could he possibly do against a mob of people, or worse, the Royal Family and the army?", Romeo countered, "But like I said before, I was only a little kid while all this was going on, and Acno constant berates of telling me to keep my mouth shut sure as hell didn't help matters. Over time I simply learned to accept the fact that I couldn't tell anyone about Acno …until now at least."
….
…..
….
Wendy began to slowly sit up in her bed, "What are you doing?", Romeo asks as he sprung up out of the chair, "You sure be laying down right now!"
"So should you", Wendy protested as she looked out the window, "It must be almost midnight by now."
"I'm not in the games, I don't need a full night sleep, but you-ack!", Romeo try to argued right before Wendy put both of her hands on the side of his head, causing the poor lad to stop in his tracks and start to heat up.
"What a-are you doing, W-Wendy", he stuttered as he could feel Wendy's magic coursing through him, it warmth smoothing his thoughts.
"Using what little magic I can summon to calm you down and hopefully help you go to sleep", she replied, "I can tell that you're stress out over the events that happen today."
Romeo looked into Wendy's eyes, seeing them filled with determination to make sure he felt better and realize that he had to tell her one more thing, one more secret that he couldn't keep away from her. There was a strong possibly that her life was endanger and she had a right to know.
"Wendy, something else happen tonight", he started, "After you got knocked out, me and Katja showed up on the scene just as you were about to be killed by some minions that belonged to an old enemy of Acno."
Wendy felt her heart slightly tighten at the mention of Fairy Tail newest mage, but ignored it to focus on the more questioning problem, "Minions?"
"Acno has a lot of enemies, go figure, and a number of their "agents" so to say, are here in the capital to investigate his "disappearance". Turns out some of them have standing orders to kill any Dragon-Slayer they come across if the opportunity presents itself. From what Acno told me, it a policy that ensure that their lord's threats are kept to a manageable level", Romeo told her and watched as her eyes slowly began to widen, "Me and Katja were able to stop them from hurting you, but something else happen."
Unbeknownst to either of the mages, Wendy has yet to cease focusing her healing magic onto Romeo as she was to entrench in what he was saying, "What happen?"
"I don't remember much myself", Romeo confessed, "All I remember was getting bash in the head by one of the guy's shield into a statue and the next thing I knew all I felt was a unyielding rage burning within me, threatening to escape, and then all I saw was darkness. I was just flowing around in perpetual darkness. When I finally came to I was sitting on a table in the middle of Madam Ekate's bookstore."
"Madam Ekate?"
"She's apparently a old friend of Acno, you'll meet her later", Romeo told her, "But from what everyone told me, I was taking over my Yamio."
"Who's Yamio?", Wendy asks.
"Basically all the anger, rage, and wrath, Acno has had over the years molded into a living, breathing, form. It's hard to explain."
"What did... Yamio do while in your body?"
"A lot of stuff, a lot of bad stuff. One involves busting every window in the capital with a single roar, destroying a mountain with a single breath attack, and trying to kill Katja and Gildarts. Master Makarov showed up and they were able to subdue him, but in the process Acno was split apart from my body", Romeo poured out, "And the worse part about it is that Acno doesn't believe Yamio is gone at all, that he's just bidding his time to come back, and I scared of what he might do this time around."
….
…..
…..
"Was Yamio in control when you...killed those people?", Wendy said, "Back at the dance and that dark guild while you were training with Gildarts?" | df139c9ee94e4060a8f3740250973bcc | ['085084142889426ba174c2b8dc175464'] | Everyone was paired up with a partner and was ball-room dancing across the open field in front of the guild hall. Wendy was dancing with Warren, Happy was dancing with Carla, and even Pantherlily was trying to waltz with Asuka, which was kind of funny when Romeo stopped and thought about it. There was a cat, dancing with a six-year old girl, whose parents were dancing right next to them and they seemed to be okay with it.
"Okay, what did I miss?", Romeo asks as he walks to the group and sees Master Makarov in front of the guild hall watching with a smile on his face.
"Oh Romeo, you're late this morning", Master Makarov said as the boy comes up right next to him, "From what I've seen and been told, you're usually one of the first people here."
"Forgive me, Master Makarov. I slept through my alarm this morning", Romeo apologizes as he slightly bows toward the shorter man.
"It's alright; you wouldn't have been able to practice with Natsu anyway. Lucy's been trying to get him ready for their big job tomorrow night", Master Makarov told Romeo.
"What big job?" Romeo asked as Master Makarov proceeded to hand him a job request poster.
"Count Balsamico is throwing a magical ball and he believes that the rogue mage Velveno is going to show up", the master said.
"Why's that?"
"Doesn't say, but the reward for catching him is four million jewels."
" _Four million jewels!"_ Romeo thinks, "Who's going on the job?"
"Well I believe it's: Natsu, Lucy, Gray, Elfman, Warren, Erza, Wendy, Happy, and Carla."
"Is-Is there room for one more?" Romeo asked, fearful of the answer, " _If I get in on this job I could get a split of half a million jewels as my reward! I could easily buy the necklace and have some money left over!"_
Makarov looks at the young mage and gives him the once over while rubbing his chin.
"Hmmm. That's right; you just became an active member only a couple of months ago and haven't been on many jobs. Normally I would want you to have a bit more experience before going on a job like this, but seeing how it's a simple mission and you'll be along several experienced mages, I don't see why not. The job is tomorrow night, so make sure you're packed and ready to go."
"Yes! Thank you, Master Makarov!" Romeo says before a thought hits him, "Wait, did you say tomorrow night?"
"That I did, is that a problem for you?" Master Makarov asked.
Romeo, not wanting to openly admit that he actually going out of his way to get something nice for Chelia, bends down and whispers into Makarov's ear.
"Okay. I see. That is a problem. I understand. Alright then." Master Makarov says while nodding his head. He then tells Romeo in a low voice, "The Count's palace is not far from here, probably a two to three hour walk at best and most dances like this don't last very long. Capture Velveno, collect your reward and you should be able to make it back in time. Then you should be able to get to the store before it closes and the concert afterward. I'll tell Erza, who will be leading the job that you have my permission to leave early upon getting your share of the reward."
"Thank you, master. This means a lot to me", Romeo says as he takes off inside the guild hall.
"Anytime my son, though if I could suggest one thing", Master Makarov began to say as he nudges Romeo in the gut while suggestively lifting his eyebrows, "Try to get the necklace engraved. The ladies love it when you get them jewelry with their name or whatever engraved into it."
Romeo could only blush at this piece of advice before nervously nodding his head and walking into the guild hall.
Unbeknownst to him or even Master Makarov, Wendy was listening to their little exchange even though she was dancing with Warren in the middle of the field. It would seem that both mages had forgotten that while Wendy wasn't on the same level of power as Natsu and Gajeel, her hearing was just as good as theirs, even better when you consider she is great at just picking up on the voices around her. She heard the hushed talk between the two of them as if she was standing right next to them, despite being several yards away and with a lot background noises on top of that. She knows how rude it is to listen in on people's private conversations and she been told by both Lucy and Levy that some people at the guild would not appreciate her doing that. But that wasn't bothering her, what was bothering her was the Fourth Guild Master's son. Ever since Romeo's and Natsu's "fight" she found herself just randomly watching the purple-haired boy as he went about his day. This usually only happens twice a day, but during those time she has observe some things.
She noticed whenever he wasn't training with Natsu, he was either doing some personal training on his own or he was reading book off in the corner of the hall. He had limited interaction with the guild members in general, only really taking time out of his day to play with Asuka whenever the little girl was looking for a playmate. Romeo would usually make a few fire constructs to entertain the girl while he still read his book. |
4506facde1734804aa31b51772722297 | ['089c128b8cd544d6a19c6e61dd5dc00d'] | Kara cleared her throat, “No, we were just writing for the papers and are you two on a date?”
“Yeah, we are but I guess we can share the booth for now?” Lucy said.
“Yeah,” Lena nodded and scooted over for Lucy to sit beside her.
“Is it, ok if I sit beside Lucy?” James said to Kara and Kara nodded and without a thought sat beside Lena on the other side.
“So, guys we are thinking of going skating next weekend?” James said and smiled.
-/-/-/-
It was noon when Kara stepped on the brakes in front of Lena’s front door. She got off to press the doorbell. She knows it was already notified that she’ll be coming because of the guards at the front gates.
Lena stepped out of the house and Kara smiled, Lena is wearing a floral skirt that stops around mid thighs and a black long sleeve that is tucked in the skirt. Her hair in a messy bun and a silver necklace that matches her earrings.
As if it is their destiny, Kara is wearing a black floral bomber jacket, a burgundy loose top, and black skinny jeans. Kara’s hair is loose with soft curls cascading down her shoulders.
“Well, I guess bringing the bike is a wrong idea?” Kara asked unsurely and scratched the back of her neck.
“I can ask our driver to drive us there,” Lena offered and bit her lower lip because she’s anxious. She knows that Lucy and James will be there, so are Maggie and Alex, Mon-El and Winn. Her and Kara are the only ones that are not a couple.
“I don’t want to inconvenience them, I can drive us,” Kara said and smiled. Kara then offered her arm for Lena to take as they walk towards one of the cars on the drive away.
“Well, you seem to be chivalrous for an annoying brat,” Lena joked as Kara opened the door for her.
“Don’t get used to it, my princess. Only for today, those three couples have a date, why don’t we trick them into thinking that we are one as well,” Kara said and winked at Lena and closed the door.
Kara knew that calling Lena her princess was an accident so she tried to cover it. However, in Lena’s perspective, it was just a trick.
-/-/-/-
“Kara!” Lena squealed as Kara went faster as they skate with roller blades. Their hands are intertwined as they pass the other three couples. They are laughing and squealing as if they were the only people in the world.
They even danced as they skate, Kara spun Lena towards her and Lena’s back is pressed on Kara’s front. They then skated in sync. The way they acted fooled everyone’s eyes. They look very much in love. They are even so in sync as if they have done it far too many times.
The smiles on their faces were the cherry on top, the sweet glances they shared as they would chase each other around the arena. They were the most carefree souls in there.
“I thought we have a plan?” Alex said as she and Maggie joined the others. They all leaned on the railing watching the other two on the other side.
“We do,” Lucy said as she looks at her best friend. She knows Lena and she knows that what is happening right now is not as real as it is. She saw the secret glances Lena would throw at Kara when Kara was not looking. It was the look of longing and so was Kara. Although, Lucy can’t read Kara’s expression.
Alex looks at her sister and she knows full well that her sister is holding something back, the look of confusion, satisfactory and longing is evident in her sister’s eyes. She knows she has to ask Kara about this because Kara tends to keep all to herself until she self-destructs.
“You know, I think we fooled them,” Kara whispered to Lena as they finally slowed down. They hand in hand slowly made their way back to the group. They took their time because if they are being honest they really don’t want to go back just yet. They want to enjoy each other’s presence. But, it can’t happen.
They’re not in cliches anymore and Lena knows that it’s not right to take advantage of this. She should be annoyed to Kara and Kara is only doing this because she wants to trick people. Then, once again the annoyance and irritation settled on Lena but she didn’t let it show.
She might have to finish the papers already, this can’t go on. Her heart will shatter if this continues. It was easy when they were back at bickering and would annoy each other.
Lena just smiled at Kara and she skated away much faster, away from Kara. “I’ll you catch, my princess and you know it!” Kara yelled from behind her.
“Please, do,” Lena whispered as she helplessly willed herself to think of Kara only as a friend.
Kara secretly loved the way calling Lena her princess and loved being chivalrous to her as well. Which confused her, she is supposed to be the great source of annoyance to Lena but why is it this time she’s feeling that she wanted to be one of the great sources of Lena’s happiness?
Kara is confused and annoyed why she’s confused. It was much easier when she knows what is happening. She’s always been called oblivious but how comes even with her own feelings, she’s oblivious to it too?
She’s then set to catch Lena, “I will always catch you, no matter what,” Kara whispered. | db95be8e974e4e7482e851393da96fb6 | ['089c128b8cd544d6a19c6e61dd5dc00d'] |
**Author's Note:**
> I hope you guys will like it. For the first time I didn't base this off a song.
“Lena!” Kara said as she approached the CEO in her office.
“Kara,” Lena said as she looks up at the ball of joy. Oh, how she became Kara’s friend will always come as a wonder to Lena. What did she deserve? Really? After being a Luthor, why give her something precious?
“Are you here for a quote?” Lena said as she smiled at her only friend.
“No,” Kara said as she smiled so wide to Lena and stride across the room until she’s close enough to Lena’s desk. “I’m here to tell you that the usual game night will be moved somewhere else.”
Lena’s eyebrow shot up out of amusement. “Really? Who’s place will it be this time then?” Lena asked. She’s grateful for Kara to invite her on every game night. And Lena is warming up to Kara’s friends and maybe soon enough she’ll consider them friends. Kara is this wrecking ball against Lena’s wall and rebuilding the wall as a home instead.
“It’ll be in an adoption center, I forgot I volunteered for tonight. So, I asked if I can bring people along and they said yes. So, I thought to just host game night in the centre and that will be good for the children and I don't know if that ok with your that's why I'm here to ask if it is,” Kara said and looked at Lena to see her looking amused “I am now rambling so I'll shut up and let you talk.” Kara said and pursed her lips to stop herself from rambling.
Lena smiled and tilted her head, “It’s quite alright, really.” Lena said and just looked at Kara for a few seconds before continuing to speak. “It will be alright. I guess it is remarkable that you think of such. The children will appreciate it.”
“I remember the time I was still in the center if anyone would come visit and play with us. It felt as if somebody actually wanted to spend their time with us. It changes my views sometimes. It made me see that maybe there will be somebody or a family that will want to spend time with me too.” Lena said as she remembers the time spent in the center. She then shook her head and looked at Kara with a forced yet genuine smile.
Kara looked at her, in a way Lena can’t describe because it was only Kara that looks at her that way, people would look at her either she’s a plague, a puzzle or sometimes a stranger.
“So, you’ll be ok with it then?” Kara asked gently.
“Of course, should I bring anything?” Lena asked, already thinking of buying kids’ stuff just in case.
“It’s ok, it’s lego day today,” Kara said and smiled, excitedly with no shame, she showed how excited she is.
Lena’s eyebrows furrowed, “Lego? How will the children enjoy that?” Lena asked.
“What do you mean?” Kara asked and sat down in front of Lena’s desk.
“I don’t know, I grew up thinking legos are for architects. Mind you, that I mostly grew up in a boarding school. I never really had a childhood.” Lena said and laughed, she finds it hilarious and she thinks that perhaps this is just another addition to her self-loathing. A dark humor, you could say.
Kara only looked at her with wide eyes and eyes open to that look again. No, it is not pity, Lena knows exactly what pity looks like. It frustrates her sometimes, how she can’t point it out.
“You never-” Kara can’t even finish her sentence. She aches for Lena, the person she’s currently crushing on is too precious to receive the cruel end of this world. Oh, how can she pay for those lost times?
Kara stood up and Lena followed her movements with her eyes. “Kara, are you ok?” Lena asked as she too stood up, meeting Kara half way. Lena was engulfed in a hug, a hug that is so warm and loving that she was stunned at the contact. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around Kara’s waist and let her forehead drop on Kara’s shoulders.
“You better be coming, ok?” Kara whispered against her hair. Lena could only nod because of this overwhelming show of affection.
“Miss Lu-” Jess said as she walks in and saw Lena jumped from Kara. “I apologize for intervening but I’m just here to remind you that you have a meeting in 5 minutes.”
“Thank you, Jess,” Lena said and nodded. Kara is hiding her giggles and Lena blushed. She took a deep breathed in and composed herself.
“Well, Kara, I must be going. I will see you tonight. Just text me the address.” Lena said and gathered her stuff. She looked at Kara and stood in front of her. She hesitated and clutched her phone tightly, for courage. She leaned in and pecked Kara’s cheek.
“Thank you,” Lena said and smiled wide at Kara. Kara just stared at her and watches as Lena walks out of her office with confidence and power.
-/-/-/-
“You told Lena yet?” Alex said as she looked at Kara’s vitals after another fight with an alien.
Kara nodded, “Did you know that she’d never played with legos before because she thought those are for the architect?” Kara said and tilted her head with her eyebrows furrowed.
Alex was about to say something when Maggie appeared. “Little Danvers.” Maggie smiled to Kara and stood beside Alex “And my Favourite Danvers.”
“Everything ok?” Alex asked as she looks at her girlfriend. Kara looked at them and felt that warm feeling, the thought of ever being with Lena flashed through her brain. Oh, Kara thought.
As Kara was zoned out she didn’t catch what Alex told her. “Sorry, what was that?” Kara asked the two. |
4ce88554e46a42ecb0a64af1f6319f1d | ['089d8fb92c0e4752a62104db63a50ecd'] | Realizing that he’s still fully clothed, and you’re standing there in only a see-through bra, your clothes strewn about the floor. You begin to loosen his tie. He’s seen every inch of you, even ventured inside of you. You want to see if his physique matches up with what you’ve fantasized in your imagination. You reach for the top button of his shirt, and he grabs your wrists, halting your exploration. “On your knees,” he commands.
The tile is cool to the warmth of your flesh. You rest your hands in your lap, eagerly looking up at him as he stares down at you with hunger. The sound of his belt and zipper are like music to your ears, his pants pooling at his ankles. His legs are hairy, which you find wildly attractive and manly. And it’s no wonder his erection had been so prominent in his pants, he isn't wearing underwear.
He takes his length in his hand, the head swollen with need. He only strokes once when you see precum leak from the slit. You lick your lips in anticipation, anxious to wrap your mouth around him. He gathers the precum on the tips of his fingers and smears it over your lips before you greedily open your mouth wide enough to suck them all inside at once. Your tongue laps at every finger, not wanting to miss a single drop.
“Shit,” he whispers, “you're so fucking nasty.”
You smile, knowing he meant it as a compliment, and lean forward to give his swollen head a slow lick. It bobs up and down, excited by your touch. You take just the tip between your lips, and his head rolls back with frustration. “Fucking tease,” he says before grabbing the back of your head and fully slamming himself inside to the back of your throat. You gag because you weren't prepared, but he doesn't let up, not until he's ready to pull out.
Your eyes water as you take deep breaths to replete your oxygen. He snipes, “Are you ready to do it properly now?” Being cut off from air had been both frightening and exhilarating at the same time. You want to choke on him again, just to see how long you can hold out.
You shake your head, biting your thumbnail while staring at his cock. He grips your hair again and forces you to look up at him. “So my naughty girl enjoyed being punished.” You barely have time to nod your head before he plunges to the back of your throat again. His groan echoes across the room as his grip tightens in your hair. Your fingernails dig into his thighs as you're just at the brink of tapping out.
He yanks your head back, and you gasp loudly for much needed air. You cough several times and wipe away drool with the back of your hand. Despite the feeling of no control, you liked being at his mercy. On your knees in front of him, his cock filling your mouth and throat.
You crawl over to where he's perched against the edge of the desk and waste no time grabbing him at the base and taking him into your mouth once more. You savor the taste of him as your head bobs up and down, swallowing each time you draw back. Your hand works in tandem with your mouth, making sure to leave no part of his length unsatisfied. You hear him hiss when you relax your throat to allow him just a bit further.
He pushes your forehead back with a loud “Fuck!” and you stifle a chuckle that you were so close to bringing a man to his knees. “You like sucking my cock, don’t you?”
You bite your lip with a nod, hoping he'll allow you to orally please him some more.
“Shit,” he comments, combing his fingers through his blonde hair. He takes your chin in his hand, thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “If we weren't pressed for time, I'd let you suck until I cum down your throat.”
Instead, he tells you to stand and bends you over the desk. He uses his knee to spread your legs wider and dabs his hand in the moisture coating the inside of your thighs. “You're soaked, baby. You did all that for me?”
“Yes,” you reply. “You said dripping wet.”
“I did, didn't I? That's good, you know how to follow instructions. So do this for me: grab the edge of the desk, and don't move.”
Your hands wrap around the edge, your face resting against the cool tabletop. Again, you are at his mercy, splayed wide, your core hot and needy, ready for him to enter. You feel his hand glide along your back and grip the base your neck. “Don't move, baby,” he reminds you, lining himself up at your entrance. You feel the tip press against you, and your eyes flutter closed. He applies a bit of weight behind his thrust, only to pull away completely. He tries again, this time squeezing in up to the head, before sliding out once again.
He smacks the right cheek of your ass and the sound reverberates off the walls. “Shit, you're so fucking tight.”
“Don't stop,” you plead, not wanting him to give up.
“Oh I'm not,” he says, positioning himself at your entrance again. “Relax for me, baby.”
“Okay,” you whine and bloom your muscles outward, hoping to allow him easier access.
He takes his time gliding into you, not wanting to rush the feeling of you opening to him. The fit is snug by the time he is fully inside you, his hips resting firmly against your backside. Your fingernails scrape the underside of the desk, nothing to grip hold to, as you adjust to being filled to the brim.
“You okay?” he asks, and you answer with a moan. He gives one lazy thrust in and out, and says, “I asked you a question.” | bce9d06f76874e188646e8e391fb75bd | ['089d8fb92c0e4752a62104db63a50ecd'] | You can feel his eyes upon you as he waits for you to turn around. Your breathing is shallow as you consider your options of staying or bolting up the stairs to escape. It’s a long way up. You’re weighted down by damp clothes and books. That’s a slow, awkward jog to the top floor and exit. Staying is simpler. You tell yourself it’s the logical choice, so that your feet come unglued from the floor and pivot around.
He’s breathtaking. Tall and gorgeous, intelligent. A living, breathing example of the perfect man, and he had touched you in a way that made your underwear wet from more than just rainwater. He takes a cautious step forward and says, “I apologize. I shouldn’t have been inappropriate with you.” Add honest and respectful to the list.
You shrug and follow his truth-bearing example. “It wasn’t anything I didn’t want to happen. We’re both adults, right?”
“Right,” he replies with an expression you can’t quite read. His face is a blank slate, yet his one word response hangs in the air like an open-ended question, as if wanting to know what your next move will be.
This is it. Your last chance to leave, when you should’ve left minutes ago. You watch his eyes shift from wide and bright to dark and hooded. There’s a magnetic pull refusing to let you leave.
“Is there a class coming?”
He shakes his head. “Not for another hour.”
You place your belongings on the nearest desk and remove your jacket. With one swoop, he shoves his bag from the desk to the floor, leaving space for you to sit. His gaze is intense as you lift yourself up onto the desk, your wet jeans clinging to your thighs as they spread. There’s no manual on “How to sleep with your professor,” so you’re uncertain on how to proceed from here. You’ve often daydreamed about it, but now that the moment has arrived, you’re stiff and rattled by nerves.
His slender fingers play at your waist before tugging at the bottom of your shirt. “We should get you out of these wet clothes.”
Your head barely nods as you say, “Okay.”
The cotton shirt peels away from your skin and lifts free over your head. It makes a heavy sound when he tosses it to the floor. The chill in the air feels a lot cooler against your skin, your nearly exposed nipples poking against your black mesh bra. Your eyes veer up to meet his, and they hold you hostage while he removes your shoes and socks. You’re praying like hell nobody walks in because it would be impossible to explain why you’re half naked on your professor’s desk. Yet the risk of getting caught adds to the thrill. You’re at the center focal point of the entire room. There’s really nowhere to hide.
“I’m cold,” you tell him with a playful pout.
He stands in front of you between your legs, just at the edge of the desk. He traces one finger down your jaw and under your chin to lift your head. “You’ll be warm soon enough.”
A rush of breath passes through your parted lips and entices a wicked grin from him. “So… what should I call you? Dr. Kim seems too formal given the circumstances, don't you think?”
His Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows. “Call me Joon,” he advises.
You use his tie to pull him closer, just enough to whisper next to his ear. “Okay, Joon.” A groan resonates in his throat at the sound of his name upon your lips. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not doing this to get a better grade.”
He draws back to look you in the eyes, your noses nearly touching. “Good. Because I'm not changing it simply because you want to fuck your professor.”
You stare at his full lips, wanting to suck the bottom one between your own. “Well, I was hoping my professor would fuck _me_.”
“Oh, I intend to. But first, I'll make you whine and beg until you’re a hot, dripping mess for me.”
Your breathing shutters, and he answers with a smirk. “I think I already am,” you say breathlessly.
“No, baby,” he nuzzles your neck, “you're not there yet. But you will be.”
The moment you feel his lips against your skin, your body melts into him. His lips trail up along your neck and chin until he reaches yours. His kisses are gentle pecks at first, teasing and discovering the shape of your lips. You pull him in closer by his dress shirt, and his hands seize both sides of your face, his hunger growing stronger for a taste of you. You feel his tongue nip at your lips, asking for entry. His kiss deepens and a groan rumbles in his chest. He draws back and you follow, yearning for more, but your lips only find air.
“So eager,” he grins.
You bite your lip shyly, your eyes roaming the length of his body. So long you had dreamed up moments like this. And now that it's here, you want him. All of him.
He takes you by your hand and leads you from the desk over to the whiteboard. He has you face the wall and place both of your arms above your head against the board. His fingers lightly slide around your waist, sending a chill up your spine, as he steps up behind you. He leans close to your ear and tells you not to move, or else you’ll be punished. |
8415fccc4a7b480199fd9ad305f7ad35 | ['08a5096e76aa47969b546a8836dc9967'] | Turning in Phil's lap, she hears his low groan muffled by her hair, she makes eye contact with Daisy, and blinks slowly, three times.
She waits with bated breath as Daisy's eyes widen, giving her a curious glance before turning to Fitzsimmons.
"Hey, do you think you guys could go grab some snacks?"
Simmons looks a little suspicious, and Fitz complains under his breath about the "powered" person ordering them around, but they both get up and head after Mack and Elena to the kitchen.
Melinda has never been more thankful that their new base has a separate kitchen and entertainment area, or there would be no way for them to escape this without everybody getting embarrassed.
She has a feeling that it won't be a problem for Phil or her, mortifying poor Daisy.
"So, what's up? Why'd you want them to leave?"
Daisy has turned to face them now, grin on her face.
"Oh my god, do you guys have something to tell me? Are you taking the next step in your relationship? Are you guys going to get married?"
Melinda snorts, and it sends vibrations through her body and down around Phil, and she quickly stills.
"Daisy. You can either leave now, or you'll find out exactly how far we're taking our relationship," Melinda deadpans, and Daisy just sits there, looking at them with the utmost confusion on her face.
They do not have time for this.
Melinda clenches her thighs and rocks forward, and this time Phil does let out a groan, and she gives Daisy a pointed look.
"Oh. Oh. Oh my god."
They watch as her expression morphs from confusion to understanding and then disgust, and Melinda wonders if this is how parents feel like when they scar their children for life.
"Gross. Are you guys planning to do it on our couch?"
Melinda smirks.
"Already did. Round two."
With that, Daisy lets out a loud "eeewwwww" before dashing out of the room, and Melinda sinks back against Phil, knowing they have a moment to relax before rushing back to their rooms.
She pulls off him, quickly shrugging her pants back on, and he tucks his cock back into his, pulling the zipper up with a load moan.
"Poor thing," she mumbles, cupping him through his trousers.
He bites at her neck in retaliation, and then they're tearing down the halls back to his room, barely taking the time to lock the door behind them before they're shedding their clothes.
He looks a little like a stunned mullet when he sees her naked for the first time, but she doesn't let him stare for long, pushing him down onto the bed, and without much more thought, sinking down on him once more.
"Fuck. Phil."
She's loud now that they're in private, and he loves it.
Her palms rest against his chest as she rides him, grinding forward and down to put pressure on her clit, and she knows that they're both close.
She doesn't expect him to flip them, letting out a shout of surprise as he does, pinning her back against the cool sheets.
Melinda hooks her legs around his waist as he circles her thighs with his hands and then he's pounding into her like they've both thought about at least once or twice over the years.
He slips his hand between them to massage her clit and she screams his name as she hits her peak, her walls clamping down on him so tightly, almost forcing him into his orgasm.
They pant as the come down from their highs, lazily kissing as they move under the covers and Melinda curls up against Phil's chest, feeling his arms around her.
Feeling safe.
"What happened to going at it all week," he jokes.
"Thought we might need a break if we're going to keep it up."
He smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"Can't wait to make you come again. I owe you one."
She snorts, swatting his chest with one hand, smiling when he catches it within his, pulling it over his heart, her palm brushing against the scar on his chest.
They're alive, and they're together, and well, they can always fuck again in the morning.
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Phil and Melinda have been waiting a very long time, and Melinda takes things into her own hands.
Phil never thought of himself as an overly sexualised being in the past - he jacked off several times a week, maybe more depending on the frequency in which he came into contact with his partner, and maintained healthy sexual relationships with all of his past girlfriends.
Things changed drastically the day he started dating Melinda May.
Melinda was perfect, in more ways then he could describe. She was quiet, but warm; always there to support him, and he had been somewhat in love with her for more than half his life, despite the pair of them vehemently denying their attraction and affection for one another, putting the needs of others before their own.
Their love had endured all those years of not so patiently waiting, and now they were finally together.
Part of him had been afraid that after a chase this long, the intimacy between them would not justify the wait they had endured.
He'd quickly been proven wrong during each of their first times together.
The first time she let him hold her hand, their fingers interlocking together like an abandoned puzzle piece finally finding home, his heart had soared.
The first time they had embraced, not as friends supporting one another, but as lovers seeking comfort and contact, she had buried her face against his neck, and his arm had curled around her waist and he never wanted to let go. | 8c907f6abce84e68a123b24f31e33409 | ['08a5096e76aa47969b546a8836dc9967'] | He groans, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of her stomach before trailing his lips downwards, relishing in just how soft she is, how sweet she tastes.
He stops, taking in a deep breath when he reaches her entrance, exhaling softly in surprise at just how much slick seemed to be coating the folds. To his shock, Melinda squirms, letting out a quiet whine at the sensation, and he almost wants to do it again, but the desire to taste her is even stronger.
Phil grips Melinda's thigh with one hand, pushing it further out of the way and surges forward, giving her one slow long lick, dragging his tongue along her and tasting her upon his tongue. It wasn't a flavour he could describe, but the feeling he could.
He's elated, aroused, in love.
And now that he knows how she tastes, he can't stop himself from trying it again. He presses closer against her, his tongue delving into her folds as his lips enthusiastically try bring her as much pleasure as he possibly can. Melinda is crying out above him, and he feels a surge of confidence in his ability to make her feel good.
"Phil!"
She gasps out his name as his nose brushes against her, and she seems to like it, so he does it again.
"Fuck. Phil. Please."
He pulls away from her slowly, just a little, and he wonders how ridiculous he must look, face probably covered in the evidence of her arousal. He looks up to meet her gaze and Melinda looks completely wrecked, her chest heaving with each breath, bottom lip drawn between her teeth, hands fisted in the sheets around them.
"Does that feel good?" he asks her, spanning one hand over her abdomen, softly holding her down against the bed as he reaches between her legs with the other, rubbing his thumb in a deliberately slow circle over the small nub nestled above her folds.
She doesn't reply with words, just groaning when he touches her, and he wonders how it might feel for her if he sucked her. He's pretty sure a blowjob is better than a hand job any day.
He lowers his mouth to her, wrapping his lips around the nub, sucking softly, his fingers dipping between her folds for a moment before slipping one finger inside her.
Phil almost wants to sob at how tightly she squeezes his finger, and his thoughts immediately turn to wondering how she'll feel around his cock, which is currently wedged between his body and the mattress. He can feel it throbbing, swollen, needing to be touched, but he promises himself to push his needs back and concentrate on her, make Melinda the centre of all his attentions.
She continues to cry out as he explores her with his mouth and hands, and he doesn't know what to make of it when she begins to squeeze around him even tighter, but then she screams and he freezes and god, he thinks she's just come.
He gently extracts his fingers from within her, smiling softly at the way she whines when he does so, and it might be awkward, but he presses a kiss against her before moving back up her body, curling around her and sealing their lips together.
6. Chapter 6
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Phil and Melinda try something new.
They're curled up in bed together one morning, exchanging lazy kisses, which soon turn to heated kisses and then Phil is moving his hand between Melinda's thighs, needing to touch her there, to bring her pleasure.
He pulls his hand back in surprise when she winces.
"I'm a little sore," she responds, shrugging and he quickly nods, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, or cause her any further pain. He can probably finish himself off in the shower.
His thoughts trail off when Melinda closes a hand around his swelling cock, stroking it slowly, and this could work too. Sure fucking as more intimate but he's hardly going to turn away a handjob from his girlfriend.
"Phil," she says, her other hand tracing patterns over his scar and he doesn't know how much hotter this can get, wrapped up in one another, sharing their love in the gentlest of ways.
"Hmm?" he responds, shifting his hips closer to follow the touch of her hand, his tangling in her curls as he pulls her in for another kiss.
When they break apart once more, her lips are definitely redder than before, and she gives him a rather shy smile that has him on edge for whatever it is she plans to say next.
"I want you to fuck me in the ass."
He almost chokes on thin air, unable to fully comprehend what she has just said to him, and he blinks several times, wrinkling his nose.
"Come again?"
She rolls her eyes at him, hand releasing his cock and travelling up until it met her other, resting over his heart. Smiling, she leans in to kiss the confusion off of his features, leaving him with a blissed expression.
"I want you," she whispers, tracing the edge of his jaw with her fingers, her hand slowly moving along his body until it rested over his.
"To fuck me," she continues, her hip brushing against his cock to punctuate her statement.
"In the ass."
Her hand drags his over her hip and behind her, and it's almost a subconscious reaction, how he cups his hand over her ass, giving the firm flesh a squeeze, fingers dipping dangerously close to exactly where she apparently wanted him to go.
"Are you sure?" he whispers, nuzzling her neck with his nose and feeling her quickly nod against him.
"I've been thinking about it for so long. Your big cock fucking my ass from behind."
She's playing dirty. Melinda knows he can't resist dirty talk, not that he would try to resist knowing she wanted him to fuck her in the ass. |
7b7eb7a53fff4e6d8a16affa0115f103 | ['08d7a6cfcd324fefb2a28cdfef9ff300'] | The Castle of Mythos Hill
**Author's Note:**
> The first chapter is just short as to begin the entire thing, so don't think it'll remain like that each chapter.
An agonized cry rang throughout the castle that was once quiet and filled with servants calmly going about their duties. Everyone had been startled at the noise, yet no one had time to investigate when the lord of the castle ran pass. The man didnt stop running, knowing exactly where to go, and had soon entered the bedroom that his pregnant wife is currently in and crying. Breathing heavily from running that much, the man watched his wife with a worried expression, though soon rushed to her side and held her hand as another woman entered the room with supplies. The woman on the bed is giving birth; her long blue hair of different shades is messy and absolutely everywhere while the man and the older woman had helped the soon-to-be-mother position herself. With a second cry soon enough, another smaller one joined as life was brought into the world.
____________________
"Sly, get back here!" A worried voice yelled, chasing after the young boy and trying to pick him up as quick as he could. Though, the scene was interrupted by a sudden set of small footsteps and another child tackling the child known as Sly. A young girl had done this and she was holding a disappointed look to her face as she pinned the boy down. "Sly, I told you to behave for Clear!" She frowned to the younger boy, only for said boy pout and look a little guilty, though he also looked annoyed. "Im sorry big sis.." He mutters, avoiding looking to those black irises, yet the girl sighed and ruffled his hair with a small smile. She looked to the teen originally chasing the boy and gave him a large smile. "I'll take it from here, Clear!"
The white haired male, of whom is a siren taking on a human form, tilted his head as he smiled back to her. "It's fine, Princess, I can handle him-" "Nope! I'm handling my baby brother!" She stood, interrupting the servant as she grabbed Sly's hand and yanked him up so he could stand. "You need the break anyways, and it'll be fine, so tell Daddy I got it." She didn't wait for an answer, her long, dark blue hair covering her face nearly as she dragged her youngest brother with her when she ran. Although the siren was amused at this, he still worried as the girl tried her best to watch all three of her younger brothers. Still, as the princess wanted, the princess got, and so the servant left to report to the king, Tatsuo, and then Virus.
While that was happening, the other two brothers were playing outside and Ren was trying to eat a bug.. and well, Aoba was watching while eating a sandwich, sat upon a log that the other boy put him onto since he was tall enough and even strong enough to do such a thing. The scene was quickly interrupted by someone falling from a tree right by the second eldest, Aoba immediately screaming in return. The third eldest, Ren, looked over to see Trip laid across the end of the log, Aoba crying with the sandwich in his hands. It confused the dark haired boy, yet he shoved the moth he was trying to eat into his mouth, then ran over to jump onto the harpy. Trip just grunted in response at being jumped onto, not even moving when bitten for making the eldest prince cry.
Huffing, the dark haired boy soon enough went to the lighter haired one, chewing the moth as he reached his hands out to his older brother. Patting his cheeks, he gave him a nuzzle as well to make him stop crying as it was very easy to do this. Only when Aoba began to eat his sandwich again did Ren run off to find more bugs and left Trip to watch the eldest prince. Seeing as this is a normal day, the craziness was only due to the young age of each child; they're all four years of age, yet incredibly smart. Their father is the king after all, and wanted only the best education for his sons and daughter.
**Author's Note:**
> I'll try and do a chapter every now and then, so I think I'll update somewhat regularly. | 534d6f2f34c0408a9220b745c97bb121 | ['08d7a6cfcd324fefb2a28cdfef9ff300'] |
1. Escape From Life
**Author's Note:**
> Not all characters will appear immediately, of course, so I mostly tagged them for the future.
The reason of their creation had been a strange one for some, but for others it would be understandable.
..They did have a mother. Her name was Mamiko, and she was.. like them; created by an experiment, falsified as a human being- she is not. She is like them; they are who she is: inhuman. The woman met their father when he had been in America, working, and they came across one another by mere chance. The blue haired woman was distressed, her heterchromatic eyes filled with fear. Tatsuo Toue took her in, and they eventually fell for one another at the young age of twenty-five.
With years, they eventually learned of her powers, and even another more horrible thing: she is unable to have children. When the woman found this out, she was devasted, as she had wanted children with her then husband. She wanted a family oh so desperately.. so her husband began his experiments and research. He had to create bodies that could withstand the strange powers his wife had been given by her creators by mere accident.
Eventually.. he did succeed on two pairs of twins, and yet.. his wife had left earlier that evening and he had waited for her, but she never returned. It is still unknown as to where she went, but that.. isn't as important right now.
No, not when he thought all his children were going to die.
Aoba, he thought, had died completely, and so he managed to escape much earlier than the rest of his brothers.
Nonetheless, it would be some years before Ren, the third born, could manage to make Sly, the youngest, escape. It had been of a system of trial and error, to which he learned of his own powers and had managed to get the boy to escape.. but..
He was broken early on life at a young age of being a mere teen. He turned to violence, met Mizuki, and more and more had happened. He was alone, wanting his brothers again.. so eventually he did grow bitter; his powers took him over and he was no longer himself, but.....
Sei had been next.
He was weak, practically a shell from twenty-three years of experiments, and he was already weak as is, though Ren managed to take him over to bring him to a hotel, then finally Ren escaped after punishment after punishment; he had scars and he couldn't function properly for a while.
For that while, he at least could take over his eldest brother to make him eat and take care of himself.. he needed him to live for things that followed in life. They needed to find Aoba and Sly.
.....It had been hard for him to escape, but he did. When he had, he immediately found Sei and began their journey to find their siblings.. but it.. won't be easy, will it? Not even when Ren..
..Not even with his powers.
It's a wonder.. can they get to Aoba before Sly does?
2. The Reveal
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> A visit caused an accidental meeting, though another meeting happened right when he went to relax.. one moment he's home and alone and calm- the next he's screaming because there's two strangers and.... is that a dead body?!
"Aoba, you were supposed to take a left here." Of course, those words startled the blue haired man out of his thoughts and had quickly turned to take that left. Flustered, he still did move a hand down to pet his allmate, Ren, with a quiet sigh. "Thanks, Ren, I don't know what I would do without you." He gives a half smile towards the allmate, who merely remained silent with a brief nod. "Sometimes I get too lost in my thoughts, so having you to do this.. I'm thankful." He hummed in amusement, the allmate saying, "It's my duty, Aoba." It only served to amuse the man even more. Still, as he was glancing about and following shortcuts given, he couldn't help but feel like he's being watched suddenly.
It's different when comparing it to when Ren would stare at him when he's not looking, because it's not.. it doesn't feel strange and uncomfortable as he's merely an allmate- he knows what to expect. No, this kind of.. gaze he's feeling is stronger and more..... uncomfortable? He doesn't feel completely uncomfortable, which is why he's unsure or how to describe it.
He decided to shake the feeling off, nearly at the destination he was heading to: the hospital. |
e24fc3628f2a429589050bcfbed7deac | ['08ef4f798cca4bcda57ca6734b99b6a4'] | Although he's not really hurt, he's terribly confused and wonders if his tired mind's playing tricks on him at the moment. He's met every tenant on this floor, and he's pretty sure none of them had pets. The Japanese man doesn't consider himself a genius, but he thinks he'd remember meeting dogs as _distinct_ as these ones. "Where exactly did you come from?" he questions, raising a hand to pet both of the dogs weakly.
The pair of giant fluff balls just continue to pin him down energetically, wagging their tails and nosing at his clothes.
_"Oh, no! Dokku, Latte, get off of him!"_ In his mild daze, Yuta hears a man approach with well-paced footsteps like building thunder; the dogs jump off of him and dart off to who knows where, but their presence is soon replaced by that of a giant shadow looming over his sprawled out body.
"I'm _so_ sorry about my dogs. They've never done that to anyone besides me or my family members before," the extremely tall stranger starts in a deeply stricken tone, wringing his hands and shifting his weight between his legs. "I just started moving in today. Please, don't have me evicted..."
Yuta shakes away the stars messing with his mind and vision and blinks to regain focus. The man hovering over himー most likely a Busan native, considering his pronounced satooriー looks to be around his age, and he's unbelievably tall and muscled, with perfect blond hair and attractive facial features. The Japanese man wonders what his eyes look like, as well, seeing as they're squeezed shut due to major anxiety. "I'm not mad, really. And I'd never do something so cruel," a weary Yuta murmurs genuinely, "but I'd appreciate it if you'd... you know, _help me up_..."
The Korean man gulps and opens his eyes hesitantly, and Yuta finds himself somewhat entranced by how _wide_ and _dark_ and _endless_ they are. The giant moves to offer a helping hand but instantly stops upon realizing just _who_ his dogs had knocked down. _"You're Nakamoto Yuta!"_ he gasps, voice rising just a fraction.
Forgetting all about his desire to be helped up for a moment, Yuta jerks into a sitting position, crossing his legs into a pretzel shape and folding his hands in the space between them. "I'm that obvious?" the former model returns worriedly, frowning a little. "I was hoping not to attract any attention..."
"Oh, that's understandable. Sorry..." the other man mutters briefly. He apologetically shrugs, then leans over swiftly to grab both of the smaller man's wrists loosely with one hand.
And before he can process what's going on, Yuta finds himself being effortlessly pulled to his feet as if he were weightless; he can only squeak in astonishment at the other man's size and controlled strength. _"Wow,"_ he remarks in a hushed voice once he's steadied himself. He peers up at the hunched over, slightly awkward blond manー he's as tall as he remembers Johnny being, though he's more of a gentle giant compared to the Chicago Monsterー who's peering down at him with soft, emotive eyes. "What's your name? It's unfair that you know who I am, but I don't know who you are. You simply _must_ remedy this problem," Yuta teases as he dusts off his clothes.
The giant man straightens up instantly only to hastily do a ninety-degree bow. "I'm Ji Hansol. I'm a 27-year-old choreographer. Busan's my hometown, though I've just recently returned from an extended stay in Seoul," the Korean man introduces shyly. "I... Iーyou probably stopped wanting to be a celebrity for good reasons, and you probably won't care about what I'm going to tell you," he continues almost inaudibly after a short pause, a red hue gradually overtaking his cheeks, "but I just wanted to say that I've been a fan of yours since the beginning. You were always humble and hardworking and an advocate for many good causes, and your success still inspires me to work my hardest every day..."
Yuta's _moved_ , to say the least. It'd been so long since someone had last recognized him, and recognized him as someone with more than just a pretty face to boot. "...Thank you, Hansol-hyung. It's been a long time since I've heard something like that. I'm touched by your loyal support. I'll root for you, as well."
The blushing elder blinks owlishly at the praise and honorific, but the younger merely closes his eyes and grins delicately in response.
No words are exchanged after that for a long while, but the pair continue to just stand there in comfortable silence. The Japanese man actually feels his own cheeks gradually heat up a bit, too, as he considers Hansol's _curious, overwhelming attentiveness_ and _respectfulness_ towards him; it'd been so long since he'd last met someone as _refreshingly open_ , _endearing_ , and _oddly charismatic_ as the blond man. "Is there any way I can help you out?" he eventually finds himself asking.
The choreographer shakes his head as if to will away a daydream. Interestingly, there's a new twinkle in his eyes that wasn't there before. "My dogs knocked you over, and I've probably made you uncomfortable since I'm practically _awkwardness_ personified, yet you're offering to help me. You're a _funny_ one, Yuta-ssi... Anyway, I've already finished unpackingー well, _not really_ , but all of my stuff's technically inside my apartment now. I was just planning on walking Dokku and Latte and then maybe grabbing dinner from a convenience store or something. Want to walk them with me?"
The invitation's a lighthearted one, and by the way Hansol's suddenly rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding his gaze after his clumsy rambling, Yuta can tell the elder expects him to decline. | 5807fe9b6ac24388abd958eab6102cc6 | ['08ef4f798cca4bcda57ca6734b99b6a4'] | Taeyong knows he can’t let him go, at least not without a fight, so when he notices Yuta open his mouth to speak his goodbyes while subtly scooting off the loveseat, he takes a risk and declares, “I don’t think we should stop. Before you say anything, _please hear me out_.”
His ex-husband’s expression sours; he stands up wordlessly but stays to signal that he’s waiting. The Korean man had always loved that about himー the other man may have been all over the place personality-wise, but he’s always listened so well, especially to _him_. “What’s your partner’s name?” he inquires with dangerous softness.
“Hansol,” the younger mutters curtly, turning on his heel to face him.
“So, what if _Hansol_ and _Jaehyun_ ”ー he tastes ash and honey in his mouth as utters the namesー”turn out to be _just_ passing fancies and nothing more? Sure, we’re _infatuated_ with them now because they’re mature and charmingー all shiny and undamaged, and the fact that they don’t have history with us makes things even easierー but when are new relationships not refreshing?”
“As if _you_ have the experience to be giving _me_ such a lecture,” the Japanese man snips. He steps in front of a seated Taeyong and leans down to get in his ex-husband’s face. “You’ve only ever had _one_ serious relationshipー _I’d fucking know_ ー so don’t go making yourself out to be some expert on dating, Taeyong.”
The suspiciously composed elder meets that deadly gaze head on. “Relationships can only grow on _truth_ , Yuta. You know, I didn’t tell Jaehyun that I used to be married. I’m not sure if I even _can_ or _will_. And I’m guessing you’re in the same boat with Hansol?”
At Yuta’s embarrassed frown and silent retreat, he chuckles humorlessly. “So both of us built relationships based on omissions of truth. That’s _priceless_ ー”
“Where are you going with this?” Yuta demands weakly. He stubbornly holds his ground with arms firmly crossed in front of his chest when Taeyong rises from the couch; in the blink of an eye, his ex-husband’s in _his_ face, and as strong as he wants to appear, the younger can’t help but feel _uneasy_.
Especially when the other man cups his face with both hands. He brushes his lips against his so fleetingly he’s left yearning for more.
Of _what_ , he doesn’t know.
“We may have feelings for different people now, but we still want and need each other physically, don’t we? We’ve been intimate for years, Yutaー my body has only ever known yours and vice versa. Do you _really_ think we can quit cold turkey _just like that_?” His ex-husband pauses to claim his lips more properly this time around, and Yuta internally reprimands himself for thoughtlessly meeting him halfway like some needy bitch. “You wouldn’t have come all this way to see me during your free time if you didn’t want something from me, as well.”
The Japanese man bites his lip so hard it almost bleeds. His eyes become wide and unsure. “Iー I just came here to _talk_...”
_“Liar,”_ Taeyong counters quietly, studying his ex-husband with a look so _intense_ and _soulful_ it can’t be described in words. “You wouldn’t have wasted your valuable free time by traveling over three hours at such an ungodly hour just to _talk_.”
“I’m _stupid_ , remember?” A frustrated sob erupts from the other man’s mouth. At first, the Korean man’s too startled to react, but he feels panic bubble in his chest when the emotional black-haired beauty suddenly storms off towards the door with surprising coordination for a somewhat intoxicated person. _“I’m really, really stupid. No, I’m the fucking worst. After all, no intelligent, self-respecting man would’ve agreed to become his ex-husband’s whoreー”_ he raves hysterically.
Before the former model can even get his hand on the doorknob, he’s being pulled back into the businessman’s constricting embrace.
Maybe Yuta’s imagining things, because Taeyong’s heartbeat is so fast, and it doesn't make any sense for his heart to be beating so fast for the likes of _him_.
“ _Don’t you ever say or think that again. Don’t._ You're a lot of things, Nakamoto Yuta, but you're not my _whore_." Just saying the foul word makes the elder want to vomit in disgusted offense. "You've _always_ been my equal. I know some nasty things are said in the heat of the moment. I know our arrangement’s unhealthy. But... even if there’s no romantic love between us, there’s still _unconditional trust and care_ ”ー the conviction in his impassioned voice rings loud and clearー“and that’s _irreplaceable_.”
Yuta gasps as the restraining arms coil around him with more urgency. “Taeyong, _let go_ ー”
“ _Fine_. If that’s what you really want...” The arms disappear, but the other man’s sinful next words seem to echo in his ear. “If you have to,” his ex-husband says huskily, “leave and don’t look back. You know, I just don’t want either of us to feel _lonely_ in case our respective partners from here on out end up being unable to fill the void or decide to leave.”
The younger goes rigid at the thought of loneliness. If there’s one thing he fiercely detests in this world, it’s _loneliness_. He remembers how _disillusioned_ he’d felt when his parents and numerous acquaintances had casted him out for his sexuality. Or how _out of place_ he’d felt as a foreigner working in Korea. Or how _devastatingly empty_ he’d felt when starting over after their divorce was finalized.
_Maybe, just maybe... Hansol and Jaehyun might adore them purely **now** , but his and Taeyong’s **established, ardent adoration** for each other..._
_That’s **forever**._
He realizes in that moment that he might never see his ex-husband again if he chooses to break off what they have going on. There’s no friendship or love to connect them anymore, just _desire_ and _consent_...
A virtuous person would make the right choice. |
d842427323fe45939cb12bbe1038b838 | ['090e8e1c9fcc453fa1b612f57c0d7158'] | “Well…” Sara sighed. “Jeremy’s a good guy, I’ve talked to him a few times, and he made you sound pretty nice, and I figured I’d take his word for it. Also… To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t really feeling the party tonight; you just gave me an excuse to get out of there.” Sara swallowed, eyes cast down at her lap. It was small, but Sara never expressed any negative emotions in public. Well… other than anger. “Emy wanted to cheer me up by bringing me along, and I agreed, but I’m not really having any fun. If I have another broken-hearted… I… I mean if I have you in the car too, and your boyfriend just broke up with you, she’ll be more likely to come back with me ahead of time.”
“Why are you letting me tag along with the two of you at her place, then? It sounds like the two of you kind of have your own thing going.” Tegan asked.
“You know, for a quiet, shy kid, you sure do ask a lot of questions,” Sara replied, making Tegan smile for a second. “I’ll be back soon, ok?”
Tegan nodded. As soon as Sara was gone, she let herself sniffle and cry the last few tears she had left in her. She didn’t know if she would cry more later, but she knew she would be ok. So she waited for Sara and Emy to come back. She heard Emy talking before she looked up.
Emy and Sara looked correct next to each other. Emy in a denim button-up and dark leggings, Sara in dark ripped jeans, a plaid button up tied around her waist, and a blue denim jacket over a simple printed T-shirt. As though she read Tegan’s mind, Sara untied the button-up from around her waist and draped it around Emy’s shoulders, then held the car door open for her so Emy could get into the backseat.
“Hi, Tegan! We have like three classes together. I’m Emy.” Emy smiled as she slid into the car and held out Tegan’s black backpack.
“Thanks, and I know you.” Tegan bit her lower lip as Sara shut the door to the back seat and returned to the driver’s seat. “I think we’ve talked a few times?”
“Ohh, yeah! Sorry, I forgot. I’m kind of high on party, if you can’t tell. Mostly I’m not like this.” Emy buckled up. “Hey Sare, when was the last time we had a girl’s night?”
“Umm, mid-summer?” Sara replied, buckling herself up, so Tegan did the same. “Broom-Hilda kind of halted that habit…” She didn’t especially sound like she wanted to talk about this subject, probably because Tegan was right there. Sara started the car and drove away from the party. “Hey Tegan, just to let you know, Jeremy asked us for advice on coming out, so you don’t have to worry about not outing him when talking to us.”
“He… he did?” Tegan asked, furrowing her eyebrows. The car was silent. She understood why he would come to them for advice, but it hurt knowing she wasn’t the first to know. She wouldn’t fault him or get mad, but this really didn’t help things.
“Do you need some Dairy Queen?” Emy asked gently.
“Yeah.” Tegan’s voice cracked, thick with emotion. “I’d like that.”
“Do you want some DQ?” Emy turned to Sara.
“Do you?” Sara asked in response.
“Maybe.”
Sara sighed and flipped on her turn signal. “We’re going to the drive-thru, you two. We are absolutely not getting out of this car until we get to Emy’s.” Sara and Emy bantered back and forth until they arrived at the nearest DQ. She pulled up just past the speaker so Emy could talk into it.
Tegan wasn’t feeling particularly picky, so she let Emy pick her order, just resting her head against the window of the car. Her eyes were damp from a fresh wave of tears. She didn’t eat her blizzard when Sara handed it to her since she lost her appetite.
“Are you ok, Tegan?” Emy asked, placing a hand on Tegan’s seat, leaning toward her.
“As ok as I can be, given the circumstances.” She replied.
Sara snorted. “Same.”
“What do you want to do tonight at my place?” Emy asked. “My parents are away at the country estate, so we have the townhouse all to ourselves. I’ll just text the staff to let them know there will be an extra person. Do you want to sleep in your own room tonight, or do you want a cot in my room?”
“Where’s Sara staying?” Tegan asked, hoping to follow ‘when in Rome, do as the Romans do’. “I don’t want to cause any hassle.”
“She’s sharing my bed with me,” Emy answered like it was the most casual thing in the world. “And you won’t be causing a hassle; we have plenty of guest bedrooms for you to stay in if you want. But if you’d rather hang with us, that’s fine too. Whatever you’re most comfortable with.”
“I’d like to stay in a bedroom if that’s ok.” Tegan decided. She was an outsider, and she knew it. Might as well not try to force her way into this already established friendship.
“Ok. Also, do you have any allergies or specific preferences?” Emy’s face was illuminated by the glow of her phone screen.
“Um… I’m kind of picky, usually…” She admitted.
“That’s fine, what don’t you like?”
Emy was even nicer than Tegan thought… “Mushrooms, corn, raw tomatoes, beans, and avocados.” She admitted, embarrassed.
“Geez… do you like any vegetables?” Sara didn’t take her eyes off the road, but Tegan could feel herself being judged.
“I… I don’t know, I just…” She mumbled.
“Hey, Sare, she’s not ready to be introduced to real food.” Emy chided Sara.
“What’s that mean?” Tegan asked, confused. | dc59298ac48a41b7b5247e2a20a453a2 | ['090e8e1c9fcc453fa1b612f57c0d7158'] |
1. First Night
**Author's Note:**
> Hey guys! This is the long ass smut fic I promised, but because it's been a lot of work and the first third was finished, I decided that I didn't want it to take too long, so here we are! I hope you enjoy it :) I would like to give a special thanks to my amazing friend quincestreet who let me bitch and moan, encouraged me, and suggested this title.
>
> (Btw I know their gfs went but I wrote them out bc it worked better and nobody can stop me.)
It could be said that thinking about having her way with her twin sister at the GG Performing Arts Awards was classless, especially when they were being honored with a National Art Centre Award. But nobody knew what Sara was thinking, not even Tegan, so it wasn’t hurting or offending anyone. It wasn’t like she grabbed Tegan’s hips from behind, pressing their bodies together and popped open the button on Tegan’s pants with one hand, sliding in to touch her twin’s most intimate place. It also wasn’t like she strode over to her twin and kissed her with a forceful passion, relieving Tegan of her clothes as she eased her onto the ground and proceed to go down on her sister.
Perhaps, if they were both up for having sex later that evening once they were alone, Sara might whisper about her fantasies in Tegan’s ear later in order to rile her up.
Hopefully, Tegan wouldn’t change out of her suit if Sara would be undressing her at all that evening. She rather liked the suit over the sheer top where her bra was visible. Even better that it was floral. After all, it did please Sara when she ended up looking like a top and Tegan a bottom at events. It didn’t please her so much that she was utterly useless at the event; in fact, she was arguably better at conversation than Tegan, but then again; in situations like these, Tegan was usually most comfortable by her side, as Sara seemed to relieve Tegan’s anxiety immensely. So when Tegan especially looked stiff and awkward, Sara would come up next to her, and place a gentle hand on her shoulder just long enough for Tegan to see who it was and let some of the tension fall off her shoulders. Luckily, that would only be visible to an eye trained in Tegan’s mannerisms. They did have friends and family with them, but they would just see that as Sara supporting Tegan.
All in all, it was a lovely evening. They got a cab back to their hotel together, for just the two of them, and Tegan let out a soft sigh and rested her head Sara’s shoulder. The door shutting almost cut them off from the rest of the world, muffling the sounds of others, like pressing stop on the faces they put forward for the public. As the car took them down the streets of Ottawa, Sara took Tegan’s hand, and they relaxed to the sound of the car moving and the low volume of the radio.
Sara smiled down at Tegan lovingly. Even if all Tegan wanted to do was cuddle that night, she would happily oblige. They had learned that every single moment together—even if it was just them sitting in the back of a car, in rehearsal, doing an interview, or at a family dinner—was precious, and even though they wanted to kiss and act like a regular romantic couple, they could still let a little bit of their love and adoration for each other show in public because they were sisters; of course they loved each other. Sometimes they even made a game of it, much like passing notes in a code only they knew.
“Hey,” Sara said softly, under the sound of the radio, so the driver wouldn’t be able to hear their murmurs.
“Hi,” Tegan sounded tired, but after their day, that was a given.
“Do you want to retire early?” Sara’s thumb stroked the back of her twin’s.
“Only if you want to. If you want to stay up a little bit later, I’d like that.” She looked up at Sara, her smile relaxed, eyes shining even in the dark.
Sara’s smile grew wider. She pressed a kiss on Tegan’s forehead.
“We should probably shower first. You know… get the makeup and hair products off?” She suggested, their voices still low.
“Throw in a nice smelling bath afterward and you have me convinced.” Tegan softly head-butted Sara’s shoulder.
“Anything for you,” Sara promised, earning a kiss on the cheek. They smiled at each other for a moment before Sara looked up to the driver. “Excuse me, would it be possible for us to make a brief stop?”
They were given an affirmative answer and then taken to a Metro, where they promised fifteen minutes maximum as they got out of the car. Their hands disconnected and Tegan walked just behind Sara to indicate that they were siblings, rather than lovers.
Tegan chose eucalyptus scented bath salt and unscented bubble bath. Sara pretended to browse magazines while her sister went to the self-checkout. She kept her head down but allowed herself to stare at Tegan’s figure in that suit. Sara knew she’d enjoy stripping her out of it, even if it was just for a shower. |
6d0cdf6b820444e5bc11b0e9c5c257e2 | ['0912f893cf1147c09150937c10f96a68'] | Are You Trying to Kill Me?!
Napoleon made his way quickly up the stairs to the second floor of the apartment, a square package in his hands. Full of determination as he strode down the hall, he couldn't wait to share what he had bought with his roommates. His recent purchase had been a stroke of genius, exactly the kind of item that their home sorely needed.
Finally, he made it to door 33A and confidently entered the living room, full of anticipation. "Je suis là!" he called out, but the house was dark and no one answered. Napoleon stopped, taking a moment to close the door behind him and flick on the lights. Oh, it appeared that no one was home. How disappointing. And he had so wanted to try out the new chess board he had bought.
Sighing, he placed the box on the table and removed it's wrapping. Tossing the paper in the trash, he mumbled to himself, "Well, perhaps when zey return." "Sure would be lovely if zey informed me when zey planned a group outing but oh what can you do." Napoleon pulled out his phone and scrolled through it. "Ah, and not even a biting text from Scarface. How rude."
Napoleon jumped at the sudden sound of movement in the doorway across from him. His head shot up and he instinctively reached for where his sword used to hang on his belt. This 'no weapons in the apartment' rule that Lawrence Daley enforced was such an inconvenience. However, he never let it trouble him greatly, never raising up as big of a fuss as Kahmunrah or Capone had. With such a brilliant mind as his, he could easily make due should the need arise.
However, there was no burglar or other dangerous intruder in the doorway. Instead, Ivan stood there, staring at him calmly.
"Oh, you are back from de store. What is dat box dere?"
Napoleon stared back for a second, baffled. "What were you doing in ze dark? You had me thinking you had all gone off somewhere without me!"
Ivan raised his eyebrows. "Hm? Nyet, no one has left without you. I believe Kahmunrah has gotten 'imself into drouble with some of Capone's men. Capone left to go deal with it."
"...and what, pray tell, were you doing in ze dark?"
"Ohh dat. I was practicing."
Napoleon shot him a quizzical look. "...Practicing."
"Da, da, practicing. I must be able to see in de dark if I am to defend myself when de nobility send deir men to assassinate me."
Napoleon frowned and lifted a finger, planning to rebuke this ludicrous statement, but thought the better of it. He lowered his hand and shook his head.
"Ah... of course. Well...!"
They stood there, sharing in the uncomfortable silence, before Napoleon remembered, "My chess board!"
Ivan raised his head. "Chto?"
**Author's Note:**
> My sister and I came up with this story idea together. I'll get to the next chapter as soon as I can! I only have wifi once in a while so I might not be able to upload it right away. Check the summary for my fanfic I HATE WALMART if you'd like a bit more info on the series! I'm planning a new fic soon with Ahkmenrah where I'll get into full detail about the backstory for Night at the Apartment. | f0bdc68b277544f2a26ace18af6fc298 | ['0912f893cf1147c09150937c10f96a68'] | Give Me My Car Back You Little Freak
Al Capone stood in the empty restaurant parking lot, and couldn't believe his luck. Earlier that night, he and French Toast had been feeling amicable enough to try their hand at a night on the town. Recently, they'd taken a break from the constant bickering that usually defined their relationship, and had been almost getting along, for a time. Now though, he was getting ready to wring the little fella's neck.
They'd been out to dinner. Simple as that. Nothing drama inducing, it could have been a nice night. They'd even decided to split the bill this time, instead of arguing over it like they normally would. But sometime during the night, he must have said SOMETHING wrong, because Napoleon got angry and said some stuff that ticked HIM off and the whole thing culminated in the Frog storming out the front door and leaving Capone in his current predicament.
The little shit had taken his car. Napoleon had driven off in the gangster's huge SUV and left him stranded in the parking lot. The man was always going on about how much he hated the thing, and now the punk has the audacity to steal it? HIS car?! Like hell he was letting Nippy get away with this one.
He stood in the dark, trying to think his way out of this predicament, when he came up with a plan. He'd have to call one of his men for help. Whipping out his phone, he scrolled through his contacts, but stopped on a different name then he had originally intended. He stared at the number at the screen, and in a fit of vindictiveness, decided on an alternate solution. Tapping the icon entitled 'French Toast', he selected text message.
After glaring at the phone for a few minutes, he typed a single sentence.
"Give me my car back, you little freak."
He smirked and settled back against the outer wall of the restaurant, waiting for the man's reply.
**Author's Note:**
> This is my life now. This is what I write. If only my history teachers could see me now.
> As always, my sister and I come up with all of my fanfiction ideas. Check out some of her fanfiction on fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/9294694/Tiny-Scourge-1112
> I also got a lot of ideas for this one from tumblr ship prompts (such as the SUV).
> This is probably all I'll be writing for this fic, so there won't be any more chapters. I hope people enjoy it regardless! |
575a367b45644919b083ae6e96b5803a | ['091ac2275b38410aaebf2abb992003b1'] |
Infected Prime
**Author's Note:**
> inspired by/based on that episode of ttt called "he's the hugging zombie" or something.
Early this morning, a man was seen with a slightly blackened tinge to his body, a peculiar gait and inability to speak coherently. He would shamble towards anyone, grasping for them, spewing complete nonsense and something to do with brains.
At exactly 2:32pm, Doctor Simon Clark was shot dead by Detective Rythian after being accused of showing these precise symptoms. Somebody out there’s still infected and everybody knew that. Nobody could be trusted. In times like these, they turned to democracy and good old-fashioned luck.
Everyone stood in a circle, all facing one another as they went round, one by one, asking for reasons people believed that they shouldn’t be vote-killed. Accusations swiftly moved forward after Tom was considering to be hardly paying attention. Rythian placed his vote in the box.
“Give us one good reason we should vote for you, Tom.” Xephos questioned, as he slid his vote into the box.
“Vote for me?” Tom was surprisingly quick with his response. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
Despite his almost instant reply, some were still wary of his response. He wasn’t known as being particularly trustworthy, even at the best of times. They all knew that the infected prime still had the ability to talk, this would only work if they just kept pestering someone to the point of breaking. Tom’s profound ability to get anyone to trust him no matter his role usually would work here, however, Sjin was having none of it.
“Alright then, why shouldn’t we vote for you?” Sjin interjected himself into their conversation.
“Uhh.. you know what? I’m like a cool friend, I do nice things for people, sometimes I sing...” Tom continued, blabbering on about anything he came up with on the spot.
“Shouldn’t we be taking this a bit more seriously? A man died today..” Zylus muttered, only to be ignored by the others.
“Name one nice thing you’ve done for someone.” Rythian suggested, taking matters into his own hands. He was the detective afterall.
Tom looked around at all the eyes fixated on him, doing his best not to panic, he scratched his head. “Um. I gave someone a hug.” He announced, rather relieved looking after finally coming up with something that didn’t sound too ridiculous to have actually happened.
“When?” Rythian asked in a completely monotone voice, already bored of the situation at hand. “And who?”
“Well, you see-” Tom started speaking.
“Who was this person, Tom?” Ben was suddenly talking instead. His words seemed shaky and his fists trembled as he bit his lip. Everyone had now turned to him instead.
Tom hadn’t really put that much thought into his lie, hoping that nobody would genuinely get so upset. Memories of all the times Sharky and Palp had won together filled his mind; eliminating all the traitors, killing all the infected, whatever it may have been, it was there.
“It.. it wasn’t Ben.” He sheepishly admitted.
People began whispering amongst themselves, placed their remaining votes in the box and started to disperse from the rooftop vantage point. Whatever happened here, they didn’t want to get in the way. No matter who won this, someone was dying.
“Who’s your new little fancy boy?” Ben asked, furious and on the verge of tears.
“I- uhhm, I don’t think- You.. don’t- Ah, fuck.” Tom incomprehensibly uttered random words, unable to create the sentence he wanted. “You really don’t wanna know.”
“Tell me.” Ben said, pen hovering above his vote slip. “Or I’m writing your name on this slip.”
“Doctor Simon..” Tom quickly confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.
Ben stopped dead in his tracks, he couldn’t find it in him to write Tom’s name on the paper. He didn’t know what it was but something within him simply wouldn’t allow him. The trust he’d left in this man for all these years had been betrayed. The same memories that had plagued Tom’s mind now infiltrated his, he was thrown back into reality when he saw the stain on the voting slip. He was crying. His head pulsated, aching, just like his heart.
“I can’t do this anymore, Tom.” Ben shakily wrote out the three-letter name on the vote and stuffed it into the box. “I can’t live with this.”
Without hesitation, Tom hurried over to the box, attempting to prevent it from being counted. Too late, it was already in there. He knew he shouldn’t have admitted, this was a stupid idea. He felt a heavy guilt loom over him as he walked towards Ben.
“Please, Ben.” Tom choked. “Who did you vote for?”
Tom grabbed the man in the shark onesie by the shoulders, violently shaking him. “Who did you vote for?”
He cried, taking the man in his arms. The man was unresponsive. Presumably out of shock he didn’t say a word as Tom frantically searched for a sign of life, grabbing his wrist. Ben was still breathing and blinking. He must be fine, Tom thought. But if Ben was fine, that meant he would be the one to suffer instead.
Ben turned to look Tom in the eyes and managed to speak. “I don’t wanna live in this world anymore.” His legs failed him, collapsing to the ground, he reached for his chest, clutching at his clothes. He whimpered in pain as he lay there. His eyes closed.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck..” Tom repeated, desperately looking around for someone, anyone. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. This is my fault, I should never have killed Doctor Simon. Please forgive me, Ben, please.”
Ben agonisingly slowly opened his eyes, looked at Tom, weakly smiled before his breathing became harder and harder. His body went limp, his head dropping to the floor.
“Ben has voted to kill Ben.” Were the final words Tom heard announced through his communicator.
**Author's Note:**
> i'm sorry, this was stupid | 40b363a32adf427a912c6ecae64581d1 | ['091ac2275b38410aaebf2abb992003b1'] | late night rambling
**Author's Note:**
> recently rewatched boosh and i’ve re-fallen in love with the boys.
>
> set after Party/s3 i guess?
>
> kinda short, somewhat ooc(?) and kinda contrived and extremely self indulgent.
Vince was watching this boring documentary Howard had put on about the history of avant-garde cinema in Denmark or something. He hadn’t been paying much attention. Howard - completely enthralled by every second occasionally added his own commentary. This didn’t bother Vince. Whether he’d like to admit it or not, there was something so soothing about listening to the other man’s voice.
As Vince’s eyes were slowly drifting shut, the familiar voice he’d been listening to increased in volume.
“Are you even listening to me, Vince?” He spoke, a disappointed tinge to his words.
Half asleep, Vince replied, “Course I am, I love your voi-Denmark, I mean. Yeah, I love avant-garde cinema.” Nice one, Noir, real subtle.
Howard remained silent after this short interaction, choosing to continue watching and not make a fuss out of it. That was until he felt something collide with his shoulder. Turning to his side, he realised Vince had edged along the sofa to use him as a pillow - not that he minded of course.
“Hey.” Vince uttered.
Howard only gave a curious ‘hmm’ in response, he still wasn’t completely disengaged from the tv.
“You know what you said to me on the roof?” Vince questioned much to Howard’s awaiting dismay, “Did you mean it?”
“What’s the supposed to mean?” He still hadn’t moved his gaze over to Vince out of fear of embarrassment and what he was going to say next.
Vince looked up to the man he was leaning on. “I’m asking if you consider yourself a ‘massive gayist’ like you said yourself-”
“What? No, of course I bloody don’t! That was a momentary lapse of judgement.” Howard became flustered.
“That’s a shame,” Vince rolled his eyes as he removed his head from Howard’s shoulder, “Guess you won’t want me doing that then, will you?”
Out of instinct, Howard quickly turned to the side where the little man was situated and stared at him. “Well, I wouldn’t mind it.” He said and then immediately regretted.
“Oh?” Vince moved his head back to where it was on Howard’s shoulder, “Is that so.” He grinned.
Howard tried his very best to sink into the seat in a poor attempt to save himself from any more embarrassment. This caused Vince to slip from where he was leaning and end up entirely on the sofa. Picking himself up, he rested his head on Howard’s lap.
“Um.” Howard’s eyes widened as he acknowledged what was happening, a red shade beginning to encompass his face. Vince said nothing. He was content. He closed his eyes and adjusted himself until he was comfortable.
After staying almost motionless for a good 20 minutes or so, Howard decided he’d embrace the situation. Hebegan gently stroking Vince’s soft hair, causing him to make a noise of what he assumed to be a complacent one. He almost jumped out of his skin knowing that Vince was awake and aware of what he was doing.
Somewhat reluctantly, Howard gave a nervous laugh as he began to speak, “This isn’t what it looks like, I promise. I just wanted to know if everything you say about your hair was true.”
Vince opened one eye and peered up at the moustached man. A trace of smugness across his face, “Since when have you given two shits about my hair?” He prodded.
“Since, you know, uhh, always.” Howard bluffed.
The smaller man now had both eyes open and raised his eyebrows as the smirk grew across his face, “Any other man wouldn’t be inclined to believe that.”
“Hey, what do you know, little man? I like your hair y’know.” Vince was unsure whether he’d believe that though.
“Howard?” He had once again closed his eyes and rearranged himself.
Howard gave another hum.
“I’ll rephrase my earlier question. Do you like me?”
Howard was caught off guard by the remark from the voice below him. Composing himself, he responded, “Of course I do, Vince. I love you. Everybody does, you’re the sunshine kid after all.”
“Yeah but do you _love_ love me?” Vince pushed, expecting to get a real answer this time. In reality, there was silence. He assumed that Howard must be ignoring him. But before he knew it, his face was met with a soft kiss from the Yorkshireman, moustache prickling his cheek.
“Does that answer your question? Will you be quiet now, I’m trying to watch this.” Howard sheepishly complained. Vince just nodded in agreement, smile across his face as he drifted off to sleep. Not long after, Howard fell asleep too, the TV still blaring.
Not so much as 10 minutes had passed and there was the ever so loud creak of the stairs beside the sofa. It was Naboo and Bollo, back after another night of DJ-ing. Naboo made his way over to the TV to turn the racket off but as he neared he noticed his two “employees” had made themselves comfortable.
“I told you so. That’ll be 20 euros, Bollo.” Naboo turned to his familiar, his face beaming with arrogance.
“Fine,” The ape rolled his eyes, “I knew this wouldn’t end well for me. Not after Howard’s birthday party.” He muttered as he handed over the €20 to the tiny shaman. |
b33ee1be2a114e43b60df2b7c3c67484 | ['0938a4b6a84345f08d9e5deb2d32d9b6'] |
**Author's Note:**
> By "slight song fic," I mean: "Let me use lyrics from the first verse and chorus of To My Future Wife by Jon Bellion and turn it into a fic about them getting married then having sex because why the fuck not."
Joshua stands there, nerves out of control, anxiety at an all time high. Today, he is marrying his love. His world. His _angel_ that _God_ sent from _Heaven_ up above.
Bridesmaids to his far left, groomsmen to his right, the officiate centered right beside him. His brother, Jordan, pats him on the shoulder and shares a big smile, _“It’s gonna be okay, buddy. Calm down and breathe. You deserve this. You’ve waited years for this day.”_ And it’s true. Joshua _has_ waited years for this day. He would always gush to his mother and younger sisters about how he was going to marry the most beautiful boy ever; how he couldn’t wait to hold the love of his life _forever_ , and call him his _forever_. In return, Joshua shares a big smile, along with a tear sliding down his cheek, thanking his younger sibling immensely.
_Open up the doors in the back of church, and they all rise, they all rise_
Joshua’s heart stops, his breath caught up in his throat and he gasps. Everyone’s head turns to the young man standing in the entryway, his father by his side. Smiles bright, hands clapping; a beautiful fantasy.
_Take a couple steps of my breath in a dress that is all white, it's all white_
Tyler’s dress has gorgeous white lace surrounding the silk material; the material that hugs his lovely curves that Joshua adores oh so much. A bouquet of beautiful white roses clasped in his small hands, Tyler’s right arm linked with his father’s.
Tyler’s father looks at his son, _“Are you ready?”_ Tyler pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath.
He nods.
_“Here Comes the Bride”_ playing loudly on the church organ as Tyler and his father slowly walk down the aisle. Tears brimming everyone’s eyes as Tyler is finally met with Joshua. Tyler is finally, _finally_ standing with the love of his life after spending a whole two days apart from each other. Two agonizingly long days of aching to see one another, just to hold one another, kiss one another. And soon, they’ll be _married_ to one another; a commitment both men are absolutely willing to make.
_As your father let's you go, he will whisper soft and slow,_
**“Walk towards love, Tyler. Walk towards love."**
Tyler stares at his father with his teary, big, brown doe eyes, softly nodding as he plants a kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Papa. Thank you.” His father staring right back as he returns the gesture, pulling him into a tight hug, “I love you too, scout. I am so very proud of you."
His father turns and leaves to go sit down by his mother while Tyler turns to look at Joshua. “You look beautiful,” he says. Joshua could not believe how goddamn stunning the boy looked. _I could not be any luckier,_ Joshua thinks as the officiate clears his throat. “You ready?” The officiate mouths towards Joshua, in which Joshua nods in response.
"We are gathered here together on this glorious afternoon to share with Tyler and Joshua as they exchange vows of their everlasting love."
"As Tyler and Josh take their vows today, we are privileged to witness the joyous love of a new family -- a family that will be nourished and nurtured through the devotion of two separate individuals growing together through the common bonds of love.”
“May their marriage bring them the peace, joy, comfort and contentment that is known in the hearts of all God's children. And may Tyler and Josh both look forward to each new season of their marriage -- just as the world looks forward to each new season of the year. For all seasons bring with them their own special moments and memories. An essential requirement of a good marriage is a strong bond of real friendship and trust. Tyler and Josh, your love for each other will grow deeper with every passing day, but it is important to remember that your love stands on a foundation of genuine, mutual affection and respect for each other.”
“To truly _love_ another person is to be willing to accept both their strong points, and their weak points, with equal measures of understanding and respect. The vows you are about to exchange, will serve as a verbal representation of the non-verbal emotions that are as real as any thing that can be seen, heard, or touched. For it is not the words that you will speak today that will bond you together as one -- but the strength of the love and commitment found deep within your souls."
"Now, Joshua, you told me you both had some things to say?" The officiate asks. Joshua nods and and takes out the folded piece of paper out of his dress pocket.
"Tyler, I love you unconditionally and I love you with no hesitation. I vow to love you, encourage you, trust you, and respect you. As a family, we will create a home filled with learning, laughter, and compassion. I promise to work with you to foster and cherish a relationship of equality knowing that together we will build a life far better than either of us could imagine alone.”
“Today, I choose _you_ to be my husband. I accept you as you are, and I offer myself in return. I will care for you, stand beside you, and share with you all of life's adversities and all of its joys from this day forward, and all the days of my life."
Joshua finishes, putting the paper back into his jacket. Tyler wipes a stray tear from his eye. He smiles, and takes out his folder piece of paper. | eda282b8663f45c29ee932fb42ce3b93 | ['0938a4b6a84345f08d9e5deb2d32d9b6'] | “I think…I think I’m ready, Joshua. I want to.” Tyler says, confident in his decision. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” He asked; a hesitant tone laced in his voice. Tyler nodded, “Yes, I’m sure. I’m more than sure.” Joshua smiled as he pulled the collar of Tyler’s shirt down, biting more marks onto his tan complexion. Tyler let out a small whine, pleading Joshua for more. “Shh, shh. We’ve got to take our time, sweetheart. Tonight, we’re _making love_. Nothing rough. Soft and slow. S’that okay?” The younger brunette nods whilst pulling Joshua towards him by his shirt, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.
“As cute as you look in my t-shirt, I’m afraid it’s got to go.” Joshua growls; grabbing the hem of the shirt and pulling it off of Tyler’s body; leaving him in only his pretty panties, a bulge already formed. He starts kissing down his body, paying special attention to his gorgeous, thick thighs. “J-Joshua,” he whimpers, “o-off, take them off. _Please._ ” Joshua smirks, slowly trailing the material down his legs, to his feet, letting Tyler kick them to the floor all while discarding his own boxers. Tyler blushes as he tries to cover himself up, but Joshua holds his hands back. “Nuh-uh, no covering yourself. Wanna know why? ‘Cause you’re so pretty, Sweetheart. So, so pretty.”
Tyler’s face the same red-hot color as he quietly thanks him. “Are you _sure_ you’re ready for this, Tyler?” Joshua asked for at least the fifteenth time that night. “Yes Joshua. I trust you and I’m ready.” Joshua nodded, pressing one final kiss to his sweet lips. “M’gonna need to prep you, is that okay?” Joshua waited for a moment for asking again. “Can I do that? Or do you want to stop?” Tyler’s eyes went wide, “No, no, I wanna keep going, if-if that’s alright with you.” His voice got softer has he spoke. The older brunette nodded, “it’s gonna hurt a little, tell me if it does and I’ll stop, ‘kay?” Tyler smiled, “okay.”
“I’m gonna start alright? It’ll hurt a little bit but please let me know if it hurts too much. Don’t want to hurt you.” Tyler hesitantly nodded. Joshua grabbed the bottle of lube on the bedside table and lubed up two of his fingers. He lined up his first finger and gently pushed in. Tyler hissed in pain, clutching the sheets with all his might. “You good, Baby?” He asked, concern flooding his voice. Tyler hummed in response, whimpering as Joshua slowly started moving his finger. “You’re doing so well, Princess. Gonna add another one, alright?” Tyler moaned out and nodded as Joshua pushed in the second finger, moving both at a slow pace. “F-faster” he begged. Joshua obliging and moving his fingers faster. Scissoring them, making sure Tyler was prepped well enough.
Joshua abruptly pulled his fingers out from Tyler, a whine escaping his mouth. Rolling on a condom and quickly lubing up, he pumped himself a few times. Finally aligning with Tyler, he paused. “Now again, don’t be afraid to tell me if the pain is unbearable. I love you, and I don’t want to hurt you. Tell me when you’re ready.” The smaller one gulped, “Y-yeah, you can start now.” Joshua took a breath and slowly pushing in until the head was engulfed into the small brunette. Tyler winced and moaned out in pain. “Shh, just breathe, Baby. You’re doing amazing.” Tyler let out a sigh; “m-more.”
“Are you sure?” He asked, Tyler nodding in response. Joshua complied, slowly pushing in more until they bottomed out completely. Both men moaned aloud as Joshua rocked his hips. Tyler whined out in pain and in pleasure; wanting more, as the pace Joshua was going at just wasn’t enough. “J-Joshy, faster. _Please_.” Joshua picked up speed, the sound of skin slapping skin and Tyler’s moans echoing throughout the hotel room, but to Josh, it was music to his ears. “ _Fuck_ Ty, you feel so good. You’re doing so – _ah God_ – so well.”
“Oh g-gosh, Josh, so _good_ ,” Tyler manages to choke out between his chorus of _ah ah ahs_. His thighs are shaking and he sounds like he’s about to cry and Joshua can tell he’s close. “Close, Baby? Need to cum?” He mouths at Tyler’s neck again, his thrusts slightly more erratic. “Yes, fuck. M’so close, _please._ ”
“Christ, Tyler, I love you,” Joshua says into Tyler’s smooth skin. He hits Tyler’s prostate one last time before he’s clenching around him, coming with a sob. Thick white ribbons of cum painting his tummy and chest all the way up to his collarbones. Joshua fucks him through it, Tyler’s small body lying spent on the bed when he’s finished. Joshua buries his face in Tyler’s neck, Tyler whimpering softly as Joshua continues to pound into him, chasing his own orgasm.
No sooner than later, Joshua’s vision goes white and he’s coming harder than he ever has in his entire life, spilling into the condom with a shout of Tyler’s name, yelling it so loud it’s echoing throughout the room. The two lay still for a moment, Joshua’s arms are wrapped tightly around Tyler, their sticky chests heaving. Every exhale feels like one giant breath of _iloveyou_. Tyler smells of sex and vanilla and Joshua never wants to leave this position. They calm down eventually, Joshua getting up to go grab a washcloth. He pauses and takes a moment to look at Tyler lying there. His hair disheveled, a hazy, loving smile on his face. Joshua is more than certain that it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. _His boy_ is the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
_His boy._
_His fucking husband._
Joshua smiles and leaves to go grab the cloth, quickly returning and wiping _his husband_ (he loves those two words now, and will say them at any chance he gets, just saying.) down of any cum left on him. He throws the tinier-version-of-a-towel on the table beside the bed, crawling under the sheets, Tyler immediately cuddling into his side. “My boy, my beautiful boy,” Joshua whispers into Tyler’s hair, his eyelids slipping shut. “Yours,” Tyler whispers back, barely a sound at all. “Forever.” Joshua speaks. “Forever, Joshy.”
_Forever_.
**Author's Note:**
> hey hi hello! i hope u enjoyed this little thingy i made. if u /did/ like it, leave some kudos nd tell me what u thought about it.
>
> oh, nd follow my twitter: @nnoyadint
>
> (aka the "@tylerrjoseph: @joshuadun nno yadint" tweet.) |
f684fc608ce94e418112044303169369 | ['096ac9bb2bee479597512c86adc2d4fb'] |
There Can Be Only One
**Author's Note:**
> Originally written for the Georg FQF 2013 here: http://th-fanfic.livejournal.com/883094.html
The argument over what kind of pizza the band should order was an old one. Ever since Tom and Bill turned vegetarian, the choice of pizza toppings had become such a long-winded discussion that Georg and Gustav insisted on ordering their own pizza separately. Gustav liked his bacon, for starters, and Georg wanted pepperoni on principle. He didn't begrudge Tom and Bill going veggie, but he was damned if he was going to let the two of them enforce their beliefs and dictate how _he_ ate.
A year ago, all that changed. Pizza ordering become much easier - all vegetarian, thank you very much. Georg and Gustav no longer cared as it was all the same to them. So much had changed; something had happened all those months ago that none of them expected was possible.
~*~*~
"Are you going to help me choose a movie tonight or not?"
Bill looked over at Tom with an annoyed expression, standing in front of the cabinet housing their sizable DVD collection. Tom was playing Borderlands 2 while Georg watched, and Gustav was across the living room in a chair by himself listening to music while flipping through pages of a book.
"Tomi!"
"For fuck's sake, Bill - can't you choose something without my supervision?" Tom shot his brother an equally annoyed look back. "Can't you see I'm busy?"
Before letting the twins get into it, Georg stood up and left Tom to his game playing.
"I'll help. That game is boring to watch any how," he told Bill, opening the cabinet door wider so they both could look.
"Well don't choose anything scary or Tom will have nightmares and wet the bed," Bill huffed, and Georg just laughed. He knew Tom didn't do anything of the sort, but, sometimes if Tom was ignoring his little brother, Bill could get downright bitchy.
Together they choose an action sequel which none of them had seen yet (not even Gustav, who just grunted his approval when shown the DVD). Georg then stole the controller out of Tom's hand and saved the game that Tom had been playing, ignoring Tom's protests.
"The pizza will be here any minute. I gave Bill my share of the bill. I'm going to use the bathroom and you and Gustav can get the plates and the beer."
Tom tried to get the controller back from Georg, but Georg was faster and tossed it to Gustav who promptly caught the controller and shoved it down the front of his cargo pants.
"Fuck you guys, that's gross!"
Georg and Gustav cackled and clapped hands up in the air, giving each other a high-five before leaving the living room.
It was shortly after that all things went to hell.
~*~*~
He was washing his hands when he heard the sound of things breaking, but didn't think anything of it until he heard a startled yell. Georg jolted out of the main floor bathroom and the cacophony of breaking glass and dogs barking, mixed with Tom and Bill yelling at Gustav, was the loudest from the kitchen.
As soon as Georg rounded the corner he saw Gustav pulling dish after dish from the cabinets and letting them fall to the ground. Tom was trying to stand out of the way from being hit, and also trying to stop Gustav at the same time as Bill was doing his best to hold the dogs back.
Georg instantly knew what was happening and, with surprising grace, vaulted the kitchen island. His feet met Gustav's back, pushing the drummer forward to hit the counter before falling down. As if he were in a trance, Gustav tried to pick himself back up, but Georg was already on top of him. There was broken ceramic and glass all over the floor, cutting the bottoms of his feet as he struggled with Gustav until he found the 'reset' button behind Gustav's left ear. He dug his fingers in and instantly Gustav relaxed, essentially 'shutting down'.
It was all over within seconds, though it seemed longer. The dogs were still barking, and Tom was standing, frozen, to the side of the kitchen island with a broom in his hand. A fortunate choice of weapon.
Georg glanced over at Bill, who was wide-eyed and very pale with his arms wrapped around two dogs and his hand in the collar of a third.
"Are you two okay?"
Georg's voice seemed to snap Tom out of it. Tom nodded.
"What the fuck just happened?" he asked Georg, his voice unnaturally high with fright.
Fright was good when it came to Tom. At least it wasn't pissed off, Tom-anger, Georg thought. But, he couldn't answer Tom just then. He turned to Bill.
"You're okay?" When Bill didn't answer right away, Georg stepped around the kitchen island, leaving bloody footprints behind him.
"Bill?"
Tom dropped his broom and swiftly went over to his little brother. He grabbed Bill by the shoulder and shook him a little, frantically saying Bill's name.
Bill blinked several times, then closed his mouth that had been open the whole time and pointed.
"He's bleeding."
~*~*~
Georg was busy in the upstairs bathroom, a pair of tweezers in his hand. He carefully removed slivers of glass from the bottoms of his feet, grunting every so often in pain. There was a common belief that his kind - Android, Skin Job, A.I. or whatever you wanted to call it - couldn't feel pain, but that wasn't true. Georg could feel pain, though perhaps not quite as strongly as his human counterparts.
He was dabbing the wounds on his feet when someone knocked on the bathroom door.
"Georg?"
It was Tom.
"Yeah? Door's open. You can come in." | 9e30708f86f94c6b87a78500f687215c | ['096ac9bb2bee479597512c86adc2d4fb'] | "Well that's why I only poured you out three shots. Just enough to take the edge off," Georg said, reaching down to pet the German shorthair - 'Buddy' - that was lying down between him and Tom. The dog exhaled and shifted his muzzle onto his paws.
When Tom had come back from upstairs, after checking on Bill (who was surprisingly asleep), Buddy had made himself quite comfortable at his master's side. Georg liked all of the dogs that the twins had, but he could tell that Buddy was completely Tom's dog (and possibly Tom's favourite). Therefore, it also made Georg's favourite dog too.
"I still want a cigarette, you know," Tom said, giving Georg a smirk.
"I totally understand."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "You do?" He shook his head, as if to get his brain working again. "I mean, I know that Georg...I mean you. Um, before..." Tom sighed, then shook his head. "Nevermind."
"It's still me, Tom. I have all those memories." Georg leaned against the back of the sofa, turned towards Tom and made himself more comfortable. He swirled the beer inside its bottle. It was hard for all of them to talk about the accident.
"I can access those memories any time I need to. And I distinctly 'remember' being out of my mind for a cigarette after quitting."
Tom huffed out in amusement. "Yeah, well if it could only be so easy as switching bodies."
"You don't mean that," Georg said, his voice low.
He breathed out loud and nodded. "I know. I don't," Tom replied and reached for another whisky shot.
It had been difficult to accept the idea of Georg and Gustav being essentially dead from the car accident in Germany. It was still difficult for Tom to get around the idea that the person beside him was actually Georg and not some weird, robotic doppleganger. Well, Georg was weird and sure he was a robot with Georg's memories and mannerisms and he still had that ridiculously annoying and adorable smirk...
"What's so funny?" Georg was watching Tom who suddenly began to smile.
Tom had let his thoughts get away from him, and got caught thinking about Georg in a way that was more that just 'friendly'. He blushed.
"Oh...you know..."
Georg chuckled. "No, I don't know. I can't read minds." Tom was instantly grateful for that.
He picked at the label on his beer bottle, a corner beginning to lift from the workings of his thumbnail.
"You have _all_ his - er, _your_ memories, right?"
"I said as such."
Tom looked over and watched Georg take another sip of his beer, seeing Georg's prominent Adam's apple bob up and down with each swallow. His own mouth went dry, and he took a sip of his own beer before continuing.
"I was just thinking about that one night after the Comet Awards." Tom bit his lip, staring hard at the bottle of beer in his hands, cradled between his legs.
Georg frowned, scanning the memories installed in his programming.
"Which year?"
"2008?"
It took a few more seconds, and then Georg snorted. "Oh yeah. Shit, Bill was so drunk that night," he said, grinning as the memory of that night came forth even more.
Tom smiled. "Yeah, after that night he swore he'd never drink again. Of course, that didn't happen."
"It was a good night," Georg said.
Tom looked at Georg, as if he were expecting something and then frowned when it didn't happen. Georg was confused. He reached out to touch Tom, but then Buddy jerked and moved and crawled off the sofa. The jangle of the dog's tags echoed through the living room and down the hallway to the back patio doors where he stopped and whined.
"Need to take him out," Tom said, picking up his last shot and downing it.
"Want me to go with you?"
Tom stood up, putting his near empty beer bottle on the table. "Yeah, you'd better. If there's any coyotes out there I'll need you to work those ninja skills you did earlier on Gustav."
After grabbing the Buddy's leash and fastening it onto his collar, Tom and Georg went outside. It was a cool night, but much warmer than what it would be back in their homeland of Germany. The back patio light cut through the darkness and Tom walked his dog around the back yard while Georg waited.
A memory emerged.
Georg's lips began to tingle, and a flush crept up his neck and suffused his face. Warmth...desire. Need. He hadn't remembered right away, but now it was all forming clearly in his head.
He saw Tom, naked. Heard Tom breathing his name...moaning. His fingers clenched into fists, and heat pooled in his groin.
Him and Tom. After the Comet Awards...after all the hubbub of celebration...he and Tom, together in a hotel room. They had both been tipsy, but not drunk - and they both had been horny as hell.
"Okay, Buddy's done. I think I'm going to just go to bed for the night." Tom walked past Georg, opening the patio doors. He unhooked Buddy from his leash and let the dog trot inside.
"Georg?"
Hearing his name, Georg blinked back to reality and Tom was standing and watching with concern.
"You're okay?," Tom asked, wary.
Georg shook his head and stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Tom. They were chest to chest and Georg rose up on his toes and pressed his mouth to Tom's. It was firm and soft and made Georg's heart beat more rapid against his ribs.
Tom was surprised, but only for a second before his eyes closed and Georg was the same...felt the same. Tasted the same. He didn't think it was possible, but it was over before he could think about it.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Georg's mouth was still very close, and Tom touched his forehead to Georg's. |
7a77d19f045947d1a03485706ebf52c6 | ['098328eb1acf42c083dae3ef663f60ff'] | He knew he was whining like a little kid, but it seemed like the only way to get his mom out of the car, so that was what he would do. He climbed out of the door above his head and landed on his feet, heels digging into gravel. He bounced up and down a few times, getting used to the feeling glass digging into his skin, and then made his way to where Grover was slumped over. He leaned down and took a hold of one of Grover's wrists, pulling the arm up and slinging it over his shoulder, wincing as the glass burrowed in a little deeper. He began walking toward the tallest tree, the tree that marked the property line of—of that camp. He probably wouldn't have made it very far if his mother hadn't finally come out to help him.
They each slung one of Grover's arms over their shoulders and began stumbling uphill through waist high, wet country grass toward the pine tree.
When Riker looked behind him, he finally got his first clear look at the monster that had chased them all the way across Long Island. He was an easy seven feet tall and his arms looked like they were photoshoped onto his body right out of a _Muscle Man_ magazine. Bulging biceps and triceps, and all the other 'ceps, all packed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. The only clothes he had on was a pair of bright white Fruit of the Looms that were now splotched with mud. It looked hilarious and what Riker really anted to do was laugh, but he decided to save his energy to do it later when his life—and his mother's. And Grover's—wasn't in danger. Coarse brown-red hair started down at his naval and got thicker along the way to his shoulders. His neck was a tree trunk of muscle and fur that held up his massive head, which and a snout as thick as Riker's torso, flaring nostrils with a brass ring, beady black eyes that reminded him of Gabe, and wickedly sharp horns protruding from his scalp.
Riker recognized the monster all right. It was the very first myth Mr. Br—Chiron had taught his class. But he'd never thought it could be real—which was why he'd always laughed when they went over the story. He wasn't laughing now. Aside from silently in his head at the Fruit of the Looms getup.
He shook his head from side to side to get the rain out of his head and tried jogging faster. "That's—That's, um, Pasiphae's son, right? The Min—"
"Don't say his name," Sally warned him. "Names—they have power, hun."
Riker's mouth clicked shut.
The pine tree was getting closer, but still too far away—like a hundred meters uphill, at least. Riker glanced back again to see the Minotaur—cause that's what it _was_ , he realized—even closer than before.
They were only about fifty feet away, still, but the monster stopped at the overturned Camaro—the wheels were still turning on the broken axles—and began peering into the windows. Or not, really. He sniffed around the crash-site, grunting and huffing, head-butting the wrecked metal vehicle a few times for god measure.
Grover groaned again, for food— _What is_ _ **with**_ _him and food?_ Riker asked himself—and the teen reached out a hand to slap over the satyrs mouth. "Mom, what's he doing? Is he blind or something?"
"His sight _is_ terrible," Sally admitted," along with his hearing. He goes by smell. But he'll catch our scent soon enough. We have to hurry."
It was like they were all in one big play, and that had been Bull-man's cue. He let out a bellow of rage and curled his bulky hands around the edge of the totaled Camaro. He lifted it up over his head and tossed it across the country road. It landed in a shower of sparks and groaning metal, skidding for around half a mile before coming to a screeching stop. Then, the gas tank exploded.
_Not a scratch_ , Riker suddenly remembered Gabe saying.
Whoops.
"When he sees us," Sally started talking quickly, "he'll charge. Let him get close, then jump sideway, okay?"
Riker blinked, before nodding, seeing the reasoning. "His mass is to much for him to change directions that quickly. He'll keep going forward and until he slows down enough for him to turn back around, then he'll charge again. It's like in bull-fighting."
Sally paused long enough to give him a proud smile. It was like 'See? I knew you were smarter than you say in school.' Riker rolled his eyes, and they kept jogging toward the pine tree ahead. "How do you know all this, anyway?" He asked.
Sally's smile disappeared, and her shoulder's tensed. "I've been worried about an attack like this for a long time, hun. I should have expected this—I was selfish, keeping you close to me like that."
Riker gave the woman a look, eyebrows raised. "Mom, it isn't _selfish_ of you to keep your own kid near you."
Sally shook her head. "But—"
With another throaty roar of anger, the Minotaur started tromping up hill, hands tearing at the damp country grass that had previously and still was hindering Riker and his mother.
He had their scent.
The pine tree was only a few yards ahead, but the hill was getting slicker and goat-boy wasn't getting any lighter—and the Minotaur was closing in. A few more second, and he would be on them. Riker ignored the pounding of his heart and plowed on.
Sally shouldered Grover and took a step away. "Riker, go on! Separate! Remember what I said!"
"Hell to the no!" But Riker had the feeling she was right, that it was their only chance. He paused for a second, thinking, and then spun around to face the Minotaur.
"Riker, no!" Sally shouted at him, eyes wide and terrified. | c77e611c5f19442ab167d8b6b3760920 | ['098328eb1acf42c083dae3ef663f60ff'] | They looked over and noticed that one of the officers had noticed them, and was motioning to two others, heading toward them.
"Shit," Riker hissed. "Let's jet."
Clarisse adjusted the strap of her back, and the three of them disappeared into the woods. By the time the officers arrived under the overhang, closely followed by a group of news reporters, they were gone.
****Ω Δ Σ** **
12. Class Rep Commits Arson
_Here's a secret;_
_Garden gnomes are actually really ugly. Most of them._
_Honestly, stone statues of any kind terrify me._
_Now, being an avid Doctor Who fan, 'I can attest to the fact that shadows, mannequins, and statues were all on the list of the banes of all existence._
_Now I just have one more reason to be completely certain of the fact that—_
_Statues are evil._
_Just evil._
**Chapter Twelve**
It sure was nice to know there really were Greek gods out there, Riker mused. At least he had someone to blame when things went wrong.
Not that anything had gone wrong, per say. Everything was going splendidly, actually. The only thing that wasn't according to plan was being without a ride, since they'd had to forgo the next bus ride their tickets had had scheduled to get away from the police and new-reporters.
So now they were forced to walk along the riverbank of the Hudson, through the woods of New Jersey, with the skyline of New York lighting the sky yellow behind them.
Living in New York all his life, Riker's sense of direction was on par with that of a navigator—except, he didn't know New Jersey like he did Manhattan. This was uncharted territory, for all of them, and they were quite lost, as it was.
"Seriously, though," Jesse said as he bounced on ahead of them. "All three Furies at once? I can't wait to tell Jace! 'Magine what he'd say," the redhead grinned so large his eyes were squeezed shut.
"They kind of lost their "rare occurrence" badge with me after the first time," Riker said, walking a few paces behind him with his arms braced behind his head. "I mean; all three, phew, nothing to scoff at—but they get old _real_ fast."
Clarisse snorted from her own path beside him, clipboard/folder clutched to her chest." They were like broken records. I mean, really! You think Lord Hades programs them with pre-selected phrases like those toys that talk when you squeeze them?"
Riker snickered. "' _Lord Hades will have your soul_!'" He squeaked, in a bad purposefully bad imitation of his ex-math teacher's voice. "' _You shall rot forevermore in the Fields of Punishment_!'"
The children of Ares cracked up, laughing so hard they clutched at their sides and Riker decided they should pause for a short rest.
Jesse rubbed at his eyes as he sat down with a huff, his back against the trunk of a pine tree. Riker fell down next to him and shrugged off his messenger bag while Clarisse sat on the trunk of a fallen oak. He glanced at Jesse and frowned. "You okay? Your right eye's a little red 'round the edges."
The redhead blinked and looked to the side, biting his lips and moving his eyes around as if they felt uncomfortable and out of place in his skull. Clarisse looked up and stared. Jesse just shrugged. "Uh-hm. Gets like that, sometimes. Just dry, s'all."
Riker shared a glance with Clarisse, and the Jackson fell back against the tree with a huff. "'Sure. Just speak up if it starts bothering you, mmkay?"
Jesse looked reluctant, but he nodded and Clarisse leaned back again, rubbing her head against the bark of the tree to get rid of a scratch.
Riker pulled out a few granola bars from the bag sitting next to Jesse, and tossed one over to Clarisse. "So, you know about me, just about. I'm curious about you two, though. What's your home life like?"
Clarisse tore the wrapper off and tapped her bottom lip with the edge of the bar, contemplating taking a bite. "My mom's ex-air force. Ran into our dad just as she was finishing up her last tour. He was posing as an army officer and they first met at the naval base for a big-shot military meeting. She totally fell for him, and he asked her on a date after the meeting... I usually spend most of my year at the Camp, but I go home for holidays and some school years if I'm not in some boarding school. I live in Connecticut." She nibbled on the end of her granola bar as Jesse scarfed down his and Riker listened. "Um, I really like theater, chess, and sports. My big brother—he's not a demigod, like me, we have different dads—used to take me to dirt bike races when I was little... I used to want one so bad. First thing I'm doing when I'm old enough is getting a motorcycle and learning how to drive."
Riker grinned. "I already know how to drive. Manual, stick shift, _and_ motorcycle!"
The blond girl stuck out her tongue at him, envious. "I hate you!"
"Oi! My turn!" Jesse hollered, and the two fell silent to look at him. He blinked. "I was born down south in Louisiana. I have two little brothers and a little sister, she's the youngest. Her name's Evelyn. Jace is the oldest—I'm the second child. Tommy and Gideon are both seven, they're twins."He paused her to take another bite of the granola bar. "But only me an' Jace are demigods. Step dad's a trucker. Drives delivery for wine companies." |
9afbf87b3ebc46ccb426fd2877d4aeb9 | ['099a4d9a8e064329973c477cadebd44b'] | The High Council summoned Paesan one day and presented her with a proposition. The engineers had finally learned how to mold the new material that had been created and refined a century before. Could she, they wondered, use it to build a great city, a city that would reach high into the sky and house tens of thousands of people?
Not only could she do it, Paesan answered confidently, but it would be the most beautiful city ever seen. Their descendents, millions of years in the future, would gaze upon it in awe.
~*~
Rodney was lingering over dessert in the mess with Sheppard. There had been chocolate cake, probably the last chocolate cake until the Daedalus returned again, and Rodney was intent on savoring every last bit of it.
Elizabeth, coffee mug and tablet in hand, walked up to them. "Gentlemen," she said, sitting down at their table, "I've found your mysterious Ancient."
"And it only took you two weeks, hmm?" Rodney said, licking chocolate icing off his fork.
Sheppard kicked him. "Hey! What was that for?" Rodney asked, as he scooted his chair away.
"Rodney," Sheppard said, using that tone of voice he used off-world when Rodney was insulting the natives.
"I just meant --. Well, you know what the Ancient database is like!"
Sheppard looked at Elizabeth. "So what did you find?"
Elizabeth sighed at them, then looked down at her tablet. "Her name was Paesan. The records in the Ancient database all speak of her with great reverence. She was a builder and an architect, one of the greatest in their history. She was responsible for designing Atlantis."
"Wow." Rodney was, almost against his will, impressed. "An Ancient who actually accomplished something worthwhile."
Sheppard kicked him again.
"What? It's rare! Usually they create machines that are supposed to help you Ascend but actually just kill you, or leave deadly nanovirus projects lying around in labs where any idiot can find them." Rodney paused, thoughts whirling around in his head. Looking at Elizabeth, he said, "This one, this Paesan, she actually seemed to care. I'd be willing to bet she left records behind. Blueprints or circuit diagrams or something. Would you, do you think -"
Elizabeth smiled. "I'd be happy to search the database some more, Rodney."
Rodney grinned. It wasn't a ZPM, but anything that could help him make Atlantis work better was pretty damned good.
~*~
Paesan looked down upon her city one last time before releasing all the emotions that had tethered her for millennia and felt herself scattering away, towards the sky and beyond. | fafde3ff5ac3444db75f343443f3c475 | ['099a4d9a8e064329973c477cadebd44b'] |
Unconventional
**Author's Note:**
> Takes place early in season 2 of Torchwood.
>
> Thanks as always to LINK for the beta.
Ianto Jones was at the bar, waiting for the order he'd placed, when he heard an American voice next to him order a whiskey. Ianto turned his head, not terribly surprised to see Phil Coulson sitting there. Over the years that he'd known him, it wasn't the first time Phil had suddenly appeared in the same pub as Ianto. "Agent Coulson," he said formally.
"Mr. Jones," Phil returned, just as formally. "Nice to see you again."
"What is SHIELD doing in Cardiff? Is there something Torchwood should know about?"
Phil shook his head slightly. "We were dealing with a problem across the sea in Ireland. Since we were so close, we thought we'd make a slight detour on our way home."
"A detour?" Ianto asked, knowing there was more to the story than that. Phil wasn't one to make unnecessary detours.
Phil's mouth quirked. "Barton may have noticed that he could see Wales from his nest. Romanov made a convincing case for taking the ferry over."
Ianto was more than a little pleased at the prospect of a friendly visit with Phil and of seeing Clint and Natasha again. "Are - ?"
"Yes. They'll be here shortly."
The bartender placed a set of five glasses in front of Ianto. "I need to take this over, but I'll be right back." He pushed one of the pints towards Phil. "Keep an eye on that for me."
Phil smiled, the rare full-faced one which made his eyes crinkle, and Ianto couldn't help but smile back.
Ianto picked up the remaining glasses and made his way to the table the Torchwood group had commandeered. Distributing the drinks, Ianto said, "I ran into an old friend at the bar. We're going to catch up. Back in a bit."
Ianto could see Jack open his mouth, no doubt to ask questions which Ianto didn't want to answer. As he turned back towards the bar, he could hear Owen making some crack about Ianto not having friends, but Ianto didn't care. Because he did have friends, even if they were a bit unconventional.
Ianto and Phil spent a few minutes talking about current events before Phil paused, ever so briefly, and caught the bartender's attention. "A glass of vodka and a pint of Guinness, please."
Ianto looked around and saw Clint and Natasha claiming a table in the corner. They waved at him and he smiled. Phil collected their drinks and he and Ianto made their way over to join them.
Phil settled into one of the empty chairs but before Ianto could take the other, Jack came up next to him and dropped an arm around his shoulders. "Ianto, want to introduce me to your friends?"
Ianto must have flinched or something because suddenly Clint and Natasha were tensed as if ready for action. The image of Han Solo facing Greedo across the table at the Mos Eisley Cantina flashed through Ianto's mind. He only hoped this confrontation didn't end in a similar fashion.
Phil, though, just gave Jack an assessing glance. Eyes never leaving Jack, Phil said, "Barton, Romanov, stand down."
Jack grinned. He looked at Natasha and said something to her in Russian. She replied in the same language, giving a smile that clearly meant trouble. Jack then turned his attention to Clint. "Hawkeye," he purred, "so very nice to see you again." Clint didn't reply, taking a swallow of beer and never taking his eyes off of Jack.
Ianto had known that Clint and Natasha had run across Jack in the past, but he'd never found out when or under what circumstances. But clearly they didn't trust him.
Jack turned to Phil. "You, I don't know. Captain Jack Harkness," he said, holding out his hand.
Phil maintained his usual calm and merely nodded, keeping his hands on the table. "Agent Coulson, SHIELD."
Jack pulled his hand back. "I've heard about you, Agent Coulson."
"All of it true, I'm sure," Phil replied, causing Clint to snort. Ianto had heard rumors before he'd first met Phil; he was quite sure they'd grown in the years since then.
Jack eyed the trio at the table. "Phil Coulson, Hawkeye, and the Black Widow. That's some illustrious company you've been keeping, Ianto. Something I should know?"
"Not at all, Jack. As I said, they're old friends. We're merely catching up." Ianto was hardly going to tell Jack that, while at Torchwood One, he'd been feeding information to SHIELD because someone needed to be looking after the safety of the planet if Torchwood wasn't. And he definitely wasn't going to tell Jack that Clint and Natasha had given him a crash course in fieldwork before Ianto had convinced Jack to hire him. Ianto was fairly sure that Jack would understand what he'd done and, probably, approve, but these were things Jack didn't need to know.
Jack looked at Ianto and Ianto held his gaze. Finally Jack said, "Well, then, I'll leave you to it." He nodded at trio sitting at the table, "Agents."
After Jack had left, Clint kicked out the empty chair and Ianto dropped into it.
"Harkness? Really?" Clint asked. "I thought we discussed that."
"I wouldn't call what we had a discussion," Ianto replied. A couple of years before, while they'd been training him, Ianto had said something about Torchwood Three. Clint and Natasha had had a silent conversation before resuming their lessons. Later, during a break, Clint had handed Ianto a bottle of water, and said, "Harkness is a good guy, but he's got a fuck ton of issues and he can be a bastard when the situation calls for it and sometimes when it doesn't. Be careful."
Natasha shot a look at Clint over her glass, no doubt knowing that Clint's definition of discussion wasn't quite everyone else's. Turning her attention to Ianto, she asked, "Is he treating you well?" |
b7cca40024ec4f35911f77debfcdefca | ['09a46c26d5c74650bf8339438aa1c453'] |
The Bunny Fic
**Author's Note:**
> Hiya, so yesterday I felt like writing a phanfic so well I did (with a little help from my friend Mariah). I didn't really know at first what to write but then i remembered the bunny costume from the easter baking video which totally creeped me out (just look at the eyes). This is a joke (or whatever) so please don't take anything seriously and know that I love both Dan and Phil very much (if you two read this then hi you're amazing please come to sweden haha). Please ignore if there's any grammar faults or anything (I tried my best to correct but I might have missed some). Also, pro tip: don't read in public (something I've learnt the hard way) and please don't sue me if you get mentally scarred. I hope you enjoy reading ;)
It was a couple days before Easter and Dan were in the store looking for Easter-y decorations. He wanted to decorate the kitchen to surprise Phil and show off in the easter baking video they were gonna film later that week. The brown-eyed boy was causally walking around the store when he saw it. A white and pink Easter bunny costume with eyes that looked close to demonic. He don't really know what made him buy it but so he did, and he couldn't help but smile on his way home to his and Phil's flat. "I'm home" Dan yelled when he got through the front door. He dragged the easter stuff and the bunny costume up the stairs, into their kitchen. "Did you buy the Easter nest ingredients for the baking video" Phil asked from the lounge. "Come and take a look by yourself" Dan said, stopping a laugh from escaping his lips. Dan heard a sight followed by Phil entering the room."Dan, what is that?" Phil said and froze, staring directly at the bunny costume in Dan's hands. "What's wrong? it's just a bunny costume" Dan laughed nervously at Phil's reaction, half terrified and half anxious. Phil stared in silence at Dan for a couple more seconds before a big smirk spread across his face and he let out a laugh.
The days passed on after the incident but everything seemed pretty normal like it used to be. It was now time to film the Easter baking video and after decorating the kitchen (which Dan proudly had finished just a couple minutes before filming) Dan felt like it would be a fun thing to wear he Easter bunny costume because well, it's a Easter baking video. He entered the newly decorated kitchen with the bunny costume on and the react he got from Phil was just a smirk followed by a laugh. "Grow a flower, grab your fluffiest lamb and give birth to an egg.." Phil started off the video. Soon thereafter Dan entered the video in his bunny costume. The head got a bit...weird after a while. It felt like it was suffocating him so he took it off and replaced it with a flower crown (the fans seemed to have some weird obsession with them anyway). However he left the bunny head hanging in the background for decoration..ish. They continued filming but when they finished putting all the chocolate layers on top of each other, they had to leave the Easter nest in the fridge for two hours. Meanwhile they turned off the camera so they shouldn't have 2 hours of non-useable footage. Dan went to clean some dishes up when he caught Phil staring at him. What once'd been a pair of eyes that was easiest described as the feeling of fresh waves hitting the shore combined with a raging storm was now looking at him looking as demonic as the deepest pits of hell. Dan laughed nervously and was just about to say something when Phil raised a finger to shush him. "Don't speak" he demanded while walking over to grab the bunny head from above the stove. He then slowly walked up to Dan putting the bunny head on his own head. "What the fu-" Dan started but got interrupted by a sound coming from the cupboard. Phil quickly ran over to where the sound came from. "This were going to be a surprise" Phil slowly started. "But since you've already heard the sound I guess there's no point to keep it from you much longer". He reached into the cupboard and took out a cage with two rabbits inside. "This is Delia and Susan" Phil said and the way he spoke gave Dan goose bumps all over his skin. "Don't be scared Daniel" Phil said letting out a almost manic laughter. "Phil what the fuck" Dan said taking a couple steps backwards, bumping into the wall. Phil stood so close into Dan, that he could feel his breath in his face. "Phil i-" Dan didn't get to finish what he was about to say because Phil pushed him against the wall and pinned him there. "I've wanted to do this for so long" he said and for a moment he sounded like the Phil Dan loved, the Phil Dan have been having a crush on for 6 years now. The taller boy couldn't help but press his lips against his friend's. The kiss were soft and for a moment Phil loosened his grip around Dan's shoulders, not pinning him against the wall anymore. The kiss ended and the younger boy felt breathless. The older boy then took the younger boy's hand and led him into the lounge, pushing him onto the table. "Hop on me Phil" Dan couldn't help but say. "If you insist" the other boy answered getting on top of the brown-eyed boy. "Do you want a carrot?" he then asked and Dan understood exactly what he meant. "Yes" Dan answered with a smirk and Phil started unbuttoning his jeans, but stopped when he remembered the two rabbits that was still in the kitchen. "I'll be right back" he said with a smirk and got off Dan to get the rabbits from the kitchen. He then returned with the cage with an even bigger smirk on his face. "What are you gonna do with them" the brown-eyed boy asked, half curious and half scared. "Wait and see" Phil said and now the old soulless Phil was back which scared Dan a bit. The older boy went over to the fire place and lit it. He then put the cage with the rabbits in the flames from the fire, hearing the small creatures screaming in pain while the flames catches and burns their fragile bodies. "Phil what the fuck are you doing" Dan exclaimed. "Like I told you, wait and see" Phil answered and a sigh escaped Dan's lips. The older boy took out the cage with the burnt rabbit corpses and carried them back to the table. He then started tearing the bodies apart, placing the different body parts in different piles depending on what part of the body they were. Dan curiously watched what he was doing, curious on what was coming next. When he was finished, Phil looked at Dan and demanded with a deep voice "Lay down on your stomach" and so Dan did. The black-haired boy then pulled down Dan's pants and boxers and took a body part out of the arm pile, stuffing it up Dan's ass. "What the fu-" Dan exclaimed but Phil shushed him by stuffing another rabbit part up his ass, and he kept doing so until half of the parts were gone. Dan was biting his lip because he felt as if he'd disappoint Phil if he gave in to the pain. The older boy then pulled down his own boxer and entered Dan from behind. "Ahhh" Dan exclaimed in pain and pleasure. "Squeak for me" Phil whispered in Dan's ear. "Squeak, squeak" Dan squeaked. Phil let himself out of Dan, walking into the kitchen and returned with a bowl. He then placed the remaining rabbit parts into it. "Make me some carrot juice" he turns to Dan. "Only if you help" Dan says with a smirk. "As you wish" Phil answers going down on his knees, putting a bunny part on Dan's dick, starting to suck and chew at the same time. Dan bit his lip so hard that blood started running down his chin. It gave him pleasure what Phil did but it sure hurt like hell. "Phil the juice is coming" Dan exclaims, Phil stops chewing, accidentally ripping a bit of Dan's dick off, quickly puts the bowl below what's left of it and the juice fills it up. "Have a drink" Phil says, giving the bowl to a teary eyed Dan who gently takes it and drinks. He then hands it over to Phil who empties the bowl, still chewing on the part he ripped off, of Dan's dick. "How do I taste" Dan asks with a smirk. "Very good, bunny" Phil answers with a smile. They then remember the baking video so they get up from the table to get dressed and then they return to film the baking video, placing the bunny head back in the background. | 0ac8e82addb7470f9d80582a4871c7ae | ['09a46c26d5c74650bf8339438aa1c453'] |
The Craft Fic
**Author's Note:**
> Hello so I'm back again with another 'The ____ fic' (I'm so sorry). I wrote this fic with the help of my best friend Mariah woo! I do not own Dan nor Phil and know that both of us love them. This is just written for entertainment. Pro tip; don't read this fic in public based on the reactions you might get and also, don't forget kids; don't cry, craft!
Dan was in the lounge, laughing at the reactions they’d gotten to DanAndPhilCRAFTS. Most of the Phandom understood that it was an April fools joke yet they played along (basically spamming with ‘Don't cry, Craft!’ comments) and it was extremely amusing to watch. Dan let out a giggle as he placed his computer on the coffee table.
“What's so funny?” Phil asked from the kitchen.
“The reactions to DanAndPhilCRAFTS are just so hilarious” Dan spoke as he joined his boyfriend.
“They liked it?” Phil’s eyes lit up.
“It seems like it” Dan laughed and placed a kiss on Phil’s forehead.
“Want to celebrate?” Phil asked and Dan didn't notice the evil glimpse in his boyfriend’s eyes. He just asked with a smirk “What do you have in mind?”.
Phil didn't answer, he just led the younger boy to his bedroom.
“Stay here” he demanded and left. He soon returned with some..crafting material.
“What's that for?” a slightly confused Dan asked.
“You'll see” the older boy said and pushed the younger boy onto his bed.
The younger boy smirked as they started making out. Phil soon left Dan’s lips to place kisses down his neck, leaving marks on his sensitive skin, making Dan moan.
“Fuck that feels good Phil” the younger boy moaned.
The older boy unbuckled the younger boys belt and pulled his pants down.
He then looked down at his boyfriend with hungry eyes, which caused Dan to bite his lip. Fuck, Phil was hot.
Phil led his hands to Dan’s pounding flesh, making it harden even more.
“Fuck Phil, Tha-t f-feels so good” Dan moaned out loudly.
“This is only the beginning” Phil smirked and Dan felt a sudden pain in his bum hole.
“What the f-“ he started but Phil placed a finger at his lips, quieting him down.
“Shhh” Phil smirked and the evil glimpse in his eyes were back.
Phil went down, placing his hand in between Dan’s tights and sucked at his bum hole, sticking his tongue in and out of it.
Dan was breathing heavily, pressing his hips towards Phil’s face in pleasure.
Then Phil stopped. He looked at Dan with an evil grin which made goosebumps appear on Dan’s arms.
“W-why did you stop” Dan asked, feeling uncomfortable at the look Phil gave him.
“I will be right back” the older boy said and left the room, closing the door behind him not allowing Dan to leave. He couldn't have been gone more than a couple minutes, when he returned with a-a kitten’
“Dan say hello to Buffy” Phil smirked placing the small kitten on the bed.
“What the fuck Phil” Dan exclaimed.
“Shhh” Phil shushed him. The eyes that could best be described as a wild ocean filled with love, now looked as dark and soulless as the deepest pits of hell.
“Phil..” Dan started but got interrupted by a vibrating feeling in his ass.
“You like that Daniel?” Phil asked with a smirk as the vibrator was doing it’s job.
“F-Fuck yes” Dan moaned. Then the vibrating stopped.
“If you want more” Phil said and turned to Dan with evil eyes. “You'll have to make me a squareflake” He continued with a look at the kitten.
“Phil no I can't do that” Dan exclaimed but a part of him really wanted Phil to please him.
“As you wish” The older boy said as he handed Dan his underwear.
Truth is, Dan didn't want him to stop. He was really desperate and he NEEDED Phil like, right now.
“Okay I will do it” The younger boy said, feeling a sling of guilt washing over him as he just sacrificed the life of a little kitten for his personal pleasure. Phil gave the younger boy a smirk as he fetched a scissor and handed it to him. Dan gulped as he took the scissor and picked up the small, vulnerable life from the bed. The kitten didn't seem to be older than a couple weeks.
“W-where did you get her from?” Dan stuttered. The older boy didn't answer, he just flashed the younger boy a shy smirk. Dan took a deep breath and started cutting. The kitten let out a terrible scream in pain as the scissor cut trough it’s skin, making the life run out of it’s body along with it’s blood. It wasn't as bad as he thought. When the kitten stopped screaming it was quite easy to do it and knowing what was awaiting him when he was done, made him enjoy it even more.
“Good boy” Phil whispered in Dan’s ear as he placed his hand between Dan's legs. Dan whimpered at the sensitive touch and a moan escaped his lips.
“Keep cutting” Phil demented Dan and so he did. He cut trough the skin, creating patterns and using the bones as structuring poles. The younger boy wanted to impress the older boy so this we're gonna be a 3D squareflake with structuring poles to keep it in..well 3D shape. Phil stared kissing and biting Dan's neck ,as he worked on his master piece, leaving even more marks on his sensitive skin. When he was done he proudly handed Phil the master piece.
“Well done” Phil smirked and rewarded the younger boy by pulling down his own pants and entering him from behind. Dan grasped the sheets, clinching them between his fingers in pleasure. Suddenly he felt a stinging pain in his back. He reached his hand towards the pain. He felt something warm and wet on his fingers. He turned around, making Phil's penis twist in the process which made the older boy yelp in pain as he left Dan ass.
“Phil what the fuck are you doing” Dan exclaimed as he looked at Phil. The older boy gave him a demonic grin as he said.
“Making a squareflake out of my favourite material”.
With those words Dan felt something inside of him, a darkness wishing to be let out, so he released it. The younger boy picked up the second scissor and started cutting in his boyfriend’s skin. The boys laughed as they cut in each other's flesh, making the blood stream out of their bodies and stain the IKEA sheets.
“I'm doing a wave” Dan proudly told Phil as he cut sick sack patterns in his boyfriend’s skin. Phil just nodded as he continued the cutting.
When the boys were finished with their skin-squareflakes they studied the work they'd done. Their skinless backs were aching, muscles showing with most of them torn apart. Dan left the bed and wobbly walked over to the wall, drawing something with the red liquid that escaped the open hole in his back. The older boy read the words and together they fell down on the floor, hysterically laughing in their own blood at the three words written on the wall.
“Don't cry, Craft!”. |
94584f095aa8416d9692860fe2bc6608 | ['09d533e0174e44d8a792017909641997'] | The chefs placed down the food, and a chef placed a special meal onto the paladin's plate.
Lance was a bit wary at this action, since the plate that the paladins were eating was not served to any other creature attending.
"Could you wait a moment guys? I'm sorry if I'm being rude, but I don't think we should eat this..." Lance murmured out to his friends.
Hunk's stomach growled.
Pidge rolled her eyes. "C'mon Lance, it'll be fine."
Lance hesitated. "Do you mind if I try it first?"
Everyone was tired of arguing and agreed.
Lance took a small corner of the strange blue square, and popped it into his mouth and swallowed.
"See? Nothing happened," Keith grumbled, going to take a piece of the food.
Lance felt like he was choking.
He tipped over his chair, and heard the shocked reactions from the people around him.
He passed out, not after hearing chairs being pushed out of the way and arms grabbing his torso upright.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> lucky u guys two updates in a day
>
> anyways its short and overused but whatever
13. xi
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> if they'll be safe, he'll keep quiet
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> short as hell like always ill try to make it longer
>
> at least its just a tad bit detailed smh
>
> wOAH JESUS I JUST REALIZED HOW SHORT IT IS BUT I POSTED TWO LAST WEEK SO-
>
> suck it up whoops ill try to make up for it next week or ill post another
Lance grit his teeth. He wasn’t going to say anything that would endanger his friends.
He was strapped down to a table. Purple lights glowed harshly at him, stinging his eyes at the bright color. The room was dark despite the lights that were embedded into the wall, the dark atmosphere not helping against the dark walls.
Lance had been caught, but luckily the others had made it out.
A Galran soldier—Yerfi was it?—was interrogating him in a very violent way.
“Woah Yeti! I know you’re pretty cold, but you didn’t have to shock me!” Lance’s jokes were the only thing keeping himself sane.
Yerfi grunted. He grabbed a knife from a nearby table and attacked so quickly, the only reason Lance knew it happened was the searing pain in his shoulder.
A small thud sounded from below him.
He choked out a scream as blood filled his throat and he couldn’t breathe. He realized what it was. His arm.
Yerfi struck again, going for his right leg, and with some jagged movements, removed the limb.
Lance screamed loudly, blood clogging his throat.
The pain—goddamn it was so painful, he broke a rib when he was younger, but the pain couldn’t even compare to this.
Yerfi has just finished sawing off his left arm when Lance couldn’t keep going any longer and saw black.
14. xii
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> he wanted to touch the stars, but not like this
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> early bc i have schoolwork and need to get this done
>
>
>
> no grammar since i need to do shit
lance's knuckles turned white as he gripped tightly on edge of the door as it closed.
the lights blared red.
the airlock was gonna open, and lance was still stuck inside.
lance held _anything_ that could help him stay close to the ship.
the doors finally shut, and lance was upset that he didn't bring his helmet.
the doors slipped open behind him, and the space sucked him towards it.
he slipped, only to see that keith had been outside the door, pounding on the glass, another hand trying to open the door.
keith was too late.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> this is shitty but i wanna post anyway i may do a better version later sorry
15. xiii
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> lance was known to be a fast eater
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> short chaps from now on sorry i have ninty nine
Lance munched on a few of the delicacies surrounding him, the room loud and festive.
They were at a diplomatic party; Voltron now sitting with the citizens and the King, celebrating a new alliance.
Lance threw a piece of what seemed like meat into his mouth, and figured he should have chewed before swallowing.
He coughed, trying to get the piece of food out of his throat, but the damn thing seemed lodged into his airway.
Lance wheezed, quietly excusing himself, going to an empty hallway.
He coughed and coughed trying to breathe and get it out of him.
Lance saw an orange bandanna run towards him before Lance closed his eyes.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> check my profile shenanigans if u wanna
>
> sorry for the wait
16. xiv
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> hah, of all things
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> sry for the wait whenever i finish a chap i post another so i finished another chapter for this story
Lance was admittedly allergic to nuts.
He didn’t realize that he would come to face with any of them in space!
Allura had been handing them out in each of the paladins’ rooms.
Of course, if it looked like it, he wouldn’t have eaten them.
However, “it was important for your health” and it looked like a small candy.
Lance shouldn’t dumped the entire box into his mouth.
He swallowed, and his throat seemed to close up, swelling up.
He dropped to the ground, breathing harsh.
The conversation on his comms was loud, and Lance could hear it from his position on the floor.
“Allura, what are these made of?” Hunk asked quickly.
“I think you earthlings call them ‘nuts’?”
Lance heard a curse, but he couldn’t think too much about it since he couldn’t see anything.
**Notes for the Chapter:** | 1d3368e8474e44a99a2a10450a0e9fe6 | ['09d533e0174e44d8a792017909641997'] | > i gave up on bolding sorry and im in class so i cant write as much im sorryyy
hacker voice: im so tired
gfy: maybe u wouldnt be if u didnt stay up all night programming ur lil pieces of junk
hacker voice: eXCUSE ME U CANT DO SHIT WITHOUT BLOWING IT UP
Space Dad: Pidge, please get some more sleep. And no swearing.
klunk: omg kieth u ass
aflance: wHY WOULD YOU INSULT PIDGES AMAZING BRAIN ???
Space Dad: keith*
queen: jesus christ shiro u dont have to diss everyone bc u major in english too
gfy: im actually smart tho
corange: u dropped out in highschool tho ???
gfy: not my fault that someone decided to punch me
gfy: i punched them back
gfy: i dont get why i was kicked out for self denfence
Space Dad: defense*
gfy: jESUS FUCKING CHRIST
aflance: calm ur mullet
gfy: i d o n o t h a v e a m u l l e t m y h a i r j u s t g r o w s t h a t w a y
hacker voice: someones triggered
klunk: guys stop teasing keith
gfy: thanks hunk
klunk: np
queen: screw being nice i can be a bitch if i want to
corange: allura calm down
queen: no im crabby
queen: im hungry since sOMEONE ATE ALL THE FROOT LOOPS
queen: and i have astrology hw
aflance: where r u i can help
queen: library third floor east ward
aflance: coming to the princess rescue
Space Dad: princess’
aflance: s t o p i t
8. shiros five
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> woah a new character :0
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> short but i didnt wanna do any on friday and i was free soooo-
hacker voice: i have a very important question
aflance: hwat
Space Dad: what*
Space Dad: Yes what is it?
aflance: shiro u r five stop acting like you r twenty five
Space Dad: i am twenty five
klunk: oh my gOD HE DIDNT CAPITALIZE OR HAVE PUNCUATION
queen: tODAY IS A SPECIAL DAY
corange: you do realize that shiro types like this now bc he disabled the grammar or whatever app on his phone right
Space Dad: did you frickin really think i have enough time to punctuate n stuff
klunk: still wont cuss tho
hacker voice: nice y'all are happy bc shiros five but i wanna ask my question
klunk: go ahead
hacker voice: thank you
hacker voice: can matt join the group chat
Space Dad: is he still mad at me
hacker voice: dude u accidentally tripped him and gave him a scab u apologized 12348574917538294 times hes not mad
Space Dad: okay all who are okay with matt joining the chat
aflance: i want my meme buddy
klunk: MATT!
gfy: matts ok ig
Space Dad: where have u been
gfy: work
corange: sure
queen: y not hes fabulous
aflance: not as much as u r
queen: do u want my heart bc u already have it
Space Dad: allura babe
aflance: oMG I KNEW IT
hacker voice: jESUS CHRIST I WENT TO GO CALL MATT AN D I HEAR THE JURRASIC PARK ROAR FROM LANCES ROOM
hacker voice: mATT WAS LIKE 'I DIDNT KNOW U OWNED PTERODACTYLS'
hacker voice: o
klunk: my
aflance: g o d
gfy: calm down jc
aflance: whatvr
aflance: MATT MATT MATT
hacker voice added matte
matte: what the fuck is all of this
aflance: aYYEEE MATT BRANDON ROGERS
matte: omg i didnt think u would get it this is why u r my fav
aflance: <33333
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> i love brandon rogers hes the best
9. bean stew
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> u can tell im eating while writing this
>
> also a day early bc i dont have time to do this last minute tomorrow so look at me im totally not procrastinating
klunk: i swa a ceut girl and sh ews pefrect for me
Space Dad: your spelling isnt perfect for u
klunk: sH00K
queen: damn boi
aflance: r u talkin shay ???
aflance: the one who makes the amazing soup and is the nicest female to live on this planet ?
klunk: obviously
klunk: wow u know me so well <3
aflance: <3
hacker voice: im in
aflance: …
hacker voice: to get shay and hunk together
aflance: oH NO YOU DONT IM HELPING HUNK I HAVE SHAYS NUMBER
hacker voice: o yeah u became friends bc u hunk and shay are all in a cooking class
hacker voice: and u loved her soup and exchanged numbers
gfy: lance is in cooking class ???
aflance: i wanna refine my skills
Space Dad: iM SO PROUD OF YOU MY BBY BOY USED A BIG WORD
klunk: lance is a decent cook
klunk: but hes too lazy to cook anything though
aflance: if it helps im making my bean stew
hacker voice: oH MY GOD SORRY SHIRO I WAS GONNA COME OVER BUT LANCES BEAN STEW
Space Dad: sob
aflance sent dinneruwu.jpg
klunk: oh my god its that stew yES
gfy: damn
aflance: i made a lot so everyone can come over and have some !! <3
matte: i hEARD FREE FOOD IM IN
queen: i wanna try some
corange: me 2
gfy: holy fucking shit im coming for sure
Space Dad: im tired and hungry be there in 10 bringing matt and keith
corange: me and allura are coming rn
aflance: jesus fucking christ i gotta make some more stew then
10. Chapter 10
my school blocked ao3 so i won’t be able to update
11. relationship advice
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> sry for the wait im stocking up on updates and sprinklin them around
aflance to klunk
aflance: hunk my buddy
aflance: have i been obvious
aflance: i think i have bc pidge just said i had to tone it down and if they noticed then everyone else will including him |
f7c69331b426438597b34527e7d3e387 | ['0a0171b0129a4542b52cd2e555cf855d'] | “I hope you don’t hurt yourself when you walk around,” you commented benignly, “There’s a lot of… stuff on the floor.” You felt stupid for even having to point it out, but you never really knew what was ever the case with the lamplighter. What if he genuinely didn’t notice?
...Or care?
“Hm? Oh, nah. Doesn’t bug me. Used to get in my shoes sometimes and that’ll be a nasty surprise, but that doesn’t really happen all that much anymore.” It was very disconcerting, just how casually he spoke about it.
“Anymore?” you repeated, perplexed.
“...Well,” he tilted his head, “It hasn’t happened recently, at least. Which is good, ‘cuz it’s painful to remove and there’s a lot of blood, sometimes.”
_Yeowch._
Repulsed by the thought, a shudder ran down your spine as you refrained from hyper-focusing onto the picture painted blithely in your imagination.
He approached about a minute after with your drinks, sliding the piping-hot mug of coffee across the table over to you as he cleared the desk, nudging objects off with a rusty tray. The particular absence of cream and sugar was made more dishearteningly apparent as you blinked into the dark thickness of the liquid, rippling in small rings as you dragged it over.
You gulped and stared conscientiously into the drink, casting a sidelong glance over to the lamplighter who, had been gazing over at you in an expectant warmth, as though desiring approval or some form of validation for his work.
"Thank you very much," you coughed, obligation lurching you overboard and coaxing you into taking a gulp. The coffee’s bitterness nearly made you gag, the acidic taste burning in the back of your throat like bile, raking across your tongue.
Plight had unfortunately bore witness to the involuntary muscle-movement from his spot, peering over to you with a doting sort of worry.
“Is it bad? Do you want me to make a new batch?” It was more an insistence than it was an inquiry, but you valued the fact that he had bothered to ask, anyways.
“I’m fine,” you sputtered, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. “I’m just… not used to drinking coffee black.”
Plight nodded almost imperceptibly, fingers tapping against his own cup. “Sorry,” he said finally, “I don’t have any cream or anything here. I usually just drink it straight black and head out,” he explained, appearing very nauseated with himself as though he’d neglected something of the utmost importance.
“Oh, it’s okay-” you trilled abruptly, involuntarily flashing him that retail-honed doll-face. “It’s not a huge deal, anyways.”
“You sure? I can fix it, I really don’t mind-” he began again, restlessly seeking a chance to amend his mistake.
You could feel something sink, squinting back down into the mug. But you had to resolve yourself for this- for him. Betraying such a puppy-dog eagerness felt like a crime, and you weren’t the kind of person who easily backed out of things they’ve resolved themselves to. Well, usually.
_You didn’t know Plight was the attractive friend here until just now, anyways. There was a sort of unspoken integrity that had to be upheld, after all._
Obligation alone went a long way. Bringing the cup towards your lips, you pumped another gulp down your system and made the valorous effort to expel the flavor as hastily as your bodily functions would permit, but to no avail.
You quietly placed the drink back down onto the ruined mahogany of the table, absently blowing at the whirling steam.
“So,” you began a little helplessly, deducing that conversation was a good way to derail his attention away from you specifically, “You mentioned a Kelvin earlier?”
Plight looked up from his own mug, regarding you curiously with his crimson eyes. You awaken to the fact that they accentuated the airy violet of his hair marvelously well.
“He’s sorta like a neighbor. Sits in one spot, mostly, but I guess his joints might start rusting if he’s still for too long. He doesn’t like moving around much, though. Says it upsets the cats.” he explained, taking a swig.
“Cats?” you said, seizing the chance to distract yourself.
“Yeah, guess they like the warmth. Kelvin practically has a cat posse around him at all times. They like to wander down in here sometimes, which is why I like to keep the door open for them.” he motioned with his head over to the stairs, a drafty current sighing past your legs as if on cue. You shivered.
“He’s a robot, then?” you managed to piece things together from the connotations, but it never hurt to be sure. Unless humans could suddenly rust, of course.
“Yup. Apparently that was his original purpose. Guess he switched to something else after awhile, but wound up coming back. I mean, so long as he’s needed, right? I feel bad that he’s stuck in the gutters all day, but…” his attention pivots back over to you.
It felt as though he were searching you for something further, an unnerving conjecture of how you might next react.
“Is he tame?” you inquired innocently.
“Don’t think so. At least, I hope he isn’t. I can’t imagine it’s fun to lurk around trashbins and drunk assholes all the time, but even then he’d do it for others. His programming is pretty selfless.” he remarked, features alight with some strange crossbreed of worry and malcontent.
You nodded, intrigued. “Are you sure it’s okay to just leave the door open, though? I feel like someone might just… wander in.” Nothing about the notion sat right with you, at all.
“Usually not. I always keep it closed when I’m out, but sometimes I’ll forget to lock it, and some punks might get in. They don’t do much though, I ain’t got much worth taking. Mostly just leave their booze and cigarette butts lying around,” he huffed in between sips of his coffee, no longer heartily partaking in the drink. | 096d242600a54d00b32cf5fa813c0d69 | ['0a0171b0129a4542b52cd2e555cf855d'] | “Awww, already?” Alula pouted, skittering up the hill. “Fiiiiine. But if you ever come back though, we should play together!” she waved gleefully, fireflies spinning and whirling near-ethereally behind her.
"I live in the ruins nearby, don't forget about me, okay?"
You steadily rose up from the ground, clutching Plight’s coat almost defensively and wrapping yourself further into it. It held what was unmistakably his scent- you quite likedit.
“I promise I won't,” you called back out, watching her as she skipped across the marshfields expertly whilst humming an off-key tune. What a cute kid.
Once Alula was no longer visible from view, your attention shifted back over to Plight.
“You can have this back,” you sputtered, rather remorsefully removing the coat as your stomach constricted. “You deserve it more than me.”
“Oh, c’mon now-” Plight chuckled, finding the humor in your modesty. “Don’t be like that. I wouldn’t have handed it to you if I didn’t want you to use it.” he spoke very deliberately, as though there was some hidden meaning you were expected to decipher.
“The cold is nothing I can’t deal with,” The voice that left your mouth had sounded so distant you weren’t positive it even belonged to you, lips pursed into a tight frown. The very sensation of relinquishing him of his trademark article of clothing made you feel as though were infringing on something unspoken.
This was _his_ coat- something he wore almost every day of his goddamned life; the man even slept in it, sometimes. You were no longer locked in that contemptuous state of regarding the lamplighter with that wary variation of pity as you had in the past, it wasn’t something as imperious as being repulsed by the threadbare sleeves, but more that this was something that just went against the natural order of things. Something you didn’t have the right to touch.
_Like you weren’t worthy._
Perhaps your apprehension was infectious- you half-expected him to revoke his offer merely because of your callow stubbornness. You tentatively ran your fingers through the coat, pressing delicately against the fabric as though you feared it’d spontaneously burst into shreds if you held it the wrong way.
“Are you sure?” you croaked, “-That’s it’s okay, I mean. I don’t want to…” the words evaded you yet again at a circumstance most inconvenient, but you feared it’d be a detrimental course of action to outright refuse the offer.
“It’s fine, it really is,” Plight said hurriedly, trying his damnedest not to make eye contact. “T-The last thing I want is you getting a cold. I don’t get sick easily, so it’s fine if I just walk around like this,” he laughed in that warm baritone of his, and you suddenly felt yourself growing progressively sleepy.
“...Hey,” you mumbled as he helped you rise to your feet, “Let’s go over to Ling’s cafe. I wanna bug him for some hot chocolate.”
“He’s going to think we’re crazy for ordering that in this type of weather,” Plight said, guiding you back towards the city gates.
“That’s alright,” you closed your eyes and exhaled, giggling a little stupidly to yourself as you wondered if you’d smell a little like the lamplighter, now, if you steeped in his jacket for so long. “I’m sorry this trip was sort of a bust. I feel like there’s... better things we could have done.”
“Eh,” Plight shrugged, unburdened by the thought. “I really can’t complain. It’s fun, just…” he gulped, scratching the back of his head as he craned his neck over towards the view of the city skyline, entranced by it’s glow.
“It’s never really boring bein’ with you. And I know that’s cheesy to hell and back, but...”
You laughed out, putting a hand to your mouth as the high of the situation kept you afloat. The lamplighter shot you a quizzical look, but he knew the authenticity behind your actions and eventually broke out into a lazy smile. He knew you better than that, and somehow knowing this irrevocable fact made you elated.
"It's fine, it's fine," you murmured, so ecstatic that you felt as though you were fit to burst. His eyes were so bright, so lustrous in it's sheen that it seemed right to just sidle up next to him, watching the Refuge clamor beneath the two of you as for the first time in a long while, the ruby glow of the lively city was no longer such an irritating eyesore. It almost seemed beautiful, watching it all with the lamplighter.
_"I feel the same way."_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So... this one def took longer than expected. I nearly died when I saw that this sloppy chapter was about 6k words long, I sure as heck didn't intend for that to happen at all? Regardless, I'm sorry I took so long with this chapter! I struggled a lot to get it done, and I'm sure it was easy to tell which parts I had difficulty with since I... unmistakably flubbed sections of the chapter.
>
> I'm sorry if Alula was introduced only briefly- I wanted the cute birb to make an appearance at least once!
>
> Thanks again to all the people who have sent me kind words of encouragement- you really helped motivate me in chugging this one out! ;u; You all are so precious to me, and I'm grateful you've stuck around for this long!
>
> Once again, please feel free to let me know if I've made any mistakes or errors and I'll gladly fix them! Also, Plight's "actual" name is based off LINK post and probably isn't his canon name. I don't think he even has one, I just referenced this post as like a throwback??
9. Raining in my Head
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> HERE IT IS. 2 MONTHS OF WAITING AND I GIVE YOU THE MOST DISAPPOINTING CHAPTER IN THE FIC.
> |
e90d2250dd964599afd1858bb7630d96 | ['0a0c65eac54d47e7a162ef1e81ce736b'] | “I don’t know if he will like that.”
“Well, I am tired of him stomping around the house slamming doors.”
“I know. I will text him and tell him to come home around noon when Annabelle is taking her nap.” Regina looks over at her smiling.
“Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you too babe.” Emma leans in and gives her a sweet kiss. When they break apart Emma takes her cell phone and texts their son.
MA: Henry please come home at noon. Your mother and I need to talk to you.
Henry: Why?! I am busy
MA: Henry Daniel Mills! Come home at noon or I will come and find you and I will drag you home! I don’t care if it’s in front of your friends!
Henry: Fine! Whatever
“Well, he is coming but is not very happy about it. This should be a fun talk.”
“I saw that.” Regina sighs. After Annabelle is done Regina burps her and rocks her asleep. She’s set in her bassinet.
An hour and a half later Henry comes home, he stomps up the walkway opening the door which he then slams shut. He stops for a second waiting for either of his mothers to yell at him or his sister to start crying. Nothing happens he smirks. Strutting down the hall to the kitchen. That is his mothers usually were. Stopping in the doorway he sees no one. Sighing he turns back around.
“Mom! Ma! Where are you? I don’t have time for this!” He yells angrily.
“We are in the living room, young man!” Came Regina’s voice.
“Mom! I am not that young anymore!” Henry yells stomping his way to the living room. Both of his mothers are sitting in an armchair across from the sofa, Henry folds his arms over his chest just standing in the doorway.
“Sit down Henry,” Regina commands like the Queen she is. Henry rolls her eyes.
“Henry! Now!” Regina yells. Henry gulps, he didn’t want to give in and let his mothers win but on the other hand, he wanted them to know this was all their fault! Why did they have to have another baby!? Yes, he was excited at first but all she does is cry and take up all his mother’s time. And he was tired of it. And Christmas was coming and it was all about how Annabelle’s first Christmas was going to be. It was all about the baby!
“Sit your ass down now!” Emma adds. Slowly Henry walks to the sofa and sits slowly down. Just looks at them. The three just stare at each other for a while.
“Well, are you going to say anything or are we just going to stare at each other” Henry finally says.
“Henry Daniel Mills! What is with your attitude lately?” Emma asks.
“I don’t have an attitude,” Henry says.
“Henry!” Regina says.
“We are not leaving this room until you tell us what is wrong.”
“Not even for Annabelle.” Henry basically spits out his sister’s name. Regina and Emma look at each other than at their son with wide eyes.
“Is that what this is about? Your sister?” Regina asks slightly out ragged.
“Ok yes! It’s about Annabelle alright!”
“What!” Both mothers say. They knew it might be that but hearing their son say it was different.
“How long have you been feeling this way?” Regina asks shakily. She was trying hard not to cry.
“Since the holiday’s started! Its always about ‘oh what should Annabelle wear for her first Halloween’ or ‘ oh should Annabelle wear this for her first Thanksgiving’ And I don’t even want to talk about Christmas! She is four months old! She is never going to remember any of this? So why make a big deal about it?”
“Henry, why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Regina asks.
“Because I know how important this is for you. She is your child, your biological child.”
“Henry, you know that even though you didn’t grow inside me like Annabelle had that you are just as important as her right?” Henry sighs.
“Yes, I do know that. It’s just hard, its been you and me for years and then I went and got Ma and she started living here and then you found out you were pregnant. It was is just a lot.” Henry looks down. He knows he has been acting like a brat these past weeks and he hoped his mothers would understand.
“’Oh Henry, you need to talk to us. We can't know what is going on unless you talk to us.” By this point Regina is almost crying, she can’t help it.
“I am sorry mom. I know I should have talked to you sooner, I just didn’t want to ruin this for you.”
“Oh Henry.” Regina walks across the short area and sits next to their son pulling him into a tight hug. Mother and son just hug it out for a while, both snuffling. Regina leans back and places a sweet kiss on his forehead.
“I am sorry, Henry.”
“No mom, I am sorry. From now on I will talk to you both.”
“Good because we don’t need a Scrooge in the family.” Emma laughs, Regina and Henry join in.
6. Day 6
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Day 6 of 25 days of Christmas
>
> Enjoy!
25 Days of Christmas
Day 6: Elf (on a shelf)
Hello everyone,
Sorry I have not been keeping up posting these. I ended up getting sick and I am finally feeling better for the most part. I will be posting the rest of them as I write them
Merry Christmas!
PS. Thank you for the reviews! I love hearing from you!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ | d8468b8c8ebc4cf0b35e235cf6f92bdf | ['0a0c65eac54d47e7a162ef1e81ce736b'] |
I'll Keep you Warm
7- “I'll keep you warm”
Emma knew this was a bad idea the second her heavily pregnant wife suggest it. There was a storm coming, one that was coming to dump 3 feet of snow on the town. But there had been no swaying Regina. She was tired of being locked in their house all day, she has been on maternity leave for two weeks now. Her doctor didn't want her working any more, the stress of the job could send her into early labor which none of them wanted so Regina had agreed. But Regina being Regina hated being at home and doing nothing. Zelena was there most days with baby Robin and that helped but after two weeks of not really leaving their house she was fed up and wanted to go take a walk no matter that there was a storm coming their way. They have magic if the weather took a turn for the worst, not that Emma was very good with her magic still.
So here they were walking in the woods closet to their house, Emma had not wanted to wander too far away from home just in case either the weather turned bad or the baby decided to make its entrance. They had walked pretty far, just holding hands and enjoying the time they had alone before the baby came. Henry was with Snow and Charming helping to get things ready for this big storm, he was, to say the least very excited! This was going to be the biggest snowstorm that had ever hit the small town. Emma is brought out of her thoughts when Regina stops.
“What?” Regina huffed
“Were you even listening to a word I just said?” Regina asked angerly, Emma looked sheepishly at her
“Yes....” Emma says trailing off because she had not just heard anything her wife had just said. Regina huff, putting her hands on her hips. Regina Swan- Mills stills looks fierce as hell even though she 9 months pregnant, the looks she is giving Emma right now reminds her of when she had first come to Storybrooke and they were butting heads.
“I am sorry Regina...I was in my head! I am worried that we are going to get stuck out here in this storm!” Emma had not even noticed that it had actually started snowing while she was in her own thoughts. This was bad.
“Come on we need to get home before it gets any worst” Emma reaches for her arm but just gets cold air.
“What the....” She looks up in time to see Regina stomp (as much as she can) away, going deeper into the woods. Emma huffs. Damn Women!
“Regina!” Emma yells, walking towards her, Regina doesn't stop; just continues to stomp away. She was fast even being heavily pregnant.
“Come on Regina! This, not the time to angrily stomp away! Be mad at me, just do it at home where it is warm!” Regina doesn't' stop, by now the snow was falling faster. There were at least 3 inches on the ground now and her wife was nowhere to be found. Maybe she used her magic to go home. Emma sighs, that was something she had not mastered yet. Emma sighs again and starts walking the way she saw Regina go.
SQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQ
Regina was pissed off! Though she should be used to the way Emma was by now, they had been married for a little over a year and had been friends and co-parents for much longer. But today it had really pissed her off! Regina knew it wasn't logical to be stomping away from her, especially when she was 9 months pregnant, but Emma just got on her nerves today! She was sick of being stuck in the damn house all the time! She was tired of being pregnant, she just wanted to meet their baby already. And she had taken it all out on Emma, who is by her side no matter what! Regina stops and looks around, she is lost now too! And it is really snowing now, 6 inches on the ground and she was cold. Sighing she waves her hands....much to her horror nothing happens! She doesn't feel her magic at all, not even a hint of it under her skin. WHAT THE HELL! She didn't have magic!!!!! In the back of her head a voice responds, sounds too much likes the imps. You knew this might happen when you got close to your due date dearie!!! Hehehe. Regina stomps her foot.
“Damn Rumple!!!!!” Regina looks around, she is not sure what away she came from, all she can see is snow. Regina growls! Now it is lost and cold and she just wants Emma! Regina looks around again and sees something, not the far away, maybe a cabin or something like it. She doesn't know of anyone that has one out here but maybe she could just bunker down init till the storm passes and someone finds her. Hopefully Emma will. Regina slowly makes her way to the cabin, when she is closer to it she sees it is in fact not a cabin but a cave. A cabin would have been better, but I need to get out of this snow. Regina slowly makes her way towards the cave, stopping in the doorway.
“Hello?” She really hopes nothing is in here, she cant protect herself and unborn baby. Regina hears a noise deeper in the cave. Damnit!.
“Stay where you are, I will burn you to a crisp,” Regina says in her best Evil Queen voice. But much to her dismay she hears laughter, it put her right on edge. But as the laughter gets closer she realizes she knows that laugh.
“Mal!” Regina sighs in relief. The blonde dragon comes into her line of sight, a big smile on her face. |
34ffe9ac1e6d44f8b69423de0bd21e67 | ['0a389d786e31473ba15da5cf73987673'] |
still my heart this moment (oh it might burst)
**Author's Note:**
> I started writing this before Leah on the Offbeat was released and then got entirely distracted from it. Set before LOTO timeline-wise, so between the two Creekwood books. Don't want to spoil anyone who hasn't read it, but I have tweaked it a bit to be compliant with LOTO.
>
> Title from Gorecki by Lamb (which is a song I've liked since it was used in Torchwood like a decade ago probably, but which I now HEAVILY associate with Spierfeld).
>
> Note: I have very minimal understanding of the U.S. college system, which I'm hoping isn't glaringly obvious.
Bram’s legs are all in a tangle with Simon’s, and he’s tucked close into Simon’s chest. They’re on Simon’s bed, an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine playing in the background, but if Bram’s honest, although he adores the show, he isn’t really absorbing it at all at this point. He can feel Simon’s mouth against the crown of his head, just sort of settled and breathing there, like Simon moved to kiss his head and then just didn’t bother moving away. The door’s shut – Simon’s parents gave up on having an open-door policy a while ago at this point, having decided that, in Jack’s own words, “teenagers gonna teenage” and, if they were going to be sexually active, it was better off for them to be in the house and safe. That was an excruciating conversation that Bram is very glad is behind them now.
Right now, though, they aren’t doing anything like that. They have before, and it’s thrilling and all-consuming and incredible, but right now is a different kind of incredible. He can feel Simon’s every breath in the shifting of his chest, in the exhales against his hair. Their legs are hooked together, sides pressed close, intertwined as close as they can be, and Bram feels like his heart might burst. Not in that uncomfortable way it used to feel, before he was even able to talk to Simon. His heart used to race and his hands would get clammy and he wouldn’t be able to get words out coherently. It was an endless source of frustration, and it made him wish he could be different, as eloquent outwardly as he could be in his head or via the written word. Before, the way his heart would seize up was distressing and awkward. Now, it’s warmth and contentment and completeness. His heart is fit to burst, yet he couldn’t be more calm.
The episode ends, and the next one isn’t going to autoplay. Normally that would be annoying, but Bram can’t really bring himself to care.
“I don’t really want to move,” Simon says softly, against Bram’s hair. It’s not in an imploring, you-get-up-and-do-the-thing kind of way, though Simon certainly talks like that often, in a cheeky and endearing kind of way. It’s just a simple statement.
“Me neither,” Bram replies. They lie there in comfortable silence, wrapped in the warmth of one another, buoyed by the quiet intimacy of it. In this moment, it occurs to Bram again, as it has been more and more lately, that he never wants to not have this. He wants to put it into words: he wants Simon in his future, and more than that, he feels with steady conviction that a future with Simon in it is the best one for him.
Bram turns his head to look at Simon, only to find that Simon’s eyes are already on him. His heart stutters, briefly, then settles again. He meets Simon’s eyes, shifts around so that they’re properly facing each other, arms draped over one another’s sides. “Hi,” he says, redundantly.
Simon giggles, reaches up to tap his nose. “Hi, you,” he says back.
Bram takes in a steadying breath and shifts his hand to run it along Simon’s side, rubbing his thumb there as a half-distraction, studiously examining Simon’s collarbone instead of watching his face. “I’ve been thinking about the future,” he says softly, before he can chicken out of giving voice to the thoughts running through his head. He’s always, always found it easier to write down things this important rather than saying them out loud.
“Yeah?” Simon asks, an uptick in his voice, both a question and a denotation of how he’s feeling, happiness discernible in his tone.
“Yeah,” Bram replies, ducking his head into Simon’s chest. “Just…” he trails off, pleased that Simon seems receptive to the kind of heavy conversation topic but wanting to gather the muddled thoughts in his head, word them carefully. He finds, when he’s nervous or worried or embarrassed or anything along those lines, that he probably uses sentence fragments more than even Simon does. When he’s writing, he has time to weigh everything. Verbally, everything is a bit too stream-of-consciousness by necessity, and it just feels so exposing.
Bram takes another fortifying breath and continues. “I know there’s this kind of expectation that high school relationships don’t necessarily… last forever.” He pauses slightly, then goes on with the nerve-induced fragmented sentences. “And I don’t want to be unrealistic, because I know everybody probably thinks they’re the ones that are different, and everyone who’s in any kind of long-term relationship probably thinks it will last forever, because otherwise what’s even the point? Unless you’re just in it for the sake of it, which is just sucky.” He really has picked up so many of Simon’s speech habits over the past eight months. Longer, really – Simon’s little ways of wording things have been infiltrating his thought processes since the emails started.
Bram shifts his head back a little to steal a glance at Simon’s face, just a quick one. Simon looks thoughtful, and he isn’t interrupting Bram’s halting ramble, which Bram greatly appreciates.
_He’s so beautiful._ Bram gets distracted momentarily by that simple fact, which happens… often. He shakes himself a little, figuratively, to break out of it. | a885c35520da4727a6613e3b4a65cc33 | ['0a389d786e31473ba15da5cf73987673'] | “But at the same time, as cliché as it is to… believe yourself to be the exception, I do believe we can last. I want you to be in my future.” Bram breathes out shakily and sneaks another glance at Simon’s face, in time to catch the slow smile that blooms across it.
Simon’s hand skates along Bram’s back, fingers tracing down over the bumps of his spine, deliciously shivery. He’s still smiling, looking right at Bram, when he says, “I want you to be in my future too.” It’s extremely affirming, that Simon seems to understand what he means.
“People can be kinda judgey when teenagers, like, make decisions based on what other people are doing. Especially when it comes to boyfriends,” Simon says, tracing his fingers back up Bram’s spine. “But I don’t see anything wrong with, like, out of all the freaking colleges in the entire country, just, you know… applying to ones near the ones people you want to stay near are applying to.” He pauses. “Wow, that was a convoluted sentence.”
“I’m used to you and your convoluted sentences,” Bram replies, and it’s meant to come out jokey, but it kind of doesn’t. “But yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. I get you completely.” They grin at each other, and Bram feels breathless, suspended in the moment for a steady few heartbeats.
“So where have you been thinking of applying, then?” Simon asks. His hand is still running up and down, down and up Bram’s back, and it’s just this side of ticklish, sending sparking shivers across his skin. He can feel Simon’s socked toes tucked into his ankles. The physical intimacy of it is comfortable, like a warm blanket, yet still hasn’t ceased to be delightfully electrifying. Sometimes Bram has to stop and revel in it, this ability to be so close to someone, someone as brilliant for him as Simon, for so long.
Bram bites his lip. He has a couple of ideas floating around, but one in particular stands out, even if he second guesses the possibility of it, even if it feels a bit pie-in-the-sky. “I have a few ideas,” he says, deflecting, softening the attachment. “But I was thinking, maybe… Columbia?”
“That sounds great!” Simon says enthusiastically. “I definitely think that’s, like, achievable. For you, I mean. Like, I actually think you make me a better student than I was, to be honest, but I don’t think I’ll, uh, aim for that myself. NYU, though. I think I’d love to go there, if I could.”
“I make you a better student?” Bram asks, surprised.
“I mean, yeah,” Simon says, as if it’s obvious. “You’re so studious. Even though studying with you can get, uh… _super_ distracting -” he breaks off to giggle sheepishly – “your habits have, like, totally reformed me. And you’re so good at explaining things. And so, like, patient. And helpful. I’m rambling, please stop me.”
Bram chuckles softly, and shifts so that he can comfortably reach his hand up to slide his fingers over the nape of Simon’s neck and into his hair. “Well, I’m glad to hear that then,” he says. “And you know what Mr. Wise always says, teaching it to someone else is the best way to consolidate your own understanding. So like, as nerdy as it is, I kind of love studying with you.”
“Same,” Simon says, grinning at him again, dizzyingly bright. Bram grins back, and it’s a whole thing again, this swelling feeling of delight that they’re so squarely on the same page.
“I mean, I’m going to apply to other places too,” Simon continues, “don’t want to put all the eggs in one basket or anything.”
“Oh, definitely, me too,” Bram agrees immediately.
“But maybe we could, like… casually cross-reference our lists?” The uptick in Simon’s voice is again a question, but also sounds like a slight hint of uncertainty this time.
“That sounds awesome,” Bram tells him sincerely. Simon beams at him, an actual personified ray of goddamn sunshine, and then leans into Bram and rests his head on Bram’s chest. Bram continues sliding his fingers through Simon’s hair, pressing lightly into his scalp, because Simon’s vocalised how much he likes that many times, and because Bram honestly really loves it too.
“Love you,” Simon murmurs into his chest, a gentle exhalation. Bram breathes it in. No matter how many times he hears it, it never fails to comfort and set him alight all at once.
“Love you too,” he says back, and they slip back into the comfortable silence.
**Author's Note:**
> This is full of my own headcanons in fic form - e.g. that Simon's parents wouldn't have an open door policy, which I think is influenced by the movie, because parents who don't mind a girl sleeping in their son's room before they know he's gay and rationalise him coming home safe but drunk definitely wouldn't have an open door policy I feel?
>
> they'd also definitely love brooklyn nine nine t b h and I don't feel like that's just me projecting, genuinely hilarious + excellent queer and poc rep is a perfect recipe |
16c99193855a412997734553de5aca92 | ['0a43fe2426af4ac99212f7e71b4ca36a'] |
Things Have Changed (And That's Okay)
**Author's Note:**
> i didn't edit this but it's 10 pm so i'm just hoping that it actually makes some sense. also i wrote this cus school makes me sad + there should be more bandi fics brUh
>
> \- the title's from that green gentleman by panic! at the disco
The smell of pancakes engulfed in the sweetness of maple syrup bring Buffy to awaken ten minutes before her usual six o’clock alarm. It’s heavenly, almost, and puts a smile to her face. She hardly can remember the last time she’d been woken up to an actual breakfast, not since the last time her mother was with her. Buffy’s smile then fades. Was it her dad who’d made pancakes, then? Curiously, she kicks her blanket off herself and gets out of bed. The smell grows sweeter the closer she gets to the kitchen, and a gasp gets caught in her throat when she sees her mom capping the bottle of syrup. “ _Mom _?” Buffy whispers, mostly to herself as she’s sure what she’s seeing couldn’t possibly be real. Just last weekend they’d been talking about how she wouldn’t be home for another six months. Buffy’s jaw is dropped as she sees her mother’s bright brown eyes look to her. “Hey, sweetheart,” Her smile grows, “What’s wrong?” She starts plating two pancakes for her daughter, and sets them at the table for Buffy to sit at. But Buffy feels completely frozen to the tile floor.__
____
“Noth- I… I didn’t know you were home- you said-” Buffy stutters over her words, then squeezes her eyes shut. She’s hit with another wave of confusion as she tries to make sense of why her mother is home now. Unless she came in the middle of the night and didn’t tell her- but why would she do that-
“I stopped by to meet up with my friend. Karla, remember? I said I wouldn’t get home until pretty late. Come eat, then we can get you to school.” Another warm smile and a nod to the table. Buffy conciles, feeling heavy with each step she takes to her chair just across from where her mom stands. She feels _strange _. As if everything is out of place. Even outside looked a lot more darker and gloomy, from what Buffy can make out of it from the kitchen window. Yesterday she was shooting hoops outside with Jonah Beck while waiting to get picked up from school, the sun beating down on them was intense. This weather is nothing compared to that.__
____
__
“I thought you weren’t going to be here until October,” Buffy says, followed by scratch from her fork raking across the glass plate. She cringes slightly while lifting the utensil up. Her mother’s smile falters a bit, and she takes a seat in front of Buffy. “What are you talking about, dear? It’s already December. I’ve been back for awhile now. Are you feeling alright?” The last question is meant as a joke, Buffy could tell by the cheerful voice of her mother, but no. Buffy is definitely not feeling alright given that she could have sworn just yesterday that Cyrus was talking about Valentine’s Day being just a week away. Buffy swallows hard, glaring down at her plate and pushes a piece of horribly sliced pancake back and forth across it.
“Yeah, I’m okay, mom. I’m just- still surprised and really happy you’re back. That’s all.” Buffy shrugs. She still feels odd. It couldn’t possibly be October. There’s absolutely no way.
“I’m happy I’m back too,” her mother places her hand over Buffy’s that is still holding the fork, “Now hurry up and eat, love. Can’t be late for school.”
Buffy feels a queasy feeling settle into the pit of her stomach. She places her hand over where the pain is, and her shoulders droop. The morning's already been mortifying, she’s scared of what else could happen following the rest of the day.
-
The building is familiar, yet Buffy has never been this close to it. She has to rub at her eyes to tell if she’s seeing correctly. It looks almost identical to Jefferson, except _Jefferson High School _is printed onto the building along with a mascot. Her stomach drops. “Mom?” She looks to her side. Her mother hums and turns down the radio. A song she’s never heard before.__
____
____
“Why are- why are we at a high school?” She stutters again. When she looks back out the window, she spies Jonah, her eyes widen. Since when was she shorter than Jonah? “What’re you talking about, sweetheart?” The nickname sounds strangely as if she’s been mocked, “It’s your school. What’s going on with you today?” She laughs sweetly, just like the syrup on their pancakes from breakfast.
Buffy shakes her head. She leans back into the passenger seat of the car, out the window where she notices more kids from Jefferson. Jonah’s gone, which makes her worry more. “I don’t know, mom. I’ll- I’ll try figuring it out.”
Her mom leans over to press a kiss to her forehead. “Okay,” she says, “Hope you have a good day. I love you.” | ca4a92797c7d4d39a395b64c6a6a9230 | ['0a43fe2426af4ac99212f7e71b4ca36a'] | His dad would make fun of him if he saw his son pleading to an Android. However, TJ couldn’t help but do just that. The Android’s different, TJ couldn’t let it be tossed aside or used for spare parts later.
He touches its shoulders again. He wishes it to collapse.
Again, it stays still. Except, this time, the Android’s eyes shoot open, revealing dark brown irises, pitch black pupil accompanying them. “Fuck,” TJ curses, jumping back from the frightment the Android had caused him. His green eyes meet the mocha ones for a few long, silent, deathly silent, seconds. “Can you…” TJ pauses, “Can you hear me?”
The Android blinks. It creeps TJ out. He tries to take another step back but his feet are tuck to the floor.
Slowly, the Android nods. A sense of accomplishment floods inside of TJ. “Thank God, okay,” he says. “Um- I- do you have a name?” He sutters, mind racing to find the next thing to ask it. With this question, the Android would have to speak.
TJ holds his breath. The lips of the machine that’s stiff underneath his fingertips twitch.
“I… don’t recall,” it answers.
This time, TJ’s mouth falls open. The Android blinks again, slower. “What did it start with?”
“A C, I think.”
TJ hums in confirmation. He racks his brain for names that start with C.
He says the first one that comes to mind, “Cameron?”
The Android almost immediately shakes his head, confirming that Cameron was definitely not its name. TJ licks his lip, again searching for names. He’s about to say Christian when the Android’s lips part to speak, it says, “Cyrus. That’s what I was named.”
“Cyrus,” TJ tries the name, letting the syllables roll of his tongue with ease.
“Nice to meet you, Cyrus. I’m TJ.”
**Author's Note:**
> no offense but i can't wait until andi comes in so i can develop the possible ambi not to push the main ship to the side or anythin but :^))))))
>
> also i hope whoever read this liked it!! |
95c4ac35e3504e739d978be51ddf0856 | ['0a459865b3df4bb4ae8fd1a73dade76a'] | “That lake is a bit of a secret location. I’m not sure that anyone other than Wynonna or I know about it or how to get there. So we’ve always kind of used it as a spot to bring a date for a fun day. Well, Wynonna did. I really only ever brought one other person there before you.”
“Yeah, Haught-wheels. You should feel honoured! We’re both pretty secretive about it. Well, Waverly more so than me. You’re in rare company now of those who get to see the Earp sisters naked in that lake!”
Nicole’s eyes were wide as she listened. She was clearly still trying to find her footing in this conversation and it looked like she was somewhat panicked about how to respond to Wynonna’s comments about seeing her sister naked.
“Wow. Okay. I do…feel honoured…that you took me there. Thank you.”
Waverly leaned in then and placed a soft kiss against Nicole’s cheek.
“You’re welcome. I had a great time with you there. Faux bear included.”
“Eww, babygirl! I don’t need to hear your terms for each other’s naked parts! Now, come on, dinner is ready!”
“No! Wynonna! There really was a…we thought it was a bear. But it was just a deer. Anyway…”
She got up from Nicole’s lap and was about to explain to Wynonna that they should probably make some alternative arrangements for food when Wynonna pushed her down in a chair and put two plates in front of them. Nicole looked like she was working hard to school her facial expression at the sight of the food in front of her. Waverly watched as she scooped a few macaroni on her fork, carefully avoiding the burnt bits of hot dog. Before Nicole could shove the fork into her mouth, Waverly placed her hand on the other woman’s arm. Nicole looked up and Waverly just shook her head at her, which triggered a sigh of relief and Nicole put the fork down on the plate.
“Wynonna. You know I love you, right?”
“Of course you do. I’m awesome.”
“You are. But you suck at cooking! I really, really appreciate the gesture, and I know that nine year old Waverly would have loved this and inhaled every last noodle on her plate. Adult Waverly is vegan, though, so how about we call for delivery?”
For a brief second, something flashed across Wynonna’s face that looked a bit like disappointment, but it was chased away quickly by a mischievous smile.
“Well, maybe Nicole here likes my cooking. What do you think, Nicole? Have you tried it? Good?”
“Uh, I…”
“Actually, Nicole has some dietary restrictions, too. No pasta for her.”
Nicole looked up at her and Waverly could see the sheer gratitude written across her entire face. It made her giggle a little, but it also made her shake her head a little at the other woman. Nicole had been a second away from eating a fork full of burnt noodles just because Wynonna put it in front of her. Waverly made a mental note to pull Nicole aside later and let her know that it was okay to say no to her sister, even if that meant having to face an offensive comment here or there.
“Ah, so you’re both made for each other, then. Food pussies. Okay, well, if you don’t want to eat my food, go ahead and take care of yourselves then.”
At that, Wynonna leaned back against the stove, plate in hand, and took two demonstrative bites of her own creation. Waverly watched as her sister’s face changed from defiance to disgust as she chewed and tasted her food. Finally, Wynonna turned around and put her plate on the counter before she quickly walked out of the kitchen, whiskey in hand.
“Well, go on, losers! Go call someone to bring us food. I’m hungry!”
Waverly snorted and went to grab her phone. She returned and sat back down on Nicole’s lap, who looked a bit shell-shocked from the previous interaction.
“Hey. I’m sorry about her. I told you she can be a bit much.”
“Oh. Yeah. No, it’s all good. I’m just experiencing some whiplash, I think. It was such a nice and quiet day with just you. My brain isn’t quite there yet when it comes to your sister.”
Waverly smiled.
“It’s okay. It takes most people years to wrap their head around my sister.”
At that, Nicole finally smiled back and pulled Waverly close for a short kiss. After a moment or two, they heard footsteps shuffling back into the kitchen.
“Hey! No making out on the kitchen table! That’s gross. I eat here. And speaking of eat, have you ordered the food yet?”
“Wynonna!”
Waverly rolled her eyes at her sister while Nicole giggled a little and buried her face into Waverly’s shoulder.
“I’m just saying! I’m hungry!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But if you don’t behave, I’ll call in for food just for Nicole and myself and you can eat your own concoction that is still on the stove.” | af0137a4afa14599bc3e3d14e6cf4be5 | ['0a459865b3df4bb4ae8fd1a73dade76a'] | Nicole held out her hand for Waverly to grab, so she could help her out of the Jeep and out of the ditch. Waverly quickly gathered her purse and phone and let Nicole lead her to the cruiser and help her into the passenger seat. Nicole then went back to the Jeep, pulled the keys from the ignition and locked both doors. She checked whether the vehicle was far enough in the ditch that it would not pose a road hazard for now, and when she was satisfied that it was safe to leave the Jeep, she made her way back to the cruiser. She popped the trunk to find the First Aid kit that was stored there, and pulled out the ice pack that was part of it and cracked it a couple of times to activate it. After shrugging off more snow, she got back into the driver seat and handed Waverly the ice pack.
“Thank you” Waverly gingerly pressed the ice pack against her eye.
“Not a problem. I have to radio into the station to let them know what is happening, and then I’ll drive you home, okay?” Waverly nodded.
Nicole quickly relayed the situation to Ruthie, informing her that she was about to drive Miss Earp the rest of the way home.
“Earp? That was Waverly’s car? Is she okay?”
Nicole shot Waverly a quick glance. “Yeah, she is fine. Bumped her head a bit and the Jeep isn’t driveable anymore, but she is fine.”
“Thank god!” Ruthie exclaimed, relief evident in her voice. “Tell that girl to take it easy, and if the roads are better tomorrow, I’ll swing by Shorty’s and drop off some homemade pie for her.”
“Okay, I’ll tell her. Thanks, Ruthie.” Once again, she glanced over at Waverly. “Sounds like you’re quite the popular girl around here.”
Waverly ducked her head a bit. “It’s all in the smile and wave” she said, words that sounded rehearsed and not quite genuine. Nicole frowned slightly before Waverly continued “Well that, and I serve alcohol in the only bar in town, so people tend to want to stay on my good side.”
“Ah. Okay. Duly noted. I hope that rescuing you from the side of the road in an epic snow storm puts me on your good side for now?” Waverly was really smiling now, eyes crinkling at the corners and Nicole suddenly felt very warm.
“Oh, absolutely. My hero!” She made an exaggerated motion with her hands and blinked through her lashes at Nicole in a way that was reminiscent of a cartoon character swooning over the knight in shining armour. It made Nicole chuckle and blush deeply.
She cleared her throat. “Okay, Miss Earp.”
“Waverly. Please, call me Waverly. I thought we had already established that.”
“Right. Sorry. Okay, Waverly. Where am I driving you?”
Waverly pondered the question for a moment. “Well, technically I was on my way out to the Homestead. My sister and I live out there, but she is away for a couple of days, so no one is really waiting for me there.” She was rambling now, sounding as breathless as she did when Nicole first asked her about what had happened to the Jeep. “But if you drive me out there, then I won’t have a vehicle and I’ll be kind of stuck in the middle of nowhere. I can stay in the apartment above Shorty’s, though, in town. I work there, and Shorty lets me stay in the apartment when I need it. So can you drive me there?”
“Shorty’s bar it is.” Nicole said, turned the engine on and pointed her cruiser toward town. “I’ll have to warn you, it’s gonna be a bit of a slow haul to get there in this snow.”
Waverly looked up and out of the windshield, noticing for the first time just how much harder it was snowing compared to when she had first hit the ditch. “Yeah, no worries. I can see, it is really coming down! Just thank you for coming out to get me at all in this.”
“Not a problem at all. It’s my job. Now, are you okay for now? Is your head okay? Do you need anything? I have some water” she pointed to her reusable stainless steel water bottle “and there is probably a granola bar in the glove box if you are hungry at all.”
Waverly smirked a bit, but shook her head. “I’m okay, thank you. Would you mind if we turn up the heat a little bit, though? My toes feel a little bit frozen.”
“Of course” Nicole reached over and fiddled with the knobs and dials for a bit. “There, that should help.”
“Thank you.”
They drove along in silence for a while, slowly making their way back towards town. After a few minutes, Waverly looked over, scanning Nicole’s face and profile.
“You’re new in town?”
It wasn’t really a question, more stating the obvious. “Yeah, I am. Moved here from the city a few weeks ago.”
“Oh. I haven’t seen you around yet. I don’t mean to sound like I know everybody, but…I kind of do.”
Nicole smirked. “You do?”
“Well yes, I mean, I’ve lived here all my life. And I do work in the only bar in town.” She shrugged her shoulders pointedly to highlight how that alone made her an expert in knowing probably way too much about Purgatory’s residents.
“Right. Well, like I said, I only just moved here not long ago, and as the rookie officer, I’ve been working the late shifts for the most part, so that doesn’t exactly lend itself to socializing with the locals in the bar at night.”
“We are open for lunch, though, so you could check it out during the day some time? First drink is on me! As a thank you for today, for helping me!” |
4b991e8d972f4bbd8eddc8084a8bfc4e | ['0a4bd5f205f042959904fed4f19a24d5'] | Worlds are changed. Violently and for the better.
But in the end… does it truly matter?
It matters not how we change the world around us.
The most important parts of our lives are not how we change the world around us, but how we change the worlds of those around us.
Kim Hongjoong would live and die and thrive among dragons.
His life began, lost in the wars of dragons, and it continued, battling dragons as if they were own demons…
And his life… His marvelous, short, fleeting, _ beautiful _ life…
It would end with dragons.
Dragons who loved and lived as vibrantly as any human had ever _ dared _ to. Dragons who had chosen to remain by their sides.
By the ones they changed and were changed by.
By the ones who destroyed and rebuilt worlds beside them.
Dragons who chose to live and die beside the ones they chose to love and be loved by.
Their lives will end, as they began.
Our story began, as it ends.
With an action of love.
And with dragons.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> It was a wild ride, and I’m really glad for how the story turned out! This was not originally how I planned the story at all, but that’s the fun of writing!
I’m not sure what I’ll write next, and I’m not sure how busy my schedule will stay, but I’ll keep you posted as best I can!
Thank you to everyone, and please let me know what you thought!
Have an amazing day, lovelies, and I’ll see you in my next work!
-SS
**Author's Note:**
> I have a Twitter and CC! Both @_SinisterSound_
I’m always up to talk! I promise I don’t bite! >ㅅ<
Thank you so much for reading! | f3f7454080104be592117986a3edce48 | ['0a4bd5f205f042959904fed4f19a24d5'] | He stumbled, catching himself, but unable to keep in the pained yelp that echoed through the darkness that was suffocating.
_ “You truly are abandoning him?” _ Suho chuckled, voice dripping something acidic. “ _ Cold hearted, even for someone such as yourself, Seonghwa.” _
Almost there, I have to be almost there-
_ “He was crying for you, you know.” _
Seonghwa stumbled again, gritting his teeth and bobbing between trees, trying to put more distance between them.
_ “While he was laying there, just letting me shred him to his bones. He called for you. I honestly didn’t think you’d come, but then… then I heard you running through the woods, and I was so amused.” _
Seonghwa broke through a row of thickets, panting and letting blood drip from his mouth, the taste overwhelming, coating his throat. He stood in the short clearing, no more than ten feet of clearing before a dark abyss that stretched forever.
_ “And then you risked so much for him… just to run away? You couldn’t even give him the dignity to watch him die?” _
Seonghwa turned, his shoulder throbbing as he was forced to place his weight on it, backing up as far as he could manage.
Suho broke through the foliage, coming to stand in the clearing. His eyes glinted. “ _ Oh,” _ he tisked. “ _ Did Hongjoong not tell you about the gorge? Thought you could keep running forever?” _
Seonghwa stopped, staring silently, and it wasn’t until now that he realized his chest hurt, his lungs struggling to take in air, as if trying to blow up a broken balloon.
Suho paused, chuckling. “ _ I truly wish I could have gotten to know you as much as I did Hongjoong. You seem much more interesting.” _
Each mention of this monster’s time with Hongjoong made his blood boil painfully, but Seonghwa didn’t lung, didn’t attack. He winced, swallowing a cry as a fresh wave of pain hit his side, making him shift.
_ “But perhaps, you’re just as stupid, thinking you stood a chance,” _ Suho snickered. “ _ I can’t imagine what possessed you to think that bonding with him could have been good. When I knew him, he was so _ whiny _ .” _
Seonghwa’s claws dug into the ground, part of the pain numbing with rage and adrenaline.
_ “He still begged and whined, as if that would save him.” _ He shook his head, limping forward another step. “ _ Let’s see if you’ll beg for your life, like he did.” _
Suho raced forward, slower than before but still so fucking fast-
Seonghwa dug his claws in, shoving himself to the side at the last moment before Suho hit him, looking to see his body fall over the edge-
Suho dug his claws in, swinging towards Seonghwa, and suddenly Seonghwa was on the ground, blinded by a pain that followed a sickening crack in his side as Suho pressed his paw against it.
_ “How truly desperate,” _ he snarled, voice raging with anger that echoed in the clearing, teeth bared as he lowered himself to Seonghwa’s face, dripping blood. “ _ For you to think me stupid enough to fall over the edge all on my own. Like some raging bull. Never underestimate an enemy’s mind, Seonghwa. It’s a deadly mistake.” _
Seonghwa couldn’t respond, trying to breath through the white hot pain that only grew with each burst of air he forced inside of himself, body paralyzed and bleeding.
No. No, not like this, not like this, Hongjoong was still out there, he was still going to kill Hongjoong-
A last ditch effort, Seonghwa forced his head up, teeth closing around the bottom of Suho’s jaw, catching his maw-
Suho recoiled, snarling, foot pressing harder, Seonghwa screaming-
A blur of stained-white and the weight on Seonghwa was gone, but the agony dimmed none. He forced his eyes open, trying to see through the blurred pain-
Seonghwa looked up in time for pure white and grey to tumble over each other, yelping, and then grey was slipping over the edge, a desperate claw digging into white and dragging-
Suho’s claw caught Hongjoong’s hind leg where he slid, pulling him with him as they both slipped over the edge, Hongjoong crying out, in fear, in pain, clawing-
_ “Seonghwa!” _
Seonghwa didn’t remember moving, but he saw white slipping over the edge, into an abyss, heard his voice, his name, Hongjoong was calling for him-
_ Be there for him, for once in your pitiful life- _
-and he was there, not breathing, not moving, his claws sunk into Hongjoong’s paws.
Hongjoong yelped, and Seonghwa flinched, feeling blood- Hongjoong’s blood- over his paws, but he couldn’t let him fall- he wasn’t strong enough to pull him up, he couldn’t let him fall-
There was the distant sound of yelps, far into the cavern beneath them-
_ Pull him up _ , Seonghwa screamed internally. _ Pull him up, he’s still over the edge- _
The only thing between Hongjoong and an abyss was Seonghwa’s claws digging into his flesh, the rest of Seonghwa’s body limp and useless behind him, only acting as a deadweight against Hongjoong’s body pulling down towards the gorge.
Seonghwa’s vision was spotty, and he could barely see the white of his fur from the darkness around them. He felt Hongjoong slip another inch, and he sunk his claws deeper, Hongjoong biting back a whine, unable to actually pull him up, all of him focused on not letting go, don’t give in, don’t you dare let him fall-
_ He wasn’t strong enough to pull him up- _
_ “Seonghwa…” _
It was barely a whisper, scared and shaking, and Seonghwa blocked it out, too focused on keeping his grip. |
efe23309755f4b1aad842deff3137e4f | ['0a5e499fc82441819ceea516a5261722'] | Before very long at all, he asks Shaun to simply call him either John or just Hancock. Shaun can't help but smile at that; he feels like Hancock sees him as an adult, as only adults get to call other adults by their names without a Mr. or a Mrs. He feels braver, now, and stands a little taller when he walks with Hancock to wherever Sanctuary is.
Shaun shares with him along the way, and Hancock answers the questions that he has all in stride, never once getting frustrated with him walking slowly just to look at something new. When they make camp at night Hancock lets him help with the fire and the cooking, and Shaun knows that Hancock is good. He doesn't once treat him like a stupid kid, and Shaun feels very proud of himself for that.
When they are nearing Sanctuary (and John has told him a lot about Sanctuary; it sounds like a good home, to Shaun) he remembers that Hancock and his mom had kissed before they'd left the Institute. Shaun only hesitates a moment to ask about it; Hancock obviously views him as a smart kid (he even said as much when he'd caught him tinkering one night by the fire with an old piece of equipment).
And so Shaun asks Hancock if he's in love with his mom.
It's hard to tell with his eyes so black, but Shaun could swear that Hancock looks at him from the side for a long moment before he responds. He sounds, not nervous (not quite, at least) but at least a little concerned when he asks Shaun – without answering the question, which Shaun takes note of for now – if Shaun would be upset if he said yes.
Shaun smiles. He wouldn't be upset, not at all, and he tells Hancock as much. Hancock huffs a laugh and doesn't say anything, but Shaun is sure of the answer anyways. He is, after all, a smart kid.
Hancock shows him their home and introduces him to Dogmeat, who Shaun loves instantly and who follows Shaun relentlessly. Shaun's room is empty, but Hancock tells him they can bring a bed over for him and a dresser too for his clothes (which Shaun is quite limited on). He shows Shaun his mom's work station and tells him that he can poke around in it and tinker to his heart's desire.
Shaun is nearly giddy at the thought.
The time passes quickly at his new home; Hancock and a man named Preston move the promised furniture into Shaun's room, and he makes a few things from his mom's work station to make it more his own (though Hancock has to encourage him a bit; he is still not sure exactly how much of his mom's work station he can _really_ use before it's too much). Hancock always eats breakfast and dinner with him and makes sure he has what he needs before bed, and he doesn't have too many rules for Shaun, which is fun. He lets him have snack cakes for lunch one day.
Hancock introduces Shaun to his mother's friends who live in Sanctuary too. He meets so many people, and though they are all so different, they are all so kind to him. He thinks he likes Piper the best, because she tells him to call her Aunt Pipes and he thinks the name is funny. Nick he likes too, because he looks like a detective from a comic book and he's always nice to Hancock, and not everyone always is. Preston is nice, but he has a lot of rules, and Cait is fun to wrestle with once he comes out of his shell a little bit (and he almost always wins against her, too). He isn't sure how he feels about MacCready until he promises him he'll teach him how to shoot a gun (Hancock does not like that as much as Shaun does) and tells him he can call him Uncle Mac. Curie gives him a checkup and says he's strong, and he loves that because Hancock looks happy at the news. He meets Mama Murphy too, but she's kind of weird and even though he thinks she's probably really a nice lady she kind of freaks him out a little and so he keeps some distance from her when he can.
Shaun can't believe how many friends his mom has, really. They are all kind to him and they all tell him to ask if the needs something and even the people who live in the town are nice to Shaun. He figures his mom must have done a lot of good things for all of these people to love her so much.
But eventually, Shaun misses his mother, and he mentions it to Hancock. When he asks Hancock if he misses her too, he only nods. He doesn't say if she'll be home soon or not.
In the end, though, it is only three more days before Shaun hears her coming. Really, he hears other people calling her name from where he's working. He looks to Mama Murphy questioningly – she's taken her seat today across the room from his newly designated work station – and she only nods once at him before he's on his feet and running out the door.
He spots Hancock before he sees her, really. There's a small crowd gathered around her and he can barely see her head poking up in the middle, but he sees Hancock standing calmly off to the side, barely smiling and just waiting. Shaun thinks about running to her, but the crowd is thick and he knows she'll find them when they all go away. | fdde605447e84e408625b741370f9324 | ['0a5e499fc82441819ceea516a5261722'] |
1. Chapter 1
Piper is the first to notice it, and of course she is. She's a reporter; it's something she takes pride in, being able to notice even the most subtle things.
And subtle it is. She isn't even sure it's anything worth noting at first, but the reporter in her won't let it go. She tells herself that she pursues this lead so relentlessly because her friend is involved, but she knows deep down she just loves the thrill of a new story (even if it's one she'll never put to print).
At first, it is only the way he addresses her that changes. He's friendlier around her, and calls her 'sister,' and though that normally wouldn't be enough to set the bells off in Piper's head, she does not miss the way his eyes now glint when he looks at her dear friend.
Piper doubts that Nora even notices at first. She knows that she's been through so much, and though time has passed and she's found her son (but certainly not how she'd hoped – Piper would never forget the grief in Nora's eyes when she'd come back to Sanctuary that day) there is still a hurt in her eyes sometimes.
The sadness in her friend comes less and less often the more time passes, but Piper knows it's still there. Grief like that never really lets go, only comes and goes like the tides.
Piper sees all of these things, more clearly than others but slower than some. She wonders if Nick has noticed the change in Hancock yet; the old PI doesn't miss much, and he misses nothing when his friends are involved. Piper knows he's come to care for Nora in a way that surprised him initially.
As time passes Hancock becomes more and more obvious, but only to Piper. If anyone else notices, they don't say anything. The look in his eyes when he sees Nora, and the way his mouth turns to the most subtle smile when she waves at him, coming over the bridge and back to Sanctuary are the only signs Piper needs to confirm what she's suspected for some time now.
The old ghoul cares for Nora.
And not in the way that they all do; Nora has her charm and they've all fallen for her in their own ways. Hancock's, though, is different, _special_ , in a way that makes Piper almost envious of the Sole Survivor.
It almost doesn't surprise Piper; not really. She's dug up her fair share of dirt on her town and she's had her suspicions as to where the ghoul comes from, and she knows he is no stranger to hardship. His hardened chem addiction alone is enough for her to see that he is just as alone as they all are, out in the wastes.
For someone like Nora, someone so caring, so kind, and so originally _her_ to come along into a life like Hancock's; it is no surprise to Piper that he's falling for her.
What does surprise Piper, though, is that Nora goes straight to Hancock once she's in town. She embraces him (she hugs them all, when she first sees them again after some time apart) in a way that is _different_ from the way she hugs Piper, and they linger just a moment longer than they might otherwise have done if there was nothing between them.
Piper considers Nora her closest friend, and to be fair, it is because it's the truth. Nora is the first person in _so long_ to give Piper a chance; to look at her as another person just trying to get by instead of a snoop, just digging for the next big story. And Nora trusts Piper, truly trusts her, in a way that still staggers the girl. She was the only one who knew the truth of the Institute, of Shaun's role in everything. She'd been the one that Nora cried to when she realized that not only did she miss the first ten years of her child's life, but the first sixty.
Piper wonders how soon it will be until Nora comes to her, wondering about her feelings for Hancock. For as clearly as Piper saw through him, weeks ago, with a glint in his eye, she now sees too through Nora. There is a linger in their embrace when she returns, and a look in her eyes not unlike Hancock's, and a smile in her voice that Piper is almost sure she's never heard before.
Piper does not know the demons that Hancock is running from. She knows well the ones that chase Nora, and wake her most nights in a cold sweat. She thinks that though both of them have their problems and their fears, they might be good for each other.
She hopes so, at least, because she's tired of unhappy endings in the stories she writes.
* * *
_A/N: Hey there! Here's my first Fallout fic. I wanted to jump on this bandwagon, because I've been playing the game nonstop since release. I figured if I'm going to slow down on playing, I might as well write._
_Feels counter intuitive, now that I think about it._
_Anyways, I always appreciate reviews! Let me know what you think; present tense is so fun to write but it's not my best, so I'm always looking for some gentle constructive criticism. Hope you like it!_
_I'll be running through various character's views on the f!SS/Hancock relationship. Mostly companions, some random characters thrown in just because they're interesting. I'm hoping to update twice a week, but if I write the whole story in one go (it's a boring day, it's possible) then I'll just dump it out on here a little faster._
_Cheers!
-Sgt_
2. Chapter 2 |
74b1a4a3da204688b60bf18cabbf4fb4 | ['0a65e1d2d19642079504aa23819586b2'] | meet in the middle of impossibility
**Author's Note:**
> Contains discussion of PTSD symptoms and references the canonical death of a child, but nothing's graphic.
>
> Title taken from "Mystery" by the Indigo Girls.
Leta breaks people close to her.
She killed her mother just by being born. She killed Corvus thanks to a moment of selfishness and jealousy. She got Newt expelled because she was too much of a coward to tell the truth.
She does her best to keep other people away, not wanting to carry around any more guilt than she already does, but she lets Theseus get close.
Partly it’s because he’s funny and sharp and big-hearted, and she’s so desperately lonely, but it’s also – and she will never say this out loud, because she knows how it sounds – it’s also because Theseus is already broken.
He won’t talk about the war, even almost ten years after it ends, but he doesn’t have to for her to see its effects. He jerks awake in the middle of the night sometimes and won’t go back to bed until he’s checked all the wards and locks on their flat, and he startles at certain noises. He’s obsessive about his work as an Auror, like he thinks the safety of the entirety of wizarding Britain is on his shoulders, and she catches him staring at the newspaper sometimes, like he’s committing each and every atrocity to memory.
Theseus and Newt share a lot of qualities, even if neither likes to admit it, but optimism isn’t one of them. Newt, for all that he’s no stranger to cruelty, believes people can get better and sees the good in even the most maligned of monsters. Theseus, on the other hand, is always imagining the worst possible outcome, waiting for it to arrive.
She loved – loves – Newt for that boundless hope, but she could never believe in it, could never build a life on it. She tamped down the burgeoning feelings she had for Newt when she saw him care for his orphaned and sick creatures, because she knew then that he would be a wonderful father, just as surely as she knew she could never be a mother.
She never tells Theseus that either, but she doesn’t have to - he whispers to her one night, after both their parents have started dropping hints about setting a date, that he doesn’t want children, not when there’s no guarantee they wouldn’t be dragged into a new war. Leta holds him, tells him she loves him and that they won’t do anything he doesn’t want, and feels guilty about the relief spreading through her.
She does love Theseus, deeply and truly, no matter what people might mutter behind her back, but she only let herself because he’s got the same fractures she does. | 2f4b191abf194c09b2521640289804d1 | ['0a65e1d2d19642079504aa23819586b2'] | He does his best to look calm when Newt enters the room and joins him under the covers, but evidently he doesn’t succeed. “Surely you don’t sleep all stiff like that,” Newt says, his tone teasing, but he’s also smiling so Credence knows he doesn’t mean anything by it. “Come on, relax a bit,” he adds, while nudging Credence’s feet with his own so their ankles end up tangled together. Credence complies, and ends up on his side, facing Newt, their torsos not touching but close enough that Credence can feel Newt's body heat and listen to the quiet sounds of his breath.
Close enough that even when he closes his eyes he knows he’s not alone, so he gives into his exhaustion and lets himself drift off to sleep.
* * *
He wakes up to Newt gripping his shoulder and saying his name, sounding worried. He shakes off the last dregs of the nightmare and realizes that he’s wet, and he’s gotten Newt wet too. “Sorry,” he croaks out, his throat tight, and he can feel tears starting to prick at his eyes.
“It’s all right Credence, really,” Newt says, as he waves his wand and vanishes the mess. “See, all cleaned up.”
But it doesn’t get rid of Credence’s embarrassment, or the lingering fear from his nightmare. He can feel himself trembling, and to his horror a tear escapes and rolls down his face.
“Credence? Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean –”
“No, you’re,” _perfect_ , he thinks, “fine. I just –” He doesn’t know why he’s reacting like this; he’d wanted Newt here with him after all, but somehow everything’s a bit too much at the moment and he can’t make it stop.
“What can I do to help?” Newt asks.
“Hold me?” Credence says without thinking, but before he can feel too self-conscious about it Newt’s lain back down and wrapped his arms around him.
It doesn’t fix everything immediately. But gradually, as Credence focuses on Newt’s fingers carding through his hair and the texture of Newt's pajama top against his cheek, his tears dry up and his shaking tapers off. Still, Newt stays where he is and continues to hold Credence close. “Do you want to talk about your nightmare?” he asks.
“I don’t remember the details,” Credence says. “I think I was back in the church for some of it, and in the subway platform, and –”
“And?” Newt presses gently.
“And where the smugglers held me hostage,” Credence admits. “Mostly I just remember feeling so alone.”
“I’m sorry you got kidnapped.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Credence says, more to deflect the conversation than because he really thinks that’s what Newt meant.
But he’s wrong, because Newt follows with, “Wasn’t it though?”
“How was it your fault?” Credence asks, thoroughly nonplussed. Newt had only reluctantly let Credence come along in the first place, and, Credence was sure, had intentionally given him the least dangerous task possible. It was only sheer bad luck that the plan hadn’t worked.
“It wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t do dangerous things like confront smugglers.”
“Have you really been blaming yourself for this?” Credence says, still a bit incredulous. He pulls away from Newt a bit, and props himself up on his elbow so he can look at him more directly. “Look, if there’s one thing I know it’s that _life_ is dangerous. It’s dangerous in a lot of ways, and it’s not your fault for not being able to prevent all of them.” He searches for a comparison he thinks Newt might understand. “Mary Lou hurt Modesty sometimes, and I couldn’t stop it, but that doesn’t mean it was my fault.” He doesn’t always manage to believe this, but he’s getting better at it. “And it wasn’t your fault you couldn’t stop the smugglers from capturing me.
“Even when I was trapped – I can’t say I wasn’t scared, because I was. But I’ve been scared a lot, and this was the first time I knew someone was coming for me, had my back. And that – it makes _such_ a difference, Newt. I know I’ve been a bit of a mess since it happened, but I’ll be all right, I promise.” He debates whether to say the next sentence, because it’s hard to unlearn the lesson that caring about people is an exploitable weakness. But he needs Newt to understand that his influence on Credence’s life has been nothing but positive, so he soldiers on. “Because I’ve got you.”
Newt is quiet long enough that Credence starts to second-guess what he said, but then he says, “Thank you for saying that.”
“I said it because it’s true,” Credence responds, worrying that Newt thinks he was just trying to flatter him or something.
“I know,” Newt says, smiling. “I’m glad you like being with me. I like having you here. Maybe it's selfish, but I don't want you to leave.”
Credence doesn’t say anything at first, because someone actually wanting him around is a new experience. He lies back down next to Newt, this time with his head on Newt's shoulder. "It's not selfish," Credence finally says, "because I want to stay here too."
"Then stay," Newt murmurs softly, wrapping an arm around Credence's back, and Credence falls back asleep to the sound of Newt's heartbeat.
**Author's Note:**
> I don't have any plans to continue this series, but then I said that last time, so who knows. |
cc16a581736c41d28d2b8b3f9a1335c6 | ['0a76262571c44f49985b591f3319a302'] | Remus had always considered himself to be a gentle, understanding person with a lot of patience. There were exceptions to that, of course (such as on the full moon, and whenever there was no jam left in the house), but for the most part, he was a very easy-going human being. However, there were some things that even he couldn't handle.
"You're all absolutely insane," he breathed, his voice stunted with horror. "You're batshit, the lot of you." He started for the door, each step slow and carefully considered, like moves on a chessboard. "I don't think you realise what you're doing. You don't know how stupid you're being."
"You're our best mate, Remus," Sirius whined, like it was Remus who was behaving irrationally, like _he_ was the one being unfair. "Why won't you just let us help you, for once?"
Remus reached the door, and his hand curled smoothly around the knob. He heard it rattle from within his shaking fist. He managed a deep, stabilising breath, and said, "Getting yourselves killed isn't going to help me at all."
By the time he reached the hospital wing (he hadn't intentionally started for it, but had somehow found himself walking the familiar path) he remembered that his left shoe was still lodged under his bed, and he was only in his socks. But that didn't matter.
All he could think about was how _stupid_ his friends were.
* * *
"Think rationally," Sirius urged, which was completely hypocritical given the absolute lack of rationality he himself possessed.
"You were dropped on your head as an infant," Remus replied.
"Probably," Sirius allowed offhandedly, "but we're not talking about my parents and their questionable parenting techniques right now. Tonight we're talking about you, Remus, my darling."
Remus groaned and rolled over in bed so that his face was flat into his pillow. "Why won't you leave me alone?" he mumbled into it. "Why wasn't I put into Ravenclaw, where everyone's asleep by 7.30 and conversation is limited to discussions about homework and exams?" He turned his head back towards Sirius and grumbled, "No Ravenclaw would think your idea is safe."
"Ravenclaws are wet blankets," Sirius said dismissively, "everyone knows that. Gryffindors are brawny, Slytherins are slimy, Hufflepuffs are babies, and Ravenclaws are boring. That's common knowledge."
"Not that Jextley bloke, though," James interjected from across the room, "he's an alright Ravenclaw. I heard he turned himself into a hamster at a party, once. He had to go to St. Mungo's afterwards, but he's okay."
"Alright, that Jextley bloke's the exception. I bet he'd be okay with turning himself into an Animagus. After all, he fancies himself a hamster, doesn't he?" Sirius sounded pleased.
"Sirius," Remus groaned, tired of the conversation, "I've told you already, it's not the Animagus part I have a problem with. I mean, yeah, I think it's stupid as all hell, but if you want to turn into a lizard at the drop of a hat, sure. Go ahead. Waste years of your life learning how. And if you die in the attempt, like some people do, I'll cry at your funeral and I'll probably hate myself for years afterwards for not preventing your death. But that's life! People die turning into lizards, it happens!" He took a deep breath and then continued, "However, you lot frolicking about with me when I'm - _like that?_ No. Nope. No way. It's not going to happen."
"But _Remus_ ," Sirius whined miserably, "we want to keep you _company._ "
"I'm not aware of whether I have company or not when I'm in that condition, Sirius," Remus said, sharp and cool, "I wouldn't even know you're there." Not until he turned back and discovered their ruined corpses and their blood all over his hands, anyway.
"But how do you know?" Sirius persisted. "Have you ever had anyone stay with you?"
Remus wished there were more light in the room so Sirius could see the horrified look on his face.
"No!" he gasped, stricken by the mere suggestion. "Of course not! What part of lycanthropy don't you understand? What part of _life-long-incurable-disease_ doesn't register with you lot? People _die!_ "
Sirius huffed. "You're just being stubborn," he ground out through clenched teeth.
"This isn't a game," Remus replied, sick to death of Sirius's nonchalant approach to his dangerous condition. "You don't get to convince me that I'm wrong, Sirius. I'm not about to change my mind and get the three of you killed! Or – or _worse!_ " His breath was ragged and uneven, and it required several deep, trembling breaths before he could continue. "End of story," he managed. "Goodnight."
Miraculously, Sirius didn't argue.
* * *
The full moon came and left Remus lying in the hospital wing, sore and aching. He'd dislocated his shoulder, practically detached it from his torso, to hear Madam Pomfrey tell it, and so she'd prescribed him a dose of bed-rest until the muscles had healed. It was frustrating, being bedridden when there was so much he could otherwise be doing, but loathe as he was to admit it, he needed the brief vacation from his friends.
Sirius had always been stubbornly determined, and that was becoming clearly evident in his refusal to give up on the idea of becoming an Animagus. He pestered Remus constantly about it, regardless of how many times Remus had turned him down, had explained why it wouldn't work, had given him reasons and figures and facts and statistics about why it was the most idiotic idea in the history of mankind. But despite that - despite it all - Sirius kept coming back like a dog with a bone, determined to get Remus to agree. It was annoying, yes, but more than the annoyance it was Sirius's blatant disregard of Remus's opinion that upset him most. Whatever Remus said, it didn't matter. Not to Sirius. | 048de37d890d41989dfc5dec433a7634 | ['0a76262571c44f49985b591f3319a302'] | So Steve let him. He sat at the table with his laptop and he read over the top news articles of the week, always keeping an eye open for anything on S.H.I.E.L.D. or HYDRA, and he continued his research on the things from his ever-growing list – _Oprah Winfrey (and Gayle?)_.Every now and again he paused to check that Bucky hadn’t set anything on fire yet.
“I’m not incompetent,” he grumbled when he caught Steve peering at him. “Who was it that kept you fed all those times you were laid up sick?”
“You did,” he sighed. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to properly thank him for that. “You always did.”
“Exactly, now just sit tight and quit making me nervous, alright? I’m not about to set the damn oven on fire.”
Bucky had been Steve’s official housemate for three days already. He’d arrived on the first day with two duffle bags to his name and an enormous military trunk that was securely padlocked shut.
“Arsenal,” he’d grunted by way of explanation, carrying it easily into his room and placing it gently at the foot of his bed. “Just in case,” he’d added, dusting his hands together and smiling at him sweetly.
Steve had been thinking about what Natasha had said as well as the things Bucky had told him personally. He understood that he’d been wrong in waiting for a switch to flip and for Bucky Barnes of 1943 to suddenly appear before him, both arms whole, no blood on his hands, his hair still cropped tight and his smile smooth and easy. Steve _understood_ now, and it hurt him to realise just how insensitive he’d been – just how short-sighted he was. Bucky was Bucky, just as Steve, for all his experiences, was still Steve.
Bucky’s hair was falling out of the ponytail – it was just a tad too short and uneven for it to tie back neatly – and Steve watched as he blew a strand out of his face with quirked lips. He stirred whatever was in the saucepan and propped a hand on his waist. He was in one of Steve’s older shirts, something he’d been given after the Battle of New York. He looked at home.
Steve felt the rise of a sharp throb of affection in his chest. It felt like a piece of wire piercing him and tugging his insides out of shape.
“I’m real glad I found you again,” he said.
Bucky looked at him with quiet surprise. Steve saw his throat tighten as he swallowed.
“Me too,” he said. “Real glad.” He smiled at him and Steve felt his chest grow tighter around the feeling that had steadily been consuming him for years.
True to his word, Bucky didn’t cause any fires, and the meal was the best Steve had had since he woke up, if only for the company he shared it with.
~*~
“No, fuck this, this is getting ridiculous,” Bucky erupted on a Sunday morning, dropping his shovel to the ground and ripping the elastic band from his hair as though it had personally insulted his mother. “Steve,” he said, flinging the hair elastic at the ground, “this hair is _bullshit_.”
Steve froze like a deer in headlights, his shovel still partially submerged in the dirt. They’d been digging up the front path before Bucky had gone into his hair-related meltdown.
“Uh.”
“It keeps getting in my eyes,” he explained irritably, raking it backwards with muddy fingers and leaving dark strokes of dirt on his cheeks. “It’s just – it’s impractical. It’s a hazard.”
“Cut it shorter,” he suggested. “I’ve got scissors.”
He turned and stormed for the house and Steve followed hot on his heels.
“You’re gonna have to do it, you know how I am,” Bucky said as he went into the bathroom. “Whenever I do it I end up looking like a shrub.”
Steve had been cutting Bucky’s hair for as long as he could remember. Bucky would sit on the edge of the bathtub and Steve would stretch on his toes behind him, peering over the top of his head as he delicately maintained the neatness of his hair. Not once had he made a mistake – or if he had, Bucky had never minded.
“I haven’t cut hair in seventy years,” he reminded him. “Keep that in mind.”
Bucky shook his head, tore the medicine cabinet open with enough force to nearly bend the hinges, and then he was shoving the scissors into Steve’s hands and throwing himself down to the edge of the tub.
It could almost have been the 40s again, the quiet years before the war. The differences were minimal enough – Bucky’s arm; Steve’s entire body; the new millennium.
Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to balance himself and then stepped into the empty tub behind him. He looked down at his head and wet his lips, suddenly horrendously nervous.
“How short are we talking?” he asked. “Buck, we can afford a barber, y’know. It doesn’t have to be me anymore.”
“I like your haircuts,” he said simply. “I don’t want it _too_ short. Not like—” _Before_.
“How about in-between?” he suggested. “Longer than the 40s, but short enough that it doesn’t get in your eyes.”
“Don’t make me look like some unkempt hobo,” he whined. “Ma would kill me.”
“You’re doing a good enough job of that on your own, thanks. Look at your face, will you? I like the beard but you’re more handso—” He choked. “You’d look nicer without it.”
Bucky grumbled unintelligibly.
Steve took a breath. “Keep still,” he warned. “If I mess up because you’re fidgeting I’m not taking the blame.”
“Don’t mess up.” It sounded like both a plea and a threat.
He took the scissors and pinched a lock of hair between his fingers, then, with a hesitant glance at the back of Bucky’s head, he made the crisp snip. |
b1bbdab816c544be8d083629f394bcfd | ['0a76aa956b0343b78f10e5d4ba932c6c'] | I'm a weirdo
**Author's Note:**
> This is kinda hot take. I am not awere of other fictions using the lyrics in this perticular way, it's an experiment. Enjoy :)
_When you were here before_ I was with Mikey. He took me because I haven’t left the basement in two weeks. I didn’t want to go but he promised me some good music and also he took away my cigs.
_Couldn't look you in the eye_ _._ You were fucking vision. Jumping around without a care, without missing a beat, without losing energy. It was incredible. And I couldn’t catch your eye in the crowd, there was too many people. I was also scared. Scared what would I see in your eyes when you look at my chubby sweaty self. Scared what would you see in mine, when I’m looking at perfection.
_You're just like an angel._ I could worship you. You radiated glory and I was defenceless.
_Your skin makes me cry_ _._ So much of beautiful art. I wish I could add some of my own. I wish I could cares them, to see if I can learn to recognize the lines of each with my fingertips.
_You float like a feather in a beautiful world_ of my mind. I see you now, not only on stage but also in the streets. But when I turn you’re not there. I see you in every face I draw and then I have to redo whole pieces just to not to give myself away. I see you next to me in bed but I’m always alone.
_And I wish I was special. You're so fuckin' special_
_But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo._ I live in a basement and don’t talk to people and I’m awkward and I smoke too much and I drink too much coffee and I saw you only once.
_What the hell am I doing here?_ Love at first sight is a myth. So why am I obsessing over you? You don’t know I exist and yet… I found your full name and address. And now I stand in front of your house in this suburb so different from my own world and I see, _I don't belong here._
_I don't care if it hurts_ to see you and yet not be seen.
_I want to have control_ over myself. But you took that away from me and you don’t even know.
_I want a perfect body_ for you to notice.
_I want a perfect soul_ for you to see.
_I want you to notice when I'm not around_ because I went to all your gigs. I went to see where your school was. I befriended one of your friends, the one who works in a guitar shop and has afro. He’s a solid dude. I started to go to the same mall even though it’s unreasonably far from my house, just so I could hope to see you again. _
You're so fuckin' special_ to me. __
I wish I was special to you.
_But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo._ Lurking on the far left from the stage, lukewarm beer in my hand. Maybe I had one too many of them.
_What the hell am I doing here?_ The opening band ended. I’m here to see you and no one else. I should move closer to you to your line of vision… You see me and your eyes widen, your fingers falter on the strings just for one second. No one will notice, don’t worry. I only noticed because I’ve seen you play this part so many times it’s craved into my brain.
_I don't belong here_ with all these people who don’t even know what gift they got in your form. I belong up there with you. I’ll try to talk to you after the show.
_He's running out again,_ off the stage to joke around with his bandmates. That’s ok Gerard can wait.
_He's running out_ of the club, calling a taxi for himself. Looking behind himself the whole time. Gerard is in no rush. He knows that this club is close to Frank’s house, he usually walks back home if the gig is this close. He’ll have a time to catch up with him, to talk. But when he steps out he sees him getting into the taxi.
_He's run run run run_ away from Gerard.
_Whatever makes you happy,_ Frankie, Gerard thought, I would do for you. _Whatever you want_ I would give you. All I would ask for is for you to love me the same I love you.
_You're so fuckin' special. I wish I was special_ too.
**Author's Note:**
> Hummus. Thoughts? (Kudos to you if you get the reference.)
> But yeah, what do you guys think? | c3e3d65525d04ebe8954c92dbcae5bd6 | ['0a76aa956b0343b78f10e5d4ba932c6c'] |
Blessings
**Author's Note:**
> I watched Fleabag recently and OMG the hot priest is A Concept. Also I wanted to experiment with first person POV. I normally don't write like that and i would love feedback.
Love to Andrejka, my beautiful beta.
Another thing for my horny gremlin J.
Even though it was quite late, the church door was still open and so I decided to try my luck. Loneliness was gnawing at me again and seeing Harry would help, even if I would miss him even more later.
I stepped in, the space of the church was dimly lit. The odd wet smell of myrrh hit me in a nose, but it was not unpleasant. Shadowy figure was moving by the altar. Harry was probably preparing the church for tomorrow. I cleared my throat to catch his attention. Harry turned, a bit in shock of seeing someone in here this late but when he realised it’s me, he smiled.
“Hi, Lou. Didn’t expect you.”
“Hey Father, didn’t see me coming either. I was just in the neighbourhood.” I smiled with what I hoped was an apologetical tone, gesturing towards the door to show the direction I came from.
“Ah, it’s just the two of us, remember what I told you? And been in the neighbourhood? You live two blocks away. You’re always around somewhere,” Harry joked and put the leaflets he was arranging before down. He walked from the altar and stopped two steps in front of me. Friendly distance.
“Ah, sorry Harry. Yeah, that’s true.” I looked at my feet. He had no idea what even saying his name did to me. Could I make another step closer to him without looking suspicious? I paused for tad bit too long and Harry tilted his head as if in recognition that there is something wrong with me tonight.
“You seem marry tonight. What were you doing?” I asked. Harry let his suspicion go.
“Tomorrow we have a wedding. Two lovely girls! Would you believe that? They feared we wouldn’t let them have their wedding here but they went to this church their whole life... It only makes sense. Do you want a drink?” Harry asked and turned back to the altar. He seemed so relaxed, so genuinely happy for the women. He was so good and I loved that about him. Then from behind one of the benches he pulled a bottle of whiskey. He was sometimes also very bad. I loved that maybe even more.
“Father!” I called fake appalled. “You are drinking? In a church? I guess it’s not the wedding that put you in such a good spirits.”
“Haha, very funny. And trust me, it’s not the worst I’ve done in here.” Harry opened the bottle and offered it to me. I took a swing and felt a tension slowly falling away from my shoulders, not because of the alcohol but because of the way father was looking at me, friendly and open as always. It made me feel safe.
“Oh really? What is the worst thing you’ve done here?” Harry looked at me once more. Then he slid on to the bench and patted the place next to him so I sat close. Then Harry started a long story about how he once scared children on Halloween pretending to be the Holy Spirit and threatening them with pulling all of their teeth out if they don’t brush them. The bottle was passing between us and by the end of the story I was rolling with laughter.
“It’s not very kind from me.” He paused and looked me in the eye. “Now, tell me, what’s bothering you, Louis?” Harry asked, suddenly serious.
I stumbled across my own words and thoughts. What could I tell him? _Hey father this crush I have on you is getting out of control because I miss you enough to try to look for you in the middle of the night._
“I… ugh… I don’t know.”
“Would it be better if we did it in confessor?” Harry suggested.
“Yes, yes it would.” We both stood, Harry took last big swing of whiskey and then pressed the bottle into my hands before stepping inside and closing the wooden door behind himself.
Now, Louis, now you can bolt. But is that what I really want? Do I really want to be embarrassed like that? Or do I take the leap of faith and hope for mercy?
With a sigh I stepped into the booth pulling the curtain behind me. I started to peel the label from the bottle just to focus on something else.
“Come on, Lou. You know how this goes,” he teased me from the other side. It actually really helped being here. It gave me sense of privacy, of secrecy. It felt like once I leave this booth, whatever I say will be forgotten.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” And then nothing. What I wanted to talk about? Why did I let myself be pulled in here? Oh yeah because I love him and I have no one else to tell that to because they would laugh. At best. I took another gulp. He didn’t say anything. He just waited. He is patient and I’m not so I’ll spill sooner or later and we both know it. Shit.
“There’s this man… I really like.”
“Oh?” It was impossible to read his emotion without seeing his face. He didn’t let anything on with his voice beside a slight curiosity.
“Yeah. He’s great. We get on really well. He’s funny and he has genuinely good personality. His hair is amazing, I could spend days running my hands through it. And his voice… He’s the whole package, really.”
“But?”
“But we can’t be together.” I sighed.
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“OK. And why can’t you tell me that? Is he someone important? Is someone threatening you?”
“No, nothing that dramatic. He’s just unreachable.” |
ab9cca3ef41c41d79726683e605d1188 | ['0a8f18e51eef406899e2377abcd4ccb0'] | The best friend convo
**Author's Note:**
> seamonkeys! first short fic. some suggestive themes. some fluff. and idk. enjoy :)
"Hey Neptune, who do you think is the hottest girl here?"
"That's a tough one dude, well there's..."
Neptune went on naming several girls who he found attractive. It was a school night but the two dorky friends were relaxing on a comfy bed, bonding over guy talk. Sun wanted to tease his friend being a total nerd but as the night went on it was Neptune who did the teasing.
Sun laughed, "That one girl? I would never hook up with a big nerd like her nor, ahem, you."
"Dude, intellectual. Nothing wrong with that."
Soon, they dig into the more personal conversation topics that all best friends have at one point.
"So, Sun, do you keep your junk to the right or the left of your pants?"
"Dude! My tail is not 'junk', and I let it loose as you can see."
"...I meant your 'other' animal parts."
"Oh. Oh, uh to the left."
Neptune stared down intently to the left of Sun's crotch.
"Dude Neptune I'm not hard right now and nothing will happen even if you keep staring, you weirdo."
Neptune turned his gaze to Sun's eyes. Sun had seen this look before, this soft squinting and lip biting; it was the look that Neptune gives when he flirts with the ladies. Sun had always observed Neptune as he made his failed attempts on others, but as he is now the center of Neptune’s attention he wondered how anyone could resist him. He felt strange, like somehow he and Neptune became connected by an invisible force. It slightly unsettled him despite all the private things they had already discussed in laughter. Sun tried to change the topic.
"Neptune, tell me again about that nerd that you like so much. Neptune?”
Disregarding Sun's question, Neptune slowly closed the gap between them; their foreheads touched. Sun could smell Neptune’s cologne and minty breath, which fused together into one pleasant scent. He felt his cheeks heat up and it was not from the warm air flowing from Neptune’s nostrils. His heartbeat went up increasingly, as did another part of his body.
By now Sun had no idea what to do or even think. Neptune placed a hand on Sun’s chest. His heart was pounding so hard Sun was afraid it would jump right into Neptune’s hand. Sun knew it was their bonding time but this was ridiculous. He tried to relax and closed his eyes, wondering what Neptune was going to do next. His question was soon answered as Neptune pushed him onto his back. Sun let the air escape his lungs as he hit the bed. Sun couldn't handle the tension any longer and with his eyes still closed, he grasped the area in front to drag Neptune in an embrace… but, Neptune wasn't there??
“Ohh now I see it, Sun.”
Neptune had stayed at the edge of the bed and gave a firm flick on the even firmer outline of Sun's soft spot. He jolted up with a yelp. Though Sun was disgruntled, they locked eyes once more.
Neptune smirked, “Hey now don’t look at me like that. What kind of best friend would I be if I don't tease you back for calling me nerd." | cd3749a556be448095857ba5a7a173e6 | ['0a8f18e51eef406899e2377abcd4ccb0'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> Smut. Split into chapters simply because i worked on it at different times.
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Kissing, chest, nipples
Sun has been together with Neptune for a while now. He loved, and still loves, Neptune from the bottom of his heart and knew he was very lucky to have him, but he felt that Neptune is too picky with his preferences. As he laid in bed with a towel around his waist, Sun reminisced about the first time they had sex. Good times, except Neptune wouldn't even touch him until he shaved his entire body. Fortunately he made an exception for his tail. His daydream was interrupted when Neptune stepped in the room. He stood by the door, wearing only a tank top with a trident symbol, just barely covering his genitals. Sun's heart skipped a beat when Neptune push back his dripping hair. He also noticed that his armpits were freshly shaven.
"Sun, you ready?"
Sun grinned, "I've waited like 30 minutes. Come're you."
"No sir you know the rule. Come and let's get you cleaned up."
Sun groaned as he got up. Admittedly, Sun agreed that he is a bit on the hairy side; he is a monkey Faunus after all. A little bit of chest hair never hurt anyone. In fact, Sun thought it made him look more macho. Neptune noticed his worried look and smiled.
"You'd do it for me won't you?"
"Of course, I'd do anything for you. Not like I have a choice in this matter if I want to get some of this."
Sun grabbed a handful of Neptune as he walked by. They made their way to the bathroom and Sun sat down on a wooden chair. Next to him was a pile of grooming products. Neptune straddled him and leaned in, pressing their lips together. Sun attempted to kiss him but Neptune pulled back. Neptune smiled devilishly. He grabbed the shaving cream and applied it all over Sun's face and neck.
"Yeah you like that white stuff on your face?"
Sun was not amused. Regardless, Neptune took an old fashion razor, slowly but skillfully scraping at Sun's neck. It was a nuisance but Sun found the whole process a turn on. He couldn't resist feeling up Neptune as he finished shaving his face. Neptune splashed some water to wash off the remaining suds. Droplets dripped down Sun's chest, some trapped by the patch of hair. He burrowed into Sun's neck, slowly licking his carotid artery along with the drops of water. Sun started to sigh but was silenced by Neptune, who rewarded him with kisses on the lips from earlier.
Proceeding to the next step, Neptune thoroughly rubbed shaving cream on Sun's chest with both hands. He looked at Neptune with longing eyes, his breathing becoming heavier. Neptune brushed his fingers across his nipples, eliciting a gasp from Sun. Neptune loved seeing Sun's expressions. He gave his nipples a pinch, causing Sun to throw his head back and moan. Satisfied, Neptune finished up shaving his chest.
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Chest, armpit, anus
Until now Neptune still had his shirt on; he removed it and pressed their chest together, bare skin sliding smoothly back and forth as the two squirmed in a make out session. Sun pulled Neptune closer by the hips as if the warmth of his body might leave him. He could feel Neptune's excitement from the drumming of his heart. The boys entered a trance, two heartbeats becoming one. They were breathing heavily when they finally had to rest.
"Raise your arms," Neptune commanded breathlessly.
He made quick work out of Sun's underarm hair. In no time at all Neptune was burying his face in Sun's armpits, nuzzling and licking as he made his way back up for another steamy make out session. This time it lasted shorter because of the anticipation of what's to come now that Sun's upper body is hair free.
With a razor in hand, Neptune asked in a voice full of lust, "Now then, should I shave your pubes first or make your tail hole nice and smooth like a baby.."
Sun gulped. He didn't say anything, rather he slowly turned around as he got up and dropped his towel. Sun bent over on the chair, exposing himself to Neptune with a full view of his behind and his swinging ballsack.
Neptune mused, "So this was what you were waiting for this whole time, eh? You want me to eat your ass?"
Sun turned red. He was faced the other way but Neptune knew.
"Oh don't be embarrassed you'll get what you want, but I'm not putting my mouth there until I shave it clean, hehe."
Neptune squeezed a glob of shaving cream on Sun's butt cheeks and watched it drip down in between. Sun whimpered; the cooling sensation of the cream was more stimulating in this area. Not letting the glob drip off, Neptune used two fingers and pushed it deep into Sun. He swirled his fingers, the shaving cream acted as lube. Sun took deep breaths. His erection grew as Neptune's fingers slid in and out of him and the shaving cream stung just the right amount along the walls of his anus. As Neptune continued to finger Sun, he caressed his testicles, marinating them in shaving cream. Sun let out a low moan. Neptune toyed with Sun for a while, inserting a third finger and tugging on his balls with controlled forced, which made his erection bobble with each tug.
Suddenly Sun sensed that Neptune was going to pull his fingers out fully. In response he pushed backwards and clamped his ass cheeks together, trapping Neptune's fingers.
Neptune thought it was cute and he laughed. "Dude relax we haven't even got to the main event yet."
3. Chapter 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Anus, boner, finish |
f2580874ff6b43f48f57ea59e2659643 | ['0a9967a5b0094757bcf52c1b9f413ff7'] | “Er, not–not _directly_. And we didn’t try and get him arrested for his lackluster managerial abilities…”
“No judgement if you had.”
A shocked laugh pops out of Jon at this, a short, pitchy exclamation that catches both he and Gerry by surprise.
“Careful. Might start trusting me if you’re already laughing at my jokes.”
“I’m allowed to have a sense of humour _and_ a healthy level of skepticism towards the undead, Gerry.”
“Right, sure, totally doesn’t seem like a sign I’m already getting you with my posthumous charm.”
Gerry shifts in his chair, then, produces a small pad of paper that he he quickly begins to flips through,
“Anyway, that was one of my theories, actually. Thought I might be here for guidance since your regular boss is in wage theft time-out over there.”
“I’m sorry, you were– taking _notes_?”
“It’s good to write things down. You should know that better than anyone, I’d have thought. Then you get _all_ the fun of reading it later. Would you believe I got sent back with a notepad and pen and I didn’t even get to keep my coat?”
“You know, that…doesn’t actually surprise me.” Jon sighs, resigns himself to the idea of a malevolent god equipping its avatars with school supplies.
“Well, _I’m_ not too happy about it. Ah, here it is, see?”
The page Gerry flips up is covered in tight, neat handwriting, with bits of shorthand clipping its length. Jon is surprised by how _tidy_ it is, although the doodle in one corner betrays more of the messy energy he’d anticipated from Gerry. Leaning in closer, he realizes the doodled figure bears an alarming resemblance to the Archivist in question, with angrily scribbled glasses and a stringy mess of hair.
“Is that…supposed to be _me_?”
“You tell me.”
There are a few small swirls dotting parts of his face Jon was sure his bug bites had healed from, and written on an arrow connected to his head are the emphatic words, 'this whole situation’. The number of floating question marks denoting his confusion are, the Archivist thinks, a _bit_ excessive.
“This might border on…endearing, if it weren’t so obnoxious.”
“Ah, so it’s a faithful rendering, then.”
A reluctant red heat peels up the Archivist’s face, reddening the tops of his ears as he tries to even out his frown.
“Cute.”
“I _don’t_ think–”
“Hey, Jon, can I ask you something quick– oh, sorry. Didn’t know you were taking a statement.”
“It’s _fine_ , Basira. What can I help you with?”
“It’s really not urgent, I can come back if–”
“No it’s–it’s fine, really. We’re almost done here. What do you need?”
“He’s full of it. I’m gonna be here for a some time, I think.” Gerry leans over in his chair, sticks his hand out in the dusty air of the archives.
“Gerard Keay. You’re one of the new set of archival assistants, then?”
Basira ignores the hand, turns to Jon.
“You’re hiding the guy who’s in _half_ the statements in the archives down here? What hilariously bad plan is _this_ a part of?”
“We were trying to figure that out, too.” Gerry beams.
“So your crackpot theory he was alive actually panned out? Why am I only hearing about this now?”
“I didn’t–did I talk to _you_ about that?”
“Didn’t have to. You ramble in here, Jon. A _lot_.”
“R-right, well, that’s– right.”
“You really faked your own death, huh? That do anything for you?” Basira turns to Gerry now, oblivious to his still hovering hand.
“Well, I’m back here getting interrogated by archival staff who won’t shake my hand, so you tell me.”
“Oh, uh– sorry.” Basira quickly tucks her stack of books under one arm, finally grabbing the offered hand and shaking.
“Basira Hussain. Nice to meet you. Now, Jon,”
She turns before her hand is released, refuses to let too much of her time be taken up with belated greetings.
“You read that Connor Dally statement a few days back, right? Mind looking at these and telling me if they feel familiar? If you _see_ anything or whatever?”
She pulls her hand out of Gerard’s, drops the small stack of books on the table between them,
“You see these, here, of that park ranger from the statement? I thought it was just the quality of these old photos, you know, that sort of spotted look? But you can see here it… _moves_ along their face. Like their covered in–”
“…Canvas. Yes.” Jon breathes, runs his finger over the large photo nearest to him, tracing the lines of the subject’s face.
“I just… _nothing_ about that statement felt like the Stranger to me, Jon, so why is the principal subject from it made out of something besides _skin_?”
“And it couldn’t be the Flesh since it’s not…flesh.”
“Yeah, Jon. Kind of figured that one out myself.”
“You asked for my help, sorry if it’s a bit redundant for you while I run through the options.”
“Can’t run through the obvious ones in your head?”
“Archivists like to think out loud.” Gerry pitches in, not hiding his amusement at the conversation.
“Alright. And I like to give them a little shit for it, then.” She cuts a small smile at this, although Jon is oblivious. Gerard shoots a grin back.
“Can’t fault you there, I guess.”
“The web, Basira…have you looked at that? I mean if it’s– if it’s _sewn_ together like this– it’s manipulated thread, isn’t it?”
“So the web can _make_ people now? That’s not encouraging. Thought that was just stranger territory.”
“Yes, well, until recently so did I.”
“And what’s _that_ supposed to mean?”
“I’m sure you won’t be surprised to learn I have no interest in sharing just yet.”
“Course. Don’t know why I bother coming down, frankly.”
The curve of a smile threatens Jon’s lip, Basira similarly bites her cheek.
“I promise I’ll talk to you about it when I figure it out a bit more, Basira.” | 49fb0db7261e4c378da7e2dc4890e9ad | ['0a9967a5b0094757bcf52c1b9f413ff7'] | **Be past Sollux, 7 minutes earlier**
Fuck her. Fuck her because she has no fucking idea what it's like to constantly hear the voices of trolls who live close to death, who never escape, who you know think about nothing else because you're constantly hearing them fucking screaming. To constantly hear your own voice, with words you'd never say out loud being screamed beside your head. Fuck her and her bullshit fucking questions and her bullshit philosphizing around your mental fucking agony. Fuck her fuck her fuck her.
**Be Sollux**
You ask Aradia a question.
2. Suite
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Warning for some drug-induced derealization near the end of this chapter
**Be past Rose.**
You dryly wish your mom a good morning as she walks by you, rubs your hair, corrects you: it's night.
You're both wrong.
It's dusk.
**Be Rose.**
Everything oozes a warm golden glow around you. Your room, filled to the brim with foraged antiques from meteor rooms, hums around you and seeps into you with what you might be inclined to call benevolence, if you believed in such a thing. Stemless cup of wine perched on your lap, you watch the red liquid pool from one end of the cup to the other and fall as you fail to monitor its movement adequately, spreading gracelessly outwards once it hits the sheets. It doesn't matter. You're stretched between seconds and you're -- home's not the right word, but you're real, at least. You feel the cool stain on your left leg and bunch your covers with a palm that hums, the sensation new despite its mundane roots. Everything old is new again. You swing your legs over the side of the bed.
Kanaya is at the door by the time you organize yourself enough to approach it. You're tipsy, but not visibly drunk, and you pride yourself on your ability to maintain your usual persona enough to be present during the day. It really is just the edge of the morning you need to take off, and you're essentially flying miles ahead of your meteor peers after you get your daily affairs in order. Then you're free to indugle as openly as you like when everyone's convinced a sober day of work is behind you.
Your right arm slips into the hall and around Kanaya's waist; you follow. Her hip bones shift under your skin as she walks, pushing into your wrist and elbow, and a few of her ribs pass up and down along your clavicle. You get the feeling your arm has taken you for a bit of a ride, here. You feel her laughing.
"Rose," you watch her lips pull up over her teeth, getting hung up on one side, and you think she's trying to stop herself,
"As much as I appreciate the attention, I really don't think this will benefit either of us in the presence of Vriska."
You kind-of, shift her over and lean the both of you against a wall, arm over her shoulders and heads pressed together in a show of conspiratorial behaviour. Really, you just need to sober up, but you want to make her 'Feel A Part Of', as it were. Who said that? It must be some great thinker's concept for a banale human experience. Feel A Part Of. Men never tire of the masturbatory habit of re-arranging average concepts until they can convince people they're significant again,
"Kanay~ya," You have trouble with the alternian inflection when you're not all put together. Vriska's convinced it's just because you're not that good at it, or she's smart and other's aren't, whatever her conception of the situation is. It's fine,
"You, are one of the most punctual people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting,"
(you catch her smile, even with the weird proximity/angle combination you're working with,)
"but _I_ am not someone with the burden of that reputation. What Vriska doesn't know about the origin stories behind my behaviours will literally never hurt her." You kiss her, too wet, too drunk, and think that maybe the cool pressure of her forehead was doing more wonders for you than you realized. You might worry you were in a pickle, if you didn't have all the time in the world.
A thought floats to the surface of your relatively unoccupied mind.
' **Be Vriska** ,'
Hah! That would clear a few things up for you in your current -- what's a step down from a predicament? There's no way a bit of underestimated breakfast quantities and light tardiness should constitute a _real_ pr
You are now **Vriska Serket**.
Kanaya and her human are late. Rose the human and your Kanaya are late. Whatever!!!!!!!! They are both late, is the point. You have far too many irons in the fire for this, a fact which other passengers should never take for granted. They are all their own individual irons in YOUR fire, and they should have the good graces to remember it. People aren't saved from dooming a timeline just to be tardied on! Tardied at? Good self-correction instinct, Vriska. Always getting stronger with each passing second!!!!!!!! Tardied at!!!!!!!! You are being tardied at. It's a direct attack on your person, your training program, AND the sanctity of the alpha timeline for which you are wholly responsible.
Unacceptable!!!!!!!!
If YOU were the Lalonde human, you would at least have the gall to--
You are now **the Lalonde human**.
"KANAYA!!!!!!!!"
Although this would be a situation in which, unquestionably, it would be much easier to be Vriska Serket.
But you don't have any control over that.
"Vriska. I see you've completely abandoned your trainees to attend to the two _least_ remedial students you have under your claw. How thoughtful."
She's so mean. You love her. You lean over to tell her, catching her hand on the tip of your nose. It bounces gently back into place as you, slowly,
slowly,
get the hint and straighten back up. |
f2eee84e725f4359968f92b3a08b89ac | ['0a9bc085707c43a2827b474472982256'] | “‘Fantasy.'” he said quietly, quoting her.
June had learned harsh lessons about the male ego in Gilead - lessons she’d never wished to learn, but she would not lie to this man who had never lied to her, and who would die for her in a heartbeat. Maui _was_ a fantasy, but what they had together, here and now, was not.
He searched her face, needing more from her, desperate even. She nodded slightly in understanding and gave him a reassuring smile, the kind she always did when his feelings of powerlessness threatened to overwhelm him.
She looked down at her hands and crept them up his chest before ducking under his jaw, her lips feathering over his pulse.
“First, I wanted you,” she whispered.
She sat back up and buried her fingers into his hair and turned to the other side. This time she took his earlobe between her teeth and bit him, just short of painful.
“Then, I needed you,” she said, still whispering.
Finally, she faced him, giving him as much as she could through her eyes. She put one hand to the side of his face and kissed him gently, almost chaste, withdrawing just far enough to look at him directly with all the honesty her possessed. “And then I loved you. _Love_ you. It’s all of those. Everything.”
He exhaled sharply. It was what he needed, a reaffirmation of the previous night when he’d held Holly but with a stronger voice and certitude that only June was able to give him.
He heaved forward, pushing her off his lap, standing her in front of him. He quickly unbuttoned and unzipped, shoving her jeans down with her underwear while she removed her bra.
His breath caught when he saw her hairlessness, and his eyes flew to hers in question. She shrugged and smiled, all sexy irony. “The minibar has razors.”
He groaned at the thought of her grooming for him and for a second he thought he might come on the spot like a teenager. Instead, he grabbed her around the waist forcing her down to the sofa bracing her wrists over her head with one hand, and kissed her roughly, his lips engulfing hers, his hot tongue finding hers skillfully as his free hand found her breast, desperate to feel their fullness. She moaned sharply at his touch, too sharply, and he broke the kiss in response, always sensitive to her reactions, and looked down at her in question.
“Fondle at your own risk. The handpump here sucks.”
The noise he made was some combination or a groan and a chuckle and he ducked into her shoulder, breathing her in, willing some self-control because for some primal reason this was maybe the hottest thing he could imagine, fucking her with her breasts filled with milk for the baby they’d made.
He released her wrists and carefully cupped both of her over-full breasts, burying his face between them. He kissed her cleavage, tasting her scent, her sweat. She gasped at his touch, her breasts sensitive, and her fingers tangled in his hair. “Nick,” she called, overwhelmed.
He ignored her and propped himself up on an elbow to look down at her. She looked better than she had in months, cheeks glowing and pink, lips swollen, blond waves fanned out around her. _So fucking beautiful_ , he thought.
He looked down as he slowly took his thumb and forefinger and surrounded her nipple, glancing up at her, her chest moving in synch with her shallow breaths, giving him wordless approval. He gently pinched her and watched mesmerized as three drops of milk came out and rolled down her skin. He bent down and licked her clean.
It might have been the most singularly intimate moment either of them had ever shared and she realized she was almost dizzy with want. Again, she pulled at his hair trying to bring him to her. “Now, Nick, please.”
Instead, he wordlessly traveled down her tummy as his hand found her center, now bare, and he exhaled, amazed all over again. Separating her folds, she jolted and cried out when he touched her. She was so wet it was almost embarrassing and his fingers carefully spread her juices around her slippery folds.
He readjusted her, bending her knees around him before slipping two fingers inside just as his tongue found her clit. She gasped with relief, arching up to him, an arm bending over her face because it was almost too much to watch him, fully dressed, devouring her naked body.
It took less than a minute. He had to brace her hips in the end when she bucked upwards, her inner muscles contracting around his fingers. She sobbed his name as she came.
He rode out her orgasm, slowing his movements in time with her, withdrawing his hand, his lips moving to tenderly caress her hairless mons pubis.
When she came back to earth and caught her breath, she sat up, dragging him to her, and kissed him open mouthed and carnal, tasting herself and vestiges of the beer.
“Get your fucking clothes off.”
He smiled, feverish himself, and erotically charged, always, by his power to do this to her.
He obliged, standing, his clothes a black pile on the floor within seconds, but when he reached for the condom she grabbed it out of his hands.
“My job,” she said, tearing open the pack.
“Christ, June,” he groaned, “hurry.”
Her vivid blue eyes were coy and screamed sex when she looked up at him as her fingers surrounded the base of his cock and slowly, too slowly, moved to the tip. Her thumb found the precum and she spread it deliberately over the head but when she tried to take him into her mouth he grabbed her hair, pulling her back.
“I won’t last.” | 68ef281bdf9940fdb3ba0b90c4c90d8c | ['0a9bc085707c43a2827b474472982256'] | She almost laughed and let him get his way, this once. _Small mercies_ , he thought, though for a second he thought he might come just watching her small pale hands on him, stretching the latex over the head and rolling it down his length.
In one swift move he backed her down onto the sofa, plunging inside her, stretching her and she cried out, amazed at his animalistic strength and aggression. He grunted, almost losing it, feeling her surrounding him, her warmth. He halted abruptly, veins straining as he buried his face into her, desperate to keep it together.
When he finally began moving it was hard and fast, almost punishing, and she threw her arm around his neck in an effort to hold on. She always came faster the second time and, blessedly, this was no different. She went over the edge within seconds, gasping, nails digging into his back as she dissolved. He was gone, just seconds later, with a guttural sound and a thrust so deep she was sure he hit her cervix. She stayed with him as he became erratic and gentler until he was finally still.
They remained tangled together, perspiration covering both of them. The condom made it easier for him to remain inside her and he was grateful, never wanting to leave, terrified for her life and her future. He raised himself slightly and pushed the wet tendrils of hair away from her cheeks and forehead.
“Hey,” he said simply.
“Hey.”
It was always like this for them after they’d fucked, the feeling that it might be their last time, that all the second chances and near misses would eventually give way to the wrath of Gilead. This time the fear almost overwhelmed him.
“I just needed you to be safe,” he said, eyes bright with unshed tears.
She cupped his face, tearing up too, understanding and loving him, pained that she couldn’t give him this one simple thing.
“I know.” There wasn’t anything to say. She’d made her choice.
They silently stayed in each other’s arms for several minutes until he reached over to his clothes and found his watch. “I gotta go, June.”
She nodded, sitting up and wrapping herself in the blanket she’d slept with the prior night. She watched him dress, quietly enjoying his masculine beauty.
“Is Rita okay?” she finally asked.
“No. She’ll probably kill you herself if she ever sees you again.”
She cocked her head to the side. It’s not what she meant.
“She'll be fine. She’s got too much on those two. They’ll put it all on Ofjo-, _Emily,_ somehow. Her rap-sheet makes it pretty easy,” he said pointedly, thinking of Holly as he buttoned his shirt.
“Where’s Serena?”
“Eye fucking Lawrence, last I checked.”
She digested that, the pieces falling into place, realizing that Lawrence must know her from before.
He watched the wheels turning in her brain. “Does he have a plan?”
“Yeah, same as mine, I think,” she said and gave him a look that hinted of shame. “Recruitment.”
He held her look. He was no longer angry, mostly resigned. “It’s suicide, June.”
“This is war, Nick. Fight with me. Please.”
After a long moment, he nodded.
Of course he did.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Tim Hortons is the Dunkin' Donuts of Canada and is pretty iconic. And, get this fun fact, there IS a Tim Horton's in Dearborn... so Nick would know it. (And, obv, Michigan and Canada share a border.)
>
> This chapter was SO hard to write. Trying to figure out the emotional temperature of June and Nick post-Holly was challenging. A hat tip to all the smart members of https://www.reddit.com/r/TheHandmaidsTale/ - many of that community's speculations made it into this chapter.
>
> Smut takes me FOREVER to write and it always feels a little, well, exposing, particularly in this chapter b/c of the nursing issue.
>
> Anyway, please lmk how I did. Comments, kudos, etc. keep me writing.
>
> Thanks for reading! |
276206f80cf048ae97439f3e762ce4f0 | ['0aa5ef98e26b49809063127c2c4c56c3'] | Isn't Loitering Illegal?
**Author's Note:**
> This is quick look through Nepeta's eye's for a scene I'm writing in another fic.
The way he yelled and flailed at the blonde boy next to him was so adorable Nepeta almost couldn’t contain herself. When her friend and sometimes fellow roleplayer Terezi had invited her down to hangout at the 7-11 right off campus after school, she was a little scared. While Terezi was fine, Nepeta had never met her friends before and hanging out in some 7-11 parking lot seemed like something the scary stoner people would do. After much prodding on Terezi’s behalf, she agreed to join her and it took a grand total of ten minutes before she was happy she did.
Karkat Vantas was a year above her, an inch or two taller, and consisted mainly of wiry muscles and furious energy. Nepeta and Terezi had been sitting on the curb outside of the convience stores with freshly purchased drinks and the company of Terezi’s friend Aradia when a dark red station wagon rumbled up next to them and deposited him along with the infamous Dave Strider. Karkat’s irritated shouting, already easily heard by the girls outside, intensified as he shoved a handful of bills into the blonde’s hands and practically shoved him into the store.
To say it was love at first sight would be a bit of an exaggeration. When he first stepped out of the car, she practically flinched. Who was this angry boy and why was he now sitting down next to Terezi and talking as if they were best friends? But after a few minutes Karkat calmed down and she could study him better.
She listened to him speak in a normal voice, talking with the two other girls about classes and weekend activities, and learned his voice was naturally somewhat soft and a little bit raspy. She learned his eyes weren’t filled with anger but instead passion, and that he actually looked pretty cute when he wasn’t yelling at Dave for buying the wrong brand of cigarettes, something Terezi said Dave did solely out of spite almost every time. She even learned that he weighed exactly 115 pounds courtesy of a sarcastic Terezi comment. Despite her initial fear, Nepeta found herself being more and more interested in, maybe even attracted to, the surly young man. She practically squeaked when about fifteen minutes in he turned to her and introduced himself as “the asshole of the group” and it took her a few moments of mumbling before she managed to say her own name.
But then more people came, and both of them were pulled into separate conversations. Karkat argued with Terezi and pale teen wearing 3D-glasses, with Dave making quips and comments from Terezi’s lap. She coughed from a cigarette Aradia kindly gave her and talked with Dave’s friends John and Jade, who both bombarded her with enthusiastic questions and made her laugh so hard her sides hurt. They spent a good half hour like this, eating convenience store food and blowing smoke rings and Nepeta didn’t go more than five minutes without stealing a glance at Karkat.
Eventually, Dave stood up and announced that he had to go pick up his sister from violin practice, sorry all, try not to get kicked out for crying too much. This meant that Karkat had to go to, something that disappointed Nepeta a bit more than she had expected.
“Hey, Nepeta right?”
His voice jolted her out her momentary sadness and she looked up to see him standing next to her as Dave complained about being late from the car.
“Yeah?” She could feel her heart rate starting to pick up. Was he just going to say good bye? Or even better, ask for her number or something? She waited with eager anticipation while Karkat yelled at Dave to shut up before turning back at her.
“You don’t have my lighter do you? That assfuck dirtying my car said he had passed it you.”
Nepeta sighed a little in a dissapointment, but was unsurprised. She passed him his lighter, a Zippo with the Cancer zodiac symbol engraved on it, and he mumbled a thanks before turning to deal with Dave.
She waved goodbye to the two boys with everyone else and before telling them that she was heading off too. As she drove away from the parking lot, she decided that she was definitely hanging out with them again. Next time, she might even manage to talk to him.
**Author's Note:**
> So this is my first Homestuck fanfic and I'll flat out admit it's really bad but if I didn't upload it I know I wouldn't have the courage to upload anything else I write. Thank you for reading. | 83694ee2fa6d412990965c80e8e5d647 | ['0aa5ef98e26b49809063127c2c4c56c3'] |
Nerf Wars
_Thwack!_
The nerf dart slammed into the locker next to Karkat, and the few students still milling around in the hallway looked in confusion as he closed his locker door as fast as possible and sprinted off down the hall, barely getting his backpack on in the process. Hardly a moment had passed before he heard the sound of footsteps behind him, picking up speed by the second. Another nerf dart whistled by his head before falling limply to the ground in front of him. He mumbled a quick thank you at the sound of his assailants nerf gun being reloaded behind him and turned a corner, practically diving into the haven known as the men's bathroom.
“Fucking hell, why does she always go for headshots,” he grumbled, practically falling against the wall inside. The only other boy in there gave him a confused look before being shooed away with one of Karkat’s patented glares. John had told him during third period that Vriska has specifically made Karkat her target but this was ridiculous. He could already hear her banging on the door.
“Karkaaaaaaaat, I know you have a tiny bladder but you can’t stay in there forever,” she sang through the door. The beleaguered teen leaned his head against the wall and groaned. Maybe Literature club would be cancelled today and Kanaya would be able to take that pesky bitch away early. Hell, maybe she would even get bored of just waiting outside there and leave for another time.
Yeah, like that would happen. Karkat sighed and resigned himself to waiting until she got bored enough to just walk in and shoot him there.
“When I get my hands on Strider for suggesting this fucking stupid ass game,” he groaned, “I will grind his pasty hipster bones into dust.” He banged his head against the wall in frustration. “This is the last fucking time I let anyone talk to me first thing in the morning.”
**== >Karkat: Be in the school parking lot at the asscrack of dawn**
Karkat took another drag off his cigarette and reached out to ash it in the tray, making sure to not get any on the rumpled uniform polo shirt lying next to him. His van was already slightly hazy with smoke, and he almost wished one of the teachers would notice and suspend him for smoking on school grounds if only so that he wouldn't have to go in today. Watching rom-coms until three in the morning had not been such a great idea, but alas, the one teacher on parking lot duty that morning either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the gentle curls of smoking rising out from the windows. He looked at his watch and groaned. Just enough time to drink his coffee, smoke another cigarette, and get at least technically in uniform before going in.
“At least it’s quiet,” he mumbled to himself, closing his eyes and reclining on the vans bench style back seat. In retrospect, he really should have known better than to have said anything.
“Yo, Karkat, how can you enjoy another beautiful school day in the back of you van,” Dave said as he opened the passenger door and slid into the middle seat. Karkat cracked an eye open and groaned again before throwing his polo at the blonde boy.
“What the hell are you doing in my car you sack of fetid shit,” He asked, his voice gravelly with irritation and fatigue. Dave pulled the door shut and lit one of his own cigarettes before answering.
“Woah there, sounds like someone rolled off the wrong side of the bed into a pile of bad movies and dirty clothes this morning,” He took a drag off his cigarette, “I just figured, being the friendly, outgoing type of guy I am, that I’d invite you to the most bitchin, sicknasty game I’ve ever invented.”
“Oh sweet merciful gods in fucking heaven if this is another one of your bizarre plots to make a fool out of everyone but your ‘too-cool-for-school self’ I swear to fucking everything I will kick you out of my car and back it over your nasty ass skate shoes myself.” Karkat ground out his cigarette in the makeshift cup-holder ashtray and hauled himself up into sitting position to grab another from his pack.
“Nah, trust me, you’ll love it. It’ll be a way for you to put your Napoleon complex and anger issues to good use,” Dave replied and reached into his backpack to pull out a bright green Nerf gun. He tossed it into Karkat’s lap along with a pack of darts, earning an irritated grunt from the shorted teen. “Nerf war bro. Since none of us, ‘cept for Rose and her god damn Poetry club, have anything better to do with our after school lives I figured we’d put our time to good use and have a little contest to see who's the best shot. Our own lovely Miss Pyrope even had the bright idea of making it girls versus boys.”
Karkat stared down with sleepy eyes at the toy gun in his lap. The little gun was something you’d give a six year old or college student to entertain themselves with, with it’s green body and orange pull-back handle. The only reason he didn’t use it to shatter Dave’s beloved sunglasses was because that would require more effort he’s really willing to put in this early in the morning.
“This is the stupidest thing I have ever heard of and I had Eggdork as a lab partner last year.” Karkat pulled the handle back experimentally and pressed on the trigger. The gun made a pitiful _thwop_ noise. “And why would Terezi of all people go along with this she’s fucking blind. How would that even work.” Dave shrugged.
“Pretty well apparently, considering she already got Tavros at Anime club yesterday.”
**== >Terezi: Execute him** |
fa9a49c9746442e5b8b420c84ea972c4 | ['0aa61b5c3f574293a27d26505895badd'] | He shot to his feet, nearly throwing his water glass. “I don't know what the fuck you just accused him of you fucking son of a bitch, but I know a goddamn accusing tone when I hear it. I bet you just said he was police didn't you?” Donghae yelled back in Korean. He kept up a filthy tirade of insults and accusations until he finally ran out of breath, and he only glared when a gun was pointed at his head. “Piece of shit,” he muttered.
“Control your associate before he does something he'll regret for the last few minutes of his life,” Eunhyuk said icily in English as he tugged on the chain, pulling Donghae back slightly. “Kneel,” he ordered in Korean.
Donghae spared the man with the gun a last glare before he purposefully turned around and sank to his knees.
“You broke the rules you were to follow,” Eunhyuk said conversationally.
“He was accusing you,” Donghae immediately defended.
Eunhyuk's hand grabbed his hair, knocking more locks out of the elastic that held his hair back. “That does not concern me. I could have easily handled it, but your filthy mouth has jeopardized my business deal and you broke the rules.”
“I'm sorry,” Donghae replied, breathing slightly harder from the grip in his hair.
“For that, you will be punished.”
Donghae lowered his eyes. “Yes, Master.”
“Lay over my lap.”
Donghae did immediately as he was told, pressing his forehead into the sofa and biting his lips. He kept his breathing even as he felt Eunhyuk tug the zippers on either side of his pants down to his thighs. He reminded himself that was a matter of trust that Eunhyuk wouldn't take him past his limit. He heard the snap of the clip and his breath halted in his chest. He knew immediately how Eunhyuk was _punishing_ him. The vibrating plug was decently sized and Donghae knew that he could take the plug dry with only moderate discomfort, but he heard the tinkling of metal against glass and relaxed his muscles. Water definitely wasn't lube, but it would help as long as he didn't tense up.
He felt the top of his pants get pulled down and he closed his eyes against the embarrassment. His body jerked slightly as he felt a droplet of water slide down his skin before the plug was slowly pushed inside him. The full body shivers had already started before the plug was all the way in, and his back arched as the vibration was turned on and a hard slap landed on the skin of his ass.
“You will apologize properly, understood?”
Donghae nodded and swallowed. “Yes,” he replied.
“Good. If I'm satisfied with your apology, I will allow you to keep your pants on since this is your first offense. Anything further out of you and you'll be naked. Understood?”
Donghae nodded again and felt his pants be folded back and zipped up. Sinking to the floor, he pressed his forehead against his hands on the floor and forced an apology past his throat.
“Tell him thank you for the apology and that the unpleasantness is forgiven. I will of course leave any punishment up to you.”
Hyukjae repeated the words in Korean for Donghae's cover. “Straddle me.”
Donghae climbed up to the sofa spreading his legs wide to straddle Eunhyuk's smaller thighs. His breath was already coming faster as the plug vibrated within him, but not really against his prostate.
“I've been generous for you, yes?”
Donghae nodded. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice soft and compliant.
“Thank me properly for it on your knees.”
Donghae's stomach flipped. “Of course, Master.” Sinking back to the floor and between Eunhyuk's knees, he tugged softly at the zipper to Eunhyuk's pants, raising up a little to block the view from the people across from them. Licking his lips, he immediately sank his mouth down on the half-hard length and felt Eunhyuk's fingers tangling in his hair.
He could hear talking over the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, but he narrowed all of his concentration to Eunhyuk's dick, bobbing his head until he felt Eunhyuk's breath catch as the now fully erect dick in his mouth hit the back of his throat.
“He must be a rather talented pet to get that look on your face,” their contact commented. “May I inquire how much he is?”
Eunhyuk's hand tightened in his hair, making him moan softly. “He's the most expensive and valuable thing I ever stole, and just like a prized trophy, no one touches him except me. He is _not_ for sale,” he replied firmly.
“Ah, completely understandable. Congratulations on the theft of something so... valuable and talented.”
Eunhyuk's fingers relaxed and ran over Donghae's hair. “Thank you. You see why I'm reluctant to leave him caged up at home.”
“Of course. I will confer with my associate for a moment about proper behavior while you enjoy your pet's talents for an appropriate apology.”
“Fuck, _come on_ ,” Eunhyuk said in Korean, his fingers grabbing at Donghae's hair.
Donghae took all of the dick back into his mouth and throat, moaning softly. He felt the arch of Eunhyuk's hips, and he moaned louder as he swallowed every drop of come in his mouth, using his tongue to clean Eunhyuk's dick fully before pulling back and redressing him. | 6d8551e473f64a3e81daf1fe7cafbf97 | ['0aa61b5c3f574293a27d26505895badd'] | And he had to admit that he was intrigued by the voice on the other end of the phone, able to spill the filthiest of words, but still just so practical and humored, like everything was a good joke, and he wondered if the other was serious about them being the same age and being sexually attracted to only men, but then again, there was such honesty in the words that had been spoken that he had a difficult time believing that Donghae had ever told a lie in his life.
He almost wanted to text the other back immediately, to find out more about the man who had just had phone sex with him. Grimacing, he set his phone down and went to go shower. After his shower, he did the few dishes in the sink and dusted a little, finding himself watching the time. He'd managed to waste an hour, and then with a huff, he snatched his phone back up.
' _Did you eat well?_ ' he typed in, staring at it for a good minute. It sounded somewhat friendly, but could be answered with one word if the other didn't feel like continuing to talk to him.
He was surprised that he received a text back within a couple of minutes, and he smiled at the longer reply.
They'd managed to text each other through the night and Donghae writing the rest of his paper, falling easily into friendly conversation. Hyukjae had laughed when Donghae had texted him a short ' _well I've already heard you screaming my name in pleasure, we might as well be friends_ ' in response to his incredulous wondering about how easy it was to talk to the months-younger man. And even though he was running short on sleep (Donghae really had taken forever to write that paper) he still managed to bounce into the studio, already dressed for practice.
Sungmin looked up from where he was helping Donghee stretch out. “Well you're disgustingly happy for this early in the morning,” the older man commented, flicking his long brown hair out of his eyes.
Hyukjae plopped down next to the heavier man who was bent double, his face nearly on the floor, and started his warm up stretching. “What, I'm not allowed to be in a good mood?” he asked, a little irritable.
Donghee snorted from his position. “It's just weird, considering you've looked like you were about to punch anyone within three meters of you for the past few days. Then you're bouncing in here in the best of moods today.”
Hyukjae shrugged. “I just get really stressed out with papers, hyung. But I got all of them done and turned in, so of course I'm going to be in a better mood.”
Sungmin looked at him with a critical eye. “You're also acting like you just got laid. Watching porn again?”
Hyukjae just rolled his eyes and didn't bother to answer. He was always teased about his watching porn, and it had taken on the nature of just a standard thing by now. And he didn't really want to say that he'd had phone sex – really _amazing_ phone sex – with a stranger who was quickly turning into a friend, all from a misdialed call.
Once the dance instructor had shown up and the entire class was warmed up and stretched, Hyukjae easily lost himself in the music and in the simple pleasure of dancing, although a small part of his mind wondered if Donghae really would be able to quit his second job and have some time to dance again.
And like that, Hyukjae realized that he did think of the phantom person on the other end of a phone was a friend.
There was a new text waiting on him when they took a break from practice, and he grinned a little stupidly at his phone and at the cute text Donghae had sent him.
' _Good morning Hyukkie!^^ Thanks for the help with my paper last night, I was really stressing about it. Talk with you later to~day? ^^ (And yes I called you Hyukkie, I think we're a little past the -ssi stage by now, don't you think?)_ '
Typing out a reply, he wished the younger a good day as well and confirmed that he'd be texting through the day in between classes, and asked if the younger had eaten anything since the pizza last night.
“So you _did_ get laid,” Sungmin said, startling the hell out of him.
“Hyung, someone needs to put a bell on you to warn people that you're coming,” Hyukjae muttered, locking his phone just in case. “And I did not get laid.”
Sungmin looked at him for a long moment, disbelief written all over his youthful face. “Well, you obviously don't want to talk about it at the moment. Let me know when we get to meet her... or him, whichever.”
“Yah!” Hyukjae yelled, startled.
Sungmin's pouty mouth turned up into a smile. “Yeah, let me know when you're ready to let us meet him.”
Hyukjae sank back down to the floor, face turning red as his phone beeped at him. Grumbling a bit as Sungmin nearly bounced away, he opened the new text that had just come in, his lips tilting up into a smile.
' _I had a few slices left over, so I ate one for breakfast and I'm saving the other two for lunch. Which isn't until late today, sigh. Have you eaten?_ '
He smiled a little more fully, amazed at the somewhat homey conversation they were having, considering their first time speaking to each other was phone sex. Typing in a quick reply, he sent it off and stored his phone, slightly more energized for the second half of class. |
1c68464f815d4263adb00661f90b232c | ['0ac3d1f3ce0447dca42398b1716a842e'] | The tigers are, as promised, extremely awesome.
* * *
Jemaine's bed is empty again on Thursday morning. Bret's eating his breakfast at the table when he hears the key turning in the lock. Jemaine walks in carrying a newspaper, a manila folder, and a paper sack which turns out to contain a bunch of half-price bananas. Jemaine hands one to Bret and sits down at the table, setting the paper and the folder down in front of him and starting to peel a banana of his own.
"Where'd you go?" Bret asks around a mouthful of delicious but very squishy banana mush.
"I went to see Greg about putting another review on the website," Jemaine explains, "but he said Murray said we're not doing that anymore."
"We're not?" asks Bret. He won't pretend he's ready to buy into the whole music review charade, but he felt he should at least make up to Jemaine and help out with the next one.
"Yeah, but that's okay," Jemaine continues, "Murray said we won't get in trouble with the union if Greg takes down the website and we give back the press passes."
"Oh," Bret says. He wonders if he should be more surprised than he is. "Well, that's good news, I suppose."
"Yeah, I guess," Jemaine says. He takes another bite of his banana and chews on it glumly. "It's just that this review was even better than the last one."
"What group did you review?" Bret asks, trying to think when Jemaine would have had time in the last week to see a show, and not to dwell on why he wouldn't have invited Bret along.
"Us," Jemaine says. Bret looks at him, and Jemaine goes on, "When we went to the zoo, yesterday." He opens the manila folder and pushes a sheet of paper over to Bret. At the top, in Jemaine's neatest handwriting, it says _Flight of the Conchords, Free Admission Day at the Zoo/Band Meeting._
"Huh," Bret says, looking over the review. He wouldn't have thought to write a review of their own event, especially one where they weren't even playing any music.
Jemaine's right; he has written a very good review. There's a lot about the tigers, which Bret agrees were the clear highlight of the excursion, and also a whole paragraph about Bret's suitability as a perch for finicky birds, as well as some praise for his skill at spotting large carnivorous animals hiding in tall grasses (Bret takes a great deal of pride in this skill, and he doesn't often get to display it living in an urban setting as he does.)
"Can I keep this?" Bret asks.
"Yeah, I guess that'd be okay," Jemaine says, but he's smiling while he says it. | 366e794f779d457b8a27cbed67238287 | ['0ac3d1f3ce0447dca42398b1716a842e'] | "It's his fault that stuff's on there anyway," Jedediah reasoned, taking a sip from his canteen before replacing the cap and tossing it over to Octavius. Refreshed and still energized from the struggle, they clambered into the car. Only after he had settled down into the passenger seat and tossed his helmet and sword and the canteen into the spacious rear seat of the car did it occur to Octavius that he had missed his opportunity to insist on driving. He'd only wrestled away driving privileges from Jedediah on one occasion - not during the rhinoceros incident, thank you very much - but he had to admit he hadn't enjoyed the experience in the same profound way it seemed Jedediah did. Perhaps it was just as well this way; Jedediah already appeared to be bonding with the new car, humming softly to himself as he examined the controls.
"And where are we headed this evening?" Octavius asked, feeling like he had interrupted an intimate conversation when Jedediah looked up distractedly, a bit of a flush showing high on his cheeks.
"Oh," Jedediah said, and if anything his face grew redder. He looked away, shrugging his shoulders stiffly. "Hadn't given it much thought. Probably just take her around nearby, run her down a couple hallways and see what she can do."
Translation: race down the hallways at ridiculous speeds and hope to trip Larry coming around one of the corners. Octavius grinned widely. "Then what are we waiting for?" Jedediah glanced over at him, sharing his smile. "Onward!"
Ten minutes later, after startling several of the bronze statues in the adjacent hallway and reaching some inadvisable speeds near the stairway, Octavius looked out his window and found that they were entering a section of the museum he didn't recognize. The hall grew darker as they proceeded toward what looked like a towering door. "Jedediah - "
"I told you, call me Jed," came the familiar reply.
"Jed," Octavius tried again, speaking carefully, unable to shake the sense of disrespect at so foreshortening a proud man's name, even at the insistence of the man himself. "Jed, are you quite certain you know where we are?"
"No need to fret," Jedediah said, waving a hand at Octavius to ward off any further fretting he might be tempted to do. "You'll like this, I know it." Octavius settled back, trying very hard to feel reassured as they headed deeper into the darkening halls. He could only faintly make out the walls in the faint, silvery light by the time Jedediah finally drew to a halt.
"Now will you - " Octavius began, but Jedediah cut him off.
"Would you just get out of the car already?"
Octavius was halfway out the door when the hindmost part of his brain sounded a faint alarm, and quiet _ding ding ding_ warning him that perhaps he hadn't examined this man's motivations quite closely enough. His brain screamed at his body to seize up and lunge for his sword - why had he been foolish enough to remove his weapon? How had he been drawn in so completely by charm and apparent friendliness? - but his body refused, and Octavius found himself tensed and breathing hard in the dimly lit hall.
"Look up," Jedediah said, his voice quite close by, and even as Octavius' brain instructed him to lash out, to protect himself at any cost, his head tilted back and he saw...
"Stars." It took a long moment for Octavius to realize that he had spoken the word aloud. He knew what stars were, of course, had a precise, inexplicable cultural memory of the phenomenon, but of course he had never actually _seen_ the night sky. The only time he had properly been outside under the sky had been on a clouded, snowy night, and he'd been far too wrapped up in other concerns at the time to even properly lament the missed opportunity. "Thank you," Octavius said, settling back against the car door and letting the images on the vast, vaulted ceiling fill his entire field of view.
"You're welcome," he heard Jed answer from still closer, and then he felt Jed's shoulder brush his as he leaned up against the car too. "It ain't fair, only ever being alive at night but never getting to see stars."
Octavius could dimly recall hearing Jed sing a song, once, something about stars that might have been a light and airy tune in anyone else's mouth, but in Jed's it had been a song of longing, of disappointment.
"Thank you," Octavius said again, and when he felt Jed shift beside him, a sure sign that the man was about to start talking again for lack of a better occupation, he slid his hand up and circled his fingers around Jed's wrist. Jed stilled at his touch, and Octavius turned to slide his other hand up to Jed's neck, steadying his jaw. It seemed that Octavius hadn't been listening to half of what Jed said either, but he was listening now. |
3635b02ac1154aacb949355eccf8aae6 | ['0ace3dadf902408a93859dbe5081a4a8'] | The alpha grunts as he fucks the omega senseless. He suckles the nubs. Surprising Baekhyun by biting it which made the omega goes over the edge. Coming so hard his toes curl and slick gushes out from his pussy. He shivers whilst strings of come spurts out from his small hard pink cock. Sobbing from the onslaught of pleasure. Chanyeol moans when Baekhyun clenches hard on his cock milking him, he pulls out before knoting him and spills his cum on his round belly. He doesn’t knot Baekhyun whilst pregnant. The alpha grins as he locks gaze with his mate, his all. He is panting and kisses Baekhyun pouring all his love. The omega kisses him back as eagerly, he playfully nibbles Chanyeol’s lips then pulls back from the kiss.
“How did it taste this time?” Baekhyun asks breathlessly with rosy cheeks, staring at his lover with a smile.
Chanyeol chuckles lightly, leaning down to peck Baekhyun’s lips. “Really sweet, as sweet as you darling.”
Baekhyun laughs, smiling playfully. “Want to have a taste again?”
Chanyeol bites his lips hiding a smile, his cock easily slipping inside Baekhyun again. “I would never say no to your hard work sweetheart.”
* * *
LINK | LINK
2. thank you ♡
Hello here lovely readers ♡
First of all I would like to thank all of you for reading my fic, I didn't expect you to like it that much honestly. So this makes me happy.
I may not continue with this au, but I might update with a new one and make this kinda a series? If I come up with a new plot in mind.
On another note, **I'm looking for a beta.**
It can be anyone, someone good in English and grammar such things as I'm not fluent in English.
You can contact me on LINK, private messages or LINK if you want!
Finally, I'm working on two other fics.
Chapter one already posted, LINK, mermaids au and pirates.
One coming soon, The Royal Gift abo/ wolf au and lots of smut.
Thank you for your attention,
Hopefully see you soon! ♡
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading ♡
> So you can see I've finally edited, corrected a few typos and added about an extra 1.5K words because it was really short! Sorry if there are still any typos left. Hope you enjoyed! | 1fac9e38d11f4402a9d7086a12c224f0 | ['0ace3dadf902408a93859dbe5081a4a8'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> Hi so here it is, from my prompt on twitter @USER also for those who don't like lactation don't bother read it. Warning this one shot doesn't make any sense, it isn't reality at all abviously.
> Disclaimer: Use of the word pussy, and this is just fiction.
> Anyway thank you for reading hehe.
Baekhyun is pregnant, though it isn't much apparent when the small bump of his belly is barely noticeable. But as wolves, the pheromones he has been emitting is definitely delectable making any alphas but particularly Chanyeol going crazy, pampering him at any occasions he got.
Chanyeol and Baekhyun have mated a few months ago, they made love but this time around the omega hasn’t been taking his suppressants his heat hitting him like he reached maturity for the first time once again. Nonetheless he wanted it and had discussed with Chanyeol beforehand. Whilst he has been in heat, he asked the alpha to breed him, to put pups inside his womb. Chanyeol has been ecstatic, for the first time he didn’t pull him out. Knot reaching deeper and deeper inside the small omega, his velvet channel sucking his cock in and not letting it go until his cockhead set inside his womb securing him inside. His velvety walls milking efficiently the cum out of the alpha. It was bound to happen, Baekhyun’s pregnancy hasn’t been a surprise but a delight. Chanyeol has been elated, feeling smug and proud to have succeeded in breeding his mate in one go.
Since then the alpha has been taking more than good care of him, being tolerant of his mood swings, comforting him when he was feeling nauseous. Accepting Baekhyun’s whims, especially his food cravings which sometimes are getting out of hand.
As the months pass, everything settled down. They got their routine, everything falling into place. Until recently, Baekhyun’s chest has started to hurt. The omega isn’t foreign to this, having this kind of sensation when in heat, it only means one thing. His breasts have been tender, more sensitive, they have been growing progressively since the start of his pregnancy. His breasts are fuller, already full of milk.
As an omega, Baekhyun knows it is normal but this early in the pregnancy? He is slightly worried. therefore he arranged an appointment to the doctor. After a thorough examination and a long talk, the doctor succeeded in calming him down. The baby is alright and him as well, he is simply a bit early.
Although he feels really full which is making him slightly uncomfortable. The doctor told him he has to milk himself to feel relieved. He didn’t tell anything to Chanyeol yet. He is a bit embarrassed to say the least, he knows he shouldn't but even though it isn’t convenient, he prefers to do it himself. He is still surprised Chanyeol haven’t noticed it yet when they make love, his lover likes to satisfy him in more ways than one. The alpha has always loved his small breasts especially giving a lot of attention to his dusty pink nipples. Chanyeol can’t resist playing with his breasts, toying with his swollen nipples until he is squirming and whining because they’re too sensitive. He’s mildly scared Chanyeol might feel it even though he makes sure to milk his breasts beforehand. He does it each time before his lover comes back to work without the latter knowing.
Nevertheless he should have known, Chanyeol would know if not by the taste at least by the smell. He noticed how the alpha has been paying even more attention to him since the pregnancy, the omega was glowing. Baekhyun likes it though, he likes Chanyeol’s attention on him even though his body has been changing, the alpha seems to appreciate his newly curves.
Baekhyun was still in the bathroom when he heard the front door open, Chanyeol came back earlier. The omega panicked slightly, dropping the milking machine and not having much time to clean it, he hid it in the cabinet. He barely walked out of the bathroom that he was swept off his feet. He laughed and kissed Chanyeol on the nose, cute. During the night they made love, he was squirming on the bed, not able to think straight anymore. The alpha has been giving extra care to his breasts, he didn’t notice Chanyeol has felt something, tasted a drop of milk. Only when the alpha stopped his thrusts, Baekhyun whined but stopped quickly when he saw Chanyeol’s look. He made the link in an instant and cursed himself inwardly. “What is it?”
Baekhyun didn’t answer, he didn’t want to. His cheeks were all flushed pink in embarrassment. Plus he already knew Chanyeol figured it out but was still asking him to say it. Feeling the omega’s insecurity, Chanyeol smiled. Two fingers around the swollen nipples, he pressed gently and a drop of milk squirted out of the pink nub. Baekhyun whined, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you tell me sweetheart? I could have helped you.” Chanyeol had to taste, he licked the areola catching a drop of milk on his tongue and humming at the delectable taste.
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Nothing is embarrassing about you darling.”
Soon enough Baekhyun had the alpha all over him, sucking his nipples with so much fervor, he was insatiable wanting to taste even more of the delicious flavor.
One thing led to another, Chanyeol has now taken the habit of milking him.
Baekhyun still asks himself why didn’t he tell his mate sooner? He figured out he has this strange sense of satisfaction when Chanyeol drinks from him. Everytime he strokes the alpha’s cheeks in a tender way whilst the latter is drinking quite messily, countless drops of milk dripping from his chin. He doesn’t mind babying a grown up alpha. |
dc6cc607c40042559d008acdfa54039c | ['0acff67924544f9982002b54d6fdaf6f'] |
Even the strongest man in the universe has weak moments
**Author's Note:**
> This isn't the first fic I've ever written, but the first I've posted on this site. Haven't written fanfiction in a long ass time. Anyway, here's some garbage.
Even the strongest man in the world, possibly the universe, had weaknesses.
Saitama was aware of his own patterns, and he could pinpoint exactly when it was about to go downhill, but he didn’t care enough to try and prevent it. Slumps like these came and went. It was part of life.
It took Genos time, but he eventually started to notice the subtle changes in his teacher’s behavior. For the last few weeks, he’d been sleeping more. Now, Saitama was always pretty fond of sleep, sometimes sleeping in til midday. But when he started to sleep for near entire days and still seemed tired when he eventually woke up, Genos started to suspect something was wrong.
“Sensei, are you doing alright? Are you sick?” Asked Genos over dinner, one day. Saitama had only woken up recently.
“I’m fine, why do you ask?” Saitama replied between bites.
“You’ve been sleeping at an abnormal rate lately and I suspect something may be wrong with your health.” Genos only spoke out of genuine concern. Saitama decided from the moment he figured out what was going on with him that there was no way he could ever tell Genos. He’d wait it out, then he’d be fine, and life could continue as normal.
“I’m fine, probably just getting older, is all.” Genos didn’t prod any further.
Next, Saitama started eating more. He only kept healthy foods in his house, so it wasn’t as if it would be detrimental to his health, but the point still stood. Saitama started to spend a large amount of time sitting in front of the tv, eating. Not necessarily because he was hungry, but because it was something to do. He grew bored very fast but didn’t really feel like doing anything. Everything took too much effort. He still went out to fight monsters, but he found himself telling Genos to go more and more. Genos was always excited to do hero work, but he prefered to watch Saitama in hopes of learning something.
“Sensei, you haven’t gone to fight any monsters in four days. Usually you’re incredibly restless by now.”
“I’m just taking a break, is all. You need the experience more than I do, anyway. I don’t care too much about rankings, so it’s whatever.” Saitama sounded half-awake. He went back to the tv. It wasn’t even turned to the news, he was watching infomercials because he didn’t want to change the channel. Even paying attention grew tiring after a while.
When Saitama started spending straight half-hours in the shower at a time, Genos really started to get worried. Saitama was always complaining about the water bill and always made sure to minimize his bathing time as much as possible. The first time, Genos thought he had fallen asleep inside. He knocked on the door as loudly as he could.
“Sensei, are you alright? Did you fall asleep?”
“No, no, I’m fine, Genos. I just need to clear my head.” Genos could almost hear the dismissive gesture he knew he was getting.
The first time Genos settled with that answer, but when it started happening near every day, Genos worried even more. He kept quiet because he knew he would just get the same answer, but it didn’t stop him from thinking about it.
And then suddenly, Genos missed when Saitama was overeating, sleeping, and showering.
All at once, Saitama’s functioning seemed to completely shut down. Genos couldn’t believe it. The strongest person he’d ever met, who he’d dedicated himself to entirely, barely had the strength to get out of bed.
Saitama stopped sleeping as frequently as before. At first Genos was relieved, thinking he was going back to normal, until he realized Saitama simply wasn’t sleeping. He got in a few hours at most. He started blowing off meals. ‘Make whatever you want, I’m not hungry’, he’d say. When Genos did drag him to the table eventually, he barely touched his food. He ate some, but it seemed to only be to appease Genos. And his stench made it obvious he hadn’t showered in several weeks. He stopped going outside, instead asking Genos to go out, no matter what it was for, be it fighting giant monsters or getting groceries. He ignored all of his phone calls, and if he did answer, he’d simply say he was busy. His friends trusted him, but it was clear that they too were growing concerned, even if they weren’t as up close and personal as Genos was.
After about three weeks of observation and careful consideration, Genos finally decided to confront him about it.
“Sensei, it’s dinnertime.” Saitama dragged himself up from the couch sluggishly, coming over and sitting at the table.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.” Saitama picked at his food, taking a bite every now and then. About five minutes in, Genos decided it was time to bring it up.
“I want to talk to you about something.” Saitama raised an eyebrow.
“What about?” He asked.
“You, sensei.”
“What about me?” | 98bc8c03a75f459ab30785be4d15b36b | ['0acff67924544f9982002b54d6fdaf6f'] | No, Jack, I don't want to know about your sex life
**Author's Note:**
> Im reaper76 filth dont look at me
After missions, Mercy was always sure to give everyone a physical examination. It was thanks to her that the reformed Overwatch had gone on as long as it had. Zenyatta and Lucio could heal surface wounds soon after they were inflicted, but overall had very little medical training. Their healing methods couldn’t do much for infections and ailments, nor could Mercy’s caduceus staff. Without her check-ups, everyone surely would have died before their rag-tag group could get on its feet.
Today Mercy was going through such examinations. Currently sitting in her makeshift doctor’s office was none other than Soldier: 76. The wax paper covering the table crinkled as he shifted in place, waiting for Mercy to get her supplies together.
“Thank you for your patience, Jack.” Mercy said, setting her bag down next to him. Only the former Overwatch members were allowed to call him Jack, and only in private. Most of the team called him ‘dad’, anyway.
“Not a problem, Doctor.” He nodded politely. Mercy allowed him to keep his visor on. She doubted he’d sustained any injuries to the face anyway.
“Alright, you know the drill. I need you take off your shirt and pants.” It was all standard procedure to them. Soldier: 76 got right to it.
He stood at attention, not moving a muscle as Mercy carefully examined his body. He hadn’t been injured much in the last mission, so this check-up was likely going to be very short.
That was, until she got to his back.
His back was covered in fresh scars, like claw marks. As if he’d been attacked by an animal. There were countless numbers of these scratches, red and barely healing over. It was obvious that whatever had scratched up his back so badly had pierced the skin. They must have been very recent.
“Jack?” She asked.
“Yes?”
“What on EARTH happened to your back?”
Soldier: 76 looked away from her, and started to sweat. He said nothing.
Mercy used her sternest ‘mom’ voice. “Jack. What happened?”
Soldier: 76 avoided her gaze. He looked as if he wanted to run. But there was no running from Mercy.
“John Morrison. Who or what did this to your back?” Soldier: 76 shuddered. People only called him by his birth name if they were really mad at him. He couldn’t remember being called that in years. There was no getting out of this one. He’d have to answer.
There was a long pause. Mercy tapped her foot, waiting for him to answer. Truly, a stone wall of motherly concern.
“Reaper.” He mumbled, finally.
Mercy’s mind immediately went to assault, but that didn’t seem right. If that was the case, it wouldn’t have been specifically scratches on his back. Now that she looked closer, she also noticed a cluster of hickies on Soldier: 76’s neck.
She pictured Reaper clawing at 76’s back in the throes of passion. An image she neither needed nor wanted.
Her eyes widened.
Oh. My. God.
She gave him a look of pure unadulterated disappointment. Soldier: 76 started sweating even more, eyes glued to the floor in embarrassment. He didn’t think this would be how he’d be found out.
After the most uncomfortable 30 seconds of either of their lives, Mercy broke the silence.
“Let me get the disinfectant.” She rummaged through her bag and pulled out the little can. She sprayed his back quickly. It stung, but he’d expected it to.
“After this we’ll never speak of it again, but I must ask, why Gabriel?”
“Guess I’m still stuck in the past.” He answered sooner than she expected. Honestly, she was fine not knowing what her old colleague got up to in his spare time.
“Well, you should be good to go. Call me if it starts hurting.” He nodded before starting to get dressed again.
Before he left, she stuffed something into his hand and shooed him out the door. Once outside, he opened his hand to reveal that Mercy had handed him an assortment of condoms. He stuffed them into his pocket, and gestured for Pharah to go in next.
**Author's Note:**
> tumblr: lesbeanmercy |
7eee088dd93b4e2b964bac4ac35d3b05 | ['0ad41f5c87d24d65aae01fe7572e2f78'] | “Jimmy and I both were interested when we saw your score for Boy/Girl on that BDSM test we did, back when we had just met. Your score was pretty high, around 80%, if my memory serves me right. We didn’t get a relevant enough score on either side of that spectrum, if I’m going to be honest, but we’d both still like to try a scene with you,” Cas told him, pausing to try to gauge Sam’s reaction to what had been said so far.
“The ‘tl-dr’ version of it is, we want to get you into a headspace where you just let me and Cas take care of you for a few days, and this seemed like as good of an idea as any. Originally, we were thinking that 3 days sounded good, but we’re open to renegotiation on that. As for age, that’s a little trickier. I don’t think Cas or I have any interest in getting you down to a baby, but a toddler might just work for what we have in mind, maybe a 4-year-old? What do you think, Sam?” Jimmy said, the playfulness from the start vanishing and warping into serious looks.
Sam took a second to think. 3 days, Jimmy had asked for. That was the same timeframe he’d asked for when they did that Master/Toy scene. It didn’t seem like 3 days at the time, dragging on or speeding up at times. Would that happen with this too, if he decided to try it? Another thing to think about was how he’d miss his Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday classes. Surely, they’d thought about that, hadn’t they? Although, come to think about it, Sam was supposed to take a few ‘mental health days’, according to the doctor the twins took him to. It would be easy to email his professors the note claiming his week off, on a doctor’s orders, and have them send him any assignment he’d missed.
Then came the hardest part to think about: the scene they’re proposing. Would he be willing to be a four-year-old? He could barely remember what his 4-year-old self was like, and why would the twins be so interested in him as a little kid, anyway? He knew he could talk by then, and walk too, but could he read yet? Had he been potty trained already? – Did Cas and Jimmy expect to put him in diapers? Would he do that for them?
“Sam?” Cas called, breaking him from his thoughts. “I believe Jimmy asked you a question, and we’re both waiting for your answer.”
“Yes,” Sam blurted out, not giving himself a chance to back out. “Yes, I want to – I mean, I‘m not opposed to trying it. You guys aren’t going to, like, put me in diapers or something, right?” he added, once he realized that the word ‘yes’ didn’t provide much explanation.
Even if he didn’t like it, he would try, for them. And if he did? It was because he was making them happy, he told himself. He definitely was not weird, especially not that weird.
“No Sam, we wouldn’t be putting you in a diaper, and unless you want us to, we won’t push you. We would, however, be interested in seeing how you react to pull-ups. At four, we’re trying to be sure we can trust our little boy to make it to the bathroom in time, but it’s okay to have accidents too, sometimes,” Cas told him gently.
“That’s another thing: what would I call you guys? I mean, I’d rather not call you guys my dads,” Sam said, sounding mildly horrified at the thought of calling his boyfriends his fathers. “Oh, and um… I could- I can try pull ups, if you guys want me to,” he answered, knowing fully well how red his face must’ve been.
“You can call us whatever you’d feel comfortable with, Sam, whether it’s our names or whatever you’d like, “ Jimmy told him. “I know it’s pretty late to start tonight, but we could maybe have a trial run now, and if you like it, tomorrow we can start, then?”
Once Sam had agreed, Cas asked Jimmy to ‘get the stuff’ – whatever all that stuff was, however, was a mystery. Jimmy left the room, most likely off to his own room to get ‘the stuff’ in a place kept hidden from Sam, leaving the man in question and Cas in their room, waiting.
“How about I help you with those clothes, huh, Sammy? Taking off clothes and shoes can be hard for little boys to do on their own,” Cas suggested kindly, looking at Sam with the soft eyes of a caregiver, and moving to help strip the boy of his clothes with the same gentle kindness, once he realized Sam wouldn’t be giving him an answer.
Jimmy had come in at some point during the process of ridding Sam of his ‘big’ clothes, holding what looked like a garment bag, a package of what were clearly adult pull-ups, and a bag that seemed nearly full of things he couldn’t really see.
“Heya there, sugar plum! How about a bubble bath, and then Cas and I can get you into some comfy jammies for bed, hm?” Jimmy asked, speaking as he would to a four-year-old child, and not someone of his own age. At the boy’s nod of agreement, Jimmy continued talking.
“I’m gonna go get that bath running for you, then, honey. Cas, could you get the bath toys and the bubbles for me? They’re in my room.” The difference in Jimmy’s tone was so evident, but Sam found he not only thought it fitting, but also kind of liked the way Jimmy was talking to him. | 3bf69055f59148bdac95f839bd7eeb00 | ['0ad41f5c87d24d65aae01fe7572e2f78'] | No Strings Attached
**Author's Note:**
> So uh, I don't own PTX or SUP3RFRUIT. Just thought I should make that more clear than it already was.
>
> Oh, and I should probably mention that, while some of the stuff I'll write are actual things that have happened (and therefore my interpretation of such things), most of this is made up.
“Hey Michelle?”
“Yeah, Scott? What’s up?” Mitch answered, not batting an eye to the name behind the question and not looking up from the screen of his roommate’s borrowed laptop.
“Can I have my laptop back for a second? I need to check something out, it’s kind of important,” was what the roommate, Scott, answered. He had been letting Mitch borrow his laptop ever since their trip to Las Vegas where Mitch’s own was stolen.
“Oh, uh, yeah, sure, just give me a second to minimize my stuff, okay?” Mitch replied, and as promised, a few seconds later the laptop in question was presented to its owner, with a few words of thanks as well.
As Scott sat down and opened his laptop once more, he smiled as he saw Mitch was using Safari. Scott personally preferred using Google Chrome, but he figured it was best to keep them both using different browsers, that way nothing the other kept a secret would stop being one, right?
“Privacy, Scott. Privacy is good,” Mitch had told him when he had pointed out that very same thing to Mitch. “It’s good that we know each other really well and we’re really close, but that we also have some things that the other doesn’t know or that we don’t want to share with each other.”
At the time Mitch said that, he hadn’t really understood what he meant. Little did Scott know, soon enough he would be finding out.
Hours passed, drinks were emptied and refilled, food was devoured, and soon enough, Scott’s important business had been solved. What it was, I don’t know, but I do know that during that whole time, Scott’s eye seemed to drift naturally to the small minimized Safari screen lying innocently in the dock at the bottom of the screen, the blue little compass icon teasing him, driving crazy until he couldn’t handle it a second longer. The curiosity was tearing him apart. He had to know what Mitch was so wary of him seeing.
So he found out. He took matters into his own hands, and clicked. It is safe to say that what Scott found was both what he expected, and also not. He could think of very few things that Mitch wouldn’t want him to find out. Some ideas were more outrageous, such as porn or shopping for sex toys online or something along those lines, while other ideas were much more normal and reasonable, such as a surprise or present for Scott, which was kind of stupid since his birthday wasn’t for almost a whole year. What stared back at him on the screen was, as Scott jokingly thought, some form of pornography, but it wasn’t the normal kind. Well, the normal kind he expected Mitch to watch, since most guys don’t really watch gay porn unless it involves two girls, very naked ones, rubbing against each other.
No, the boy facing the camera was handcuffed to the bed, and had several blue spots on his chest, and after a quick inspection of the title of the video, “Hot twink sub gets waxed and fucked”, Scott concluded that it was hot wax, coming from a candle that now rested on the nightstand. There was another boy, this one looked only a little older, and his back was to the camera, so he couldn’t get a good view of what the second boy was doing, and honestly at this point, Scott couldn’t be sure he wanted to find out.
After staring at the screen a little longer, he decided he wouldn’t pry any further than this. He minimized the screen and decided to watch YouTube videos to keep his mind off what he had seen and figured out about Mitch. Well, that’s not to say it necessarily worked. Every time a video would take a while to load, he would picture Mitch watching videos like those, or even Mitch being in one of those videos. He didn’t know what to make of his thoughts, but he knew what to make of the raging hard on tenting the front of his jeans, the denim and the zipper making it almost painful for him to be as hard as he was. He very deliberately did nothing about it, and carried on with his videos once they’d loaded.
The videos were no match for the thoughts flying through his head, forming images, sounds, things so vivid they couldn’t be anything less than truth. But Scott knew they were far from it. He just wasn’t so sure if that was good or bad.
One thing, however, was for sure. He had to tell Mitch he knew. Of course, that never meant he had to walk up to Mitch and say it to his face. Oh no, Scott was going to have fun with breaking the news.
**Author's Note:**
> Hi, so this is gonna be the first multi-chaptered fic I've written in years. I know probably no one will read this. I also know this is so short, it's actually embarrassing. So, sorry for the ridiculous thing I called a chapter, and sorry in advance for the lack of updates because guess who's terrible with those nasty things? Yup. Sorry.
>
> This all came from an idea I left as a comment on someone's fic and a girl asked me to write it. So I will. And am. Well, you get what I mean.
>
> This is for you, Cora. |
ac5720c1edce40f08c4bc3e04bcce2fd | ['0addb3fee04d4e6db644a460181b1c06'] | Hermione's face was pink. "I spent he night here, Harry. With Ron. Oh, don't look so shocked; we are not children anymore. Luna's here too; she is sleeping over in Neville's bed, behind the curtains. The world is falling apart, Harry. No one cares much about the rules right now, not after Dumbledore died and Snape took off with the death eaters. McGonagall saw Ron and me walking up to the dormitory together last night, and she simply smiled and wished us a good night."
"Dumbledore..." Harry sank back on his bed. "He's still dead? Nothing has changed?"
"Oh, Harry." Hermione stroked his hair gently and sighed. "He is dead. Nothing can change that, unbearable as it is... We went to his funeral, remember?"
"Then Voldemort-? The horcruxes-?" Harry's mouth was dry. "Everything is as it was?"
Oh God. Tom. Tom became Voldemort?
"Afraid so, mate." Ron's voice was kind. "Although I'm having a hard time remembering when I wake up in the morning, too. I wake up thinking that this will be a nice ordinary day, and then suddenly I remember that Snape... killed Dumbledore. It seems impossible, doesn't it? I guess you were right about him all along. And about Draco, too."
"Draco?" whispered Harry. "Is he still here, or did he leave with the death eaters? I... I have something to ask him." I must know if his grandfather ever mentioned someone named Elias.
Hermione snorted. "Well, I have quite a few things to say to him, too, but he shoots curses at me whenever I try to talk to him. He left with Snape, but I saw him back in the castle last night, with Crabbe and Goyle. The teachers are too dumbstruck by everything that's happened to contact the Ministry and have him arrested... He's gathering up a few precious belongings, no doubt, and stealing a few books on dark magic out of the library. Madam Pince seems to have given up on protecting the Restricted Section; she just sits there in a daze as students walk by with all kinds of rare ancient volumes... Go right ahead and see if you can catch him before he leaves, Harry; I wouldn't mind seeing you give Malfoy a piece of your mind."
"No, I have to speak to him in private."
Hermione smiled. "All right. Just make sure you don't get hurt, Harry. Wait, what's that?"
She reached past Harry, for something that glittered by his pillow. Something silver...
"Oh, the fake horcrux. When did you take it out of my robes? I thought I had that, in my pocket..." She reached for her robes, which were carelessly slung over Ron's bed and pulled something silver out of the pocket.
For a moment, the three of them stared in silence at the two identical silver lockets.
"Oh." Hermione looked at Harry, her eyes wide with wonder. "But then... But then the locket you have must be the real horcrux..."
Harry picked the horcrux up in his hands and stroked it with a trembling finger. Tom... It was all real, after all! I am holding a piece of his soul in my hands...
He fastened the silver locket around his neck.
"Where did you get that? You went and found a horcrux overnight? That's amazing, even for you." There was admiration in Ron's glance now. "You really are something, you know that, Harry?"
"I... I found it inside a memory... In Dumbledore's office. I have to go back..."
"You found the horcrux inside a memory?" Hermione stared at him. "Yesterday, in Dumbledore's office? But how is that possible, Harry?"
Harry shook his head slowly. "I have no idea how it was possible. But it was... I have to find a way to get back."
"We are coming with you, Harry." There was a note of determination in Hermione's voice.
"No!" Harry felt panicked. "No, this is something I have to do alone. There is someone I have to meet..." I have to find Tom again. Oh, God, I have to find Tom!
"But we want to help you."
Harry couldn't help smiling at Hermione. You are a good friend, Hermione, although you would never have thought to give me sardines for bad memories... "If you really want to help me, perhaps you could look up a few things for me. Do a little research..."
"Yes, of course, Harry. Stop groaning, Ron; we'd be happy to go to the library."
"Love to," said Ron absently; he seemed momentarily distracted by the silky fabric of Hermione's nightdress.
"Perhaps you could find out more about someone named Elias Black. See if you can find out what happened to him."
"Elias Black?" Hermione frowned. "I have never heard about him. Does he have anything to do with horcruxes?"
Harry smiled. "Yes, I suppose you can say that. Elias Black was a horcrux. I am just wondering what... what happened to him."
"What? He was... Oh, Harry, are you sure? Can a human being be a horcrux? I have never heard of such a thing before. Fascinating... I'll see what I can find out, Harry. Anything else I can look up for you?"
"Well... Er..." Harry felt himself flush as he recalled Tom's frantic kisses against his skin. "Do you happen to know of any good books about spells to use for... What I mean is... Surely, there must be spells that people use when... You know, when two people..."
Hermione looked utterly confused. "What?"
Ron burst out laughing. "I never thought I'd say this, but you can be a little dense sometimes, Hermione. Harry is looking for..." He whispered something in Hermione's ear, and she blushed scarlet.
"Oh. That kind of spell. Why, yes, I think can find you a few useful ones."
"This had better not involve my sister," muttered Ron. | ea696929cd044586b94d218922ab0dbb | ['0addb3fee04d4e6db644a460181b1c06'] | Harry sighed and tried again: "Because I went to see if Professor Lockhart was all right after the pixies crashed through the window, and then I heard someone speaking Snake in the plumbing, and I walked through the marble of the misty girl's bathroom, and Mr. Malfoy's diary fell out, and the words became a beautiful boy with curls, and I shrank the basilisk and gave him an apple, only he seems to like sausages better. He's in the Slytherin dormitory now, resting."
Snape blinked slowly. "Mr. Malfoy is resting in the Slytherin dormitory?" He sounded very confused.
"No, the basilisk is resting in the Slytherin dormitory," explained Harry patiently. "But he is small now, so he will fit under my pillow."
Snape ran a hand over his forehead. He looked very tired. "There is a basilisk under your pillow?"
"That's right!" Harry beamed, relieved that the potions master was finally understanding him. "And he's very sorry about turning Slytherin to stone, but he wouldn't let him eat Ravenclaw, and he's got a bit of a temper."
Snape looked baffled again. "Eat Ravenclaw? I don't quite follow... Oh, never mind, Harry." He sighed deeply and muttered to himself. "I suppose you are speaking the truth; even your blasted godfather couldn't have come up with a fib like that..."
"Godfather?" Harry was curious. "What's that, professor?"
Snape rubbed his temples as if the subject was almost too painful to contemplate. "A godfather or godmother is a person appointed by the parents to look after their child in case something left them unable to care for the child, a guardian of sorts. A godfather is supposed to watch over the child, protect him, and keep him safe. Most parents would naturally choose someone mature, stable, and sane for this responsibility, but your deluded father, for reasons no one will ever understand, instead chose his old school friend Sirius Black. Even their homicidal wolf friend would have made a better godfather than that! I have always wondered if James didn't imperius Lily to make her go along with such a preposterous suggestion. And then they even trusted Black with the secret of their hiding place..." Snape's voice sank to a whisper.
"I have a godfather called Sirius Black?" Harry looked up at Snape in wonder. "How wonderful! I have never heard about him until now. Where is he? I want to find him right away."
"You will not find Sirius Black," said Snape curtly. "That cruel villain is finally where he belongs, Harry. In Azkaban."
"Azkaban?" Harry loved the sound of the name; it sounded like an enchanted faraway land. "Where is that, Professor?"
Snape's pale face was emotionless. "Azkaban is a prison, located on a small remote island in the North Sea. Black is locked up there, and will remain there till the end of his days for what he has done. He was secretly devoted to Lord Voldemort, Harry, and he is the one who told the Dark Lord where to find your mother and father..." Snape's voice trembled. "He will stay there, imprisoned behind those stony walls, until the day he dies. Too bad, in a way. I would have liked to see him, just so I could tear him limb from limb." Snape got up abruptly and turned his back to Harry. Harry couldn't see his face, but he saw Snape's shoulders shaking slightly, as if he was crying silently to himself.
"Oh." Harry didn't know what to say, so he just patted Snape's back gently and left the teacher's office.
Harry's heart was hammering in his chest as he walked towards the Slytherin dungeon. He had a godfather! What a wonderful surprise! Of course he had Leaf, who would always love him like a parent, and Twig as well - but to imagine that there was another guardian out there, one who had been chosen by his fist parents! And this mysterious godfather seemed to love Voldemort, just as Harry himself did! Harry could feel something warm stirring in his heart, just thinking about Sirius Black. How he would love to meet him!
How strange, though, that Snape seemed to dislike him so! Oh, well - Harry was sure that he himself was going to like his godfather very much. But for some reason, Sirius Black was trapped somewhere, on a distant island. Harry realized that he had to go there right away and help his poor godfather.
He reached down and patted the diary in his pocket gently. "We are going on a journey, Tom!" he whispered excitedly. "To a distant place called Azkaban!"
Tom stirred moodily in the diary, and Harry could sense that for some reason Tom was not very thrilled about going to Azkaban and freeing poor Sirius Black.
13. The Dementor's Kiss
*Excuse me, do you know how to get to Azkaban?* Harry poked his head into the school owlery.
The owls were usually very good at giving directions, but for some reason, Harry's question made them terribly flustered.
*Azkaban?*
*Did he really say Azkaban?*
The owls began muttering and hooting among themselves. They rustled their feathers and puffed themselves up as if they had been caught in an icy draft of wind. Then they stuck their heads firmly under their wings. *We are not bringing any letters there,* said a large Grey Owl in a muffled voice. *Not even if they are marked as urgent. Not even if they are from Dumbledore.*
*Or Merlin,* added a snowy owl.
Harry laughed. *Oh, I don't need to send a letter to Azkaban. I just need to go there and find my godfather.* |
f403397feb5248cea2fc71fdb30fc7f8 | ['0b0325a1a3784f4b8641686f166d5d42'] | 1. try to try again
Somebody had broken his door, he could see that much. Oh fuck. He's at the couch, pulling, praying it's still there.
> _Breathe in, breathe out._
>
> _Everything was going to be alright._
>
> _It had to be, right? That's how karma worked, right? The people that did all this fucked up shit to you would pay for it, right?_
>
> _Breathe in, breathe out._
Maybe that throbbing in his ribs would go away. Maybe he could make it go away. Shaky hands twist off the cap.
Now he's on the bed, hand to his mouth, swallowing. Swearing. Promising he'll do better. He can always do better. He _has_ to do better.
A swig of whiskey washes them down.
> _The pills or the thoughts?_
He wonders if he wants to forget. If that's the lesser evil. If that's the only thing he knows how to do. No, he doesn't want to forget. All he does is forget. That's all he's told to do. He's only ever _told_ to do something.
He wonders what it's like to be able to choose. He wonders what he could've been.
He wonders if this will finally be it. If the toxic combination will kill him. If it will finally be over.
> _It hasn't kicked in yet._
His hand wraps around the gun and he stares down the barrel.
He wouldn't have to remember or forget. He could choose.
Fingers pulling the trigger.
Boom.
Breathe.
2. to hear yourself again from time to time
Bright lights, sharp breathes.
> _Over and over and over and over, why won’t it stop?!_
Methodically pushing, pulling, stitching; it never ends. He’s told to hold still, stop moving, arms holding him down.
Just once he wishes he would stop. Stop breathing.
> _Stop existing._
******
He’s awake, thrashing, screaming, shouting.
> _Don’t let them hurt me! Don’t don’t don’t don’t don’t_
But they do. Oh, how they do.
He’s gone, silent, quiet, still.
Still breathing.
******
He can hear her. Her breathing, her sobbing, her pleading.
> _Shut up, just shut up, he’ll leave you alone if you shut up!_
He hopes that she won’t end up like Rachel. Hopes she won’t haunt him.
Head to the side, sting to the neck. Short, sharp gasps. Tossed to the side. He can almost feel her.
> _It’ll be…_
But it won’t be okay. He doesn’t want her to end up like him.
Fingers outstretched, they touch.
He pretends not to feel her hand slipping into his, gripping it. Tries to ignore her shaking.
> _Fuck, let it be over soon._
Footsteps approaching.
Not soon enough.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> That's all for now, folks! Hope you enjoyed reading my first complete fic!
> I'm planning to write a happier Nathan-centric fic soon. | e4c9e6d4426741cd95bb518bc2241c17 | ['0b0325a1a3784f4b8641686f166d5d42'] | "What the fuck is wrong with you?! You stick people in a fucking simulation to ‘see how they’ll react’ so that they’ll pass some stupid test?!"
It takes no strength on his part to push her down and pin her as he straddles her from behind. He methodically cuffs her hands before standing up and pulling her up with him. No words are spoken as he begins to walk out of the room and down the hallway.
They reach a door.
He keys in a command and they walk into another white room. This one is larger, has to be at least two stories tall and is padded except for one wall; one massive window that looks out onto the Citadel. Her feet feel awkward as she stumbles barefoot over the floor before he unceremoniously drops her and she’s on her knees.
She snarls as he leans down to release her and he stops.
"You think you’re the only one that’s gone through this? I said every Spectre candidate goes through this, some make it further than others. I went through the exact same scenario as you did, with my team. We lost a year of our lives in a simulation, and everybody assumes you’re gone a year for Spectre training,"
His voice trails off as he takes a seat on the chair in one corner of the spacious room, turning his head to look out the window.
"Let’s go over what happened; who died during your simulation?"
4. Part IV
Her eyes were wary as she looked at him, but he seemed adamant about not looking back at her. She didn’t have to ask which deaths he was talking about; the ones that weren’t part of her crew didn’t matter to him.
"Ashley Williams, Mordin Solus, Thane Krios, Morinth, Legion,"
She recited mechnically and she was mildly surprised that he wasn’t typing anything onto some sort of datapad. He hummed in agreement and shifted so that he was looking at her.
"They’re all alive. Well, with the exception of Legion, he was created by the simulation to be an embodiment of the geth for you to interact with,"
Her chest tightened at the memory of Legion. How she stood on Rannoch and successfully talked down both the quarians and the geth and foolishly believed she had reached a peaceful agreement.
"None of them have ever met you, however they did have to provide consent to be used in the simulation if they weren’t created by the program. If you happen to run into them in the future, they are aware that Spectres might recognize them. Aside from Legion, The Illusive Man, Kai Leng, Urdnot Bakara, EDI, Jacob Taylor, Miranda Lawson, and Grunt also do not exist. They were created to test you,"
The way Nihlus sounded, it was like he had said this over and over but Shepard knew there weren’t many Spectres in total. She wondered briefly if he had to tell this speech to every candidate and just recite it over and over, even if they failed.
"What about… what about Garrus Vakarian?" |
4ada2deca2024771bd15ae30289958df | ['0b145c5ba0f24bc88457e81e8f730a33'] | The same thing happened every day, I rolled out of bed 10 minutes before I was suppose to leave, put on something that I'd layed out the night before, styled my hair (because god knows that if you don't style a hair cut that involves an undercut you're either going to look like a toddler that took scissors to thier hair,or someone who's blind and/or deaf and tried to be stylish), and left to get myself a soy milk caramal cappuccino, The joys of being lactose intolerant am I right? It makes you sound pretentious, like you're pulling up to Mcdonald's and you're sitting at the drive through menu, abd you lean over and there's this delay before you hear the nasaly voice of some high school sophomore, or the gruff voice of some 40 year old white woman who's been smoking since she was twelve, and they're all like: "What can I get'chya" because they're too lazy to say the 'get' and the 'you' seperately so you get this get'chya and you don't even know how they combined get and you to create this weird choppy sounding 'chya. And you're sitting there at the window like "I'd like an um.......uh........a big mac with no cheese and a large diet coke, with a large fry and a few sides of honey mustard, oh and throw in a couple of cookies too." And so you drive to the window to pay for your food and then you drive to the next to get your food and when they hand it out to you you check and see if all of it is there, and you have one or two fries while you're checking and once you have either gotten all of your food or made an optional pit stop in the restaurant. But otherwise you have your food right? And you start with your cookies, so you tae a bite and you're enjoying them until you realize the chocolate's melted and the entirety of the cookie is cold. So you shug it off and move to your burger and you realize they left the cheese on it. It's like they're saying: "No! You're not aloud to have no cheese it's SUPPOSEDLY good for your bones" You can't even absorb the calcium in cheese, especially AMERICAN CHEESE YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THIS STUFF JUST BECAUSE I WORK AS A JANITOR FOR A CRAFT STORE!? WELL I DO!
Anyway, I may or may not have gone a little over board with that story, back to the task at hand, I was going to get myself some coffee, but that isn't really the interesting bit of the story, it gets interesting when I arrive that the store and my satanic warlock of a boss who insatiably has his head shoved so far up his as it makes me want to scream walks up to me and he has this dumb swagger in his walk, his 'significant other' looking all hot and bothered beside him, panting gallons of CO² and grasping at his forearm, like he was going to faint if the bigger asshole didn't have his way with him, and you know what the dick says? He says there's been another accident and you know what happens when he says there's been another accident I get to clean up glitter for the 1,000,000th time in the past week, and I'm about to scream, my fingers rake through my hair and my eyebrows are furrowed as I march my way down to the glitter isle with the shop vac that I hauled from the store room (janitors closet) and I get to work immediately not even thinking to put my stupid craft supply herpes covered apron on. And so I'm vacuuming for a while before I'm finally done and that's when this freckled fellow walks through the isle after I'd twisted the extention chord around my arm, so he comes up to me all timid, wearing this sweater vest with a gnome on it, he tugs at my jacket that I'm wearing like a four year old even though the guy is a couple inches taller than me and from the looks of it about the same age, so I look toward him and I can tell there's probably a horrific grimace on my face because I swear I saw him shink like a food before I finally said, "Good morning Sir, is there anything I can help you find?"
That's when he speaks.
I'm pretty sure my ears orgasmed when I heard his voice, I mean I shouldn't have been too surprised when I heard it, it matched this guys build perfectly, except for the dumb haircut that he proudly sported, his voice was like:
Imagine your favorite cold dessert, it was sharp like the tingle you feel when you sink your teeth into icecream, but it was also warm like grandma's apple pie, and just as sweet.
"I'm looking for some turquoise glitter, I was hoping you guys would have some."
I wanted to cringe at the word but I nodded as if out of curiosity and decided to help him out. God was that a good idea.
3. Mushrooms are Important to Me
"Uh, yeah, I bet we have some, and if we don't have any on the shelves then I probably vacuumed it up." I said woth a laugh, looking over to the shelves before looking back at him, his cheeks were graced with a warm vermilion blush, and I couldn't help but grin at him. instead of great him with my normal cold facade. "Here, lets check...." I said, once again diverting my gaze from his cheeks, which were absolutely caked in freckles, like one of those connect the dots for older kids and it was just- I have no words to describe it.
I thumbed through the different colors on the shelf, there was every color from black to mahogany glitter. And with my luck I couldn't find turquoise because my boss is too lazy to make sufficient sorting system. And I could just feel myself starting to sob internally at my lack of competence. So with that I started some simple conversation. "So uh.... what do you need the glitter for?" I asked chastely. He seemed a little shaken that I'd spoken, though he answered post haste. "I-I ooh....I'm working on a project for my art class." I looked over quirking an eyebrow at him. "Do you go to Washington University?" He nodded carefully before his smile broadened, how it got any widder was beyond me. "Yeah! One more year before I get my bachelors!" I pursed my lips. "For what?" He laced his fingers together, stretching his arms up and over his head. "I'm majoring in art and I'm also minoring in teaching and social studies, I'm dead set on becoming an art teacher, I'd love to expand young minds you know? Teach them that being creative isn't bad, and that they should embrace it."
If only someone would have told me that when I was in middle school and high school. But thanks to my rotten luck I didn't have mysterious, spunky, freckle man.
I sighed wistfully looking down at the glitter, "Man if only the entire world was filled with people of your caliber.....er...I didn't catch your name..." I exclaimed once again letting the other's face fill my gaze. "Oh, I'm Marco Bodt, It's a pleasure to meet you." I could have swarn his cheeks grew all the more red as he extended his left (?) hand to shake mine, I reached my left hand out as well to match his and shook it firmly, telling him my name as well, "Jean Kirschtein." He stopped shaking my hand for a moment, arching his brow at me. "Jean Kirschtein-where have I---wait, were you by any chance in my art class last year it was like....early in the morning Mr.....uh.....what was his name, Mr.Pixis! Yes, weird old guy, bald, eyes always closed, bushy mustache?" I took a moment to recollect my thoughts before I finally remembered. "No, that couldn't of been me, I was majoring in business, and my parents thought art was a waste of time when I could be taking forensics or criminal justice on the side, whatever, not my problem anymore. But you probably heard of me if we went to the same highschool, I mean I was the big captain of the soccer team." He explained, raising his hands up in the air, and giving them a light shake as if to portray pseudo-excitement. Marco laughed, and I couldn't help but appreciate how his chest heaved with every broken breath and how his eyes closed and crinkled at the sides when he opened his mouth and let his perfectly pink lips tense and curve into an open mouth smile, not to mention the melody that escaped his vocal chords and created this hypnotic array of notes that were sung by the most beautiful soft tenor in the world, I didn't think my stupid hand gesture was worthy of this sort of applause. Now that was a man that I could appreciate, I could appreciate a lot. But that same soft tenor invaded my garbled mess of thoughts with another sentence; "Nah, I don't think we could have come from the same highschool, unless you lived in Arizona."
Arizona? Well that explained the tan and the freckles, god knows you can't get freckles by sitting inside and avoiding the rain. I made an "oh!" shape with my mouth and looked back over to the shelf, my eyes locking on to the fucking turquoise glitter, so I grabbed that shit. "Yo! Look what I found!" I shouted, admittedly a little too loud. Marco made a small yay noise in response, "Here come with me I'll check you out." Marco snickered, "I wouldn't mind if you did." I looked at him an eyebrow raised "I hope you wouldn't mind, because, not to toot my own horn but, I'm great at checking people out." Marco snickered again before continuing normally (?) "Anyway, yeah, I should probably check out, my cousin Ymir said that she was going to take me out to meet some guys tonight, but I think I'm going to cancel on her because I found one that's just my type~" He then proceeded to wink at me. And in my head I was just like, aww yeah I totally scored myself a friend that's sweet! "Oh yeah? We'll, I could get down with that." So after I rang up his item and bagged it. He leaned over the counter and kissed my cheek swiftly, taking the glitter bag from my hands, before leaving.
I reached a hand up to the cheek he'd kissed and pressed the tips of my fingers to it softly.
I don't think he meant I was his type of friend. | 30996e9c30614e968efbeafcdfabb6b7 | ['0b145c5ba0f24bc88457e81e8f730a33'] |
1. The Beginning of Change
**Author's Note:**
> HELLO PEOPLE THIS IS GOING TO BE ONE BUMPY RIDE I HOPE YOU'RE READY, THIS IS NARRATED BY JEAN ON HIS JOURNEY TO EMBRACING HIMSELF AND MARCO CAME TOO SOON IN THE HEALING PROCESS, BUT that definitely sped it up.
>
> THANK YOU MARCO FOR BEING JEAN'S SEXUAL AWAKENING
The blatant misconceptions I always had about love were solved that summer. I was pretty sure that fake it till you make it was the soul of chick flicks, marriages, dating and anything listed under the category of love. That’s how I always felt. In high school and in college I was popular, no doubt, as I was a star athlete for most of my school experience. I scored goals, dated cheerleaders, and was an all-around stupid jock. Except I wasn’t in an academic sense, I was top of the school, grad rank 6, under Eren Jaeger, a dumb fuck to say it in the nicest way possible. I was basically the guy that every other guy wanted to be, according to the vibe I put into society. My parents told me that people judge heavily on outward appearances and I’d never heard a more true statement. So I wore name brand shoes and basketball shorts and Nike t-shirts with those weird phrases on them just so I wouldn’t get bullied for wearing a scarf on a hot day or a wife beater on a cold day or hell a dinosaur onesie any day. I was supposed to be perfect. But I liked art, I liked scarves, I hated soccer, I hated how it made my chest burn when I ran too much and how I had to use my inhaler every time I got benched and I hated how I could feel everyone’s eyes on me like they were expecting me to actually be something, I didn’t want to have all these expectations. I could barely deal with my own expectations and those were to be this fake Jean Kirschtein. It wasn’t until my last year of college that I had an epiphany, I was majoring in business and I hated the subject, hated the teachers, and hated my parents for putting me in this mess. And then it happened, I was at home when the police arrived, there wasn’t much that I could remember except the microphones in my face the camera flashes and people screaming the word; embezzlement in my ear, and then after I had been ushered inside by my mother whom was in tears at that point. I put two and two together, Alexandre Kirschtein, my father, the one who was forcing me into the same career path he’d followed and also was the one that embezzled his company.
Embezzlement: The fraudulent conversion of another's property by a person who is in a position of trust, such as an agent or employee.
My father was put in charge of people’s money and used it on himself and my mother and me. He used other people’s money to pay for me, to pay for a degree that I had no appreciation for and now I appreciate it even less since he used other men’s money to pay for it; I appreciated even less after all the speeches on how “I needed to earn my keep around here if I was going to be a Kirschtein.” Was earning my keep stealing the money that others had worked so hard for and using it to pay for a nice house a nice car and a nice wife? When you put it like that I’d never realized how poor we really were. We had to be poor if he were stealing from someone who had less than us and used it to gain even more pointless wealth. Whatever happened to Robin Hood, what ever happened to stealing from the rich and giving to the poor? Now I guess you could say I resented my father for this, and I did so I moved out. Got myself a low paying job and a motor home with whatever funds I had left, and I promised myself that I’d start being an honest man. But it was harder than you could ever hope to imagine, it felt like it was impossible to let go of something that was ground into you by a person whom claimed to be your father. It felt wrong to let all of that go, but as my mom always said to me, “Baby steps.” So that’s what I did. That summer all my philosophies on love were changed by one person whom ultimately loved me more than I loved myself, that summer…that summer it felt like there would no longer be a cloud hanging over me. That summer was the summer that I found the other half of myself.
***
2. Let it Ring
Ultimately, my life sucked, it sucked so hard that I was basically the janitor for a craft supply store that seemingly only made messes that involved large quantities of glitter, and being that so called janitor, I, had to clean it up.
Today was no different. |
6ab5dbb727b84e718a63dce317fde4a8 | ['0b33826f53b449869c99da17c3bce595'] | Leon was shocked, “That’s terrible, and not a lot of fun.” He may have been poor growing up, but his mother at least did the best she could for his birthday.
“Enough sad stuff, let me grab some leftovers for dinner and spend the rest of the evening in bed,” Dante hopped off the couch to the kitchen. He didn’t quite trust Marty in the kitchen at the moment.
Marty rested one hand on Leon’s torso and played with his hair with the other. She smiled tenderly at him while they waited for Dante.
He took her hand in his, “What are you thinking about so hard? You seem far away.”
“I know it’s really only been a few weeks, but is it too soon to tell you that I love you?”
Leon was speechless, he wasn’t the best when it came to expressing his emotions, or talking about them, or dealing with them. To have someone just be so open was somewhat of a shock. However, he would be lying to himself and her if he didn’t share those feelings.
“At first I thought maybe I was mistaking my feelings for the sense of safety I get from you.”
Marty looked at him with a very puzzled look on her face. He touched her cheek.
“Let me finish,” he asked, “For a very long time now I have been on my own, fighting this fight and never really feeling safe. Maybe I’m paranoid, but between the things I’ve had to do and the things I’ve seen,” he took a shaky breath in, “I’ve been on edge. But when I’m with the two of you, I can breathe, I can relax because I know if something were to come through that door, it would be dead before I could even get my gun. Maybe it started as a feeling of security, but no, I mean yes, I mean…Dammit. I’m really bad at this.”
Marty leaned down and kissed Leon, “I think I know what you mean.”
Leon sat up and pulled her into a tight, almost crushing hug. “I love you too, both of you.” He whispered his confession into her hair, certain she heard him anyway. Hell, Dante probably heard him with his enhanced hearing.
This time they heard Dante come into the room. “Who ever made dinner did a fantastic job, as usual.” He reached out to both of them and pulled them from the couch. “Come on, there’s a bed calling our names.” He dragged them upstairs, the three of them laughing the whole way.
Dante picked up Marty and laid her gently on the bed. She pulled off his shirt and laid there completely nude waiting for her men to join her. Dante laid down beside her first, kissing her deeply, one hand in her hair. Leon laid down on the other side and kissed up and down her neck and shoulder, his fingers ghosting up and down her breasts and stomach. He paused only to throw off his pants, not wanting to feel any fabric between them. Dante paused and did the same. Marty gave Dante a smirk before crawling over Leon and manhandling him between them. Dante pulled the smaller man into his chest and kissed passionately, almost fiercely. He moaning into Dante’s mouth as Marty began kissing, nibbling and sucking marks into his back and shoulders. His whole body felt like it was on fire the way they were kissing and caressing every inch of him. He jumped a bit when Marty’s hand came down on his ass firmly.
She giggled, “Sorry, it’s just such a nice ass.” She rolled him onto his back and kissing him deeply, she was still soaked from their time on the couch and lowered herself on to him smoothly. He took a deep breath and held on for the ride. Marty was without a doubt the best woman he ever had in bed. She knew just what spots to hit and how to press his buttons just right. He smiled as he looked up to see her expertly riding him, head thrown back and lips parted in ecstasy. He could live 100 years and never get tired of that sight. He ran his hands up and down her hips and thighs, until Dante took one of hands and put it round his shoulders. He began kissing Leon again, running his hands up and down his chest. He felt Marty’s tight pussy clench around him again and again and knew he wouldn’t last much longer. She seemed to sense it too and began to ride him harder and faster.
“It’s ok love, don’t hold back,” she whispered.
Leon arched his back and came, hard. She rode out his orgasm, smiling down at him, staying on top until he softened inside her. Marty sighed happily and laid back down next to him. She put her head on his chest and toyed with his nipples while Dante began to kiss him again.
Leon turned to face Dante, who grabbed him almost roughly and pulled him against his body. Dante reached down and pulled Leon’s leg over his hip. He wanted the smaller man as close to him as humanly possible. Marty resumed her kissing of his back and shoulders and ran her hand up and down the blonde’s thigh. Leon began to get hard again and shivered in anticipation when he heard the cap of the bottle of lube pop up. Dante never broke the kissing as he gently and slowly worked Leon open. Leon moaned and pulled Dante’s hair when he began to work his prostate. By the time he was ready to take Dante he was rock hard and ready. Dante shifted positions to get between Leon’s legs, but Leon rolled on to his knees and bent forward. He wanted Dante to take him hard and he figured this was the best position. Dante massaged his ass, “Are you sure this is how you want me, baby?” | a948e19523754de3b0bd6bad72ef5c63 | ['0b33826f53b449869c99da17c3bce595'] | Leon ate his chicken and veggies and kept his hands far from the beautiful succubus. “You know, sometimes I’m not sure if you are serious or not.”
“Oh, I am,” said Marty, “I’m territorial.”
After dinner Trish and Dante gave Leon a run down of what happened after Marty whisked him away. They destroyed the other monsters, looked for survivors (there were none) and grabbed what may have looked important.
“What happened to the bodies? I could smell blood, but never saw anyone.” Leon asked with trepidation.
Dante looked down and sighed, “We think they were all eaten.”
Leon paled, “I’m not surprised, actually. These scientists and rich morons who want to make money off war, meddling in things they shouldn’t. They never learn.” There was bitterness to the last sentence.
Marty touched his arm, “How long have you been doing this?”
“A long time.”
Marty looked to Dante with a pointed look, who nodded at her and began taking left-overs to the kitchen. Trish got the hint and grabbed the rest.
“Leon,” she began, “Can I heal you the rest of the way? You still have a hell of a bruise on your ribs.”
Leon shook his head, “I’m fine. You worry about yourself.”
Marty rolled her eyes, “I’m the one that’s fine. Leon, please.”
“So, you heal with kissing?”
“Anything intimate really. Kissing is easier and you didn’t look like you were in any shape for a blow job.”
Leon blushed, closed his eyes and nodded. He felt Marty move closer. She brushed his hair aside and cupped his cheeks as she pressed her lips to his. It was the same as before, from what he remembered. A soft press of her lips to his. This time, instead of fall unconscious, he kissed her back. Gently at first, but then harder. She nipped at his bottom lip and he opened his mouth to her. Their tongues moved together as she deepened their kiss, the healing long done. She moved her other hand to his back and pulled him in closer. Leon wrapped both his arms around her and held tight, enjoying the warmth as much as the kissing.
“Well damn,” Dante said, “that’s kinda hot.”
Leon moved away from Marty as if she had hit him with a cattle prod, “I’m sorry,” he stammered, “we were, she was.”
Marty put a finger to his lips. “It’s fine Leon, right Dante.”
“I did say it was hot. Although I am jealous that you have a nicer ass than I do.”
Leon blushed, “But you have those long legs.”
Marty snorted, “See, I said the same thing.”
Leon looked at both of them and shook his head. “I need to get my laptop and write my report.” He walked out to retrieve his laptop from his car.
Dante put an arm around Marty, “Really babe? You flustered the poor boy.”
“I did!? Pretty sure you scared him half to death!” She said, giving Dante a swat on the ass.
Dante smirked at her, “If you’re really into that, I wouldn’t mind.”
Marty just shook her head, “you really are incorrigible.”
“Yup, but that’s part of why you love me.”
Marty just smiled and reached up to kiss him soundly on the lips.
“So, does he kiss better than me?”
Leon set his laptop on the unused desk and began writing up his report. He had written so many of these reports in the past he was on autopilot, which was a good thing because his thoughts were very conflicted, confused and unfortunately, horny. Very horny. It had been awhile since he had anyone in his bed and frankly, he missed it. Not just the sex, but just being close to someone. He craved intimacy, touch and dammit he just wanted someone to cuddle. God, I sound like a teenage girl, he thought to himself. On one hand, he wanted to throw himself at the two gorgeous half demons. On the other hand, he didn’t want to complicate anything to interfere with their relationship. He envied the obvious love they had for each other and their carefree attitude. He didn’t know them at all well, but their welcoming comradery was a pleasant change from being a loner for so goddamn long. It made him miss the easy friendship he had with Claire and he missed Sherry. She would get a kick out of Marty. Or they would form an unholy union that he would regret for the rest of his life. That thought made him laugh out loud. He would visit Sherry when the next chance he got, he promised himself that.
The ringing of his phone stopped his train of thought. “I’m almost done, Hunnigan. I’ll send the report in about another 5 minutes. Max.”
“Leon, I’m afraid that’s not what I called about. We are going to need you to stay where you are until further notice. We received intel that there was more than one base of operation in Redgrave.”
“I guess they didn’t want all their eggs in one basket, and here I thought this would be a simple in and out.”
“When has any of this ever been simple?” Hunnigan asked. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow morning or when I know more.”
Leon bowed his head, “Never get a break.”
Marty put a cup of tea down, “You are welcome to stay here. We have the spare bedroom, and all the hotels around here are shady. And gross.”
Leon laughed, “Thanks for the heads up, and the place to say. I do have a favor I need to ask.”
“Ask away.”
Leon looked down to the borrowed clothes he was wearing. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes, and these are a little big.”
Marty looked Leon up and down and let out a laugh. She immediately covered her mouth with her hand to stifle it. She failed, miserably. She just could not stop laughing. Leon looked indignant for a moment before joining in. |
82c03f387d12484d931931c2ddaaed6b | ['0b38b8c6708049bfb0d01d37d101cc73'] | Cronus & The Slamporas
Porrim tossed her right leg over her left. Her green eyed gaze never wavered from its target. She had excellent taste in fashion, usually patterned or textured leggings under a skirt made by her younger half-sister, Kanaya. Her blouses were always cut lower than average, whether by design or by her own personal design. She liked to show off the details of her lacey undergarments. Why else would she pay such high prices for ornate finery? She scoffed when people told her it was crude for her bras to show. Men were always showing off their boxers, leaving their pants hanging around their thighs. Why should she hide something so much more beautiful than cotton ball holders?
The figure before her plucked a few single notes out on his Fender Mustang Special, a few years old but in near mint condition. The cherry red finish matched the bandana that he had left in his back pocket. His jeans hung off his body in a classic fit, and he had folded up the hem of his pants over his red Chuck Taylor’s. He had been switching it up between these basketball trainers and his favorite pair of leather boots. His plain white ringer tee enveloped him just right, and the violet rings of the collar and sleeves hugged his appendages enough to highlight his muscular build.
Porrim knew she had found a decent project when she had heard him composing riffs in his garage. She had been taking a walk to get a hold of herself after an especially exhausting debate on the importance women’s rights with her decidedly adherent best friend. She had heard a pleasant fifties jingle, like something out of an Elvis hit, and she followed the sound until she found the young man with the greased back hair strumming away, watching himself make Monroe faces in a full length mirror that was adhered to the back of the garage door.
His name was Cronus, or at least that was what he had introduced himself as. He said his little brother had started calling him that after reading a book of ancient gods. He created music. It was his destiny, he had told her. He had three hobbies: composing music, greasing his hair, and making eyes at the ladies. Porrim kept it to herself that she thought he was a closet case, and she immediately extended an offer of friendship, although she saw it more as a business deal.
Cronus had all the makings of a teen girl’s wet dream. He was well built. He had good looks, blue eyes and a chiseled jaw, and he had this old school machismo about him, right down to the light scar on his forehead. He never told her how he had acquired such a mark, and she chose not to push the issue. There would be nothing gained from making her potential moneymaker get upset. If she could get him popular enough, even in the local music scene, she could have him push a message of gender equality. It was perfect, as long as she could get him to stop eschewing her lessons on the subject.
Today, he was strumming as usual. Porrim had taken her usual seat at his father’s old mahogany desk that he left in the garage, complete with leather office chair. It was made of dark, well-used leather that appealed to Porrim’s taste in high-end luxury goods.
“Have you thought about what we’ve discussed last week?” Her voice was rough, almost husky. She kept it to herself that this was from her nightly screaming along to riot grrrl tracks. It kept her morale strong, although her vocal chords seemed to suffer. She liked to think it made her sound like Joan Jett.
Cronus turned, strutting over to her as he slid his guitar over his shoulder. She wrinkled her nose at his new guitar strap. It was decorated with a print of pin up girls in different bathing suits and positions. At least there were women of color and different body types, she told herself. That much representation could earn him some points with different groups.
“You mean actually starting a band?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t know, Maryam. Don’t you think that would draw the attention away from me?” He drew his palm over his face to emphasize his point.
“You just need to find people who are less attractive than you who can play music at least halfway decently.” She rolled her eyes, hearing him mumble that the task wouldn’t be too hard. “If all goes well, it would only bring you even further into the spotlight.”
He leaned all his weight on one hip as she turned the chair quickly, kicking her feet, encased in ankle high boots, onto the desk. She leaned back in the chair.
“Think about it, dear.”
He turned back to the mirror, taking his guitar in his hands again. He mimed wind milling a few chords before taking his pick in his teeth and strumming idly. Porrim knew his vanity was the best way to appeal to him. As long as she kept telling him that he was the star, she was in his highest regards.
She heard his shoes squeak as he turned.
“So you really think it would make me seem hotter if I had a band?” | b018e168ae234851bf18f73c5c43d541 | ['0b38b8c6708049bfb0d01d37d101cc73'] |
"And We Didn't Even Need Mistletoe"
Kanaya studied Rose carefully. The blonde kept a steady expression as she lowered her chin, reaching for the green paper bag she had brought with her to the coffee shop. It was Christmas, as the lights beaming and twinkling outside reminded them. Kanaya almost wished they weren’t so gleeful.
Rose had first come to her attention on the first day of the school semester. She had slipped into their English class silently, into the seat to Kanaya’s left without so much as a soft thud of her black flats against the linoleum. Kanaya swallowed her gum when she noticed the girl’s eyeliner, perfectly winged and the exact shade of black that could only have been made by her favorite brand. Her lips had been lined meticulously and filled in with the perfect plum hue for both the upcoming autumn and her pale skin.
Had any one seen her, Kanaya would have been forced to admit that in that exact moment, she had fallen hopelessly in love with Rose.
A moment after slipping in, Rose glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, playing with her thin black pen between her fingers. Kanaya almost choked from looking away so fast.
“Did he see me?” Her soft voice murmured.
“Not that either of us know of,” Kanaya replied, enunciating each word with a practiced grace. Rose smiled and opened her notebook that Kanaya hadn’t seen her take out of her bag. She decided to get out her notebook as well, and when she sat back up, Rose’s face was closer than she had remembered and her violet lips were sounding out her first name.
That had been three months ago.
Since that day, Kanaya had to pretend her emotions for Rose maximized as completely platonic friendship. It was harder than she realized once Rose began asking her to join her for coffee during the evenings off campus. She found herself fussing with her dark pixie cut as she dashed out of her classes as they ended, catching a ride in her half-sister’s car to the café while ignoring the driver’s insistence that she just admit her emotions for once.
Even on the way to the coffee shop that evening, Kanaya had been fingering tendrils of hair into position as her half-sister sighed and nagged at her to tell the object of her affection the truth.
“I’m sure she’ll keep you in her life no matter what, Kannie,” Porrim chided. “Maybe as more than friends, just like you want.”
“I _don’t_ want her to be more than friends with me,” Kanaya whined in reply. It was an outright lie that she had been repeating for the last few weeks. Porrim had sighed, passing her dark lipstick back to her younger sister.
“Just don’t deny anything if it comes up. You’ll end up hating yourself.” She smudged the dark pigment under her lip ring and her smoky eyes caught Kanaya in their gaze once more. “Don’t make an idiot out of yourself.”
_I’m already an idiot,_ Kanaya found herself murmuring in her own mind. Rose was rifling through the bag beside her leg still, and her slow and careful pace was not doing any favors for the anxious brunette.
Kanaya looked at her fingernails, trying to distract herself. Her pink skin was nearing an ivory since the remainder of summer. She had never fared too well in the sun, but at least when she was sun kissed she looked healthy. A dark and metallic green had encased her nail beds, and she had spent the five minutes waiting for the girl chipping a good portion of the varnish off. The gift exchange had been Rose’s idea, and she had spent the last two weeks trying to come up with the best possible gifts she could give. When she finally settled on what to give, she knew it would be perfect.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Rose said, pushing the green bag across the small wood topped table. “I had to make sure I had remembered the card.”
The fingernails, now barely covered in the varnish, stretched on the fingers before her as she took the bag into her possession. Reaching in, she felt a length of material, almost scratching her skin but barely. She knew the fabric well. Wool was one of her favorite mediums this time of year.
“Please don’t leave me waiting. I want to see your reaction, Kanaya.” Rose said her name with a tenderness that Kanaya had never heard before. Had her lips tasted each syllable’s desire to taste her in return? The brunette caught herself nearly stammering, nodded quickly and pulled the gift from the bag.
A jade hued scarf, knitted as meticulously as the knitter’s cosmetics had been applied, unraveled itself from its static state in the bag. Kanaya smiled to herself, bringing the bundle to her face and nearly smothering herself in it. It was perfect.
“I was hoping that you would like it.”
“I _love_ it.”
“I worked for hours on it.” Rose smiled.
“You did?” Kanaya hugged it tightly to her chest. “It’s so lovely, thank you. I’ll have to find someway to repay you the time you’ve spent on it.”
“Please, Kanaya, you’ve done enough.”
Kanaya reached into her bag and pulled out her gift. It was in a small, lilac box, tied closed with a darker violet ribbon.
“We seem to have chosen color schemes for our gifts,” Rose laughed to herself, taking the box in her hands.
“I should tell you, Rose. You aren’t an easy person to shop for.”
“I’ve heard that about myself once or twice.”
“So I didn’t shop for you.” |
5c351368cb6448f2bd1123427dc544b7 | ['0b3b3fe4a42d47e68af8fd5e7205de93'] | Failing that, he gave the Batcave another survey, checking up on everyone and trying not to analyze their team dynamics too much; it wasn’t his sole responsibility to catch and resolve any issues. He wasn’t even team leader here. (They were not, technically, a team.)
The place had always seemed much bigger when there were only three or four people in it. Or one or two.
Red Hood had gone back to the worksurface he’d used earlier and was putting his guns back together. Nightwing didn’t catch him loading any, and he left them lined up neatly once they were reassembled instead of hiding them all over his body, so he made the judgment call to let him have his coping mechanism, as threatening as it felt. Bruce must have decided the same thing, because no one was interfering.
Older Damian stopped by the table on his way back from grabbing a bottled water from the fridge Alfred kept stocked _well_ away from the ones for chilled samples and reagents, but whatever he said it didn’t seem to make Jason any more tense, so that was fine.
Dickie had dragged Brucie and Older Tim to…recover the metric cables from the harnesses. Huh. Presumably he had a plan. As soon as Timmy came back, sending Dickie scampering off to get prodded and measured by Batman, Red Robin was sent to the top of the stairs to hold onto one cable at the point marked zero, which left small-Tim to stretch the cable across the Cave until he wound up at the farthest corner of the carpark zone—he had to climb on top of a Batmobile to get an uninterrupted line, but was able to call out that he was exactly fifty yards away. Data reproduced.
Brucie conferred briefly with third-Robin before hurrying over to Red Robin—right, Timmy’s comm wasn’t compatible with the current system, Tim had mentioned that. Neither would the others be—probably not even future-Damian, the system had probably changed again by then. They should deal with that now, just in case there _was_ an emergency. He looked down at the brother who’d stuck to his side when the group atomized.
“Come help me get a set of comms set up for the newbies?” he asked.
They grabbed a box—the things got broken and lost all the time—and then sat down to program the appropriate ID codes in. Normally this was a near-instant process of cloning from the main computer, but each Robin needed their own identity for tracking purposes, as did the spare Batman, and even little Bruce since it only seemed fair to put him in the loop, too. Dick tagged him ‘Little Red Wagon’ in the system. For security reasons. And because of the face Damian made. Red Hood’s was the easiest, they already had codes for him.
The message-runner system seemed to work well enough to get the Tims through a series of tests in the meantime, and at least it was helping small-Bruce feel useful.
Apparently if Red Robin held the measuring tape flat against his chest with one hand while he reached out toward Tiny Tim with the other, the Robin on the other end of the line gained an extra sixty-eight centimeters.
Everyone in the Cave then discovered along with the experimenters that if grown-Tim reached out and let Timmy reach the full extension of the tether, then pulled back, he could yank his younger self straight off the top of the Batmobile with no more effort than it took to move his arm. If he hadn’t been watching, he wouldn’t even have known anything besides folding his arm had happened.
Timmy fell into a forward roll at the yank and landed without hurt, but he’d been ready for it. They definitely should not mess around with that distance limit. Damian gave a scornful sniff as Timmy popped up again and climbed back on top of the Batmobile.
“Pretty sure the car can take it, Dami,” Nightwing said.
“I’ve finished,” Damian answered, disconnecting the last earpiece he’d been working on from its tiny data jack.
“One second…me too.” Dick gave his former partner his best smile. “Okay, now go meet up with, uh, Brucie,” it felt stupid as hell calling him that out loud but with Dickie and Timmy already decided on it was the obvious thing, “and the two of you get these handed out. Then make sure he knows how to use his.”
Damian gave him a sour look, either for forcing him to interact with his thirteen-year-old father or for the make-work mission, but he took the box and made a beeline for his fellow Wayne heir. Nightwing looked after him, hoping this had been a good idea.
The resulting solitude didn’t last long.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> It’s funny, Bruce and Dick share this problem of people being drawn to them and competing for their approval and affection and never getting quite what they want, and then resenting them for the resulting emotional pain, but they _engage_ with the problem in such extremely different ways it doesn’t seem like a shared trait at first. Y'know?
19. Four By Five Less One
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hah! Less than a month this time, did it!
>
> Warning this chapter for Damian talking about religions he doesn’t believe in? I don’t think he’s particularly offensive, especially for Damian, but he definitely lacks reverence, so be advised.
Adult Damian didn’t make an effort to sneak up on Nightwing but he was soundless anyway, and if Dick had been distracted enough and looking the other direction, he might have missed him until he spoke. As it was, he had time to nod in greeting, note that he’d finished or at least ditched the water bottle, and turn into him a little to show his hugest little brother he wasn’t intruding. | fb7502186ff34959b7fce54c0e25b9ea | ['0b3b3fe4a42d47e68af8fd5e7205de93'] | Between that hair and that smile, though, he looks all of eight years old, and she’s calming down almost in spite of herself. She prides herself on being a good judge of character. She’s almost never wrong about who it’s safe to be alone with. This still seemed like a better idea when he was unconscious.
She jerks her chin at the onion sitting whole on the surface of her counter, outer layers of skin flaking placidly. “What exactly are you planning on doing to that onion?”
“Huh? Ah. I was thinking about maybe making an omelet. You want some? You have salami in the fridge, does a salami omelet sound like a good idea?”
Catalina opens her mouth and then closes it again. “Hello, I’m Catalina,” she says, ignoring the omelet question for now for the sake of her sanity.
“Hi Catalina, I’m—” The smile runs off his face, not suddenly but slowly, like an egg someone broke there and left to drip off. “I…don’t know.”
Bullshit, Catalina thinks, except she doesn’t really think so. “Well, does it feel like you’re a dangerous criminal or anything?”
His eyes aren’t actually all that big, he shouldn’t be able to look so soulful. “I don’t think so,” he says unhappily. “I mean. I just wanted to make an omelet.”
Catalina lets out something that isn’t quite a sigh. It’s not quite resignation or relief. “Okay,” she says. There’s no way she can kick him out just like that, and if she’s going to have a freeloader he might as well cook for her. “Break a few eggs. Yes salami, cut it up small, I know I have cheese and onions, use a lot.”
The smile comes back, a little less childlike but just as bright. “Yes ma’am!”
“The cutting board is over the sink,” she adds, and goes past him into the rest of the apartment to sit down.
Hey. She had a long day, on top of a long night.
Catalina puts on a Mexican soap and stares vacantly in its direction for a while, then gets annoyed with herself and picks up the nearest book. Her guest is humming as he works. She doesn’t recognize the tune.
She has to read every other sentence twice to get the meaning straight in her head, and not because it’s in English—she reads English even better than she speaks it. It’s not really because she’s listening for signs that he’s destroying her pan by not actually knowing how to cook, either. Three pages go by that way before her piece of flotsam turns off the stove and comes toward her, oblivious to all tension.
He’s cut the omelet into two messy chunks and served it up onto two of her plates, and he sits down next to her on the sofa with his plate of eggs without the slightest awkwardness.
“Remembered your name yet?” she asks.
He shakes his head, looking glum again.
“I’m going to have to call you something,” she says. “You remember anything yet?”
“I think…maybe it starts with _djh._ ” The consonant sound is really strange pronounced all on its own.
“Giovanni?” Catalina suggests at random.
Her guest sticks a forkful of omelet in his face and squinches it up like the food tastes bad, though it’s pretty clearly the name he’s tasting. The food is fine. “No, I think—it starts with J. The letter.”
“We’ll go with Joe for now, then,” she declares. Like hell is he a John.
He doesn’t seem thrilled with it, but he doesn’t have to be. He’ll probably remember his real name soon anyway, right?
By the end of the next day, she’s changed it to Joaquin. He likes that better, though it doesn’t especially seem _right,_ the way they both figure his real name would if they found it.
Joaquin crashes with her for another three days, on the sofa now that he’s out of the woods, after which Paula takes him at hers overnight, and then Miguel lets him sleep on _his_ couch. The deal is that Miguel will help him get a job and then Joaquin will start helping with the rent. This actually happens. Color her astonished.
He continues to not remember a damn thing, but he hangs around. Finds a different couch to sleep on after about a month on Miguel’s, eventually gets a place of his own. A friend of a friend gets him fake ID; Catalina helps him get a library card after she kicks him out of the store because it isn’t a library, stop that, if my loser friends all start hanging out here and reading the books I will get so fired. He changes his name at least twenty times before the fraught weekend when she finds out he’s the new Red Hood in town, at which point she revokes his name-choosing privileges and starts calling him exclusively Jack, because he’s fighting giants and he needs the luck.
He laughs, when she tells him so, and still looks impossibly harmless when he does it.
Paula’s parents and Catalina herself were born a long way away, but they are Gotham, as surely as the marble face of First National Bank or the tulips that come up every spring in Robinson Park. It might be Gotham sent them, because she wanted the _rest_ of the story, because dark certainty would never be complete without a counterbalance that was bright and glad and wanton—it might. Or it might be ordinary luck, and ordinary kindness.
All the same. He lived. And before very long, had tangled himself inextricably in Gotham’s favorite story. The man with a child’s smile was born from her harbor and he belongs to the city—no, rather, to the people who give the city life.
But to the city, too. Gotham found the piece she has been missing, and she does not let go of what is hers.
_Listen._
You can hear her laughing.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I’m assuming Gotham’s segment of the Puerto Rican diaspora has vaguely Nuyorican experiences, though they may be fewer in number since Gotham’s history reads like a mashup of New York and Boston with a dash of Chicago thrown in for flavor. ^^;
>
> (‘The sea has neither meaning nor pity’ was stolen from Chekhov's short story 'Gusev.') |
45d7f3e394a640b3a43fe915d887a733 | ['0b440946bc4c466b9fd58ffcb628129a'] | Mathoms
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> **Disclaimer:** Middle-earth belongs to Tolkien. I'm not making any money with this, just playing around for fun.
> Many thanks to LINK for the super fast beta. All remaining mistakes are my own.
**Mathoms**
by USER
-(o)-
Muttering into his beard, Gimli trudged off towards Rivendell's smithy. A conversation overheard at breakfast had given him an idea, but he had to tinker about a bit first before he wanted to talk about it. As usual he was more a dwarf of action than of words, preferring to let his handiwork speak for him.
At the smithy, friendly smiles greeted him and a silent nod directed him to a free workbench. He had been there before, making friends among those who shared his love for metalwork and smith-craft, and knew his way around already quite well. Collecting the material he wanted to work with, he also found several sets of pliers and set to work. Not long before he had fashioned himself some long strips of copper as thin as he could manage, about half an inch in width and easily pliable. Now he was set to try out the idea he'd thought of while listening to the Hobbits talking to one of the kitchen elves.
Picking up one of the copper bands and some flat pliers, his dexterous hands began to form a shape with the band, now making sharp angles, now carefully bending it in rounded shapes. Finished, he couldn't help but exclaim a loud, satisfied, “Ha!”, which drew the attention of the other smiths to him. They came over, curious about what the Master Dwarf was doing, and listened with admiration when he explained what he was creating. Master Galeas, the Master Smith, offered to do the soldering of the finished piece for the dwarf, which Gimli gladly accepted, while the others made suggestions and asked questions.
Soon, a whole collection of different shapes were finished, soldered, filed and polished, and ready to be put to the test. Thanking his workmates profusely, he went off with his work, to find the kitchens.
He was intercepted by the old Hobbit, Mr. Bilbo, who couldn't help but notice what the dwarf had in his hands, and, not getting an answer when he asked what it was, followed Gimli to the kitchens, calling his nephew and his friends when they passed them to come and see. One of the men joined them as well, and in the end the whole procession invaded the kitchen, much to the head cook's dismay. But when he saw what the short guest was bringing, all was forgiven.
“Look here, everybody, what this ingenious dwarf has concocted!” he exclaimed. But not everybody was so quick on the uptake, and puzzled faces met his delighted gaze.
“Don't you see? These are made for cutting out biscuits, in all kinds of shapes! Here, look, a flower, and this is a star, and a tree, a horse, a cat, and a dragon even! And these are -”
“A wizard, a man, an elf, a hobbit and a dwarf!,” Lord Elrond completed who had been passing by when the small caravan went off to the kitchen and couldn't resist following. “Bravo, Master Dwarf, this is a wonderful addition to our kitchen equipment. And I think a group of all these will make a wonderful fellowship, not only as biscuits on my tea-table.”
-oOo-
**Author's Note:**
> biscuits (UK) = cookies (US) | c8eb66c7c3df47a1b133ed744d612e88 | ['0b440946bc4c466b9fd58ffcb628129a'] | New Friends
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Disclaimer: Middle-earth belongs to Tolkien. I'm not making any money with this, just playing around for fun.
>
> A stray plotbunny, quickly caught and turned into a little gift ficlet for kenaz. Happy Birthday!
>
> Many thanks to cairistiona7 for the beta. All remaining mistakes are my own.
**New Friends**
by USER
-(o)-
Dusk was approaching, and the heavy rain hadn’t lessened all day. Haldir huddled under the eaves of the cabin, trying to ignore the steady dribble from a leak in the roof onto his left shoulder and the stares of the Men who were standing guard, and wished he were somewhere else. Somewhere warm, dry and comfortable with a nice dinner and a decent goblet of wine.
It didn’t look like he would get any of that in the foreseeable future, though. By the void, why did he have to volunteer for this miserable task? It had sounded much more exciting when Lord Celeborn had asked him to serve as his bodyguard for a meeting with the new king of Men in the south. He hadn’t travelled beyond the Limlight for centuries and was eager to see the vast plains of Calenardhon again, and the famous horses of the men.
Reality looked much different. It had started to rain at the very moment they left the forest, and the rain hadn’t left off during the whole long ride to this miserable settlement at the northernmost border of this new country, where Lord Celeborn meant to meet Eorl of the Éothéod. Which he did, as soon as they arrived, while Haldir hadn’t even been asked inside, just been pointed towards his current place. Instead of refreshments or any offer of comfort, all he had received all day had been more or less curious stares, some of them bordering on the indecent. Hadn’t they ever seen an elf before? Probably not, he thought, and neither a male with a beardless face or well-developed legs, if he went by where their stares came to rest.
With a sigh, he straightened, shrugging deeper under his hood. No matter his lord’s plans for good neighbourly relations, Haldir didn’t intend to change anyone's perception of elven hardiness and endurance, or aloofness, for that matter, and would never let on how tired, cold or hungry he was.
A soft snort caught his attention. Someone had opened a stable door, and warm light came out from a building much larger and better built than the cabin which obviously was the main lodging of the settlement. Ignoring the looks and questions from the guards - he didn’t understand them anyway, which they knew very well after a day of futile attempts at conversation without a common language - he followed the inviting light.
Inside, quiet activity indicated feeding time, and he noted with pleasure that their own steeds were already fed and well-looked after. Nobody paid him any heed, and he made his way down the aisle, taking in the equine beauties in every stall. He had wanted to see their horses, and horses he did see!
One attracted him particularly, a white stallion, a bit smaller than the others.
“Hello there, proud one,” he said, offering his hand to the stallion’s nose. “You are quite a beauty and you know it, don’t you? Such strong legs, such sleek muscles. I've no doubt you’ll run like the wind.”
Whispering endearments and nonsense in the firm belief that nobody would understand him anyway, he leaned closer to the white horse, caressing the soft nostrils and then letting his hand wander tenderly up the nose and to the mane. He found that particularly itchy spot and scratched it dutifully, earning him a contented snort and puffs in his left ear.
“You have a good eye for horses,” a voice said in broken Sindarin. It took all of Haldir’s self-restraint to not spin around and spook his new friend. Instead, he turned slowly, meeting the eyes of a young man with hair as blond as his own. Haldir inclined his head.
“Your horses are famous, and I was curious to see them for myself,” he said.
The other nodded. “And you chose the noblest among them to befriend.” A smile warmed the bearded face. “Felaróf allows the touch of very few people, and only my father may ride him.”
“Felaróf… then this is the famous progenitor of your - your - how do you call them?”
“Mearas, and yes, he is. But come now, Haldir, our lords have finished their council. It is time to eat and drink!”
The man clapped his arm on Haldir’s shoulder, steering him back towards the cabin.
Haldir heard loud voices as well as laughter, and when they stopped inside, an enticing aroma made his mouth water.
These men weren’t so bad after all, he thought a bit later, sitting with warm feet and filled stomach between his lord and the king’s son. He raised his tankard to be filled again.
-(o)-
**Author's Note:**
> In the Third Age, the Éothéod, the horse-people from the valley of the Anduin, were given the province of Calenardhon by Cirion, Steward of Gondor as a reward for their support in battle. They renamed themselves the Eorlingas, the followers of Eorl, and their land became later known as Rohan. Felaróf, the ancestor of the mearas, was a wild horse caught by Eorl's father whose death he caused, and, caught again by a young Eorl, agreed to serve him as payment, as the horse understood the speech of men. He only allowed Eorl to ride him and was said to be beautiful, proud and strong. Brego is Eorl's son. |
54c57169576946cc8e75662af24d922e | ['0b6029045e824ac396d544a83d2cbc03'] | Amariel sniffed daintily. "Are you questioning the guidelines we Angels rule by? You? Law?"
"I do not mean to," he quickly stated, frowning just as fast. "But... you know how humans reveal their hidden thoughts only in the most stressful of situations. And just now, Lairz... that boy of yours-
"Screamed that Devil's name all the way down," Amariel spat cruelly. "Is that it?"
"Yes."
"Then I do so hope you remember we Angels are not Humans," Amariel's smile was biting. "Oh no; far from it. Why, I had not even felt romantic love before!"
"Ah, yes," Orphiel smiled. "Love herself knows nothing of love. Pathetic, wouldn't you agree?"
"It is," Amariel agreed, "just as pathetic as Law questioning their own self."
\-----
"Checkmate, Amariel," Diari plucked the King out of Amariel's still grasp.
Diari and Amariel now played chess. Over hundreds of thousands of years had passed since the first case of an Angel falling for a Devil. For the sake of the pretense of love. Since they began to happen with frightening regularity, Amariel rarely had a single day of rest - she occupied herself with keeping a look out on who was dating who, any Angel being sent outside of Heaven, and naturally, her subordinates.
Due to the slowing cases, Amariel now took the spare time to play chess with Diari - the Angel whose abilities inspired her sentencing for Lairz's case. It does frustrate knowing Amariel will only ever lose against Diari, though.
"Ah yes," Amariel eyed the black-and-white checkered board. "This dastardly creation... I could never understand it fully."
Diari smiled minutely, placing the delicately carved wooden pieces into a box. "Patience."
"That Virtue is gone," Amariel automatically said, staring out of the window in disgust. Again. Again Cielo only had grey clouds and thunder. For a hundred years or so, this had been an increasing trend day by day. And gossiping Angels all speculate it was because of...
"You remember, don't you?" Amariel stated coldly, left hand holding her cheek, elbow on her lap. "Patience fell for love's sake."
Amariel's failure to induce a more harsh punishment for Lairz. As an example to all Angels. The very thought sent her blood boiling and her teeth gritting. Due to her failure, more 'Lairz's followed. And they started to increase a hundred years prior.
"Perhaps one day, all those former Angels will understand their love is not true," Diari said coolly.
"Don't mock me," Amariel snarled, still glaring at the weather outside. "Love... Love is simply just foolish, utter nonsense. When they claimed to love, they were mocking me."
"Love doesn't exist," Amariel got up from her chair and walked off, slamming the door behind her. "It never did."
2. The Ruling in Hell (I)
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This is the second train wreck.
From the early dawn of The Fall, ever since Lucifel boldly proclaimed his revolution against Cielo, few Devils went against his order, with the exception of the cowardly few who caved in and flew back to Cielo to plead with God to let them back in. The Devils whispered, sung of great promises that were all lies, rousing violence, or rather, being the root of the problem in the first place, in human lands too pure to still be in this universe. With their absolute existence as faithful servants to Lucifel, many Devils did not question the way of the world since The Fall.
And that was why Apos was bored.
The Devil of Revelations found order utterly despicable; he had fell with Lucifel in the first place out of pure want to see chaos and destruction, but then found the Human World filled with those. Bloodshed and battle happened often there, along with disillusionment, anarchy, murder and back-stabbing, and all the pretty little red-coloured things that even that Angel of War in Cielo could not name in full. In his self defense, Revelations bring forth hidden mistakes, past hideous crimes and various other nasty things, occurring in past, present and future. With a Revelation, people could resolve their differences, or go to war with one another. There is no in-between.
And perhaps because Apos's nature as Revelation is destructive, he is as such. Yet, in the dreary realm of Inferno, with volcanoes and magma and all the unpleasantness, Apos finds himself unsatisfied with not doing much but sit and talk, talk and talk at meetings. He finds himself trapped in a boring world.
Until one day came the most terrifyingly disgustingly exciting destructive love story from the mouth of a Devil.
The words came from a single male idiot of a Devil named Furcas. His form was graceless at best, being one of the lower forms of Devils, with his figure fitting of a one who spreads malice via manipulation of certain truths under Apos. Also, he was utterly lacking of a brain.
During the ruling held in Inferno, occurring at the time period the divine court in Cielo began the trial for the other half of the couple, Devils snickered mockingly at the sad excuse of a Devil standing at attention. Allies of the Devil tried to speak up for him, claiming the Angel Lairz to have orchestrated a plan to bring Furcas to ruin. Surely! they shout. Surely this must be the work of their God! They screamed the words to Judge Belial.
"Pathetic," Orias murmured next to Apos, as both of them eyed the Devil Furcas spitting fire and brimstone at his friends for their 'desecrating terminology'.
I love an Angel, so claimed Furcas, so much so I would gladly give my heart over to him!
The statement, laughable and ridiculous, sent waves of amusement in the crowds of Devils gathered. Apos smiled sharply. His own underling saying that? Well, Furcas certainly had a wish for utter pain to be delivered to him. Belial glanced at him, and Apos grinned back with wriggling fingers. | 2159d42dcd924aef9e24f940bbe52181 | ['0b6029045e824ac396d544a83d2cbc03'] | Yes, she notes in the rapture of her own joy, this would be utterly unforgivable.
\---
Meanwhile, Amariel briefly halts in the middle of undressing Apos. Even the Devil seems to be caught in his confusion when a pained wail pierced the air. By then, Amariel’s teeth was on the zipper of his pants, and the shock of hearing the sudden scream interrupt their doings had nearly caused Love to bite down hard.
By Apos’s own insistence, the two beings had ended up at the Devil’s room. Amariel had not a single complaint, mainly because she was confident in her own prowess enough to handle any sudden shocks. But – she removed her teeth from his lower areas – she hadn’t quite expected the squeal of an animal.
“My, my, what a commotion,” Apos smirks down at where the Angel rested between his legs. “Could your servant be causing the ruckus?”
“My attendant,” Amariel corrects him, eyes flitting to the windows. Rising, she straddles the Devil, fingernails lightly stroking his neck and legs on either side of his torso. “Diari belongs to herself, not me.”
“You don’t seem bothered,” his voice very nearly hitches at the end. “Isn’t she precious to you at all?”
Amariel pushes him down, palms on his hard chest. Apos lands, gasping lightly when the Seraph brushes her thumb over his lips, face so close to his ear he feels her cool breath fanning across his neck.
“To think of another when Love herself is with you?” she mirrors his smirk, straightening her back to stretch, presenting herself to the eyes of the Devil. “You’ve got some nerve.”
When Apos grips her hips tightly, Amariel’s thoughts fly to Diari. Her Angels are not brainless minions, but if Diari had happened to encounter a Devil –
Heat prickles the back of her neck, thankfully hidden by her hair. She bites and sucks hard on the Devil’s collarbone, repeating and continuing the action all over his neck and chest. Apos groans and breathes in sharply when she licks over one hickey, nails lightly scratching down his abdomen. Her Devil here is not of low ranking. That would mean he similarly has an attendant at hand that could be as high a rank as Great President.
“You know,” he murmurs, “Caim should be there any moment now.”
Her lips leave his skin, and Apos does not sigh for it.His words – and Amariel knows not of this – voice his worries. Love’s smile is leisurely, reddened lips curving gracefully. “First my attendant, now you say the name of yours?” Her sigh is deceivingly smooth and smug, even as her ears ring with the name of the Devil coming very close with Diari. “Ah, Apos darling, such a cheat you are.”
She squeezes his left palm, leaning in to his lips- Apos’s free hand gripped her left wrist, squeezing tightly. She stops herself from inhaling _too_ sharply when his skin brushes against the corsage still tied to that wrist, instead settling for a dark, half-lidded look. Let no one say a bit of intimidation kills sex immediately.
He, however, no longer had thoughts of seduction flowing through his brain. His grip tightens, eyes narrowed. “Caim should be there any moment now – are you sure you have not the slightest concern of him doing this to her?”
Flipping their positions, Amariel could not restrain the gasp of shock this time when her back hits the bed from Apos’s sudden movement. Nor could she stop herself from saying ‘no’ when his fingers trail way too near to her crotch.
No – not because of only one reason, but also because of another.
And staring up at Apos’s unreadable expression, she thinks with irritation that she really should have just teased and left him.
\---
“What did you say?” Diari _calmly_ gets up into the bastard’s face.
The midget simply puts on an infuriating smirk, and anger rushes in her veins. Her face is still schooled into a cool mask, and little of her body language gives away her aggression at the moment. But as of that moment, it feels very, very tempting to just lose it all, release her rage, let go of the image of ‘cold and calculating’ Diari.
Wonder, wonder, and wonder she would later on.
And rage openly for the first time in her life she would much, much later.
Now, she just wants to see the slimy midget’s blood spilling on the floor, teeth knocked out and gums ruined, eyes filled with fear and _wings mere stumps as he falls, hands reaching-_
“M-My Lady?” a soft stutter.
Diari’s head whipped around, almost snarling at the interruption only to notice the voice-
-Was her own.
And the sight that meets her eyes was the illusion of her own form and face, fleetingly flickering over that of Amariel’s, whose eyes were as hard as ice and as unforgiving as a storm.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm sorry if this didn't go according to your expectations. I know, it didn't go according to mine either.
> Originally, I had planned for Diari and Caim to be the backstabbing duo, but it was a plot too cliche for my tastes so I abandoned it by Interlude time.
> Yeah, I chose a secret perverted Angel and a 'midget' Devil instead of cool, expert ninja subordinates.
>
> I am very, very sorry.
>
> The writing and characterization, in particular, are not what I wanted, during all the scenes of this and the previous Interlude (temper tantrums, near or not, and not-sex scene especially) and I deeply apologize for this lack of quality work.
**Author's Note:**
> Originally posted on my wattpad |
0ad7966bd4de46fda28d6605b5044555 | ['0b81790aaad7430c9f6a1c1bd457795d'] | "ABBA?" Brad asked, finally.
Ray shrugged and then ran his fingers through his hair as if suddenly embarrassed about what he'd just said. "The Swedish are very liberal about sexuality," he replied, then turned back to the laptop screen and started typing.
Brad let the subject go. He wasn't going to tell Ray about the time in college he'd let his roommate blow him. The actual blow-job hadn't been bad, but the resulting freak-out from his roommate the day after, followed by him moving out because he'd been so embarrassed by what they'd done had soured the whole thing in Brad's mind. Gay, straight, whatever. The only labels Brad had ever been interested in were good guys and bad guys, and even those lines got crossed all too often.
All irrelevant because Brad was not interested in Fick. They were in the middle of an operation and Fick was their hostage. If he wanted a casual fuck, there were business men who could arrange it for him. Men, women or anything in between.
"Nathaniel Fick...Washington driver's license...has a sister in Boston," Ray carried on, talking to his laptop. "Good credit rating. Normal amount of activity on his credit card, though his checking account's been busy. Wire transfer for ten grand a week ago to another account here in Boston. Another wire transfer six months ago. Looks like there's been one every six months for the last two years. Went to Dartmouth...now this is interesting."
Brad was almost finished soldering when Ray interrupted again. "Get this, your lover boy is ex-Recon."
Brad looked up from the circuit boards. "What?"
"Fick. He was an Officer in 1st Reconnaissance Battalion. How's that for providence?"
Putting the circuit board and soldering iron down and taking the laptop from Ray, Brad looked at the screen more closely. Sure enough, there was an article in Rolling Stone magazine. Scanning it, Brad quickly realized there had been a reporter imbedded in Fick's platoon during the invasion of Iraq in 2003. Fick's name featured prominently in the article and it was obvious the reporter had thought highly of him.
To be fair, Brad was sure most reporters didn't know their dicks from their asses, but even skimming, it was obvious the reporter had had plenty of nasty things to say about Fick's superiors so at least he could discriminate between different behaviors.
"An officer almost took you down, Brad," Ray said with a grin when he looked up. "You must be losing your touch."
He went back up to the beginning and started actually reading it. The narrative was easy and straight-forward to follow, the scenes playing out vividly in his head. It was like déjà-vu. He could see himself in all these things—Afghanistan hadn't been the clusterfuck Iraq had, but really—same shit, different pile.
He paused after reading about the time Fick stopped his CO from calling in a Danger-Close artillery strike over his men's heads and then faced the possibility of disciplinary action. Brad had to admire his guts for doing that—most officers he had known were only interested in medals or promotion. With a sigh, he turned to give the laptop back to Ray when he found him reading over his shoulder.
At least that explained why Fick wasn't fazed about being tied up. This was nothing compared to SERE training.
As they sat in silence and Ray continued to read, Brad wondered what it would have been like to be there in Iraq. He'd been Recon too—so had most of the team here, but he'd gotten out after Afghanistan. If he'd stayed in, the possibility existed that Fick might have been his platoon commander.
That thought tugged something inside him and brought up a cacophony of images in his mind. Artillery, muzzle flashes, a stretcher being loaded up to a helicopter. Brad's stomach clenched and he clamped down on his thoughts before they went down that path. Tonight was not the night for reminiscing. He didn't know what was wrong with himself today, but he didn't usually have to try this hard to police his mind this much.
A shuffling noise from the back caught Brad's attention. Fick was awake.
"Speak of the devil," Brad said, voice sharp, suddenly angry with Fick—even if he wasn't exactly sure why. "So you're here because you fancy yourself a hero then?"
"No, not really," Fick replied with an equally sharp voice. "I just saw a man packing a sidearm in a park full of kids. I did what anyone would have done."
Brad shook his head. "Not quite." In his time in Recon he'd had the opportunity to observe a lot of people. Not many would have involved themselves in something like this—non even ex-Recon officers. The smart ones would have turned a blind eye and run. "And you thought you'd take us on?"
Nate shrugged and worked on getting a kink out of his neck.
"Fucking officers. Always rushing in without thinking things through." Brad went back to trying to fix the circuit board, but he could feel Fick's eyes burning a hole in the side of his face. Fine. Chances were Fick wasn't an idiot. Brad put down his equipment, got up and went around back, crouching down in front of him.
It was even darker in the back and it felt strangely intimate crouching down next to him.
"Then what would you have done?" Brad asked, leaning forward and letting his breath hit Fick against the side of his face. "If you'd taken me down, there was still Ray to worry about, not to mention a park full of kids. What if Ray hadn't been above taking a few hostages?" | fea72e1fea7e4a9aac29739c19a42b28 | ['0b81790aaad7430c9f6a1c1bd457795d'] | Nate groaned into Brad's shoulder as Brad palmed his cock. With his heart hammering harder than in any firefight, Brad opened Nate's pants and slid his hand in, feeling the length of Nate's erection so hot and hard, never taking his eyes off Nate's face. "Let me do this for you."
The look on Nate's face almost wrecked Brad completely. There was want and desperation there, but more. "We have to go. The cops..."
Nate had a core of steel; Brad had no doubt about that. There was no questioning his integrity. But somewhere mixed in with it was this last self-denial, this last seed of self-doubt demanded from years of service that Brad suddenly needed to obliterate from existence.
"They won't start the search until they get the fire under control. I can get us out."
Nate swallowed and then gave a curt nod as Brad raked his hands down Nate's legs, dragging his pants down as he went. Brad broke eye contact only so he could trace the hard curve of Nate's cock with his lips, from tip to base. The tremble in Nate's thigh broke something deep inside Brad's chest.
Nate swore as his body shook, then grabbed the back of Brad's head and dragged him up.
"I want to look at you," Nate stammered. "I want to feel you come too, I want to do this with you."
Brad quickly undid his pants, guiding Nate's hand down to his own cock before sliding his hand back on Nate's.
They fell against each other as they stroked, Nate's dick, hard and amazing in his hand, Nate panting in his ear, and the heat all around them, gathering them up and bringing them together.
Nate's eyes were so dark, so fixated on Brad's, that there was nowhere else to look.
"Brad," Nate panted, half begging, half asking, and with his other hand, Brad cupped Nate's balls, lined their bodies up so he could hold both their cocks in one hand and jerk them off together. Nate's hands encircled his own as Nate bit back a scream, his whole body convulsing, spilling hot, warm wetness all over Brad's hands, driving Brad that last bit over the edge until they were falling apart together, desperately clinging to each other.
And the devastation didn't end.
"That was..." Nate trailed off, as they leaned against each other, panting.
Brad nodded in response, unable to feel his legs, because it felt like he was fucking floating. "Yeah."
They stood there for minutes, Brad's eyes tracing the lines of Nate's face, Nate content to let Brad do his recon, offering up new territory and contours with every minute shift of his body.
Returning back to the present, Brad realized that, judging by the sounds, there was a lot of activity on the street outside. "I think our escape is blocked for now."
"You mean we get to hole up in here for a while?" Nate asked, a wicked grin slowly spreading across his face.
Brad eyed the warehouse and the offices on a level above. "I think we can probably find somewhere suitable to lay low for a bit."
_
**Warehouse, Outskirts of Boston, MA**
_
The party was in full swing by the time they showed up at HQ. Smoke was thick in the air, a stereo was belting out tunes, Ray had a keg hooked up to the soda dispenser, and even Godfather was toasting everyone's success amongst a cacophony of sounds.
"Godfather would like to congratulate everyone on an amazing job..."
"CIA can suck my big fat dick."
"Anyone seen Kocher?"
"Yeah, but who'll clean up the fucking mess?"
"Shut up, dawg," Poke said with a large stogie in his mouth while smacking Lilley upside the head, "or it'll be you."
"'Bout time you guys showed up," Ray said, slapping Brad on the back while passing them both a bottle of beer. "I was beginning to think you were enjoying a party without us!"
Lady Gaga started belting out tunes and then Ray was off as quickly as he'd come by, dragging Walt behind him as he climbed up on the roof of Poke's truck.
"I've been meaning to ask. Are they..." Nate started as Ray danced, mimicking the video to 'Poker Face' surprisingly well.
"Don't," Brad said, basking in the newness of having Nate standing next to him with such a relaxed, open expression on his face. "We have our own Don't Ask policy here. Mostly to save ourselves the mental images."
Nate continued to stare at them, mouth hanging open slightly. Brad threaded his fingers through Nate's and tugged him in close.
Suddenly, there was a loud ruckus in the back of the warehouse that drew everyone's attention.
"Holy fuck! Patterson just decked Encino Man."
"No fucking way!"
"'Bout time someone did."
Everyone seemed to shift in the direction of the brawl, Brad forcing his way through the crowd with Nate discreetly in tow. Someone had seen fit to turn off the music, and everyone's attention was focused on the scene.
"What the fuck happened?" Brad turned to Lovell.
Before Lovell could answer, Bravo-Three pulled into the warehouse.
"Good Lord! Thank God you're all alive." Dave McGraw jumped out of the Hummer running toward them. Encino Man left the scene nursing his face, Griego following close behind while most of the men jeered, all under the disapproving eye of Godfather.
"Where the fuck have you guys been?" Brad turned to Kocher who was also getting out of the Hummer. He looked exhausted.
"You wouldn't fucking believe me if I told you," Kocher replied. Dave had made his way to them and suddenly enveloped Nate in a bear hug.
"I thought you were dead, amigo. I heard it on the comms when the yacht was blown sky high. I thought you were all fucking dead."
Brad firmly detached McGraw from Nate and settled him back down on his feet. "You made it to Jersey?" |
4f3ee71fbfb747fc949fa022207ad9d6 | ['0bb441e484d74154b80f5610db8bb4b3'] |
Slow Burn
**Author's Note:**
> This fic was a dare and was also co-written with blaerofvalenwood (on tumblr and FFN), a good friend of mine.
There were only a few days before the inevitable would occur; distance would finally dig its way into a relationship that had only just begun to smooth out its rough beginnings. The promise of an opportunity and a bright future was enough for Maki Nishikino and Nico Yazawa to accept an approaching separation. They wouldn't dare decide on an official break-up, but they both came to an understanding that dorming at her dream university was what Nico really needed.
However, that did not ease the tension that settled within Maki. She had heard a lot about college, numerous television programs and magazines had illustrated it perfectly, and she was well aware of what kinds of things people took part in during those years. Experimenting, drinking, partying; those were some of the few exciting things that happened on a college campus. They were all far more interesting than their slow burn relationship.
As for Nico, she was excited despite the bits of anxiety that seeped through her. After a serious discussion with Maki on the condition of their relationship during the nearing hurdle, she was grateful to soak in the support that Maki had to offer. College was the beginning of her career; a humbling piece to her resume as a future super idol. The weeks that followed their discussion were full of love, stress, and anticipation. The stress stemmed primarily from the process of moving Nico's property into the new dorm, which she and Maki had both visited multiple times to help assure each other that nothing would be incredibly different apart from the location. Although, the approaching date had reared its ugly head faster than expected, and the two girls had limited time to spend together before the final move was made. After all, Nico did want to spend some time with her family before she left.
And so it was with a text that Nico briefly forgot about her impending university life and found herself as the Nishikino residence. She secretly enjoyed when Maki took the initiative to bring them together, but then again, Nico's house was beginning to become less of a home anyway. Plus, family seemed to like to get in the way.
"Maybe Maki is learning to be bold and wants to impress a super idol," Nico smirked to herself, ringing the doorbell of the obnoxiously fantastic estate in front of her. She always wondered what having an insane amount of money was like. Admittedly, she was a bit jealous.
Maki wasn't the one who answered the door. An elderly woman clad in a well-made maid outfit opened the door, greeting Nico with a soft smile. No matter how many times she saw the many riches of the Nishikino household, it would never stop feeling surreal. Nico could only nod dumbly as the older woman welcomed her inside.
As she stepped across the threshold, she spotted a familiar flash of red. Maki strolled down the hall, an unusually determined look in her eye. The very sight of those borderline predatory eyes was enough to send a shiver up her spine. The redhead walked with fervent steps, grabbing Nico's wrist once she approached. Without a single word, Maki dragged Nico into the depths of her house.
They turned down the many hallways of the Nishikino residence, the grip on Nico's wrist tightening more and more the closer they got to Maki's bedroom. The redhead stopped in front of white double doors, pulling them open and stepping to the side so Nico could enter. The room was as extravagant as the rest of the house, everything seemed at least twice as big as the things one would see in a normal person's home. Nico stood in the center of the room, unsure of where she should be. It wasn't until Maki placed a hand on her shoulder, shoving her towards the queen sized bed, that Nico moved from her spot.
Locking eyes, Nico allowed the younger girl to push her backwards, falling once her legs hit the edge of the bed. There was something different in Maki's eyes, something that one wouldn't normally see. Desperation, desire, fear; a combination that seemed unfitting of Maki's cool exterior.
"M-Maki…" Nico felt her breath leave her as she hit the surface of the bed. "What's gotten into you?"
"I know you've wanted to do this for a while now…" Maki's voice lowered, the sound a breathy whisper. "I was never ready before… But I want to do it before you leave…"
Nico gulped, propping herself up on her elbows as Maki slowly crawled onto the bed. There was only one thing that Maki could mean or, at the very least, only one thing that the strangely forward behavior was implying. Her breath hitched as Maki's fingers, though seemingly hesitant, grazed her inner thigh. Leggings may have been a bad idea. Playing dumb was all Nico could do to stall the situation. There had to be some sort of mistake or misunderstanding going on.
Nico laughed, albeit nervously, "W-What are you talking about?"
"We've talked about this," Maki said, her volume still at a whisper that warmly brushed at Nico's nose, "And I'm ready."
There have been many an occasion where, for the two, things just so happened to lead to another, so to speak. A hand would brush across forbidden lines, lips would linger longer than intended, and high sounds would erupt only to cause stirs down low. But they have spoken about it in the past, agreeing that neither of them were ready to take an extra step. Things would abruptly end, and business would be personally handled elsewhere. | f082a9d4501446cf99346445ac5dd86d | ['0bb441e484d74154b80f5610db8bb4b3'] |
Clarity
The world is a dark place, you have come to realize recently.
You can hear your parents sobbing from outside the door, but you remain calm. This was inevitable and you had accepted it long ago, but you are determined to prove that this cannot stop you.
"You promised it wouldn't happen this quickly!" your mother screams, but it becomes muffled and you can only assume that father has wrapped his arms around her.
Keep your breaths even, do not let yourself panic.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry. She will stay with us for about a month or two so that she becomes used to things."
The crying continues, and you ignore the wet tears falling onto your face when you parents return to kiss you farewell. They whisper broken apologies and their whimpers are stitched with regret. The way your hand cramps is a sure enough sign of how your mother feels about all this.
You cannot bring yourself to cry, and you wonder if you have officially become crazy.
"You're surprisingly calm, sweetheart," a woman says tenderly, a voice different from before.
"Are you the new nurse?" you ask, feeling small prickles of panic as the first words of this venture manage to escape.
"Yes," the woman says, "considering how the circumstances have changed. How are you feeling?"
"I try not to think about it," you reply, and the soft hum of response seems satisfied with your answer.
The first few days are not that hard. You are only slightly disoriented with mobility, but the basic assessment of functionality for walking and climbing is something that you pass quickly. You have been practicing this for a while, knowing that there would be a point in which your senses would be put to the test. However, there is a significant difference between your room and the labyrinthian halls of a hospital, and the fear you are trying to fight off creeps in more frequently than you would ever admit.
You are better than this obstacle, after all.
It isn't until the first Friday of your stay that you are allowed to visit the recreational wing. With a little help, you manage to reach the piano at the corner of the room by the windows. The warmth of the sun kisses your skin as the nurse helps you sit, and she assures you that she will be waiting nearby if you need her. Settling yourself in the center of the seat, you open up the keyboard.
You release a breath you do not realize you have been holding in.
Your hands roam the keys gently, your digits paying close attention to and gracing the ivory beneath them. You feel your anxiety build up as you go to press the first key and -
"You play piano?"
It is an unfamiliar voice, young and almost obnoxiously vibrant, and you stop yourself from starting. It is a girl, undoubtedly.
You do not turn to the source, aware of the sudden weight beside you on the seat, "Yes."
"Can you play Chopin's Nocturne; I believe it's opus nine, number two?"
"Wow," you respond, pleasantly surprised, "I'm shocked that you know the piece."
"Why?" the girl asks, sounding suspicious of your surprise.
"Because it's nice to know young girls know classical pieces these days."
"I'm twenty one," she says, her tone instantaneously irritated, before mumbling, "jerk."
You immediately bow your head toward her, feeling the heat on your cheeks, "I'm so sorry, miss…?"
"Nico," the girl replies before sighing, "and it's okay. At least you didn't laugh and then make fun of my height. That's when I really get miffed. Plus, pigtails are great for my image."
"Ah," you clear your throat, "well, anyway, I'm Maki and, yes, I can play that piece. It's actually one of my favorites. Do you want to hear it?"
Nico gasps, and you can't help but give a small smile at how excited she sounds when she confirms her request.
Your adjust your hands to the familiarity of the keys, remembering briefly the earlier days when you would visit father at work and play here as he performed countless surgeries, and you sigh. The piece is, thankfully, not complicated and rather slow. Still, you cannot calm the drumming of your heart and the rattling of your bones. It has been over a week since you last played.
"Are you alright?" Nico asks, expressing concern.
"I'm fine," you cough out, before pressing the first key. And then it all comes rushing back, the feeling you have cherished since you first laid eyes on a grand piano, the nostalgia of the first time you were able to play in your own home, the thrill of the roaring applause after winning a competition.
The song is coming together, and it makes you happy to recall the sounds of Chopin from your fingertips. You can hear Nico mumbling about the beautiful sound, and it makes you grin as you play to your audience. You knew you could overcome this, after all. You're always right.
You abruptly hit an incorrect note, and the mistake simultaneously echoes in your mind.
Biting back the urge to restart, you ignore it and continue. You hear nothing from Nico, and you can only assume with hope that she did not notice or that she lacks a tuned ear for music. You have played like this before, so what changed?
Suddenly there's another fault, a messed up chord.
Your breathing picks up as you bite your lip hard, your frustration growing at an incredibly fast rate as your fingers continue to hit the wrong keys at a faster pace, the piece becoming a chopped up and reanimated version of its former self.
Your fingers begin to frantically dance across the keyboard, your hands desperately slamming down on keys and creating an unpleasant chaos of mad sounds and harsh volumes. You feel hot tears pouring out of you as your fingers scratch at the accidentals angrily. |
56ad117df75c46e18eb3154abb3ab7a4 | ['0bf2fffc3bcd432ca65c87e75a203dfb'] | Hannibal put the ring on Will’s finger. The ring was in white gold, and it almost looked like a wedding ring, but there were three small diamonds that cut the ring obliquely.
-It’s… it’s beautiful. I can’t believe it.-
Hannibal kissed his hand and then his cheek, then he looked around. There was a crowd now, looking at them and cheering. Will looked at Hannibal in the eyes.
-Show off- he whispered, but he wasn’t mad. He couldn’t possibly be mad.
-Let’s go home before someone recognizes us- offered Hannibal. Will accepted.
Several hours later, they were laying in bed. Will’s head was on Hannibal’s chest, who was playing with his hair. Will was looking at the ring, and observing the way it reflected the dim lights.
-You look like you’re worried it might just disappear- said Hannibal.
Will kissed Hannibal on the lips.
-I’m just… speechless. Completely. And I’m profoundly happy.-
Hannibal smiled and kissed him back. Will suddenly stared at a random point in the room, lost in his thoughts.
-What’s wrong?-
-Freddie Lounds was right.-
- _What_?-
Will swallowed.
-She… She called us _murder husbands_.-
Hannibal laughed. And then he laughed again. And then he kept laughing. Will couldn’t keep himself from laughing with him.
-Alana didn’t tell me. Well, I guess that Freddie Lounds is actually more talented than anyone in Quantico. Except you, of course.-
- _Stop it_ \- said Will. He kissed Hannibal once again.
-Wait- said Hannibal. -I almost forgot.-
Will looked at Hannibal in the eyes. -What?-
-Merry Christmas, Will.-
-Merry Christmas, Hannibal.-
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you so much for reading this! I hope you liked it. In this case, feel free to leave kudos and comments! <3
>
> I've been in Milan many times and all the places I described in the fic (except for the pizzeria which I totally made up, and well, Hannibal and Will's apartment) actually exist.
> I hope you liked this quick Christmas trip in Milan with Hannibal and Will!
>
> Thank you again!
>
> Vee | 5cc9bb0cd26c440aa25d0bd5a2cc527d | ['0bf2fffc3bcd432ca65c87e75a203dfb'] |
Get Lucky
**Author's Note:**
> I can't believe I finally finished this fic??
> It was meant to be something quick and chill (thank you Maelipie for the inspiration and the support! She wrote the sentence "We are in a dream. Don't think too hard. You'll hurt your pretty head" and helped me shape the plot) but then I abandoned it because I didn't know how to continue it, and I left it unfinished... but after a while I started working on it again and, well, my hand slipped. *coughs*
>
> A few things!
>
> This fic is part of a series: there are just a few little references to the previous two fics (and a few Hannibal Easter eggs because why not) but you can totally read this fic on its own.
>
> About Mad Sweeney: he's more powerful in comparison to the TV show. Now we know what happens when he doesn't have his coin... but when I wrote the first half of this fic I didn't know. I decided to keep this version of Mad Sweeney and I went ahead and I imagined that he could visit people in their dreams, if he wanted. You can consider this fic as "missing moments" with a canon divergence, or as a whole alternative universe, your choice!
>
> I briefly mention a song in this fic: it's a cover of Get Lucky by the band Daugher (you can listen to it here, it's on youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5Cp55MvX54) and it helped me writing this fic. Talking about inspiration, Sleepover by Hayley Kiyoko also really helped me get over this block, and it's such a sweet song, go listen to it if you've never done it before! Here's the link https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6jxPFtIAnw
>
> Okay, I'm done.
> As I always say, English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes!
**Get Lucky.**
The pub was quiet enough that Shadow Moon could actually hear the indie band playing. Mr Wednesday was nowhere to be seen. Shadow looked around, and found out that there were all sorts of weird people in the pub: some of them were dancing, slowly. Shadow could swear a man had a crocodile head, and the girl dancing with him had four arms. He shook his head and reached for his drink, but it was gone.
-Your dreams are fucking weird, mate.-
Mad Sweeney drank Shadow’s beer all in one sip. The _leprechaun_ had just appeared out of nowhere. Shadow sighed: he was getting used to the feeling.
-What do you know about my dreams?-
Sweeney laughed.
-Where do you think we are, right now? We’re in a dream. _Your_ dream.-
Shadow stared at Mad Sweeney for a few seconds, then he shook his head and closed his eyes.
-Don’t do this again.-
-Don’t do what? Drink your beer? It wasn’t even that good.-
-No. But, well, that too. I mean, don’t make me question reality. Someone just told me there are bears in the sky. I don’t need your nonsense, too.-
-You were talking to the youngest of the Zorya sisters? So that’s why I couldn’t talk to you in that dream.-
- What is that supposed to mean, now?- said Shadow, frowning. Sweeney simply raised his eyebrows.
-Long story short. Dreams have rules, Shads. Anyway, the reason why I’m here is important.-
Shadow leaned back against the wall. He’d heard that before.
-There are always _rules_ , and there’s always something _important_ that has to do with you, and Wednesday, and the Zorya sisters… it’s important that Mr Wednesday convinces some people with weird names to gather God knows where. It’s important that the Zorya sisters cook a meal for us and it’s important that we finish it all. Because it’s “ _how things work”_ , apparently. It’s important that I win the game of chess against Czernobog. But I lost- said Shadow. He ordered another beer with a gesture. They sat in silence while the waiter poured the drink. Shadow took a sip, then he looked at Mad Sweeney in the eyes. -So... Czernobog will kill me tomorrow morning.-
The _leprechaun_ lost his confidence all of a sudden.
-He _what_?-
-Are you worried about me, now?-
Sweeney punched the table, causing Shadow to give him a threatening look.
-God damn it, Shads. What did Wednesday do?-
-Nothing? Who cares- replied Shadow, on his defenses. -Why am I telling you all of this?-
Sweeney didn’t listen to him.
-Fuck. Oh, fuck this. That’s impossible. You can’t lose- he said, instead.
-And why is that impossible?-
-Because you have my fucking coin, you idiot!-
-I gave it away.-
-Are you _fucking kidding me_ ?-
-Well, I threw it away. To be precise.-
Sweeney slammed his hands on the table and got closer to Shadow.
-Where?-
-Does it matter? It’s just a coin, mate.-
-It _wasn’t_ just a coin, and you weren’t meant to keep it forever. Or just _fucking_ _throw it away.-_
It was Shadow who got closer, this time. He stared at Sweeney, almost squinting.
-You said it was mine. Didn’t you?-
-Well, I say a lot of stuff when I’m drunk.-
Shadow smiled bitterly and nodded. Yeah, he knew that. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep himself from speaking, but in the end he couldn’t help it.
-You also _do_ a lot of stuff when you’re drunk- said Shadow, finally. Sweeney frowned.
-And what’s that supposed to mean, now?-
The _leprechaun_ looked this close to punching Shadow; Shadow decided he didn’t care. He stood up.
-Nothing. I’m going to the bathroom. I’m not sure how fistfights work in dreams, and I don’t want to test this whole Inception thing, so leave me alone for five minutes.- |
b7004d69da7949aab9c8b41158b54436 | ['0c3820f1202247ff9d5f71d6a367a353'] | 1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> i...... would die for them. also would die for kate and claudia who proofread all of this and made it 1923801 times better they're at softsanvers and clonchi respectively, on tumblr. go follow. anyways
The first time Maggie Sawyer says your name, it's a _fuck you_.
An insult, a jibe, however many synonyms come to mind.
She's taunting you.
She says:
_See you around, Danvers._
She means:
_I'll get you next time, Danvers._
_I don't know who the hell you think you are, but I'll be throwing real punches next time, Danvers._
You make a note in your head. You'll remember her. She's going to show up again, you know it.
You take a deep breath.
You'll be ready.
_See you around, Danvers._
This time with affection.
Light, easy.
Like breathing.
_We make a good team, Danvers_.
_Sorry I can't stay, Danvers. Really sorry._
You try not to think about it.
You watch her leave the medical office.
Hope her date goes well.
_See you around, Sawyer._
She says it so often now, almost every day.
_See you, Alex._
_Bye, Danvers. See you later._
You say similar things back to her.
It's routine.
Every time it happens, you take a breath and smile.
She says “See you later.”
You exhale.
It's not the next time she says it that breaks your heart.
One day, when she says it:
_See you later_.
You feel almost the opposite.
You feel your heart coming together.
Whatever the feeling opposite of heartbreak is, that’s what you feel.
Breathe in, breathe out.
_See you later,_ she says.
You can't wait till she does.
You think you love her.
You're standing at the DEO.
She's looking at you as if there's something else you're supposed to say.
There probably is.
You don't say it.
You feel like you can't breathe.
There's tears in her eyes, and you wait.
For what she's supposed to say.
What she always says.
She says it.
_See you, Danvers._
See you around.
See you later.
It doesn't feel good.
It doesn't feel like the 'see you around' you're used to.
You aren't sure why-
until it hits you.
_See you around._
You might not.
It's the first time she's said it without you believing she means it.
She probably doesn't mean it.
You try and change her mind, you text her.
She comes.
You try and choose your words so carefully, so precisely. You don't ever want to hear her say those words the way she said them earlier – never again.
She doesn't say them.
_See you around, Danvers_.
She doesn't say it.
Doesn't call you Danvers.
She calls you Alex.
You can breathe again.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> there /might/ be an angstier part 2 coming stay tuned ALSO im at USER on tumblr ok bye
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> even if you've already read chapter one, go back and reread before this chapter. references are made
You stare at the gun on the floor.
It’s in the middle of the three of you sitting in a circle.
Alex, Maggie, Kara.
The gun is loaded.
None of you have touched it.
You pause to consider how you all got here.
What choices you made.
Then you push it aside.
Not important.
What's important is getting out.
The speaker crackles.
That awful woman, Lillian.
All three of you stand up, waiting to hear what she has to say.
It won't be good.
You listen anyways.
_ Pick someone. _
Pick someone?
What the fuck does that mean?
To live?
To die?
You pick yourself.
Both look at you.
Trying to judge if you're serious.
You are.
Neither argue.
They know you well enough.
You announce the choice.
Speaker crackles.
_ Pick up the gun _ .
You feel ice drop into your stomach.
_ Pick up the gun _ .
You pick up the gun.
_ Now pick one of them. _
It's not ice anymore, it's a weight.
Pulling you underwater.
To the bottom.
You're drowning.
You make eye contact with both Maggie and Kara.
You can see the same feeling in their faces.
The set of Maggie’s jaw.
The furrow of Kara’s brow.
Without taking her eyes off you, Maggie speaks up.
_ And what if she doesn't? _
Asks for an alternative.
And there it is again.
Your heart comes together.
What if you don't?
If you kill nobody?
If you pick nobody?
Crackle.
_ Then we pick her. _
Maggie sucks in, hard.
Easy decision for you.
They know that.
But -
before you can say anything,
before you can consider it at all -
a lot of people say that time slows down, but -
_ Bad stuff happens. _
it's not slowing down. It seems to happen faster than you can register it -
_ In our line of work, it happens all the time. _
Maggie grabs the gun from your hand.
She points it at her chin,
_ See you around, Danvers. _
and fires.
You stop breathing.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> come hmu @ USER on tumblr ALSO i would die for my betas for this fic, kate and claudia aka softsanvers and clonchi respectively on tumblr. go follow OK BYE | 673963f9bbad46d8969aa49b35509332 | ['0c3820f1202247ff9d5f71d6a367a353'] |
**Author's Note:**
> so, first is a short songfic that basically sparked this whole thing; i listened to the avett brothers i and love and you (the song) and this happened umm yeah feel free to listen to that while reading this :)
Maggie couldn't remember having a bad day like this in a long, long time.
She had almost forgotten the constant sinking feeling in her stomach or the ache in her heart, what they felt like.
_Yeah, it's definitely been a minute_.
As she opened the door to her apartment, Maggie exhaled, the heaviness over her lessening slightly when in the familiar space. She tossed her leather jacket and her motorcycle helmet on the couch, and headed to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge.
Her phone buzzed. She ignored it, slamming her beer cap against the corner to pop the top off. Her phone buzzed again. She sighed and pulled it out, seeing a couple texts from her work buddy, updating her on the lack of progress they were having in the current case. No surprise there.
Maggie tossed her phone across the counter and took a swig of beer. She felt it burn going down, carving a fiery path to her stomach and settling there. She coughed and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand as she trudged towards the couch. Maggie threw herself down and flung an arm over her eyes.
Her legs were heavier than lead, and her head was pounding. She squeezed her eyes shut as tight as she could, trying to focus only on her breathing. In, out. In, out. In, out.
Wasn't really helping.
_God, I need something distracting, or calming, or..._
Maggie opened her eyes and slowly lifted her arm off her face, tilting her head up to gaze at the CD rack adjacent to her couch.
She sat up and slid forward on the couch,resting her beer on the coffee table. She reached over to graze her hand across them and heard her fingernails clack against the cases. At a certain point, she stopped the movement and slid a CD from its case, before sliding it in the CD player on the shelf below. She then skipped to the very last song on the album and sat back.
Maggie sighed and closed her eyes as the Avett Brothers filled her room. She pressed the heels of her hands gently against her eyelids, then harder as her face screwed up.
Someone knocked on the door, and Maggie's hands came away from her eyes.
“Hello?” she asked cautiously.
“It's Alex.”
Maggie relaxed, her shoulders curling in and softening. Some more of the heaviness left her.
“Come in, it's unlocked.”
She pressed her hands back onto her face and took another deep breath, trying to regain some focus or logic back in her to navigate a conversation. Suddenly, she felt Alex's cool but gentle hands rest on her shoulders and slide down her arms. The couch sank behind her, causing Maggie to lean back a bit. As soon as she felt Alex behind her, she went somewhat limp, placing her head back on Alex's shoulder. She stretched out her legs and turned to press her face into Alex's neck, breathing in her familiar scent. Alex's arms encircled her, coming to rest across her stomach. Maggie placed her hands on top of them and traced up and down her forearms. She noticed they were still in the black, full-body tactical suit.
“Did you come straight from work?” Maggie murmured, her lips grazing Alex's skin. She felt Alex's hair tickle her cheek.
“You didn't text me during lunch,” Alex noted quietly as she unlatched her hands and turned her palms upward. Maggie's hands traced back down Alex's wrists to interlace their fingers. “You always text me during lunch.”
Maggie opened her eyes, but didn't move.
"And i texted you just now, when I knew your shift ended, but you didn't respond."
Alex followed the gaze that Maggie cast to her phone, on the counter, still buzzing.
“Bad day?”
Maggie laughed, a soft puff of air escaping her mouth and making Alex give a visible shiver as it tickled her neck.
“You could say that.”
Alex turned and pressed a kiss to Maggie's temple.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Nah. I wanna forget about it.”
Alex gave a soft chuckle. They rested for a minute, calm and warm and peaceful. Maggie almost could've fallen asleep, but something kept her awake, something warm and bright that gradually spread from her fingers (entwined with Alex's), and then to the rest of her body, dissolving the rock in her chest.
Somewhat abruptly. Alex stretched her shoulders away from Maggie, who groaned at the loss of contact.
“Hang on, I'm just looking at the CD case – is this the Avett Brothers?”
Maggie nodded, trying to move back into the crook of Alex's neck. It was to no avail, however. Alex moved further, shifting back and pulling out from behind Maggie. Maggie gave a huff of frustration.
“C'mon, Sawyer. Get up.”
“Why?” Maggie whined.
“Because this song is about to end, and then the CD will start over, and track 1 is –”
Alex went quiet as the next song started with gentle piano chords, and extended an arm to Maggie.
She got a reluctant look, but then Alex wiggled her fingers and pouted and Maggie gave in.
Maggie was swung up off the couch (a reminder of how strong Alex actually was) and almost lost her balance before Alex slid an arm behind her waist and pulled her close. The song reached its first chorus as Maggie's arms crept around Alex's neck.
_Oh Brooklyn, Brooklyn, take me in_
_Are you aware the shape I'm in_
_My hands they shake, my head it spins_
_Oh Brooklyn, Brooklyn, take me in_
They swayed in place for a couple minutes. Alex's head ducked down and her cheek rested against Maggie's.
_Three words that became hard to say_ |
210f10365a49494192b43a900821d7f3 | ['0c3d0284495141b888b9eb13ed04ea40'] | > It's been almost a whole year since I Posted anything on this.. But I'm finally tying up a few things so that I can get back to this.. Slowly but surely.. I've just gotta ease back into it..
|T'Pau|
She hadn't wanted to leave Nyota alone in what was now Doctor McCoy's old Quarters, but Nyota had insisted that she wanted to help by packing up everything that was left in the Doctor's old Quarters so that all he and Sarek would have to do would be to retrieve the few boxes that Nyota had packed for them..
So, against her better judgement she left Nyota to help pack McCoy's old Quarters while she rushed to the Mess Hall as she had been Commed by one of the few Vulcans still loyal to her Clan and told that a young Human Male who was very obviously under eighteen had almost been sexually assaulted..
When she got there, she had to physically intervene to break up an altercation where the young Human Male was at the center with bruises and a split lip marring his face..
"Remove yourself from my sight at once." She commanded the Vulcan Male who had attempted to commit the forbidden offense..
The young Human male looked defiant and unafraid, his spirit was clearly far from being broken..
"What is your name child?" she asked the boy.
"My name isn't any of your business, lady and I'm not a child." The boy replied with understandable anger evident in his voice.
"I see." T'Pau stated calmly with a subtle nod.. "If you are not a child, then how old are you?"
"Also none of your business.." the boy looked as if he were about to go on a tirade that would no doubt include colorful expletives..
T'Pau headed him off by interrupting him..
"You may claim you are not a child and that it is not my business to know your name or your she.. But it is obvious that you are under eighteen Terran Years of age which makes you my responsibility unless you have a parent or guardian with you on this ship, which I doubt that you do as none of the adult Humans here seem to know who you are.. If you are under eighteen and without a parent or guardian then it will now be my job to keep you safe from having to experience anything like what just happened.."
The boy looked a little wary.. But he lifted his chin and looked her straight in the eyes "My name is Kevin Riley, I'm a fourteen year old orphan and I don't need some old Vulcan witch to take care of me, I can take care of myself just fine."
T'Pau couldn't help but admire the boy, his fire burned with undeniable hatred and rage.. And.. The Cause Is Sufficient "I have no doubt of your lack of need to be cared for by an old Vulcan witch and I have no doubt about your ability to take care of yourself, in fact you took care of the fully grown Vulcan Male which assaulted you quite well.. But perhaps you could walk an old Vulcan witch to her room and we could reach some kind of compromise.."
**Author's Note:**
> I'd like to give appropriately ample credit and Kudos to vampiric_mcd for writing ""The sun will rise.", which is the work that inspired this story
>
> Once again.. Here is the LINK: http://archiveofourown.org/works/108163 | d14f8c7ab2e94e04b2cb65e0aa59003e | ['0c3d0284495141b888b9eb13ed04ea40'] | Steadily pulsing rage filled him as he watched as John drug them out on another hunt that he hadn't been fully prepared for. Another hunt where he dismissed Sam's research and hard work when Sam had been the one to dig up the grave all by himself because their 'father' had insisted that the twenty year old Dean should be the one to do a specialized incantation that was all in Latin, despite knowing that SAM was the one who was actually any good at Latin back then- Heck, it had taken him till after he got out of Hell to be able to recite a Latin Exorcism without having to look at a book… He still remembers that one demon bitch heckling him when he lost the page with the exorcism, how he had been irked by the fact that he would have to wait till Sam got there to do the exorcism right, and at that point in time he had been twenty-eight, freaking, years old and still hadn't been able to do a proper Latin Exorcism without having it right in front of him and he doesn't even want to think about how he hadn't even been able to properly pronounce an annunciate more than half of the words until he was twenty-six (He still hadn't even known GOD'S name in Latin was 'Christo' till Sam had told him a little over six years ago when they fought a crazy ass demon that had like crashing planes and killing everyone onboard just for kicks..), which were all things that as a HUNTER he should have been well versed in, but he hadn't been… And John frigging Winchester had known that and had still made Sam be the one to dig up the corpse while the one who had still been mispronouncing Ominus as Ominous and Sante' as Saint-A was the one performing a complicated Ritual that was all in Latin… Needless to say, the ritual went wrong in all kinds of bad ways and instead of the vengefully pissed off spirit of a devil worshiping, homicidal (even in death) psychopath, being neutralized enough to where they could torch his bones without becoming his next UNWILLING 'ritualistic sacrifices', the spirit had proven to be too strong and even more pissed off once it had been provoked by the improperly done ritual, as well as the younger Dean's snarky sarcasm and the 'fight' had winded up with everyone beaten all to hell before in the chaos of it all, SAM had just rolled with it and dumped most of the ritual stuff, SALT, peppermint OIL and LIT CANDLE included, right into the grave, right on top of the corpse the pissed off spirit used to belong to… The corpse and the vengeful spirit had gone up in flames… But had John Winchester admitted any wrong doing?, Had the man even made the attempt to so much as acknowledge how HE had so very obviously screwed up?.. Had their 'father' even so much as noticed that SAM had pretty much just saved all of their lives?... NO!.. No… John fucking Winchester had went off on SAM for the ritual going wrong, roaring like a pissed off lion and huffing like a pissed off bull as he verbally tore into SAM for how his 'incompetence' and 'irresponsibility' got all of them hurt and could have gotten them all killed…
Had John even been LISTENING to HIMSELF back then?... Because from what Present day Dean had just witnessed, JOHN had been the one to screw up the entire hunt and his own Past self had been the screw up the ritual all while Sam had probably been the only one who had at the very least tried to only be prepared with the proper research and weapons, but had also fought to save the family who would tell him to his face how obvious it was that he didn't give a damn about them, when in fact his family being there and in danger had been the only reason he had even fought at all… Because Past Dean might not have seen it, he had been knocked out by the high speed collision of his head against a tree, but Present day him was seeing things just fine… Sam had just wanted to lay there and let his own injuries get the better of him but then he had saw his family laying on the ground, hurt and knew that if he didn't do something they could die so he had rallied back and saved the day only to have his father ignore the fact that ONE, he was injured too, TWO, had just saved all of their lives, THREE, had fought to be more prepared before going into something so obviously hazardous and FOUR, all of the work that had actually been done right, had been done by Sam and only SAM… and not only had John ignored all of those things, he had gone at Sam's throat with venomous accusation of how it was all Sam's fault that things had gone wrong and that the twenty year old Dean was hurt all because of him and no one else… John Winchester had brushed off the actually ACCUURATE research that Sam had done, THEN had held a sixteen year old boy responsible for all of the ways that two fully grown ADULTS, had screwed up, even when NO ONE had even taken half a second to so much as try to listen to Sam's concerns about how unprepared they were to go up against something as strong as they were going up against… |
25f00590f0ef43fcbfac3ac2d660bbba | ['0c579d1c1cdb49ce846a0704e7599bef'] | As the youngest between Celica, Boey and Mae who had all grown up in the priory together, Genny had been treated as a younger sister to them all. Though she knew Boey had a family of his own, as did Mae, she considered them family and had, from a very young age, assigned them to each role. Celica was obviously the eldest. Even when Celica was young she'd always had a flair for authority. Mae had been the middle sister, excitable, eager to stand out and commandeering in her own way. She was a support and a comfort to Genny if she wasn't being annoying with her chit-chat. Boey had also acted like a middle sibling, trying but ultimately failing to be a more mature older brother.
It stood to reason then, Genny thought, that she would be the youngest and therefore, the baby of their little family. Being the baby often meant being painfully shy and awkward, as was the case in most stories. The youngest sisters were shy, awkward or spoiled while the youngest princes were often favored as gentle or kind.
But now, since every one had split their own ways, Genny wondered if it was just because she filled "the baby" of their adoptive family that made her shy. Maybe there was something inherently genetic about how awkward she was. Genny had tried to be more assertive, more smooth with her tongue, but quickly realized her words were better understood on paper where she had time to craft sentences that were meaningful, witty and tragic when they were meant to be tragic.
This was why she wasn't good with making friends. Even when they'd traveled, Genny preferred only Celica, Boey and Mae's companionship. Sonya had been the rare exception, and that too, it was perhaps because the busty mage had sought her out, not the other way around.
All of this was going through Genny's mind when she came to, slowly as she remembered the very last thing she'd said before she'd lost consciousness. How stupid could she be? She squeezed her eyes further shut and tried not to recall Saber's confused face. He hadn't even recognized her.
_It's me._ Why couldn't she just have said her name? Would he have even remembered her name? Genny bit her lip. He'd always called her _girl_ , which irritated her. He'd never called her _lass_ like he had Celica or even Mae.
They'd interacted a few times on their journey together. Mostly, Genny healed his wounds and he'd responded with a careless, "Thanks, girl," without looking in her general direction. And then there had been... _that time._ Genny's heart always stopped when she recalled it. Sometimes Genny wondered if she'd dreamt of _that time_. Certainly, Saber had never indicated it had actually happened the day after and Genny never thought to bring it up herself.
Because for the most part, Genny had kept her distance. There was something about Saber that screamed dangerous. He never actually _said_ he was, but, well, it was the way he carried himself. There was confidence in that slight swagger of his and the way his hand rested on the hilt of his scabbard, the other on his hip. The natural close arch of his brow afforded him a fierce, brooding expression, but it looked natural, certainly not forced.
Most people pointed to his eyepatch for how they found him dangerous. Even Celica had confided to Genny in private, when she'd first hired Saber that she was uncertain if they could trust him, but that she'd been desperate since none of them knew much of traveling. Certainly the eyepatch was just another testament to just how deadly Saber could be.
But it was his smile that made Genny most distrustful. Saber didn't smile often, but when he did, Genny learned you never wanted to be on the opposite end of it. He flashed that smile right before a particularly vicious, critical hit and it was a pirate's smile that spoke ill. Genny had seen it often, and she'd been grateful that she never had received it.
Until now.
When she woke up, he was staring at her. And he was smiling that pirate smile, his teeth gleaming just slightly. She noticed there was a tiny scar on his upper lip that hadn't been there before, but before she could investigate further, he said, "Finally up, are you?"
She almost bolted up, instantly on guard. She wasn't sure why she'd done that. Saber had done nothing to warrant such behavior. They'd fought on the same side after all, hadn't they? And Saber had proved himself useful and trustworthy, time and time again, seeing the war to the very end. He could have bolted any time. If Genny felt comfortable around Sonya, surely she could feel the same to Saber, she reasoned.
"Woah there," Saber chuckled. He threw his hands up, palms facing her, in a gesture of surrender. "I'm not goin' to do anything, girl."
Her throat dry, she managed to say, "It's Genny."
He merely blinked at her.
"Do you even... remember me?"
He didn't answer, and suddenly she felt stupid for asking that question. Why would he? She wasn't anyone special. She looked away from him, her throat closing up unexpectedly. She stared at the room she was in. It appeared to be the inn she'd been earlier. The sheets were white, the walls threadbare. There was one window that let the sea breeze roll through, though the view only let out to the streets.
"'Course I remember you," Saber said after a long pause. "I always remember takin' a girl's first kiss." Her mouth dropped.
_That time_. | deaedff8d4e240618ce9f4e924d76033 | ['0c579d1c1cdb49ce846a0704e7599bef'] | After we reached our world, Agnès and Tiz had headed back Ancheim and Caldisla respectively. Tiz had mumbled something about further construction in Norende and righting wrongs while Agnès said that she needed to take care of the Wind Crystal first.
On the other hand, I had meekly gone back to Father and explained to him and Mother everything that had happened since I left and they said they understood. A strange understanding of sorts had come between Father and I since. I couldn't tell if he respected me or couldn't stand me because I hadn't listened to him. Either way, he had told me to take charge of Eternia until he fully recovered from the injuries that we had given him. I felt guilty about this. Lord DeRosso had said he would never wield a sword and that had been my fault. If only I had listened...
...It seemed I had learned my lesson too late.
Ever since then, I'd been learning the ropes and making the decisions for Eternia and let me tell you, it was utterly _boring_.
I heard more complaints from the people than I ever would in my entire life! Cases were made on whether or not taxes should be lowered or made higher, compensations for the war efforts as well. For every problem I thought I solved decently, there were five more cases that popped up _because_ of my decisions. Mother praised, advised me and reassured me, but I felt like I was drowning, failing.
I would never let Father know that though. I'd already put him through so much.
So I finished my parfait, and grabbed a cheese danish while Father counseled me on today's events, trying not to sleep at the table.
It wasn't like what Father was saying was boring me (though it _was_ boring) it was that ever since I'd come to my world and had been separated from Tiz and Agnès, I'd started having nightmares. At first, it was about Ouroboros and Airy. Sometimes I'd hear screams from the worlds that had been annihilated by Ouroboros, which haunted me the most. Other times it was seeing Airy in all her forms. Cute yet nagging Airy, looking deceptively harmless with her winking silvery hair and liquid black eyes. Then the insect-like Airy with her greasy, white hair spilling out and her multitudes of legs she stood upon. And her fully insectoid version and lastly, her in her most beautiful, yet dangerous and evil form. Her last form's eyes still sent chills up my spine. They were the eyes I'd gotten acquainted with throughout multiple worlds, but with an unflinching deadly stillness that bespoke of chaos. I tried not to think about those eyes that much because in my nightmares, every time I looked into those shiny, wet, dead eyes I saw my own reflection.
I had never been really close with Airy, nor had particularly liked her as much as Agnès did, but her betrayal was still a huge shock to me. I wondered how Agnès had dealt with it... she had to have been worse off than I.
But these nightmares sometimes always dissolved into something I thought about constantly - _Him_. I tried not to, of course. And after I told Father and Mother what happened, I never spoke his name again. But he always spoke mine in my dreams. In my dreams, he would thread his fingers through my hair and caress the back of my neck. He would say my name with such reverence, it was like it was a prayer for him. In these dreams, I could smell him and my body would ache because he would say, "Goodbye, Edea."
And leave. Leave me all over again. To relive that moment was an even bigger betrayal than what had Airy had done because I _felt_ it more.
I told myself it wasn't his fault, that he had to do what he must, but it still sucked. A lot.
"Edea, are you listening to me?" Father rumbled, sounding impatient.
"Hm? Oh yes, Father," I lied. I sat up a little straighter in my chair, and tried to look attentive.
"Okay, so then I would like you to greet him at the gates of the village. I requested that he be your bodyguard, from now on."
"Who?" I asked, biting into my danish and trying to get lost in the sweet flavor.
"Alternis Dim."
I coughed up my danish.
"I assumed he died," I said, and a few seconds later, I realized how tactless I sounded. Mother looked scandalized at my choice of words and Father gave me a disapproving look so I hastily amended, "I hadn't heard news of him since I came back."
I frowned; it was true, I hadn't. If Alternis _was_ alive, surely he would have asked for me? Alternis usually sought me out, rather than the other way around. It had been nearly two weeks since my return, and practically everybody else in Eternia knew of my arrival so there wasn't a chance that Alternis was dead or really even unconscious, considering he was to be my bodyguard.
My bodyguard...
"Wait, my bodyguard?" I choked out. I couldn't help but drop my danish, and feel the blood drain out of my face. "This is preposterous. He's always been your bodyguard, Father! And you need one now more than ever, now that you can no longer wield a sword! I can take care of myself besides-" |
be66ead6abe04433bb7b4732db9fdaa1 | ['0c6f7c1ad1584e7d95e93a2ac9e3779c'] | Kakashi watched as if in a trance as the other man suckled his own fingers, finished sucking, and trailed those fingers down to Kakashi’s dick. He felt them now. The cool wetness shot through him, but the fingers didn’t stop there. They traveled over his hip and around until they were perilously close to Kakashi’s hole.
Stiffening as he realized what was coming, Genma simply smiled and beckoned him to come down for a kiss. As Kakashi lost himself in the sweet slick feeling of the other man’s tongue, two fingers ran enticingly over the puckered entrance. Slowly, in time with the kiss and the rock of his hips, the fingers moved. Pushing forward, not into, putting pressure on the sensitive point then moving back. Occasionally the wet fingers trailed down to the g spot behind his balls. Each pass sent ice and fire skittering along Kakashi’s nerves. The grin tugging at the brunet jonin’s mouth through the kiss was telling.
As the first finger slid in easily, Kakashi barely had the presence to notice let alone protest. It wasn’t even uncomfortable. The hand still wrapped around his cock and the tongue in his mouth was more than doing its job.
Lightly moving in and out, eventually Genma fit the whole digit in. Swirling it in small but gradually increasing circles, he caught the copy nin’s groan in his mouth. After a few more moments, Genma slid the second moist finger into the opening. Kakashi tensed momentarily but quickly forgot about the fingers and their motions in favor of the ever increasing pace of the hand around his length. Gently, the brunet scissored his fingers, his focus going to prepare Kakashi as fully as possible, and as a result the silver jonin took control of the kiss for the first time that night.
Kakashi brought his hands up and threaded them into the brown hair. Tilting his head even further he deepened the kiss and licked deeply into the senbon user’s mouth. With each strong thrust of his tongue, the silver haired man rocked his hips. Forward into the man’s fist, backward onto his fingers.
Slowly Genma added yet another finger. This time the copy nin couldn’t ignore the intrusion. A moment of dull pain running along his spine, and he broke the kiss. Sitting up straight, however, forced the three fingers even deeper. The pain turned sharp but at the same moment the fingers struck something inside him and intense pleasure shot into his abdomen and balls. The feeling had him writhing down onto the hand while at almost the same time squirming away from the fingers stretching him so far. This continued for a few minutes, Kakashi writhed and Genma did nothing to stop him. By the time the silver haired man slowed his frantic movements the pain had faded completely and all that remained was pleasure.
Kakashi was mortified, but not so much so that he stopped, he just couldn’t believe himself. He was thrusting down onto another man’s fingers and it felt damn, fucking GOOD. Every time the fingers hit that point inside him he whimpered. And this time he couldn’t think away the whimpering, he was most definitely whimpering.
His hands were still tangled in Genma’s hair and now he had balanced his elbows on the other’s shoulders; this gave him the leverage he needed to slam down faster and faster. “ha, Ha, ha.” His panting increased; his dick throbbed in the brunet’s grasp. “More, deep—Ah! Yes!”
The words couldn’t be his. But they were. Genma laughed, “Alright. More it is my dear Copy nin.”
Spitting unceremoniously on his hand Genma slicked his own cock with the hand that had been wrapped around Kakashi’s. The fingers inside him were removed and they dug into his hip instead. The brunet practically tore the half-on pants the rest of the way off the silver jonin.
Quickly, Kakashi draped his arms around Genma’s neck, angling his body so that the men’s hips were even. The brunet steadied Kakashi with hands on his hips.
His crown teased the stretched entrance, and Kakashi bucked. “Yes, please, do it, yes, I—I need, please!” the hands turned to claws as the pressure increased. “Please, ah fuck! Please!”
“My pleasure!” Genma grunted and thrust.
Kakashi screamed.
To his credit, it wasn’t a girly scream.
He felt so damn full. Stretched beyond his limit, but it wasn’t truly painful. He had surrendered. And he couldn’t be even mildly sorry he had.
“Fuck, YES!”
Either of them could have said it and neither had the will power to think on the statement.
With each thrust Genma changed his angle slightly. Listening and watching Kakashi earlier had brought the brunet closer to his second release than he wanted to admit. He figured he was closer to his limit than he wanted to be, so pushing Kakashi over the edge sooner rather than later was a good idea. Thrust. Thrust. The sound of flesh, wetly hitting flesh filled the room. The heavy breathing of both men synchronized with their movements.
“AHHHHH!” Kakashi jerked, fell out of rhythm. “There… that was…ha…. There! AGAIN!” and Genma listened. He pounded into the same spot again and again. The silver haired man writhed, screamed, thrashed and lost all control.
With a deafening high pitched keen, Kakashi tightened like a bow string then snapped forward slumping as he came harder than he ever had before. Genma followed close behind, with a thick grunt as he poured inside the copy nin.
Pulling himself together more quickly, Genma pulled Kakashi up, and then sat him back down in almost the same position. When they were no longer so intimately connected he reached down and snatched his shirt off the floor. Quickly wiping the other man down, then himself, he threw the dirty shirt back into the pile on the floor. | aae67023239e4befaefe00542d7f9d4d | ['0c6f7c1ad1584e7d95e93a2ac9e3779c'] | But Iruka knew at least some of what was holding Kakashi back. Iruka’s mind had been so unable to handle what had happened that it had shut down, erased memories, and changed his personality to some still yet unknown degree. Still, with some strange kind of certainty, Iruka knew that remembering and being told what had happened were completely different. It was like hearing it from Kakashi would somehow be less real, would be more like a story of what had happened to someone else. And that was manageable, even if he still couldn’t handle the actual memories themselves.
And he was sure he wanted to know. At first, he hadn’t been sure at all, but even just a few days later, the missing memories, the blankness, and the consuming presence of what had happened to him, was all Iruka could focus on. It was his whole life whether he wanted it to be or not.
So yes, he would like to know what had happened.
Iruka met that one dark eye, held Kakashi’s gaze with the intensity of his conviction and to his surprise he saw acceptance flicker through the man’s features. With an almost inaudible sigh, Kakashi settled back into the hard-plastic chair and began.
There was no visible emotion coming from him, not now, it was like he was beginning a mission report. “I still don’t know everything. But, well, I can tell you what I do know. And I can tell you what I found when in the forest, what you were like when I found you again.”
Iruka started. He hadn’t known that Kakashi had brought him back. Now hearing that, he really shouldn’t have been surprised but he still was.
“You had actually escaped yourself, you were already in the woods outside the walled perimeter. I felt a chakra signature and hunted it down, clearly that was you. You were not exactly in your right mind, not surprisingly, you thought I was fake, either a hallucination or genjutsu.”
Here Kakashi paused, hesitating, almost reluctant, but he continued, using professionalism as a mask for whatever he was uncomfortable sharing.
“The interaction between us was atypical, you vacillated between trying to seduce me and trying to have me kill you. Eventually, your body, wounded and weakened, gave out. You passed out, at which point I brought you back to Konoha.” Kakashi clearly hoped to leave it at that.
Iruka felt some internal part of himself balk at knowing he had tried to seduce this man. He had more than one reason to feel embarrassed about that. But on the surface where his emotions were so muted, instead he only felt a light curiosity about it. He would have to learn why he had become the kind of person to use sex as a tool. That certainly hadn’t been part of his personality before.
And maybe Kakashi was feeling awkward about that, but knowing what he knew about Kakashi that seemed rather odd, and not particularly fitting. This was a man who read porn anytime and anywhere. This was a man known for sex and wasn’t ever shy about it, in fact practically the opposite. Not that he was known for being a romantic, certainly not, but sexual exploits came hand in hand with stories of the Copy nin’s fighting prowess.
So, the likelihood of this man being upset that someone had thrown themselves at his feet begging for it, essentially, shouldn’t be causing this reaction. Unless of course there was more to it, like he had taken advantage of the situation.
Which was a thought.
Not one Iruka entertained very long though because that didn’t seem much like Kakashi either. Why would he bother?
So maybe it was something else or maybe something small that just bothered Kakashi disproportionately. Given the circumstances it must be something like that.
But still, he clearly wanted to skip past something he felt about the situation, though the retrieval itself seemed so straight forward and well, easy. Maybe…
Well that wasn’t exactly a good thought.
Maybe it was that he had taken advantage. Kakashi had said that they used Kakashi’s image against Iruka, but what if the revulsion wasn’t from that, what if it was from something Kakashi had done himself? Iruka usually was pretty good at spotting genjutsu, so it seemed strange that he would feel so strongly about the man himself rather than having aimed the revulsion at the appropriate target.
That was not comforting at all. |
161ee2495d6e4696917af6fed0c2994f | ['0c87e0714fdd44a9958ac12c642d588e'] | Will mercifully cut in, planting a quick kiss on the older boy's lips. "I'd love to be your boyfriend, Mike," he grinned. Both relief and anxiety coursed through Mike's body. Of course he was happy that Will said yes, but...he also didn't want this to change things between them. The things that made them best friends in the first place. He never wanted that to change - even if they were now boyfriends.
"So...breakfast, shall we?" Will asked, breaking into Mike's thoughts.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, breakfast," Mike answered with a smile, rising to his feet and extending a hand to help the smaller boy up.
Will's face suddenly broke into a sly smile. "Race to the table? Loser has to clear the dishes."
"Hmmm," Mike replied, a grin started to break through on his own face as he pretended to think it over. "Okay, you're on!" The older boy gave Will a quick shove sending him toppling back onto the bed before racing out of the room with a gleeful laugh.
"Heeeeeeey, no fair cheater!" he heard Will yell out behind him as he scrambled to his feet to begin the chase. Maybe Mike was over thinking things. No matter what else changed around them, at the core his and Will's friendship would always be the same, he knew that much.
What he didn't know though was how, even after his head start, he still ended up losing the race to the kitchen and had to clear the table as Will looked on with a smug smile.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Slow, unathletic Mike is canon! Look it up!
>
> Hope the smut wasn't too cringey lol. It was supposed to somewhat awkward and fumbly though, so that was by design.
>
> At any rate, one more chapter left. I have a definite route I wanna go to end the story, so HOPEFULLY it won't take as long as this update...but no promises.
>
> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated and help assure me that people are liking the direction of the story. Thanks for reading!
4. Chapter 4
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Yeah...sorry about the super long layoff, but this took forever to write. Good news is, this isn't the last chapter. I had to split it since it was getting so large. Bad news? Not a ton of smut in this chapter.
>
> There is quite a bit of discussion on the subject though, including them going further than they've gone thus far. So here's your warning. You'll get plenty of chances to get out before the action starts next chapter, but if even talks of it make you uncomfortable, please don't read.
>
> By the end of this chapter, Mike will be 15 (the show doesn't give a birthday for Mike, but I imagine him as an Autumn baby) and Will will be 14 and a half.
Mike stood nervously outside the Byers front door, steeling his courage before attempting to knock. It was about a week after officially becoming Will's boyfriend, and he was there for a sleepover. No, he wasn't nervous for _that_ reason. This was just a normal sleepover.
The two of them had talked it out and set some ground rules for their relationship. After all it was a bit weird to have been so intimate with someone so abruptly at their age, but then blush at simple things like cuddling or holding hands when they were fortunate enough to get a moment alone. It was ridiculous really, so they decided that unless it was absolutely needed, meaning Will was having another episode, they would not engage in the level of sexual activities they were before. They were determined to let their relationship grow organically, as much as possible. And if it got to those levels again naturally, then so be it. But until then, it just took a lot of pressure off of everyone involved not to think about it.
So Mike's apprehension as he stood outside what had been his second home for years was for an entirely different reason - this would actually be his first time back at the Byers since the first incident had occurred. How would Joyce react to him being gone for so long? Would she want an explanation for his prolonged absence? For seemingly abandoning Will? Would she treat him differently? But it turned out his worry was largely for nothing. Joyce received him graciously as always, telling him to pull up a chair for lunch, which he did after greeting Will.
Mike smiled at the simple meal of mac & cheese with cut up hot dogs in it. He always kind of appreciated the oft times basic cuisine of the Byers house. His own mother made every meal a huge production. Don't get him wrong, he knew he was lucky, and he didn't begrudge her the perfectly home-cooked meals that had become her trademark. But there was just something about mealtime at Will's house that always made him feel relaxed and comfortable. The nerves he felt when first arriving quickly fell away as the trio made small talk, with the boys bemoaning the fact that summer was almost over, and their first year of high school would be starting soon.
At some points during the conversation though, it became clear to the raven-haired teen that Joyce was staring at him when she thought he wasn't looking. Nothing malicious though. More with fondness and...gratitude? Apparently he wasn't the only one that noticed, because he soon heard Will give a not so subtle throat clear towards his mom to knock it off. Mike was definitely lost by this point, but said nothing as Will's warning seemed to have worked. He thought that would be the end of it, but he found out how wrong he was when Will excused himself to the restroom. | e95b496ea2ce48eb89632b65e2021d6e | ['0c87e0714fdd44a9958ac12c642d588e'] | "Yeah...it's back," Will confirmed. "I started feeling like crap halfway through the movie. I think my mom noticed something was up this time, because she started asking if I was okay every fifteen minutes, and wouldn't leave my side. I only got her to go to bed like a half hour ago."
"Shit...Will, I'm so sorry it's back already, man. I wish there was something I could..." Mike trailed off as his mind started racing, a nebulous plan beginning to come together. "Will...are you free tomorrow?"
"Me? Yeah, I'm free. But you're not though...wait, no, Mike. You can't skip going to your grandparents. I didn't tell you this to guilt you into fixing me again. I only told you because I promised I would tell you immediately whenever this happened. I can wait until Monday, I'll just power through it, really."
The older boy wouldn't hear of it though. "No dice Byers. You just be over here at noon tomorrow. I'll be waiting for you."
"But how will you get out of your trip?"
"Don't worry, I'll think of something," Mike reassured him. "I always do."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Me: See, I told you, length was getting out of hand, there was nothing I could do.
>
> Reader: What if you didn't waste 1500 words on that unfunny gag with Joyce and Mike at the beginning?
>
> Me: ....I have no response to that.
>
> Reader, shaking head: You never do....you never do.
>
> Anyways, good news, I have the vast majority of the next chapter written already. So...it really shouldn't be too long this time. Big chapter coming up next. As always, comments are welcomed! Thanks for reading.
5. Chapter 5
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Okay, here it is, the main event. Even after splitting it, this chapter still kind of got away from me length-wise. But oh well, it is what it is.
>
> FINAL WARNING - This chapter will contain very explicit consensual underage sex. Mike is 15 years old, Will is 14 and a half. If this bothers you, there is the definite option of not reading. For everyone else, enjoy!
Mike had told Will he would think of something to get out of the trip. Turns out 'something' was as simple as suddenly developing a splitting headache and nausea-like symptoms when his mother came to wake him up the next morning. The boy only had to bring up the _prospect_ of getting carsick on the ride for his father to nix the possibility of him going. Clearly the thought of Mike vomiting in his new sedan was not something that Ted wanted to contend with.
Karen hemmed and hawed about just canceling the whole trip, but Mike finally managed to convince her he'd be alright alone for the day. "Well...alright. Just take it easy and get some rest then. We'll be home as soon as we can."
Now, this probably never would've worked if Mike had been trying to get out of going to school. But Mike had always liked visiting his grandparents, so Karen had no reason to question or doubt his symptoms. The rest of the Wheelers left at about 10:00 a.m., giving Mike plenty of time to shower and get ready for Will to come over. When the boy showed up just after noon, he tried to give Mike a quick smile. But it came across forced, and Mike could practically see the worry written all over Will's face.
The older boy led the way down to the basement, hoping to ease Will's concerns a bit, and possibly go over a plan for the afternoon. But as soon as the pair made it down the stairs, Will grabbed onto Mike, pulling him down for a deep kiss. The raven-haired teen groaned in surprise, a little shocked at how forward Will was being. But it didn't take long before Mike was eagerly returning Will's passion. The smaller boy steered Mike backwards until he landed on the couch, climbing up into his lap afterwards and continuing his assault on Mike's lips. Normally, Mike would probably find this hot and just go with the flow. But this wasn't dominant Will - this was scared Will. Needy Will. _Desperate_ Will. And that wasn't a turn on, not at all.
"Hey, whoa, can we...slow down a little?" Mike asked, gently putting his hands on Will's shoulders. The other boy lowered his head, disappointed as he leaned back slowly. "Can you talk to me Will? What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry," he whispered haltingly.
"Will I'm not angry, you don't have to apologize...just..."
"I'm scared, okay?" Will said, finally raising his face. Mike was heartbroken to see tears welling up in his boyfriend's eyes. "It only took two days to come back this time Mike. This might be our last chance to fix it before...I'm stuck like this."
Mike immediately gathered the boy back into his embrace, holding Will tightly as he sobbed into his shoulder. "We're not gonna let that happen," he said firmly. He wished he was as confident as he sounded, but the coolness of the boy on top of him was seeping through his clothes, causing Mike to let out an involuntary shiver.
He brought up his hands, rubbing them all over Will's back and arms, just as he had done on their first night together. And just like then, Mike gradually felt Will's temperature rise back to normal levels. At some point Will had stopped crying into Mike's shoulder, and was taking advantage of his current position to start placing kisses up and down Mike's neck. They had started innocently enough, feather-light and fluttering. But they steadily grew more and more heated until a particularly harsh suck right behind an ear drew a moan from Mike's throat. |
b1a18ca4319d4badaa1d1b0c0aa15ee5 | ['0ccdee48d49d453288d30f5c2db35309'] |
Out of Time, Out of Touch
_ Wait, this isn't right. Dammit, why can't I think straight? Wake up Elena! _
Her head spun as her eyes flickered open, the sun assaulting her violet irises as she quickly shut them again. Sitting up, shock overtook her as she saw people milling about, but these people were… different. _ Very _ different. Where was Corypheus? Where was the ruined temple?
The sky was blue; birds were singing in the trees nearby and the scenery reminded her of Skyhold's garden, but on a much larger scale. Elena looked down at herself as she aided herself up: her armor was still mostly intact, though the mark had stopped spewing it's bright green magic. Her staff lay in the greenest grass she'd ever seen. Picking it up, she noticed someone coming towards her.
The woman wore a very odd outfit: it was all blue and shone with… badges? It definitely wasn't armor of any sort Elena had seen. The woman also had on a strangely shaped hat and had her hand on what looked like melted obsidian in a silly shape on her hip.
Elena tried to form a barrier around herself, but nothing happened. She was vulnerable here… wherever here was. “Are you ok ma'am?” The woman asked, her posture told Elena she viewed her as a threat.
“I don't know where I am. Where is Thom? Sera? Cassandra? Solas?” Elena asked after her betrothed and friends she was with when she was blown back by Corypheus’ magic.
The woman looked at Elena like she was crazy. “You from Europe? Sound like you are. Come on.” Elena had attracted a gathering of people who were pointing tiny black boxes at her, some of them sent flashes of light into her eyes.
“Your what? I'm from Thedas.” Elena said as she followed the dark-haired Shem towards a large, metallic looking _ thing _ .
The woman rolled her eyes at Elena's obvious mental disability. What had this woman gone through? “Europe, it's a country. You're in Los Angeles, California, in the United States of America.” Elena turned at the small sound of someone calling for her. _ Thom _ .
“Elena!” Thom yelled as he spotted her wild short raven hair. He broke out into a run, Sera right behind him. It was a flurry of his lips and hers as they collided, but where was Cassandra? Dorian? Bull? Cole? Solas? Cullen? Josie? Leliana? In the midst of a crushing hug between the three of them, someone cleared their throat.
It was the oddly dressed woman. She was smiling and opened the metal box that now had bright red and blue torches spinning on the top. “Could you just get in the car now?”
Elena looked to the “car” and back at the woman. “What does it do?” She asked, cocking her head to the side as Thom slid an arm around her waist.
“Is it magic witchy stuff? I'm not getting in that thing if it's all magicky, Lavellan.” Sera said matter-of-factly.
“It seems this world doesn't have magic, Sera. Look.” Elena held her hand up to Sera's face; all that was there was a long, pinkish scar in the shape of the anchor.
“I'm a police officer, name's Lacey Tanner. This,” she motioned to her car dramatically, “is a car. It gets you places, runs on gas. Now please get in before the news stations start showing up.”
Just as Officer Tanner closed the door, another voice called for Elena and the officer rested her forehead against the cool blue metal. “She's with me, you must be Cassandra. Get in the front.” Cassandra was wary, but got in when she noticed Sera toying with the window as it came down to reveal the three in the back seat.
“I'm friggin squashed, yeah. Can we get this thing hooked up to some horses already?” Sera said as she rested her arm on Thom's shoulder.
Lacey rolled her eyes and started the car, eliciting gawks from her strange passengers as she pulled into downtown LA traffic.
They had sat in what Officer Tanner called a ‘hospital’ for hours. It was, to Elena, a healer’s tent on a massive scale. It was bigger than the Chantry in Val Royeaux. She had taken mental notes: the ones in white cloaks were Doctors, the equivalent to Thedas’ healers. The ones in the colorful tunics and breeches were nurses, some kind of assistant to the doctors.
They had taken drawings of her bones, poked her with needles, stolen her blood, but without leeches. She could hear Sera protesting, loudly, about having her blood taken. She could also hear whispers, her surname on people’s lips seemed to be spreading. It was like they knew of her and her companions.
A girl, no older than fifteen, entered her room holding a plush in her hand that reminded her of Iron Bull. “You’re actually Lavellan? _ The _ Lavellan?” The girl asked as she held a mask to her face and breathed deeply.
Elena smiled, it seemed people knew of her here, in this world. “I am, Elena Lavellan. Who might you be?”
The girl smiled back and looked at Elena as though a child looked upon statues of their legendary heroes. “I'm Khloe, Inquisitor Lavellan. It's an honor. Sorry, but I need to get back to my room before Nurse Leo scolds me again. I'm not supposed to be out of bed.” She noticed the girl, Khloe, had been pulling along a tall, metal pole that held bags of what looked like water. Long tubes shoved into the girls arm; this girl must be ill. Elena had saw enough people pass by her room to realize the ones in the thin night shirts with the poles were very sick. | d1bfa96d75c14e3087376b3cedbbfe98 | ['0ccdee48d49d453288d30f5c2db35309'] | "We can't spare someone to follow her around to protect her, what will be done about this? We all know what happens when some of the men get too much drink in them..." Josephine said as she pointed the tip of her quill in the air as she spoke.
Maxwell was deep in thought as his advisors looked into him expectantly. He was older than her by a year, maybe two, but looked as if he carried the world on his shoulders. When he finally spoke up, the room softened.
"What if we arranged a marriage for her?" He said excitedly.
_ Of course, because an arranged marriage is sure to last, Max. _She thought as she sat, her legs crossed and a puppy sleeping on her lap. Cullen hadn't stopped his obvious gawking since she walked in.
"Who would marry her though, Inquisitor?" Leliana, their spymaster, asked as she studied Elaine silently. "She doesn't even sit like a lady." She said, nodding to Elaine's crossed legs and bare feet, she had given up on the pinching slippers and left them in her chambers, much to Josephine's dismay.
That's when Elaine stood and stepped up to the war table in between Cullen and Maxwell, shooting daggers at Leliana, who frightened her, and Cassandra, who… also frightened her a bit. "I may be a woman, and for all anyone knows besides those in this room, I am of 'noble birth'. That said, I refuse to sit by while you speak as though I am not here. I am not some helpless damsel who sits still to look pretty. I will agree to the marriage only for my safety in the hold of Skyhold and for Maxwell." She said as she accidentally brushed by Cullen as she turned towards the doors to leave. "I'll be in the kitchens. Find me when you have decided… _ things. _" She said as she left.
Cullen watched with what he found to be pride as she gracefully left the war room. "So who will marry Lady Elaine? It must be someone who must be in the higher ranks, someone with the ability to protect her by the mention of his…" Maxwell began until he saw Cullen still looking at the now closed door.
"Cullen will marry Lady Elaine."axwell said, making Cullen snap his head back towards the Inquisitor.
"The Inquisition's Commander _ would _ be perfect. She wouldn't need to make up a story of how they met since all of Skyhold believes she is Maxwell's cousin." Leliana said as Cullen groaned into his gloved hands. She did some to him, _ the her hips moved and those womanly curves… _
Cullen nodded and went in search for her wild curls.
*****
Elaine had every intention of going to the kitchens, she really did. Until she found herself outside the stables, then climbing the stone steps to the battlements, still barefoot. A guard bowed to her before continuing his patrol as she leaned against the stone wall overlooking the valley. The sun was high in the sky, but the cold wind bit at her scarred face.
She had been sitting on the wall for hours before the bald elf she met that morning at breakfast sidled up to her. "You look as if you have had a tiring day, Lady Elaine." His voice made her jump.
"I am not in the mood for a lecture about my behavior, messere Solas. I am waiting on my cousin to make a decision on my future at Skyhold. And to see how long it takes for them to find me." She said, dismissing the ornery elf. Solas waited a beat before turning and leaving her to her own devices.
As the sun dipped below the mountain, turning the sky a pink-orange color, she decided it best to head back to her rooms. Her cellphone was still in her pack with her headphones and it should still have plenty of battery for her to listen to downloaded music. She thought maybe she could get away with dancing around in the shirt she claimed for sleeping and some leggings while no one watched.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Elaine is that girl who is a badass in front of others, but will dance by herself around her huge suite and jump on the bed when no one is around. Some CullenxElaine fluff next chapter!
3. Getting to know Her
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Elaine spends the day before her wedding avoiding Vivienne in Cullen's office.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I am so happy you guys are enjoying this story! Just one more chapter after this until the wedding and three until the Ball at Halamshiral with a tiny time skip before.
Elaine had pulled one of the wooden chairs out onto her balcony and as she dug out her cellphone and turned it on, a picture of her and her dad on their Disney cruise was still her wallpaper. She had heard the rumors already circulating about the Inquisitor's Cousin getting married. The story was she was brought here to make an advantageous match.
She hadn't stuck around the gossiping Frenchies long enough to find out _ who _ she would be marrying in just two days time. She wished she could text her dad about everything she had been through in the past month; she wasn't sure he'd be proud of her for surviving for so long; or scared for her because of the situation she was in. She looked at her text messages, the last text she had sent was to her dad:
**Laney: Hey! Made it to the campsite in one piece! I will see you in a week! I love you! :***
**Daddy: I love you too, Laney bear. Have fun and be safe!** |
ec6b73cb4dfd4417aebdb92f89ab274a | ['0cedba2a332b49b5b10b0483ca479b0c'] | “Yes.” Carmilla answers as she started removing her jacket. Other pieces of clothing followed afterwards.
Laura then advances closer to Carmilla, eyes glinting dangerously. “You know I’m gonna need to punish you for being late.” She says, doing her best to threaten Carmilla and slamming her against the fridge. Smirking as she roughly thrusts a hand upward between her legs. Carmilla almost shifted in being the one in charged, however she couldn’t let herself disobey Laura, besides she loves it when Laura shows her dominant side.
Carmilla’s mouth falls open at what Laura just did. Her eyes closing tight.
“Mmm, you’re so wet.” Laura murmurs, her breath hot on Carmilla’s neck. “Have you been thinking about this all day?” She asks.
“No.” Carmilla answered, trying her best to stop herself from moaning.
Laura suddenly inserts a finger and bites down on Carmilla’s shoulder. She knows Carmilla loves it when she bites her here and there.
“You know, I hate it when you lie to me, Karnstein. You’ve been thinking about me all day, haven’t you. Laura asked again this time a little harsher.
Carmilla squirmed under her touch; knees threatening to buckle.
“Yes.” Carmilla forced herself to answer truthfully and softly- more of a breath than a word.
“Were you thinking about my fingers inside you as you pour your customers their drinks?” Laura asks Carmilla. Carmilla refused to answer but Laura threatens to pull out her fingers that lead Carmilla to answering her with a yes.
“Were you thinking about me, fucking you while you’re on all fours as you were mixing your turntable or whatever you djs call it?” Laura once again ask,adding another finger in the process.
“Yes.” Carmilla immediately answered desperately, obviously wanting more friction from Laura.
“You couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d feel inside you. I know you wanted to finish your shift earlier so you could go here and I could fuck you senselessly. Am I correct?” Every word Laura says is equivalent to a suck on Carmilla’s neck and it drives Carmilla crazy. Her hand finally let’s go of the fridge’s door handle, her chest heaving.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” Carmilla finally answers thrashing her head from side to side. However, just when Carmilla thought Laura would let her come, she suddenly removed her fingers, making a show of sucking it. “Laura, what the-?”
“I wanna continue this on the bedroom. You know I like it better when we’re on the bed.” She clarifies her intentions. Carmilla could barely move as her legs were weak from trying to control herself from coming, so Laura guided her, wrapping her hands around Carmilla’s waist. “You’re already sore. I haven’t even started your punishment.” Laura said smugly as they enter her bedroom.
“Well, in case you still haven’t notice, you make me sore easily.” Carmilla admitted a little embarrassed.
When they entered the bedroom, Carmilla noticed the handcuffs with pink fur. “Pink really?” She comments as she positions herself in the middle of the bed.
Laura ignores her comment and shifted back to being in command. “Open your legs.”
And Carmilla did and she knows that Laura wouldn’t let her move anywhere else but Carmilla knows she’s close, so close and Laura doesn't care. She had other plans. She’s building Carmilla up once again, and Carmilla feels terrible and wonderful at the same time about it. And honestly, she couldn’t wait for that moment when the only thing would matter are the stars and the ecstasy Laura would be giving her later on. But unfortunately, Laura leaves her grunting and obviously unsatisfied every time she would quickly pull her fingers from Carmilla but the quick pleasure and pain comes back every time Laura would push deeper and harder inside Carmilla.
Carmilla clenches her jaw, and tries to recover and she knows that Laura’s grinning as she watches Carmilla’s agony.
“Close your eyes.” Laura commands, and as always Carmilla obeys Laura, like Laura knows she would always be obeyed. When Carmilla did, she suddenly felt a mesh of nylon on her right cheek, Carmilla knows Laura is so close to her and she can smell her oh so sweet perfume and it excites Carmilla even more and Laura is breathing in Carmilla’s ear as she starts running her hands on her breasts. Having Laura’s hands on her breasts is one of Carmilla’s favorite.
A moment, Laura decides on having Carmilla on a blindfold. “Safe word is candle.” Laura whispered and Carmilla nods, not trusting her own words.After Laura tied the scarf on Carmilla, Laura finally crashed their lips together. Kissing her hungrily, in fact she bites Carmilla which draws blood on her soft lips, and Carmilla couldn’t help but want more.
Laura shifts Carmilla’s legs, opening it a little more wider than it was already. Carmilla felt the throbbing in her core going a little crazier, she needs more. Wants more of Laura so she tries to beg. “Please Laura, please.” Carmilla pleaded.
“Please what Carmilla?” Laura asks, always playing the innocent card.
“Please fuck me hard, until I scream your name and forget mine.” She replies.
And Laura did. Kissing Carmilla once again,and she stops to paw Carmilla’s breast hard, but Carmilla disregards the pain as Laura tugs harshly on her nipples, making it hard and stand with pride.
“Tell me what you want.” Laura demands.
“I want you.” Carmilla quickly answers.
“Really?” Laura asks pretending to act surprised, and Carmilla knows too well what this game is all about. And she is a willing player.
“No.” Carmilla answers, playing along, as Laura tugs hard on her left nipple and bites on the right, which causes Carmilla to scream involuntarily.
“Why not?” Laura asks with a pout she tugs on Carmilla’s nipples every second she doesn’t answer right away.
“Because-” Carmilla tries to answer a little breathless.
“I can’t hear you.” Laura says as she suck on Carmilla’s right breast. | e714ad1291f947008c948ad31e24e300 | ['0cedba2a332b49b5b10b0483ca479b0c'] | Sally gasps
“Laura always wanted to tell you, but she doesn’t want to worry you and especially she doesn’t want you to take it as a huge problem knowing you both would be forced to transferring her to other school.”
“Why wouldn’t she want to be transferred?” Martin asks.
“Laura didn’t want to be a financial problem to both of you.” Perry continues.
“Well this incident definitely gave us the reason to transfer her from different school.” Sally confirms.
**
The dean has gotten off the phone when Carmilla and her friends arrived. They were immediately ushered inside the office by the dean’s secretary.
Dean Corvine straightened her skirt before she settles back to her chair. Clearing her throat, she starts with “That was someone from the hospital where Laura is right now and according to them, Laura is still in a comatose, and it has been two days.”
She was answered by gasps and ohs but she wasn’t sure if these are true, the dean never trusted the girls anyways.
“So do any of you know why I called you here?” The dean continues and as expected she was met with silence she never want to encounter.
“I’ll explain it to you since none of you is going to speak. Well, two days ago one of our students, Laura Hollis to be exact had an accident in the vicinity of our school. How did this happen? Well, someone decides to throw or push her off the stairs.”
“We didn’t do anything!” Elsie was quick to defend.
“Oh Elsie, I never said it was you and your friends.”
“Then why are we here?” Betty starts to ask.
“Because—some of the students I have talked to these past two days all had the same answer that it was you Silas Bitches who did this. I just had to wait for that exact person to come clean.”
“Then what?” It was Danny who asked this time. “It’s not like you can expel us.”
“Oh really, Ms. Lawrence?” The dean’s voice was obvious with annoyance with how stupid these girls could be sometimes. “You girls clearly got no idea of what I am capable of huh? I have enough reasons to have you expelled. I’ve realized that you’ve been bullying Laura. I know your incident with her Danny during one of your basketball class.”
Upon hearing the revelations coming straight from the dean all of them suddenly became uncomfortable.
The dean noticed the two remaining girls being all silent and she immediately brought their attention to the current situation.
“I’ve notice Carmilla and Ell here are both quiet. Does your silence mean something ladies?”
“Ell, would you like to say something?”
“Carmilla?”
“You know, if only start talking it’ll be all easier for us. I can all send you home.”
“Okay. We can stay here over night if you girls want to.” The dean says as she leans back to her seat arm crossed in front of her chest looking all uninterested.
“But what if none of us actually do it?” Betty asked.
“Betty darling, I have evidences.” The dean answers as she reaches out for her drawer. “Carmilla, what’s going on between you and Laura?” She asks.
“Nothing.”
“Really? Then why does this picture exists?” The dean held out the picture of Carmilla and Laura that was taken by Danny.
Carmilla snapped her head toward the picture and regrets it as soon as she sees the picture that caused all of these to happen.
“So tell me the truth, Carmilla.”
For a moment, Carmilla debate on telling the truth or not.
“You wanted the truth? Fine, I’ll give it to you. Laura and I are friends. Secret friends. Yes you heard me correctly, she is my friend. But I couldn’t let anyone know that before knowing how much my so call friends are treating her. They bully her day after day and I just can’t stand it anymore, so one day, I’ve decided to be her friend and you know what it felt so good to be her friend.” Carmilla says with gritted teeth and so much anger. “And for the record, nothing was going on on that photo. I was just having a bad day because of a problem I have at home and Laura was the only person I know I can talk about this shit without being judge. So dean, if you excuse me, I would like to leave and be nowhere near from people who only know how to make a good person horrible.”
Carmilla was on her way out when she looks back, “By the way, it was Ell my girlfriend who pushed her off the stairs and yes I disobeyed you this time by not listening to what you asked me to. Sorry I’m not sorry but I can’t keep myself silent knowing it was you who did this.”
And with that, Carmilla finally left, slamming the door behind her.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> The plot will thicken soon. ;)
>
> and oh, just to be clear Carmilla isn't the dean's daughter here.
5. Don't You Forget About Me
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> In which Carmilla made peace with Laura's parents and a doctor from Grey's Anatomy decides to guest. :)
> You can still enjoy reading this even if it's unbeta.
As soon as Carmilla have left the school she immediately decided to toughen up and be brave to go and see Laura at the hospital. She knows she can’t talk and explain everything to Laura but she knows she can at least have it explained to Mr. and Mrs. Hollis so that’s what she had in mind.
After about 30 minutes of bus ride going to Styria General Hospital, Carmilla finally arrived.
“Um, hi. I’m here to visit Laura Hollis.” Carmilla nervously asks the front desk nurse.
“I’m sorry darling, only family is allowed to visit.” The front desk nurse responds. |
2408593102b44b47b4500012380026ee | ['0d05111d08664831a6c8225b63b7c8c1'] | "Well I'm not going to invite you in for a one night stand if that's what you're suggesting." He turns a bright red color.
"Wh-what? No! No, no, no! O-of course not. I don't want that. I don't expect you to at least. I wouldn't want to burden you knowing who I am." You tilt your head.
"Who wouldn't? You're quite a gentleman. Sweet too despite your cockiness. I'd say anybody would want to know you. You have this cool vibe. One of secure….and kindness." His eyes widen hearing your words.
"You think I'm nice?" Again you are left confused.
"Yeah. You stood up for me and attended to me even after I was rude to you. I don't see why you think you're a burden. I'm glad I met you." You lock eyes. Both of you carried a dazzling gleam alluring each other. He smiles scrunching up his cheeks up causing his freckles to compliment his features. You found it adorable. Almost like a child smiling up at you. Your heart races at the sight of him. Contagious to his smile, you return his with yours growing wider. You felt a weird connection with him screaming at you to do something. So like the old fashioned girl you are, you step closer onto your tippy toes to kiss his cheek. He felt a spark in that kiss. One he's never felt before despite all of the women he's been with. "Good night." You whisper earning a shudder from him. It was your turn to smirk.
"It's Ace!" He shouts to you from afar. You look over your shoulder,
"(Y/N)!" You shout back looking ahead of you.
"(Y/n)…" He mutters under his breath repeatedly.
"Yo, Ace!" A friend calls out. Said man shakes out of his thoughts to greet his pal. You stood at the front door of the building feeling stupid.
"Whoa, he really was meeting up with someone." You said. You head inside to end your night of fun.
_**Sabo** _
How you met Sabo was something out of a freaking movie. You were a prostitute/escort since you were five. Trafficked from country to country learning a different language every year or so. You started out as a slave rising up to something more lewd. At age fifteen you became an escort. Sex first then murder afterwards or a distraction of your target. Not a lot was said when you first met. You accompanied your boss. A redhead with slicked back hair, baggy green jacket always smoking for his young age. Words tattooed on his fingers reading, "Kill" and a scar on his left eye. He had an appointment with his lawyer, Sabo. You two waited in silence. Shades hiding your tired eyes, legs crossed yet they exposed some abusive markings. You had taken off your jacket to relieve your overheating body. It was used to the dangerous temperatures of the cold rather than the tropical weather. However it is winter, and the heater in the building felt like you were in a desert.
You shake your leg impatiently making your pimp antsy. He grips your leg aggressively leaving crescent marks on your skin. You flinch used to the pain. He growls against your ear menacingly.
"Stop shaking your damn leg, it's irritating."
"It's not hurting anybody." You retort casually.
"Disobey and I will punish you at home." He seethes squeezing tighter. You grunt and nod. You both failed to acknowledge Sabo entered witnessing his threat. He scowled at the man for a brief second before switching to his professional mode. You catch each other's eyes as he introduces himself.
"Good day, my name is Sabo. I will be your attorney for this case." You could see right through him. His smile is fake. He was good you thought. He makes a quick glance over to you. You avert his gaze turning your head afraid he too could see through your disguise.
"Great, nice to meet ya names Shane. Is there anything we can do to take this asshole down?" Yes it was unlikely for a pimp like Shane to ask for help from an attorney, however, he masked his background to continue his business and keep appearances. He had nothing to fear. He gained all the power he needed. One of the scariest things about belonging to deadly millionaires.
"Yes there is. He has a terrible reputation. Your opponent was tossed into prison three times. Murdered a few of his henchmen, taken territory, participated gang on gang violence so on and so forth. He'll be easy to take down. All of this was in the past and so far he hasn't done anything wrong since his last update. This can turn into a tricky case, but it can be dealt with. Hopefully he doesn't try to higher a challenging lawyer. This will go a lot smoother." He answers flipping through a few papers. You clear your throat after non stop fidgeting. Sabo turns to you.
"Sorry, I have to use the bathroom." You explain. He smiles kindly at you, your heart lifted at his friendly vibe. You haven't felt like this in forever since your first boy crush at the age of ten. You bite your cheek to keep it from trying to smile. You had to remain stoic. Any form of genuine happiness is punishable. You had to continue to act broken, like your soul is no longer there for the sake of your survival. This man behind his desk poked at your mask enough to break it making it difficult not to melt in his presence.
"The restrooms are down this hall to your left." You nod taking your belongings with you into the bathroom. Sabo's blue eyes followed you out the door returning to his client.
"Dames. They can't hold still eh?" Shane chortles. Sabo cracks a half smile finding it grueling. | 4b45afa8e6ba4bf7a666d3df6a73fcf0 | ['0d05111d08664831a6c8225b63b7c8c1'] | "H-how dare you punch me! You're so mean! You'll all pay!" You walk over to the boy trying to keep him quiet by saying sweet nothings. Your attempts fail as you realize Dillinger continued his act because your uncle Doffy and Trebol arrive at the scene. You all stare at the two men. Sugar held Trebol's robe pointing at your brothers.
"They gave me cooties and refused to apologize. Now they went and hurt Dillinger for defending me. See? They're mean grandpa Trebol!" Sugar exclaims. You could not believe the crap coming out of Sugar's mouth. Your brothers were not blood and it worried you. Doffy was all about family and since your brothers were new would he accept? Your brothers back up intimidated as the tall man casted his shadow over the trio. It was hard to tell if he was angry. He always looked mad to you. He scans the area between you and the boys. A brow is raised.
"Did you hurt Dillinger?" He bluntly asks. His voice rumbled and stern. It made you shudder with fear. You could even hear the gulps of your brother as they contemplate on how to get out of this mess.
14. Thanksgiving PT.2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hello all! I know it's been a long time but shit happened and I was lost and now I'm back for sure. I have the next chapter ready to be written. This took me three days to write on paper as an experiment to see if I liked, which I do, but then I had to type it which took two more days in total five freaking days and I could not wait to share it so unfortunately I'll be writing on phone/computer from now on just to make things easier and quick even though I did make a bunch of changes that almost revealed a lot of secrets hahaha. No no my dears you shall not know just yet what I have planned ;) In general this chapter is long although I feel there should have been more I am currently stumped so it will do. ~Enjoy the make up story~
>
> Also: Credit to Legna El on Wattpad for suggesting the boys go hunting. Thank you. If you have any suggestions let me know :) I'll gladly add them.
"Did you hurt Dillinger?" Doflamingo asks. His voice rumbles sternly. All eyes land on the tall, intimidating man. Fear Paralyzing the trio including you. You didn't know Doflamingo very well regardless of him being your uncle but judging by the way your grandfather and mother have warned you to be careful around him. They never Specified why, yet you heed their warning It was unfortunate that your brothers were not informed.
Your voice hitches in the back of your throat for a brief moment. The fear struck onto your brothers caused you to shake all your nerves away to step forward and defend them.
"I-it was Dillinger's fault for taunting Ace! He also made the first strike. It was an act of self-defense." Curse yourself for stuttering. To him you must look weak after doing so. Your brothers snap out of their paralysis only to be engulfed with surprise that you are the one standing up for them after months of protecting you. The tables have turned. Sugar and Dillinger are the more astonished that you, the silent girl, spoke up.
"That's not true and you know it!" Dillinger retorts in the background. Your brothers glare at the brat. Dillinger shivers in response. The garden grew silent as Doflamingo continues to speculate and make a conclusion.
You step back until you stand in line with your brothers. Doflamingo, approaches you all. Trebol and your cousins watch in suspense. Snobby bastards. Ace peers over to Luffy and Sabo to catch a glimpse of just how scared they are. He decides enough is enough. The boy takes a step forward.
"Say something already!"
"Ace?" You all question.
"I'm willing to take the punishment as they're spared. I don't regret beating that punk. He deserves it for starting shit." At that Ace is lifted by the scruff of his hoodie. Ace let's out a faint squeak. His onyx eyes meet the man's shades. Luffy and Sabo become defensive.
"Oi! Set him down!" Luffy barks.
"Didn't you hear (Y/n)? Dillinger acted first." Sabo adds.
Doflamingo continues to ignore the children's complaints. Dillinger, Sugar, and Trebol chuckle darkly.
"It's no use kids. Once Doffy makes up his mind there is no stopping him." You become fearful for Ace. You hoped and portrayed your uncle isn't as scary as you portray him to be. You would give anything to be proven wrong.
"Doflamingo, what are you doing to Ace?" Corazon, your grandfather interrupts. He seems worried mirroring yours once he found all of you huddled together before your uncle. You smile wide. You've never been so relieved to see your grandpa. Your uncle acknowledges Corazon's' arrival.
"Oh! Hello Roscionante. You know these kids?"
"Yes, they're Veronica's kids. Did you forget what I told you already? She adopted those three boys." It seems your uncle drew a blank. Your grandpa sighs. "They are the boys on that pirate, ride video she sent months ago?" A light bulb pops up recalling. He suddenly bursts out laughing. You tilt your head confused.
"Ah! So that's why they appeared familiar. You kids are hilarious. You beat up some kids for no reason." He cackles. You tilt your head confused. It seemed like he wasn't contemplating on punishment rather your brother's faces. |
59214b5d25b342788f25c7633aa5facb | ['0d07ad7bb42d414d9e2ea85b004eec7c'] | Sephiroth felt even less ready for it when the door opened, when the very first person he saw was the heiress of Wutai herself.
She turned around to say something to Cloud but was simply told by someone else to “just get in already,” which she did, calling Tifa’s attention for a quick hello but staying as far from him as possible. For her, it was something to tease Cloud a little with a harmless, unconscious Sephiroth around, but it was something else entirely to interact directly.
With each one who followed and took their places in the room, clearly avoiding to sit in the same bed as him, the little reminders of everything Sephiroth took from them seemed to haunt him even more than they usually did.
The fact that two, different colored Cait Siths were having some sort of family reunion on the corner didn’t help much with setting his mind at ease.
A blanket of silence covered all of them completely for a long moment after Cloud sat down by his side, eerie enough that he preferred to stare at his lap than at any of them. He’d never liked big meetings back in Shinra, nor saw the need for his presence in them. He wasn’t a board member, didn’t have much to add that would please said board members and Hojo was present in most of such occasions. They only made him feel overwhelmed. So longer after, away from that company and in the presence of different people, he still felt as though he would rather drown than have to bear the weight.
Cloud put a hand in his shoulder, effectively keeping him from drifting away any further, and assumed the leading role that anyone else in that room refused to pick for their own reasons.
“So, we’re here because Teef found something in the Shinra manor and because I’m now in charge of an oversized, sad ball of feathers.” He gestured at Sephiroth. “Ask me anything.”
That seemed to lift the mood at least a little bit. Just enough for a few of them to try to disguise any sort of laughter, Sephiroth included.
Cid raised his hand to ask, “Does he still have that long ass sword of his?”
“I don’t know. Sephiroth?”
“I…” He hesitated for a few seconds. While he was associated with Jenova, he could summon it out of thin air if it was needed. But Jenova was long gone, so maybe… “I’m not sure. I haven't tried to call for it ever since I woke up.”
“Try,” Cloud suggested, “To clear out any doubts as soon as possible.”
“...Here?”
He got nothing but a nod and some urging for him to stand as a reply.
That made him even more nervous than he already was, even as he took his distance to avoid any possible accident. Enough people had been stabbed by that blade as it was. To increase that number would be to increase his already countless sins.
He caused Masamune to appear with the same ease he had in the past; the weight of it gradually becoming real in his hand. However, once it was there, something quite… peculiar happened to it. Green light washed all over the blade and changed its shape, darkened the metal while coloring the edges a gentle violet and spreading silver details all over. A wing-like shape formed near the hilt, reminding him of Genesis’ beloved weapon.
Something about it felt… _Ancient,_ in the way the Black Materia had felt in his hand.
“What the fuck?” Asked both Cid and Barret at the same time.
“I didn't do anything.” Sephiroth felt like clarifying, somewhat shocked, himself. “I just… summoned it.”
Something in the air carried a slight fragrance of _flowers._
If he didn't know better, he’d doubt what happened, even if it had taken place before his very eyes. He suspected it had something to do with a certain someone handing over a familiar blade to him. Maybe that much was enough to change its very essence, to transform it into something new and to free all of them from the memories associated with its original appearance.
_To make it a Cetra Blade._
He didn’t dare mention that, of course, as he realized that particular flower girl was still a sensitive matter for everyone present.
Cloud stood to take a closer look at it with the expression of someone who’d recognized something about that, even though he wasn’t saying anything out loud other than a comment or another about how the new blade seemed to be stronger than Masamune’s or how it suited his style.
Once Cloud seemed to have enough of it, Sephiroth let the sword fade away from existence once more, leaving nothing but dissipating black feathers in its departure.
“Alright,” Cid said once the two of them were sitting again, “so he still has a long ass sword.”
Tifa chose to ask what everyone was wondering about that.
“I suppose that if we take it from you, you’d be able to summon another one, right?”
Sephiroth nodded, though he seemed a little uncertain about that. He grimaced when realization hit him of why exactly she was drawing that conclusion, of a certain Masamune left behind in the Shinra building. He closed his eyes a little pained by that thought. Granted, President Shinra had been someone vile in life, but many people who worked at that place did so out of other options or due to Shinra painting itself for the masses as a good company. Oh, the things he did while associated with Jenova… | 70cc2d7dab6f4ba495aaa8c733319089 | ['0d07ad7bb42d414d9e2ea85b004eec7c'] | They were both trying to salvage something from what was left after Meteorfall, if Reeve stopped to think about it. And Gaia, rebuilding after demolition could be hard. Watching Cloud made him wish he could do even more than what he was doing. Maybe find a way to relieve his friend of his worries just so Cloud could lend his strength, could help subdue the violent inhabitants of Deepground who were making the entire process of rescuing the somewhat sane ones and destroying Hojo’s databases harder than it should.
Cloud was better suited to combat and action than him, who simply stood back instead and offered his support the way he could.
The door to his temporary new office opened. A Cait Sith entered, followed by Tifa, who dropped on the chair on the other side of the table with a tired, maybe frustrated sigh.
“Long day?”
She nodded. Cait Sith made his way around the table to climb onto his lap and curl up on himself, probably in need of charging. Reeve ran a gentle hand over his robot’s soft, dark fur.
“Guess it’d be better if Cloud was here,” she said after a moment of silence, “he’d make a shitty joke about himself and would say ‘Everything will be alright’.”
“Maybe. And then Vincent would stop coming back a mess. Last time he and Barret came back from a run in with the Deepground soldiers, they were both covered in some strange blue thing.”
They still didn’t know anything about it other than the fact it wasn’t dangerous.
“Tell me you took a picture of that.”
“I didn’t,” he replied, much to her disappointment, but quickly followed with “But Cait Sith can be a great photographer.”
Reeve watched as the expression on Tifa’s face changed into one that basically screamed _You’ll have to send me that photo later_ and a brief chuckle escaped her.
A moment later she chose to say, “Yuffie came in contact with someone who might know where Rufus went to.”
“Oh? Tell me more about it, then.”
* * *
There was an old lady in Cosmo Canyon who knew her way around the crafts. That was the person with whom Cloud spent his afternoon with, after he made sure he wouldn’t be that far away from Sephiroth to the point of being harmful.
He seriously needed a break to cool his head, which was all over the place, really.
Mako had a certain smell that’d stick to a place even long after cleaning and removing the source of the issue. It smelled a lot like Midgar and somehow like Mideel, like the chamber just before the heart of a reactor. Worse yet, it smelled like Science; the horrors of the experiments he had only vague memories of coming to mind. It reminded him of the Northern Crater, as well, of fighting Jenova and Sephiroth. Of offering a hand because… well, it was _complicated._
Cloud didn’t want to fight anymore, not the way he had fought to stop Sephiroth, Shinra and everything that was eating the world away. He wanted more afternoons of helping people, basking in their simple happiness and learning how the locals made their beautiful, artistic shawls, for one.
He wanted Sephiroth to stop smelling like mako, wanted him to have a reaction of his own and possibly judge Cloud’s choice of shampoo for his long hair, which wasn’t at all fancy but did the job quite well.
Maybe he’d be better at making shawls than Cloud, who’d found out he had a long way to go, himself. The old woman was kind and understanding, offering to make a shawl for him if he had a good design for one and if he could fix her roof.
Cloud definitely had something in mind.
“Ah, wings,” she said, “You ever read Loveless?”
“Hm, no. Not really. I heard there’s a play based on it, though.”
“You should. Heh, it’s such a classic.”
The night brought with it stew and book reading.
Loveless was an epic about three friends and their seeking of the “gift of the goddess”. Cloud read it aloud on his seat by the bed, with Cait Sith charging on his lap, wondering whether or not Sephiroth liked poetry, wondering about what the man would think of that particular story.
One thing about it constantly caught Cloud’s attention, though: the mention of light and dark wings, which reminded him of the shawl the old lady was working on for him, which in turn had been inspired by those friends of Sephiroth he saw in his former enemy’s mind.
“I wish I could bring them back to you,” Cloud said quietly at one point, unsure if Sephiroth — not the puppet, but _Sephiroth_ — could hear that. “I’m sorry things turned out the way they did.” He brushed a silver strand away from Sephiroth’s face, who didn’t do much but blink and stare up at him. “But, it’ll be better, alright? If you can grown wings out of your butt, summon an oversized meatball and scare everyone shitless, you probably can get through this, too.”
Sephiroth stared up at him, vacant eyes fixed on his. Cloud thought they looked a little sad by default; the color of the mako, which was by itself something not meant to be reached and touched, lonely but so full of company in its essence. So full of demons, too.
Cait Sith sat up properly and stretched with a yawn.
“Ah, that was a good nap! Too bad I can’t keep on nappin’.” He looked up at Cloud. “Hey, lad, you got a special call!”
Cloud cocked his head to a side, watching as the small robot moved to sit on the bed instead.
“Just look into my eyes and don’t freak out, aye?” |
e0c3d1b385d94ff7b4fd696cf2acecf3 | ['0d2bf011a7d9418eb144be0fd6dac86b'] | Jimin paced back and forth in the living room, feeling straight out of a drama like a character ready to confront their cheating lover. He sat down, feeling the couch sink in from being overused. It was nearly 1 am, and Yoongi wasn't home yet. Jungkook was asleep upstairs, having barely gone to sleep since he wanted to wait for his other dad to get home. Once Jimin realized that wasn't going to happen any time soon, he tucked the reluctant boy into bed, himself getting worried.
He heard the keys in the lock, slowly twisting before finally getting the door unlocked. There was the sound of quiet footsteps, shoes being taken off and the thud of a briefcase being dropped. Yoongi turned the corner, surprised to see Jimin there.
"What are you still doing up?"
Jimin gulped at the accusatory tone. It was supposed to be the other way around.
"Waiting for you."
Yoongi sighed, rubbing his eyes before stepping forward to take Jimin's crossed hands in his. However, the younger flinched, something the older didn't miss. He looked in disbelief at his husband.
"What's the matter?"
Now Yoongi was angry. Jimin tried to disarm the older. "I just was worried about you and-"
"Worried about me?"
"Yes, worried about you working so late."
Yoongi cocked his head, pushing past Jimin to go upstairs.
"Wait, Yoongi-"
"Don't wait me," Yoongi exclaimed, turning around on the stairs to face Jimin.
"But-"
"Why did you flinch when I tried to come towards you? And why are you acting as if I'm the bad guy here? I'm the one trying to support this family. Do you know how much trying to adopt Jungkook was? The lawyers, the travelling fees, the price to get him? I'm still trying to pay that off. And none of this-" Yoongi gestured around the house "-is cheap. Especially not with you staying at home all day."
Jimin felt tears well up in his eyes, refusing to shed them in front of the older. He felt at a lost for words.
"I just don't want you to-"
Yoongi laughed. "What nerve you have telling me what to do."
"But Yoongi, last time you overworked we almost broke up..."
"I'm tired of this. Let's go to bed."
Jimin followed Yoongi's steps up the stairs, grabbing the older's arm. "No we can't just brush it-"
"Jimin, just drop it," Yoongi yelled.
"Yoongi, shush Jungkook is sleeping-"
"NO, I don't care. You act like I'm trying to tear this family apart when all I'm trying to do is keep it together. It isn't all sunshine and rainbows Jimin."
That was the final straw.
"Get out," Jimin said quietly, pointing to the door. Yoongi looked in disbelief.
"What?-"
"I said... Get out. You are only making things worse."
Yoongi's face turned from shocked to smug, pushing past Jimin.
The front door was thrown shut.
-
"Two, three, five, eight... what comes after that?"
"I think you missed a few numbers kookie."
"I did? One, two, three, five, six..."
"You should really talk to him."
Jimin looked up while Jungkook continued to count. He was on the floor of his and Yoongi's shared apartment, Seokjin sitting on the couch besides him. Seokjin had claimed he wanted to see Jungkook but Jimin knew the true implications of his reason to visit.
Jimin sighed. "I don't know..."
"Jimin, you can't live like this. And over something stupid, that just had to be blown out of proportion. I mean, you guys have a kid. You can't fight like how you used to."
"But Jin, you didn't hear some of the things he said. It was like he blamed Jungkook and me staying at home for him having to work long hours."
"But wasn't it your guy's agreement you would stay home?"
"Yes, but I see what he means. I'm useless."
Jimin felt a smack at the back of his head, looking up to yell at the older.
"Do not say that. You need to text him right now."
"And say what?"
Seokjin rubbed his chin, as if deep in thought. He suddenly smiled. "Hand me over your phone."
He furiously typed, before sending the message and handing the phone back to Jimin.
_ To: Yoongi _
_ Come pick up your things please. _
Jimin's jaw dropped. "Jin, what the hell I thought you said to solve this-"
"I am. I've had this talk with him before. He cannot blame others for his own wrong doings. Despite his harsh words he's probably worried sick right now about you. He only left because it would've hurt his ego if he had begged you to let him stay. In fact, he's probably shitting himself right now."
Jungkook suddenly disrupted with a small cry, climbing into Jimin's lap. He looked up at his father expectantly.
"When is daddy coming home?"
Jimin felt tears. "Soon, I hope."
Jungkook nodded. "Also what is shitting yourself?"
-
"Jimin?.."
"Up here," Jimin yelled. He heard steps running up before stopping at the bedroom door. The door slowly opened, revealing Yoongi.
He had dark eye circles under his eyes, his hair left unstyled covering his eyes. He looked how he did when he was younger, his clothes too big for him as if they were swallowing him whole. He took hesitant steps towards Jimin before stopping in front of him.
"Listen, I didn't mean what I-"
"How many times are we going to do this Yoongi?"
Yoongi looked up, meeting Jimin's eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. You can't keep overworking yourself and you can't point the blame at other people for things. We have a child now Yoongi. Quite frankly, I'm not sure if I can keep doing this anymore.”
Yoongi's eyes hardened, his hands starting to shake. "What-What do you mean?"
Jimin gulped. "I mean, we might have to take a break." | de449e45ca914188804b69865ab9284c | ['0d2bf011a7d9418eb144be0fd6dac86b'] | Yoongi suddenly stood still, numb. He got down onto his knees, his arms wrapped around Jimin's torso.
"What about working through our problems?"
"We were doing fine until you decided to pin it all on other people. What happened to taking it a day at a time?"
"It was the stress talking." Yoongi said, muffled by Jimin's t shirt.
"But is that really what you were thinking?"
"No."
"Then?"
Yoongi looked back up, tears running out of his eyes.
"I'm sorry. I'll work on it."
Jimin smiled. "That's all I can ask for."
-
"Okay so if you promise you won't touch the fish, we will get you a new one."
"Okay," Jungkook responded, mouth full of bread.
"We're going to go broke because of his fascination with wanting to pet his fish.”
Jimin smacked Yoongi. "He wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for you telling him he should bother the fish instead of us."
"How was I supposed to know he would try and take the fish out to color with him?!"
-
(“Were you really planning to leave me?”
“No, I did that just to scare you.”
“Low blow… low blow.”) |
6fbc579d2e414b12b42b2648307a3dd9 | ['0d658a4ecff94f2b9409afe110a32406'] | Kanrik walks over to grab one of the shirts from beside Simeon. “You just... always look nice... when you want to,” he continues, his voice trailing away into nothing.
The honesty in his tone keeps Simeon from teasing any further... or from acknowledging the backhanded compliment. He looks up at Kanrik as the thief pulls on the black tunic, holding it tight around his waist rather than getting a belt.
Simeon can’t bring himself to laugh at Kanrik’s awkward nervousness this time.
He’s just _staring_.
Well, staring, and then his mouth starts running again. “I only look nice now in comparison to what I _normally_ look like,” he says, too playful to be self-deprecating, and Kanrik just rolls his eyes for a third time.
Kanrik steps beside the bureau to look into the elegant golden mirror that rests beside it, examining his reflection frustratedly. “Too much black,” he mumbles at himself — and, true, the tunic combined with black trousers and black boots is a little too much for a casual night out. He takes the top off in one swift, irritated motion, then throws it back into the drawer.
And this is when Simeon’s smile starts to become replaced by a blush.
Not enough to be noticed, though, as Kanrik turns towards him, gesturing with his fingers for another piece of clothing.
Simeon obliges wordlessly — hands Kanrik the red tunic.
The thief pulls it on, now muttering a bit under his breath.
Simeon just watches silently now. He doesn’t realise it, but he’s started to slow his breathing. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, his cheeks on his fists, his thoughts nowhere else but on Kanrik.
Kanrik is too distracted to notice Simeon’s softening posture. He takes the shirt off, tosses it back at Simeon — it hits the grey Gelert in the face in his distraction, and he leans back with an audible breath as he pulls it out of his eyes — then gestures — not looking — for another shirt.
Simeon gives Kanrik a nasty glare as he tosses the darker green tunic over to him.
Kanrik _immediately_ decides that he doesn’t like it anymore. “Fuck, I just... dark colours... ughh... never, fuck this,” and he tucks it back in the drawer.
Simeon tosses him the last garment — the gold-laced one — before Kanrik even asks, then takes the same position as before again — hands on his knees, fists against his cheeks, wide-eyed and staring and just ever so slightly smiling.
Kanrik flattens the tunic’s front, turns to his left, fixes his shoulders, turns to his right, then huffs for what seems like the millionth time at this point. He grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it off in another swift motion. “My hair is a _goddamn_ mess, and it’s making everything _else_ look like a goddamn mess,” he groans, then tosses the tunic back at Simeon while he begins to try to detangle his messy black locks.
Simeon hardly moves when the garment lands draped over his shoulder. He’s just too entranced.
Kanrik isn’t even _trying_ to look seductive in this moment — he just _is._ He’s got that frustrated glimmering in his bright green eyes that Simeon loves so much — his feistiness manifested in jade and emerald — and he’s always looked cute with a scowl. Kanrik stands straight to flex his shoulders and run his fingers through his hair, the strong muscles of his shoulders rippling with each motion, his eyes closing shut for a brief second as he stretches some of his irritation away. The dim light from the candles scattered across the room and the torches that dance on the walls cast shadows across his every curve, his hips pronounced, his shoulders broad, and the pleasantly defined Venusian dimples on his lower back shadowed to exaggerate the allure. He looks as if he’d been handcrafted by Fyora herself — the living embodiment of perfection. A god amongst mortals. A being of overwhelming beauty that artists could only _dream_ of capturing in marble and stone.
Simeon doesn’t realise just how lost he is until he hears Kanrik say a surprisingly loud, surprisingly irritated, “Why are you staring at me like that?”
Simeon is shocked enough at the sound that he bolts upright, needing to blink fast to bring himself back to this moment. Kanrik still looks frustrated as he and the assassin meet eyes... but it slowly turns smug. _Very_ smug.
Thankfully, a decent excuse comes to Simeon quickly. “I was, uh...” He takes a deep breath — looks down, then meets Kanrik’s eyes again. “I was just... thinking... that the red looks best on you, dearest,” he says, and Kanrik’s expression immediately changes to one of... apology, almost. Almost. “It, uh...” Simeon awkwardly tries to continue, picking the red tunic off the bed beside him and holding it out for Kanrik to take. “It... contrasts your fur, and complements your eyes, so...”
Kanrik’s begun to blush a bit now. Something about Simeon’s tone has changed in the past few minutes. _Drastically_ changed. It sounds almost completely foreign. Completely heartfelt. Completely... no, no, it isn’t _that_...
Kanrik swallows uncomfortably hard, then slowly takes the tunic from Simeon’s hands. “Um...” He clears his throat. Then, “Alright,” he says, smiling a bit, then turns back to face the mirror. “If you say so.”
Simeon just rests his elbows on his knees again, watching as Kanrik argues with his hair.
~
II:
Simeon doesn’t look up as Kanrik approaches his usual table at the tavern. | 7a22abf7fcf845e4b310fc50b1eb6f61 | ['0d658a4ecff94f2b9409afe110a32406'] | The worst part is that this place is actually helping. No, really, it is. He’s trying his best to convince himself that he hates it here, and that they’re all terrible people, and that he doesn’t need any of their help, but... Well, he’s being forced to at least _consider_ his thoughts, even though he’s choosing to pretend like he doesn’t have them at all. He’s being constantly encouraged to eat, even though he turns it all down more than he accepts it. He’s being taken away from all the stresses in his day-to-day life, though he claims that he just wants to go back to his painful norm. He’s being kept safe, and he’s being well cared for, and he’s being given literally everything and anything that one could be given to help them find sanctity within their own minds and hearts. He’s being offered everything that could help save his life. He’s being offered everything, but he’s accepting none.
Maybe, if he admitted to the workers that he hasn’t changed his mind, they could help him to actually do it.
Maybe, if he stopped only _pretending_ to take their pills, he’d be able to sleep better, and feel better, and _be_ better.
Maybe, if he actually went to those silly meetings, and heard other people’s stories, he could better understand his own.
Maybe, if he stayed a bit longer, and he really, actually tried, the words he’s saying to Kanrik in this moment would no longer be lies.
But he doesn’t want to stay. He just doesn’t _want_ to. He feels so damn strongly that he doesn’t need any help, but... well, isn’t that exactly why he _does?_
At this exact moment, and with that exact thought most present in Simeon’s mind, Kanrik leans forward to rest his cheek in the crook of Simeon’s neck and lightly wrap his arms around his narrow waist, drawing swirls in the small of his back with his gentle, loving fingertips. He exhales long, and he says, “I love you so much,” and the very same second that Simeon says, “I love you, too,” he painfully realises that that’s the first honest thing that he’s said all week.
But that _is_ one thing he knows for an absolute fact: he loves Kanrik more than anything else in life.
And _another_ thing that he’s mostly convinced of by now is that Kanrik loves him back.
He wants Kanrik to be happy, and Kanrik wants him to be safe.
His illness pleads in scarlet, and its voice is loud and shrill; but...
But as he feels Kanrik’s entire being softening against his chest as he relaxes into the warm of his arms, he realises that the _real_ question he should be asking himself is: what’s more important — his thoughts’ demands, or his love’s?
What is more important here?
What does he really want?
~
It’s been raining all month, but it’s a gorgeous sight, and the smell of wet pavement is bliss.
Icy winter winds sting Simeon’s cheeks as he and Kanrik walk hand-in-hand down the road towards the parking lot, but he’s still just glad to be feeling something fresh against his skin. The city is alive despite the cold, and its voice is soothing like a faerie’s song. Every building in sight is shimmering with light beneath the blinding white of the overcast skies. The sound of crowds talking, and avian petpets singing, and the trees’ leaves rustling — it’s music.
Everyone was surprised when he opted to stay. _Everyone_ , including himself. It’s been over a month, and he’s sure his conductor hates him, and he’s more than a bit stressed about having so little time left to learn the symphony’s entire winter program, but...
Well, he knows he can handle it.
He’s figured out plenty of things this past month that should help.
As the hospital’s shadow disappears behind them, he leans against the passenger side door with his cheek on his fist and his breath painting patterns onto the window’s chilly glass. He’s ignoring whatever music is playing softly from the car stereo and instead focusing on the sounds that he hasn’t heard in what feels like ages — the car’s engine whirring as it picks up speed, the _whoosh_ ing of heavy winds across its hood, the noise of people laughing beside the busy streets, somebody’s skittish Doglefox barking at somebody else’s tired Zomutt... He draws swirls in the fog that he breathes onto the window as he watches this strange city zoom by, all the while wondering what will happen tonight, or the next day, or next week, or next year...
His thoughts still haven’t quite stopped their abuse, and his veins themselves still itch; but, well...
He has real, honest faith that this time he’ll be able to ignore all of their cries.
He’s “no longer a threat to himself or others,” after all.
Or, at least, that’s what the papers say. |
89865f56e60a4d8fb89ec9a4828cfee7 | ['0d6ec8b858824e14aee31164913ec682'] | Ivy's brain erupted into a mass of panic, none of which she showed on her face. Forcing a laugh from her throat, she shifted her weight so that she was standing in a less tense position. "Does she? I hadn't noticed," she responded coolly. She had though, and it was perhaps the only reason that Jane had even gotten a chance with the last living Tamwood. With Jane, Ivy was loathe to admit, pretending it was Rachel was easy, if only for a short amount of time when the matching physique, pale skin, and curly red hair was really all that Ivy was focused on.
Rachel's eyes narrowed, and Ivy realized her mistake. People always said that a picture was worth a thousand words, and a picture of Ivy usually could convey more than that. Every miniscule change in expression conveyed a wealth of information about the woman's thoughts and feelings, and the vampire never needed a laugh to convey amusement at a coincidence such as the one Rachel had pointed out when a quirk of the eyebrow could do it for her. The laugh showed how truly scattered her thoughts were.
"This is about the blood balance, isn't it, Ivy?" Rachel said, referring to the blood balance that they had tried and failed to reach in the past. Ivy had never been able to really separate blood from sex, and Rachel had been wiling, if only just, to give her one, but not both. It had been called off, for obvious reasons, though Ivy had been unable to stop the disappointment from sweeping over her when they had agreed that it would never work. The truth was, it never would so long as Rachel continued to hold out, but the other truth was that Ivy cared about the blood balance for a reason that had little to do with the blood.
"You made it clear, and I agreed, that it could never work," Ivy said bitterly in response, not answering the question directly, but rather deflecting it.
"So you've started bringing your blood-whores home with you, Ivy?" Rachel cried, her face finally showing the emotion that had been so lacking from her features moments before. Ivy would have been relieved if Rachel's face hadn't been displaying the same mixture of hurt and betrayal that had been present on Jane's face not too long ago.
"I do live here too," Ivy said wryly, but continued, sensing that it wasn't the best answer. "Why are you so upset over this Rachel?"
"Why am I so upset?" the witch echoed, starting a slow walk around the couch towards Ivy. "I come home to find you with another witch on _our_ couch, another witch who looks amazingly like me, and you pretend as if you hadn't noticed even though I _know_ that you did and you expect me to not be upset?" They were now toe to toe, and Rachel's voice had risen to a volume that made Ivy's sensitive ears ring a bit.
"You sound oddly jealous of Jane," Ivy responded sharply, before she could really think about the observation she was voicing. When she did consider it, it seemed spot on; after all, it was an odd choice of phrasing for Rachel to have said 'another witch', as if Ivy was only allowed to be with one witch in particular in that sort of situation. Rachel's shoulders slumped abruptly and she spun away so that she was no longer facing Ivy.
"I'm not," she muttered, though it was far from really convincing to Ivy.
"Rache," Ivy said gently, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder to spin her around so they were once more facing each other. Rachel allowed herself to be turned, but wasn't quite looking the vampire in the eye. "Is that what this is about?"
"No, of course it's not," she deadpanned. Of course, this would have actually worked somewhat to reassure Ivy had she not burst into tears promptly following the words. Taken aback, Ivy did nothing but stare at the fiercely sobbing witch in front of her for several moments with the shock and surprise of someone who doesn't really like, or know how, to handle crying women, but then easily took the other woman in her arms until Rachel was sobbing against her shoulder, the vampire's arms rock-solid around her. Ivy wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but most people, especially Rachel, didn't burst spontaneously into tears, and her doing so spoke volumes. Ivy noted that people tended to burst into tears like this only after some great ordeal, when there was no time to cry until after it was over and the person could fully relax and let their emotions go. This could be applied here, except that Ivy could also hardly consider what had happened a huge ordeal when you considered that the woman in front of her hunted demons as calmly as if she did it every day.
"I'm sorry," Rachel said when she had quieted, not that long after. She seemed as if she was just going to leave it at that, but she had piqued the vampire's curiosity.
"Rachel," Ivy started warningly. "What just happened there?"
Impatiently, Rachel sighed, turning away from the vampire and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "stupid".
"Hmm?" Ivy prompted, hoping that the witch would actually form real words if the matter wasn't dropped.
"I said, I feel really stupid," Rachel replied, with the small flare of irritation in her voice that came with being asked to repeat herself.
"You have nothing to feel stupid for," Ivy said calmly, not batting an eye at the rapid change of emotions. Rachel had never been one to like displaying any emotion that she didn't control, or that didn't have the semblance of making her stronger and tougher. | bdddc78163514c8596be27a449fb45cf | ['0d6ec8b858824e14aee31164913ec682'] | Maleficent is standing, facing the car but still within a step of the vehicles door, as Regina kicks the door to Geppetto's shut behind her. It's been some time since Henry was as small as Pinocchio is now, and she hadn't held a child in her arms (except Neal, on rare occasion) in what felt like forever. Unlike everything else she did with Mal, it was the one thing whose familiarity couldn't be tainted and skewed by the memories of her past and her familiarity with Mal, and she had to fight to stop from being utterly unnerved by the situation. She had managed to say what she had to in order to get Emma to back off, and none of it had been a lie save for what the Savior herself had known as a half-truth, but having Mal standing, motionless and imposing, staring expectantly at the door like a cat waiting for a mouse to resurface was unsettling enough to hammer home how deeply she had managed to get herself into this mess. She had known, of course, that she was going to need to do some unsavory things in the name of this mission, but she had always drawn the line at harming children (with the slight exception of that ordeal with Hansel and Gretel).
She crosses the street without hesitation, though her grip shifts on the sleeping child, trying to unobtrusively pull him closer. Mal doesn't move as she approaches, so she pulls open the car door with one hand, struggling to shift the boy's dead weight in her grip and managing with the practiced semi-ease of someone who has had to accomplish the same move many times before. Mal makes no move to help her and Regina avoids eye contact as she leans forward to place Pinocchio into the backseat, careful not to bump his head on the door frame or on the back of the seat. Mal's gaze feels soft on her back, not hard or heavy as it so often is but almost warm and tender as she looks in at her through the window. Even knowing she's being watched like a hawk can't stop Regina from reflexively reaching to tuck the boy a little more securely into the blanket Regina had conjured to wrap around him, as if unable to turn off the mother in her. Far from being annoyed, as Regina would have expected, Maleficent just looks amused, lips fixed in a tender, proud smile as Regina pulls her upper body from the depths of the car and straightens. The former Queen forces a triumphant, satisfied smile onto red lips, to match the blonde's smile as their eyes meet over the top of the car, and Mal's full smile, painted a red that makes Regina wonder if the taller woman had borrowed her lipstick when getting dressed to leave the vault that morning, stretches wider.
"It's good to have you back," Mal declares, and still feeling uneasy all Regina does is offer her a curt nod in response. She'd like to say it's good to be back but, well, at this precise moment, it's nothing of the kind. Mal doesn't seem to think anything is weird of the nod, of the vaguely pleased smile that Regina manages to flash at her across the car, and without another word, the blonde slides into her seat.
Regina spares only a moment more, eyes on the phone in her gloved hand. This folly of Snow's is going to get someone killed, and if there's one thing the night has taught her so far, it's that having Emma around makes it nearly impossible for her to do what she needs to do. It's as if the Savior brings with her an entirely new set of anxieties, and Regina can't afford the distraction. Mind made up, the phone slips from her hand as she enters the car, and she doesn't make a move to retrieve it.
Car doors close, twin thumps echoing across the empty street, and then the car roars to life.
11. Chapter 11
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> 4x15 Enter the Dragon Flashback #4 - the Burning Tree, part 2
They haven't been walking for long, but Regina is already tired of being a prisoner and already exasperated to the hilt at how all of the fight seems to have been taken right out of Maleficent. The taller woman has been silent the entire walk so far, snarling wordlessly as their hands were bound and shoved out in front to walk, a good amount of distance between them, before the soldiers. Regina imagines that they feel safer with some distance between them and the two sorceresses, if they can be called that (with Regina's shaky grasp of basic concepts and Maleficent's utter resignation), but it also means that the two women could, if they wanted, act quickly enough to free themselves that the soldiers wouldn't be able to stop them in time. And it's with that thought in mind, and the sense of daring and adventure that she seems to have around Maleficent and only Maleficent, she focuses her attention on her hands and wills a flame into existence.
It's a small fireball, as always, and it flickers, but it's perfect for Regina's needs as it does its job without drawing any attention from the soldiers. Only Maleficent notices, when the sizzle of burning rope and the faintest plumes of smoke reach her senses, and Regina is slightly dismayed, though not discouraged, to find that Maleficent is looking at her like she's an idiot.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm not going out like this," Regina mutters, focused on the slowly burning rope and trying not to let the negativity from the woman next to her disrupt the flow of energy needed to maintain the fireball. |
4f33551d66a446e4a2ac11249a8d6581 | ['0d92c1fd50b446ba8b3fee2a13bbf1f6'] | And it was suddenly awkward. She swayed on her heels, back and forth, and he dug his hands in his pockets, deeper and deeper, suddenly mesmerised by the paint pattern on the walls.
Now what? He knew what he should do. She knew what she wanted him to do, what _she_ wanted to do. But neither did anything. They just stood there. And it was a sight for sore eyes. Two hard core bad ass agents standing face to face in hallway more awkward than a pair of teenagers after their first date.
"So, umm..." They both said at the same time, cutting each other off and smiling shyly.
"You first," she said, mainly because she did not really have anything to say.
"Are you sure you don't want me to give you a ride back?" He asked.
She smiled, biting her lip, she shook her head. "I want to walk," she said.
He nodded, "okay, but be careful," he urged her, now more than ever.
"I can take care of myself," she quipped with a sly grin.
"I know you can," he replied with a smile on his lips but a look of concern in his eyes.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she said and he could only say what he said before.
_Okay._
He watched her disappear into the elevator and stood there for another moment, acutely aware that his knuckles were starting to chafe as dug his hands deeper into his pocket.
Luckily, he managed to avoid Sarah for the rest of the evening. She busied herself with the dishes for most of it then quickly excused herself when she came out and saw the boys too engrossed in their game.
She gave her some a kiss and walked towards her bedroom, pausing shortly by Kurt as she walked.
"You and I need to talk," she whispered.
"Talk about what?" he feigned confusion, eyes glued to the game.
She shook her head and rolled her eyes, "You're pathetic," she mumbled.
When he called her later at night, his voice hopeful, boyish, it never occurred to him that the next morning, with a slight spring in his step, and small smile on his lips, the first words he will hear upon walking into the bullpen would be, "Jane's missing."
* * *
So, there it is. My first Blindspot/Jeller fic. I would love hear what you guys think!
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The next day, with Jane missing, Kurt tries to cope but in the end, things are going to change.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I know this was supposed to be marked as complete but it kept nagging me for a second chapter, so here it is. Thanks to everyone who read the first part and I hope you enjoy this continuation.
Jane. Jane. Jane Jane Jane.
He repeats her name to himself like a mantra. A prayer.
Jane is missing and he can't breathe.
They're in the briefing room. Mayfair is there. So is Patterson. And so are Reade and Zapata. That much he is aware of.
Her security detail were debriefed and sent back out. They'd last seen her when they drove her back to the safe house, and had assumed all along that that was where she was until they knocked at her door in the morning and got no answer.
He corrected them. Told them she'd snuck out under their watch. He wanted to reprimand them, to yell and shout and scream and blame it all on them. But he knew he was just as guilty as they were. He should have insisted on driving her back.
He _should_ have.
He should have kissed her again, in the hallway, before she left.
He explains that she left his place at around eight. He says she stayed over for dinner. Anything else is irrelevant, he keeps it to himself.
Mayfair takes over and he sits back. He feels himself sinking into his seat. Sinking. Deeper and deeper.
The thumping starts in his ears and his vision begins to cloud as one thought occupies his everything.
_He's losing her again_. Taylor. Jane.
No. _Jane_.
Jane isn't Taylor.
He doesn't care which test is wrong; whether it's the DNA test or the isotope test. It doesn't matter because Jane is _Jane_.
And in that moment, he hates Patterson for being so diligent, for being so good at what she does.
But it doesn't matter. Because whether Jane is Taylor or whether Jane isn't Taylor, this time around it's Jane that he's losing, not Taylor.
_Jane_.
He hears Tasha and Reade, their voices sound like they're miles away as they talk about scanning surveillance footage, but the thumping in his ears is too loud and he cannot make out what they're saying.
But it doesn't matter because it's Jane. _Jane_. And he can't lose her because he needs to tell her.
He needs to tell her that it doesn't matter what the test results say. She is _Jane_.
He's not that ten year old boy and she's not that five year old girl. And the main difference is that, little Kurt survived losing Taylor. He didn't make it out unscathed but still, he survived. But grown up Kurt? Grown up Kurt knows he will not survive losing Jane.
Mayfair takes him off the case almost too quickly. _You're head isn't on straight!_ And he knows she is right, he knows he would so the same in her place but it doesn't stop him from putting on a fight, and she eventually puts him back on but not back in charge. He's to stay out of the field, help Patterson from the office. She doesn't trust him armed and out in the field and she shouldn't. He's a _mess._
* * * | 59c5e57230e5434bbcaa974d84cab8db | ['0d92c1fd50b446ba8b3fee2a13bbf1f6'] |
I Died the Day You Disappeared, So Why Would You Be Welcome Here?
“So, just to be clear, you report to a polygraph twice a week, and you meet with Dr. Borden three times a week. No more sneaking out. You need something, you need to go somewhere, you tell your detail, or anyone from the team,” Mayfair’s voice was stern, unrelenting, “and we’re moving you to another location, and we’ll keep moving you every two weeks until we’ve found this guy.”
Jane had told them everything that had happened to her, from the abduction, to the torture to the mysterious rescuer and the revealing video. She’d considered lying, that was what Oscar had suggested, but i the short time she’d been part of this world, she knew one thing for certain, she could trust Kurt Weller, and by extension his team. So she went for the truth, even if it meant she would lose his trust once it had been exposed.
Mayfair continued breaking down her new list of conditions with regards to keeping Jane part of the team, something she had not expected would happen. It was a strict set of regulations, but it was better than being locked up in a cell, which was what Jane had initially expected.
“Is everything clear?” Mayfair said once she’d exhausted her list, arms crossed over her chest. Jane nodded, “yes, ma’am,” she said, still in shock she wasn’t being led away into a maximum security prison right then. “Good,” Mayfair said, “report to your detail and head on back home. Get some rest. I expect you back here at 0700.” Mayfair turned to the rest of team gathered around the conference table. “Everyone else as well, go home and back here tomorrow morning. Things just got way more complicated,” she said and everyone got up to leave without a word, without questioning her decisions. “Weller, I need you to stay here for a few more minutes,” she said, and he half expected her to, unable to hide the disgruntled look on his face the entire meeting, unable to meet anyone’s looks for the past two hours.
They silently waited for the rest of the team to leave and once they were gone, out of the room and out of ear shot, Mayfair turned to him, “have a seat.” He fell into the seat, a heavy thud, a grumpy frown etched on his face. “You have problem with my decision,” she said.
Kurt Weller may be a hard man to read, but he was slowly realising there a handful of people who could read him like an open book. Bethany Mayfair was one of them. Weller crossed his arms and sulked further into his seat, more like a disgruntled teenager than an FBI special agent. “If you have problem with it, you can talk to me, you know,” she added.
“Would I be able to change your mind?” he asked and she just shook her head, “you’re the boss,” he mumbled.
“That’s true,” she replied to his slight insubordination, moving to sit next to him, “Kurt, I know recent events, and recent discoveries have given you much reason to not trust, to not trust my judgement, but I need you to try and look at this objectively, try to look at it from my point of view, not from yours.”
Weller sat in silence for a moment. She was right, he knew it, but it was his name on Jane’s back, not hers. “Do you want to be taken off the case?” her question came as a shock to him. She wasn’t actually offering him this again, was she?
“You know that’s not an option, especially not now,” Weller said, “my name’s on her back, for one reason or another, it’s there and we both know that is still as much a mystery as any of her other tattoos. Now more than ever,” he said.
Mayfair nodded, “then what’s the problem?”
Weller huffed, a dry laugh escaping his throat. Was she really going to make him say it?
“The problem is… my name’s tattooed on her back. My name. She chose me. She picked me for a reason. She… used me,” he finally confessed, looking away unable to meet her gaze.
“That’s not-“ “That’s exactly what it is!” he snapped, the anger at this revelation, the anger he’d been burying for the past twenty four hours finally coming to the surface.
“You don’t know that for sure, maybe there’s another reason,” Mayfair tried to calm him down.
Weller got up, pushing his chair back harder than he’d intended, “Well, I guess we’ll never know now,” he said as he headed for the door.
“Weller,” Mayfair called after him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be here at 0700,” he said, “I guess I’ve been woven into this case forever, whether I like it or not.”
Two Weeks Later
“The drop should happen anywhere between the next thirty six to forty eight hours,” Patterson explained as Weller and Jane continued to pack supplies into their bags. “The chopper will drop you down here,” she said pointing to clearing not he map, “you’ll need about eight to twelve hours to hike to the drop location, depending on the weather,” she added, “and if you need to camp out, there are these three locations, they’d be safest to spend the night without being noticed.”
“Are you guys ready?” Reade asked walking into the room, Weller and Jane nodded. “Good, plane’s ready. Be careful, you guys.”
The ride to the airfield was quiet, as had been most of their alone moments lately. It wasn’t because either of them was pushing the other away. It was just the way it was, quiet, awkward, filled with so many questions neither was ready to ask, neither ready to hear the answer to. They settled into the plane, side by side, the silence still the most prominent presence between them. |
9e3f37e67fda430db6ae141cdffd4d25 | ['0dc8616375df4222b8ba5c5604e7da88'] |
1. basically honey from ouran swapping colours w his bunbun
**Author's Note:**
> i have no idea what im doing stop me
You are a decent coffee barista.
You work in a small, generic coffee shop at the Third Year building of your school to afford financial expenses just like all the other high school students working part time jobs for minimum wage. It’s not a bad job, really, and you’re thankful that your scant experience of making late night coffees for your busy parents is enough to get you hired. You try not to be offended when the boss hands you a pouch of Basic Beans to start with on your first day.
The quaint shop doesn’t receive much variety from its patrons, which could be due to the highly eminent franchise near the teacher’s lounge, selling overpriced “better” coffee. (Who puts pumpkin in their latte?? Not you.)
For that reason, you hardly get new faces and instead regular customers coming in for your—shoulders shrugging— _ehh_ coffee and the quiet ambience only your coffee shop can offer.
Flicking back to the present, you are grabbing a handful of _basic_ coffee beans (with a scowl as you remember your boss wagging his finger when you ask for an upgrade) when a sweet chime greets you in the form of a petite pink haired male carrying a beige plush toy.
“Good afternoon to you too, Yuu-senpai,” you greet back, smiling as you see him happily tinkering with the cute tea set laid out on one of the tables. After turning on the coffeemaker, you lean on the counter and lace your fingers together.
“So what will it be today? Basic Beans or… well _…Basic Beans?_ ”
He giggles at your disdain, and it’s the most precious sound you’ve ever heard. You bring over his drink later and loses the fight when he cranks up the level of his moe as he insists you to have a tea party with him and the pale bunny nestled on the table.
“But senpai, we only serve coffee.”
“Nonsense!! Have you ever heard someone calling a tea party as _coffee_ party?? That sounds awful, and not cute at all!” he fires back, holding out his pastel coloured cup with a huff. You weakly pour the hot coffee.
“Besides,” he smiles cheekily, closing one eye as he brings the rim to his lips, “it’s not like there’s anyone else right now~” The tone he uses might imply something suggestive, but this is _Yuu-senpai_ who loves all things that are adorable and wants you to join him for a tea party in a deserted coffee shop. So, nope.
Your shoulders drop and you decide to humour him, since your boss isn’t around for the day. He cheers as you sit across him and urges you to pour yourself a drink too. To this, you refuse.
“Ehh? Why not?” he whines. You are very fickle, he thinks.
“Yuu-senpai, you’re a customer. I can’t drink your order.”
“Yes you can!! What’s the phrase again… ah, the customer is always right!”
“The customer shouldn’t also steer the barista away from work.” He flinches comically, and you laugh at his dejected face.
“But perhaps… if said _customer_ would say that he’s _buying_ the barista a drink, _then_ —”
“ _Of course_!!!” He leaps at the bait, slapping his hand on the table with such a loud smack his bunny almost falls off. His eyes shine as you let out a chuckle of your own.
“Then please, help yourself!! It’s on the house!” He pushes his own cup into your hands. You tell him that’s supposed to be what _you_ should say as a staff and indulge his obvious want, sipping the hot liquid. Yep, still average. You think maybe that’s why you don’t get a lot of customers.
Nevertheless, this makes Yuu delighted and the two of you spend the next fifteen minutes chatting about school and the latest cutest fashion trends. When you see that his coffee is finished you politely tell him you have to get back to work. He pouts and looks crestfallen and you are quick to assure him that he’ll see you again.
He kindly gives you a large tip, and you smile at him gratefully.
“Thank you, Yuu-senpai. I’ll see you around?”
“Obviously,” he grins, and unexpectedly invades your personal bubble from behind the counter.
“After all, I absolutely adore cute things~”
But you are not a thing, you are a person. You assume he’s talking about the cute tea set.
2. definitely not one of those art guys from free trynna kidnap haru
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> when class is canceled n ur already there :(((((
You stare at the blond sitting at the far left corner of the cafe, a cup of coffee in your hands. The red beret he wears looks like it's about to fall off with how he keeps bopping his head forward to focus on a particular detail on his sketchpad.
You don't want to disturb him, but the coffee's going to get cold.
"Your drink, Touya-senpai?"
He flinches when you put down the cup in front of him and the beret falls into his lap. You smile at his increasingly flustered state as he hides his face behind the paper product.
"I-I forgot to order again, didn't I?"
"It's fine," you wave it off, amused. "What are you drawing today?"
He hugs his sketchpad impossibly closer to his visage.
"Nothing great--just, um, practicing my shading..." His eyes peek over the top of the drawing pad, embarrassed. You beam at him encouragingly.
"I'm sure it'll turn out great, senpai." | 5f344256e6064633a3e4ca5d34f31349 | ['0dc8616375df4222b8ba5c5604e7da88'] | A customer waves his hand to you as he gestures at the cash register. You nod, putting down your mug on Tokiya’s table and making your way to actually do your job. The brunet finds comfort in wrapping his fingers around the warm porcelain, whimpering about the fate of his play.
After thanking him for the tip, you see the princely third year cry more crocodile tears and you almost feel sorry. However, you stop when he brings your mug to his lips to steal a few sips. Why that _little_ —he wouldn’t even buy his own coffee and is now mooching off yours!! Eh, but hang on…
“Ah, that’s the spot where I drink it from…”
Tokiya promptly chokes, almost dies, and thrusts the coffee away to stare at the mentioned place _where you put your lipsBADKHDADJS;A_
“Aan i-iindirect kiss??” he squeals, eyes swirling as he covers his lips with the back of his palm. “I-I!!! I haven’t practiced for this kind of scene yet!!” With that, he gives you a curt bow as farewell before zooming out from the shop, his face red. Other patrons stare after him. You shrug and take back your coffee.
You consider telling him that perhaps _he_ could audition as the princess.
6. pls dont shun me, shun whimpers
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> it has happened guys i cant think of an anime ref to shun i am free from this curse
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> //u probs shouldnt read this AN if u havent gotten Gamer-senpai's CG//
>
> this is a call out post to his cg i dont believe he can sound smooth while playing otome like its no big deal shut up shun ur just trynna look cool i bet u cant even score w a love interest
>
> hence, this chapter
>
> #saveshun2k16
“Feh, hear this one out.”
You slide a cup of black coffee across the table as you sit back with Boss. He’s sifting through papers that are messily sprawled and looks like he wants to burn them all. He doesn’t lift his eyes as he sips the hot liquid, and you imagine him actually thanking you for bringing him the drink.
“ _’The current couch is too old and feels hard to sit on. Consider replacing it. May I recommend—‘_ erghh.” Boss sneers at the offending piece of paper.
“At least we _have_ one! These kids are too privileged for their own good!”
“Well,” you hummed, “that would explain why no one sits there anymore. And it would just take up space in the café and get all dusty.”
“ _Well_ ,” he bites back, “how about this one, _‘wouldn’t it be cool to have an ice-cream machine’_?? What even??”
You laugh. “Sounds like an unfulfilled childhood dream. Also, that _could_ actually raise our sales, don’t you think? We can put up attractions like that and _oh_ , how about a _gumball_ machine while we’re at it—“
“Stop,” he deadpans, and sighs. “Why must you keep entertaining them… no wonder those boys favour you so much. But anywho…” he grabs a fistful of already creased papers and waves them in the air.
“These aren’t substantial content!”
“I think they’re pretty valid. And hey, it’s _your_ idea to put up that suggestion box last month.”
Your superior grumbles and slowly gathers the papers into a neat pile and you can’t help but grin, knowing he’ll properly look over them in private without you nosing around. What a softie.
“Admit it, you’re just everyone’s uncle.” He snorts.
“Yeah well, _this_ uncle is paying you to shush and go back to work. I gotta check how this place’s holding up.”
“Yessir.”
Both of you move in separate directions. Boss takes a clipboard from the counter and you watch him meander around the café, tapping walls and writing notes. You actually have no idea what he’s doing, but who are you to predict the movements of the supreme commander?
Anyway, your attention quickly shifts to the barely noticeable game music as a familiar upperclassman enters. You call out a warm greeting to him, but he seems too preoccupied to look up from his console as he replies with a low ‘ _mmhuhyeah’_.
You’re not put off by it, as you’re pretty much familiar with your patrons’ mannerisms by now. You know he’s just really invested in his game and he doesn’t multitask very well.
This, unfortunately extends to ordering and the first time you attended to him, you ended up standing at his table for ten minutes straight and your patience was only rewarded by his scream when he realized your presence after losing a boss fight.
You also found him to be a cool guy on that day as well. Shun gave you a polite apology with an embarrassed smile and after getting acquainted (ah, remember the days when you first started out and wanted to be in every senpai’s good graces) Shun rubbed his head sheepishly and told you he would be fine with anything you get him when he visits.
In a way, you’re like his mother who comes up to his room to provide snacks and drinks while he’s studying with a bunch of friends.
(…That is oddly vivid.)
Anyway, you settle on a slice of strawberry shortcake and you don’t forget your awesomely brewed coffee (you’re getting better!!) as you place them down on his table. You want to strike up a conversation like how you would do to your other patrons but you feel like you’re only intruding on his game time. You wouldn’t want to be bothered when you’re reading a book, right?
That is, until he slumps in his seat with a groan of defeat, pushing away the console from his line of sight.
“What’s the matter, Shun-senpai?” you couldn’t help but ask. Shun doesn’t flinch. He’s no longer bothered with your abrupt arrivals. |
e66690067e474a0895630f7c17f72d5c | ['0ddb6e27c8b447b98beac3c6d7d8d05d'] |
**Author's Note:**
> I love the idea of these three, okay? I'm currently writing a fic of how their relationship actually did establish from the start, but my friend gave me a prompt on tumblr using a prompt meme and I just had to write this first. <3 The prompts were thus:
>
> Leave a “Fight Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble out one character fighting with/or against another.
> Leave a “Nurse Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character healing another.
>
> I hope you enjoy the fic, and if you like it, then look forward to more stories because they're definitely coming your way ;)
>
> P.S. Pardon my French.
* * *
He’d been anxiously waiting for him to return from a mission when the door slammed open at 11:38PM and in stumbled a bloody brunette into their shared apartment.
Kyle instantly got up from his seat on the couch, the canned laughter emitting from the late night Adult Swim show fading into the background. “What the _fuck_ happened to you?” the redhead exclaimed as soon as he set wide, surprised eyes on the other. Then his emerald-green gaze narrowed and he approached the Frenchman briskly, hands already reaching out.
Christophe had the _gall_ to chuckle in his pathetic, beaten-up state. “Trust me, mon cher. I do not look as bad as ze ozzers.”
“I would fucking hope not,” Kyle snapped—he’d had been sent to do a hit, after all. Despite his harsh tone, when he touched Christophe, his hands were gentle as he helped him peel off his bags and shovel, letting them fall heavily just by the doorway. He turned his head and shouted “Gregory!” before he began guiding the injured brunette further into the apartment. Dirt from his boots and droplets of blood from his open wounds stained the floor in his wake; Kyle had just cleaned those floors a couple of days ago and he made a mental note to bitch about it later. “What happened?” he asked again, lips thin. “You were due back home _hours_ ago.”
Christophe begrudgingly allowed the other to tug him along, trying to ignore the aches and pains of his own body. “Eet iz not that bad, Broflovski,” he grunted, already sounding tired. He’d hoped that his partners were already in bed by the time he managed to drag his ass back home, so he could slip in silently and take care of his wounds without a particular redhead fretting over him. He realised at once that he’d just been deluding himself—of course Kyle had been waiting for him. He always did.
“ _What happened_?” Kyle asked again, casting an impatient glare at the other. He gave absolutely zero fucks about Christophe’s attempt to remain aloof and badass. He turned on the lights to their bathroom and pulled him inside, making him sit down on a small, metal stool they kept in there; the odd piece of furniture had multiple purposes, really, and it being used as a seat for an injured idiot was not a new one.
The brunette let out a world-weary sigh, watching Kyle with bored-looking eyes as he rummaged through the medical cabinets. “Eez Gregory awake?” he asked in lieu of an actual answer. At Kyle’s sharply unamused look, the mercenary quirked his lips and gave a half-shrug. “I would razza he be here so I do not need to repeat myself.”
“I’m here.” They both simultaneously glanced at the blonde leaning casually against the bathroom doorway. His pristine, white dress shirt was slightly crinkled with the top few buttons loose and his sleeves rolled up; he’d just been in their study, going over work. He had his arms crossed, a slim eyebrow quirked as he took in the scene with the harsh, white light of their bathroom. “My, my,” Gregory said dryly, hazel eyes settling on dark brown. “How have you managed to mess this up, Christophe?”
The feather-light mocking tone caused Christophe to bare his teeth in a half-hearted sneer. “I did not ‘mess up,’ Gregory—the fucker _is_ dead,” he growled, just as Kyle crouched in front of him with the necessary medical supplies. “I waz just… caught by surprise.”
“That’s rather dangerous, in our line of work,” the blonde countered smoothly, his face impassive. “What went wrong? Was our intel not correct?”
“Non…” It was then that Christophe looked mildly uncomfortable. “Ze beetch’s bodyguards were just… more troublesome zan what I was expecting.”
“I fucking _knew_ one of us should’ve come with you,” Kyle scowled. With a pair of scissors, he carefully cut up Chrostophe’s already torn and bloodied shirt, slowly peeling it off his moist skin. Kyle was unable to stop the hiss that escaped through his teeth at the wounds that were completely exposed to him as he tossed the rags to the side. “Fuck. What the hell did they do to you.” It was more of a statement rather than a question, since he could clearly see with his own eyes the damage.
“Bastards were using serrated knives,” the other responded idly. “But again, do not worry. None of zem are deep.” Then he reached into his pants pocket, searching for something. Kyle looked on curiously, a little suspicious, and when he saw the tell-tale box being pulled out, his face twisted into a scowl. He snatched the box of Marlboros from the Frenchman’s hands before he could react, tossing them distastefully to the corner of the bathroom as if the object itself was an offence to him.
The brunette was not happy with that move—although really, what was he expecting?—and cursed, “Ze fuck! Am I not allowed to practice my freedom?” | f3be279b51ca41129995ca59681243f2 | ['0ddb6e27c8b447b98beac3c6d7d8d05d'] | But as the thought was still developing, her mind harshly cut down it down. No. He couldn’t be. Who’d ever want to flirt with someone like her, much less want to…? No. He probably was just looking for a friend. Someone to share jokes with. Toriel’s blush faded and she smiled at Sans fondly, feeling warm. She wouldn’t mind a friend, actually. And even though this was only their second meeting, Toriel sensed no ill will from him; even if he did mean her harm, Toriel was confident in her power to protect herself. How much harm can a small skeleton do?
“I’d love to,” she said sincerely. She giggled at how quickly Sans had whipped his head up to look at her in surprise. She gave a nod of assurance. “I’d like to do this again.” She caught herself and laughed. “Well, maybe in a better location.”
Sans gaped at her. Then he grinned. Excitement bubbled in his non-existent belly like a furnace and he hastily took out his phone with his free hand. “What’s your number?” he asked, trying to sound chill but he thought the words came out quicker than he intended.
Toriel told him and he tapped in the digits. Just when he was about to give her his number, she suddenly turned away and looked outside. “Oh!” she exclaimed, interrupting him. “It’s my stop! Goodness, time flies so fast, doesn’t it?” The bus pulled over to the curb and, when it was at a complete stop, Toriel carefully stood up, Sans making way for her. She looked down at the skeleton and, after a pause, smiled and took her bag from him. “Goodbye, Sans. It was nice meeting you.”
Sans shoved a hand into his pocket and raised the other one in a half-hearted farewell. “Same, Tori.” He grinned. “I’ll see you in a place hopefully a little less _corn_ -gested.”
The communal-goers couldn’t stop their groans from being made aloud that time.
Toriel flushed again and they both shared a hearty laugh as she walked away, grinning widely. “Bye, Sans!” she couldn’t help but say again. She forced herself to quickly make her way out of the bus and stepped out. The doors immediately closed behind her and she instinctively turned, berating herself for being silly but unable to stop herself from searching the bus windows as the vehicle slowly began to drive away. She caught a glimpse of the top of a skull and a hand that poked out and blindly waved from the sea of people inside the bus. The action was so endearing that she laughed.
Sans the skeleton.
What an interesting fellow.
* * *
Sans exited the bus at the next stop, much to everyone’s relief. Even though the absence of his joking companion made him silent, they were still looking at him in a judging way. With their scathing looks, they looked as if Sans had scarred them for life. Sans hoped he did, because that thought was pretty hilarious.
He looked from side to side, checking the road for incoming traffic. He took out his phone and texted his newest contact: _why didnt the skeleton cross the road?_
He pocketed his phone and walked across the asphalt. On the other side, he sat down at the empty bus stop, relaxing himself to wait for the next bus to take him back.
His phone’s alert sound rang and he checked his new message.
_Why?_
Sans grinned to himself and replied: _because he had no guts_
A few minutes later, he got a reply:
_L-O-L_
Satisfied, he began to put his phone back into his pocket, but then it sounded again. There was another message from her.
_In case you did not know, L-O-L stands for Lots Of Laughter. My friend recently told me this when she upgraded my phone. Sincerely, Toriel._
Sans looked at the text incredulously and then burst out laughing. Wow. This lady. He chuckled. How could she be _this_ cute? He pocketed his phone, then looked up and gazed at the sky. His mind ran over the last hour and his smile stretched on his face until he started to laugh again.
Well, this day had been a pleasant surprise. He hadn’t actually thought he’d _meet_ her—
Sans remembered her name fondly. Toriel. It was a really pretty name. It suited her.
He thought back to all those weeks ago, when he had come home from that blind dating event. Papyrus had greeted him with a bombardment of questions about his night, who he met, whether he found ‘the one.’ Sans had deflected his brother’s questions with amusement and jolliness, telling him in a teasing manner that _he’ll see_. He had been so confident that they were going to get each other’s contact details in a few days. When he hadn’t, he realised that he was a fool.
And now, he kind of knew why.
Sans smile dimmed a little and his following quiet laugh was rather self-depreciating. Why would a woman like that be interested in a small, round skeleton like him? She was so… great. Fantastic. Beautiful. She was a _mother_ —
Sans slowly blinked and turned away from the sky, finding that the brightness of the blue kind of hurt his eyes.
A mother, huh? She’d be looking for someone… dependable and responsible, wouldn’t she? Sans wasn’t sure if he was able to _be_ that…
_Ting!_
He got another message, and he looked at his phone. It was from Toriel.
_I have a joke for you too. Why did the skeleton want a friend? Because he was feeling BONEly!_ _Is that not funny? I hope you enjoyed it. Sincerely, Toriel._
He stared at the text for a moment and then closed his eyes. Sounds escaped his mouth unwittingly and his shoulders shook. Ah. He knows that joke, heard it countless times before, and yet—
Why was it still so endearing, coming from her? Even though she wasn’t here to deliver it in person, why did it sound as fresh as a daisy to him, new and wonderful? Sans didn’t quite understand how that was possible.
His bus came and he gingerly hopped on. It was far emptier than the other bus and he took a window seat, watching the scenery he’d previously missed due to his preoccupation with a certain goat monster.
Ah, it didn’t matter whether she was a mother or not. Whether he wasn’t really the type she was looking for or not. Sans was willing to take this wherever it went; he wouldn’t expect anything, but he’d enjoy the ride nonetheless. All he knew was that he liked her greatly, something he found very unusual since he normally didn’t attach himself to someone so quickly or easily. It made him curious and unwilling to stop… _whatever_ it was that was happening. All he had were good feelings.
It’ll be okay, just as long as he was still able to see her.
He grinned and pressed his forehead to the glass, perhaps in an attempt to cool off his face. After a beat, he took out his phone and began to text a reply to her.
_thats a good one tori. now listen to this one…_
* * *
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I feel too much for these dorks and their bad, bad, jokes. Granted, most of the blame is on me, but still. |
073a79963b054686b3504d7ad953f00b | ['0e3557c6875043a18a066a0d5455eaab'] | “Well I wanted to,” Jeremy hummed, not pulling back. Wow, he was really acting weird. Normally Jeremy got fidgety after a little while hugging. He got nervous or embarrassed or something. Jeremy didn’t seem to want to move at all this time, and Michael knew that if Jeremy could, he’d be purring. “I want you to know that you’re special to me, and that I hate it when we argue. I want you to feel as special and important as you actually are.” _And_ he as willingly being emotionally vulnerable? This was too fucking freaky.
“Well _thank you_, this certainly isn’t what I expected,” Michael honestly said with a smile as he patted Jeremy’s head with his free hand. “I already feel that way and know that, but the pampering is not unappreciated. Are you _sure_ you’re feeling alright though? You’re normally only emotionally vulnerable and spilling like this if it’s, like, a birthday or if you’re high.”
“I feel fine.” Jeremy beamed as he pulled back, playfully nuzzling against Michael’s hand with a giggle. “Actually, I feel better than fine. I feel- _amazing_.” His face fell a tiny bit slack there and was it Michael’s imagination or was there a second, almost silence voice layered with Jeremy’s voice? Thanks to his sensitive hearing, it was helping to find clues as to what the fuck is up with Jeremy. “But I’m not high or anything like that. You’re the one with the weed stocks, I couldn’t get hold of any if I wanted to.” Another giggle. “I just... I realized some stuff yesterday, sorted out some things, and it’s making me feel great!”
“Well sharing is caring, tell the class, but maybe inside. It’s nice out but I don’t wanna keep standing if I don’t have to,” Michael said with a hum. As he spoke though, he tried to run through his head of all the mythical and magical know-how he knew to try to figure out what this might be. Of course his brain was shit in the morning, damn school systems for making school start way too early. Maybe he could google it later too if his brain couldn’t remember.
Jeremy nodded and grabbed Michael’s hand, tugging him gently towards the door. “It’s gonna be awesome today, I promise. And I think, once you get past the shock of it, you’re gonna really like the surprise I organized,” he babbled happily, not looking at Michael as they navigated their way into the school and towards their lockers. It gave Michael a chance to study him closer.
He was dressed a little differently (when did he get a grey hoodie?) but it seemed similar to his usual style. And Michael couldn’t see any bruises, marks, or sigils on any part of Jeremy’s exposed skin, so that mostly removed a spell or physical magic attack. Besides, who would do something like that to Jeremy?
He was still wearing his glasses, his hair was still styled the same, but his walk had a little more confidence in it. It was... weird, to say the least. Michael let Jeremy talk, partially listening as he tried to think on what could have happened to Jeremy. Did it happen when he went into the woods? Most likely. Only the cool kids (not Brooke and Jake) and bullies seemed to hang out there. If only he hadn’t called out Jeremy, even if his tone _did_ sound like he was gonna go after Rich. He used that exact tone a few times before he did just that, but he should’ve just ignored it, damnit. Michael hated his emotions sometimes-
They stopped, and Michael realized Jeremy was waiting on him. He focused back in, giving Jeremy an apologetic smile. “Sorry Remy, I sorta dazed out for a sec, worked late last night to get all the homework for this weekend done. What’d you say?”
“I said do you wanna spend first with Brooke and Jake? Mr. Reyes just announced that homeroom would be cancelled.” Jeremy didn’t seem bothered by the fact that Michael was spacing out. Instead, he just smiled softly at him. “I know I was joking about that yesterday, but damn. Maybe I am actually psychic.”
“I mean sure, I don’t know if we’d be allowed to sort of just invade someone else’s homeroom, but that would be cool,” Michael said with a shrug and small laugh. “Maybe you secretly _are_ psychic and the eclipse coming up is helping your powers come out.”
“We’ll be allowed in.” Jeremy waved Michael off with a confident smile. “Let’s go there now and hang out.”
Sure enough, when they got to the classroom, they _were_ allowed in, even as other students were being denied (Michael heard someone being told off for sneaking in). What the hell? And when they got there, no one so much as batted an eye when Jeremy perched on Jake’s desk and started chatting with him. While the teacher was talking. And Jake didn’t seem to care either, almost hyper fixated on Jeremy.
OK, Michael was definitely starting to get more than a little freaked. Still, he hid it as he gently tugged on Jeremy’s sleeve, getting his attention with a small smile. “Uh, Remy, there’s a teacher talking. And you’re sitting on a _desk_. Let’s just sit in the back and wait until we can sit and talk to him and Brooke?” Michael offered, his voice a soft and low whisper as he glanced nervously around the class and at the teacher, who didn’t seem to _care_? What the hell, was he dreaming or something? Mr. Iwata could be nice but this was just... out of character for him to be letting this happen. | 7f9f7ad5bfa1433fb4b18cfc704c4718 | ['0e3557c6875043a18a066a0d5455eaab'] | Michael held up his free hand as he stood, the exhaustion from before returning as he gave him a weak smile. "It was Charmspeak influencing you, I've figured that much out. Jeremy's sucker punch sorta knocked you outta it, right?" Jake nodded. "Yeah, figured. How about we go sleep until tomorrow, snack between?" It was currently, at best, one or two in the afternoon. "I'm ready to sleep for a week at the very least."
“Sleep and snack sounds like pure bliss right now,” Jeremy agreed, holding out his hand for Michael to take to help him stand. Michael took it and nodded in agreement.
“Sleep sounds perfect.”
Jeremy’s smile was a bit bigger this time around. “Lead the way, Jakey-Dad!”
10. Michael: Jeremy Heere and the no Good, very Bad God Share
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hey lovelies! Mara here! This chapter is really cool in some respects, and we get not only a taste of how much Jeremy cares about Michael, but also getting more time with one of my fav characters. Hold on to your hearts, peoples, this one will hurt as much as it will make you laugh. (Someone really gets what’s coming for them :3)
>
> Thanks so much for the amazing support, as always! Makes my day like 100 times better when I come on to see the lovely comments and kudos and everything <33333333
>
> And now, a word from the sweetest Ari:
>
> ‘Hey guys, this is one of my favorite chapters because of some scenes you’ll read about! One of my favorite scenes involving Jeremy happens here, as well as one of my favorite over-the-chapter interactions. I can’t wait for you guys to read this, and thanks so much for your support, this is insane and making this crazy time of moving out of my dorm and end of semester stuff so much better. Lots of love to you lovelies. <33333’
The next day, after staying cooped up in the room all day and night as they slept and snacked, the trio were looking around the area that they met the weird mimics (that was his name for them, no judgement here in his mind). His logic had been that, like the gion, they were guarding the tablets. That meant that the location was nearby, so they started near the edge of the park and went outward, checking out any hotspots or tourist traps nearby.
As the afternoon was creeping along, Michael found himself walking down some roads where houses were. They went by the actual art museum, the nearby Girl Scout Cabin, and went by one of the cemeteries. Next on Michael's mental checklist (thanks to Google and the tourist guide they snagged) was the Luling Mansion. It was in a section of houses and was supposedly haunted, so hopefully they'd finally get the tablets (they really didn't have much money left, let alone enough for another stay in an actual bed).
Looking around at the nearby houses, he saw someone watering their lawn and another person seemingly passed out in a chair on their front lawn. Huh. As he scanned the houses, trying to seem as unsuspicious as possible with Jeremy and Jake, he looked passed the gates of the upcoming mansion and almost stopped in his tracks.
There was a set of cellar doors that looked ancient and mythical as hell, his dad's mark of the fiery hammer glowing on the side. Well, if that wasn't an obvious sign, he had no idea what was. He hurried over to the fence section closest to it, holding onto the thin metal bars and looking through. "Hey fuckos, c'mere."
“What is it, asshole?” Jeremy called good naturedly as he poked his head from around the tree.
“Jeez, I thought you guys had calmed down,” Jake grumbled as he wandered over.
Jeremy opened his mouth to explain, but settled on patting Jake’s shoulder. “Don’t ever change, Jakey-D.” Jeremy bounced over. “What you got, Mikey?”
Michael pointed right over to where the obvious cellar doors with his dad’s whole hammer and all on it. “That.”
Jeremy and Jake both looked over to where he was pointing. Jake scrunched up his nose and stared hard.
“Umm, Mikey? There’s nothing there but an old cellar.” Jeremy chuckled, obviously trying but unable to see past the Mist.
“There are cellar doors, it has my dad’s sign on them! Look,” he shout-whispered pointing over to it for Jeremy and Jake to focus in on.
Jeremy frowned and tried to focus. Then he gasped and bounced a little on the spot. “Oh my gods, how did I miss that?”
It took Jake a moment longer, before he was sent almost stumbling backwards. “That- that’s some powerful and well done Mist. I’d say if you weren’t a Hephaestus kid, even you would have missed it. Good job!” Jake sounded very proud of Michael, which was a nice sort of feeling.
“Thanks. I was sorta wondering why you guys didn’t notice it right away,” Michael said before glancing around and checking the gates. All closed, and there was still only the dude watering and the sleeping person. “Well, maybe the Mist will cover us too when I do this.”
Now normally he wasn’t the kind to improvise so recklessly, but something just stirred inside of him as he went, grabbed the fencing, and awkwardly climbed up before vaulting himself over. He took a second to steady himself before turning back to Jake and Jeremy with a wide grin, giving two thumbs up. “Come on!”
Jeremy followed behind him without too much hesitation, grinning wildly as he did. “Y’know, normally _ I’m _ the reckless one. I think I could get used to this though, I like it!” He cackled, landing lightly next to Michael. |
2051db6878f34960ae130144aec077fb | ['0e92bb54f2354e8194634a1fd7e0d88f'] |
Ties of the Heart
**August 1981**
The headmaster's office was unnaturally quiet, it was the kind of silence that stretches the seconds after an unanswered question, turns them into minutes, hours. The room was eerily still, nothing moved but the shadows, which danced as the candlelight flickered. Presumably they had been enchanted, because they illuminated more of the spacious office than they probably should have, casting shadows only on the far walls and leaving the rest of the room bathed in a yellow glow. The headmaster's grave expression was lit from below, as the candles were on the desk he sat at, and his guest looked sickly and pale in the unnatural light.
Under Dumbledore’s unreadable gaze, Remus Lupin felt like he was being thrown back through the years, felt like a teenager again. He hated it, being reduced to a child asking for permission, not being allowed agency- especially when freedom was what they were _fighting for_. Hadn’t he more than earned the right to feel like an equal for once? His traitorous inferiority complex told him no, but in his heart of hearts he held on to hope, which was, he thought wryly, actually making it worse.
Remus told himself he had no right to complain, Dumbledore had been good to him, better than anyone else had ever been (not _anyone_ else, he sternly reminded himself- the promises of naïve children were held close to his heart, even after all these years) but he also felt...trapped sometimes. He was willing to help any way Dumbledore needed, but he stubbornly harboured resentment in dark corners of his mind. The parts of himself where he hated using his inferiority as a bargaining chip, resented the spying and sneaking around while he wore the wolf’s skin like a badge of honour in order to pass unnoticed. It was a difficult lie to balance with his sense of self while he cursed his lycanthropy every time he bartered with it. He refused to think about the nights between missions, the ones spent scrubbing himself clean, rubbing raw the skin of a strange, rabid animal, trying to tell himself it was just a disguise while it clung to his every inch.
It was so much harder when his friends weren’t there to remind him who he was. He nervously twisted a fraying thread on his sleeve, rolling it into a tangled mess between his fingers.
Lupin broke eye contact first, unable to bear the headmaster’s unfathomable blue eyes boring holes into his calm façade. His gaze flickered around the room, scanning the peeling letters on old books that lined the walls, shelves and shelves of them. Remus wondered for a moment if Dumbledore had read them all.
The headmaster blinked behind his half-moon spectacles, and carefully folded his hands on his desk. “I’m afraid there is nothing I can do. Another time, Remus,” Dumbledore’s dismissal was calm, and gentle, but no less hurtful than if it had been barbed and hurled in anger. He had more important things to do, always something else, always something to attend to, more secrets to keep and conspiracies to spin. There was never time anymore, never an uninterrupted moment with friends, or a thought that wasn’t chased away by the worry that preoccupied them all, day and night.
All this war did was take. It took their youth, their friends, siphoning away all they had until the very seconds they tried to cherish were snatched from them by the duty they held to the cause.
Lupin closed his eyes briefly, and sighed, weary to the bone. He walked out without so much as a goodbye.
* * *
The corridors were quiet, dusk had come and gone and the teachers that spent summers there were all busy, holed up in their offices or in bed. The castle was so achingly familiar that, in his vulnerable state, he was very nearly moved to tears. The months he spent underground and out of contact, sleeping under strange bridges and in musty abandoned buildings seemed so dreamlike now. Nightmarish, to be sure, but they also felt sharp, and clear-cut, like tableaus made of glass and painted to look almost real, with colours too washed out and reds too bright like spots of blood on dusty stone. In contrast to the warm familiarity he felt walking the halls of Hogwarts again, this place still felt like home. The barest, lingering scent of musty curtains and mud tracked by students who hadn’t learned to fear Filch’s wrath, it all evoked memories of crackling fires and late nights spent talking about nothing and everything, laughing until their voices gave out and they sat in comfortable silence. It was such a stark dichotomy between the two realities, and it was dizzying to maintain them both.
In that moment he gave in to his comforting memories, and sunk into them, like a warm bath they soothed sore spots that had cropped up over the months of loneliness. Just for a second he felt like he was fifteen again, young and happy, he wasn’t as burdened here, in his illusion of safety spun by strands of memory.
In those days he wasn’t alone. He allowed himself a brief smile, basking in the cherished memories, simpler times spent with friends he never thought he’d have.
Once he was a few corridors down from Dumbledore’s office he paused, and leaned heavily against the nearest wall. The roughly carved stone was cold through his robe, but he ignored the shiver that ran up his spine. | 01be2b335d3b443ba87e6fd6d87a3aa4 | ['0e92bb54f2354e8194634a1fd7e0d88f'] | "Not expecting anything from you, just wanted to say it. Y'know, before it's too late or whatever," Marcus was scuffing the floor with the toe of his boot and still resolutely avoiding Oliver's eye.
"Marcus, look at me," Oliver said quietly.
The intensity in Marcus's gaze when he finally looked up stole Oliver's breath for a moment. Before his brain could catch up with his body he leaned forward, connecting their mouths. He felt Marcus's sharp intake of breath as their lips touched, and was faintly pleased by it. The kiss was chaste, and brief. Marcus made a soft, disgruntled noise when Oliver pulled away and the sound pulled worryingly at Oliver's heart.
"What was that for?" Marcus asked quietly, looking slightly dazed.
"I just. I'm sorry about how things were in school. I had no idea, and... and maybe we could get to know each other better when this is all over?" Oliver chewed his lip nervously.
It was Marcus's turn to look gobsmacked. "Are. Are you asking me out?"
"S'pose I am," Oliver replied with a small smile.
Marcus hesitated a second before he returned the smile, "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that." His face turned serious, and he lifted a hand to cup Oliver's cheek, fingers trailing along his jaw. "You'd better not die on me now."
He leaned into the touch just a fraction, "Wasn't planning on it."
Pansy glanced over at them with an uncharacteristically soft look on her face.
Everyone let them have their moment, and when they wandered back over a few minutes later there were sheepish grins and teasing remarks. They all felt just a little bit lighter than they had before, and for the first time in a long time, they had hope.
Hours later, when the war was over and the survivors were gathered in shell-shocked groups around the castle, Cho and Pansy sat together talking about nothing and everything. Ernie sat down across from them in silence, and minutes later Susan came over still attached to Hannah's side. Dean and Seamus stumbled into the group, grinning. "Did you see?" Seamus asked, pointing across the Great Hall.
No one's smile was wider than Cho's when she saw Luna holding hands with Ginny Weasley.
A few minutes into their lively chatter, Dean looked around. "Anyone know where Wood and Flint went?"
Pansy's grin was almost smug, "They left together about twenty minutes ago."
And even though there had been pain, and distrust, and everyone had their own personal scars, just for a moment, all was well.
**Author's Note:**
> so that was basically the breakfast club with wizards. and like. a war going on in the background lol
> i love inter-house bonding though. and i got this idea so i just had to. |
0878be4c1c83435089544b67e11fec06 | ['0e9ada0165a14e8584baf72be1b95c31'] | "Don't call me by that childish name, Harry," he said dejectedly. She sighed. This was going to be a challenge. Carefully, she set the box down and opened it. For the first time, that long month a look of interest showed on John's face as he pulled out one of the contents. "My Action man!" he cried with a look of delight. "So you did have it! I wondered where that had gone. You took it off me and you've kept it! What on earth for?"
"Well I thought I'd keep it for my kids, but it looks like I will never have any now," she replied sadly.
"You never know, Hat, do you?"
"Yeah right, John, It's about as likely as your mate Sherlock coming back from the dead
John looked daggers at her. "Can't you ever stop being so bloomin` cruel to me?" he snapped? She looked ashamed for a moment. He looked back at the box.
"What else is in there?" he asked as Harry bent the legs of the toy into a sitting position and set it on the mantelpiece. "Oh, no! You didn't keep this, that's mine!"
"Mum gave me it when you went abroad, for safe keeping, good job she did after what happened."
"After I got shot you mean?"
She sighed and took the Dr. Who figure out of the box. "Could be valuable, this."
She leaned up and balanced the figure on the mantelpiece beside the action man. Her alcoholic hands weren't as steady as they should be, and as she tried to perch it beside the soldier figure, the toy became unbalanced and toppled over. John watched in horror as the little Dr. Who slipped off the mantelpiece and tumbled though the air as if in slow motion. He suddenly felt his life ebbing away from him as he watched the treasured dark-haired figure in its long coat fall towards the fire.
"And then the Tardis swoops down and they float into it!" said Harry triumphantly as she quickly manoeuvred the box under the falling figure so it landed inside and made the action man follow suit. "Oh Doctor, where are you taking me?" she continued, putting on pretend voices. She lifted up the box and moved it about making a whooshing sound.
"To Metabelis three, Action man, to find you a lovely blue crystal, but first we must defeat the spiders …"
Harry stopped, aware that something was wrong. She looked at her brother and gasped in shock. She had only ever seen this happen once before, at their mother's funeral, but now she couldn't believe she was witnessing it again.
Her adult brother was crying. Tears were falling freely from his red-rimmed eyes and coursing down his face as the former soldier stared vacantly straight ahead.
8. Epilogue
.
Childhood Toys Epilogue
His duties finished for the day, John came over to the Nurses` Room. He stood there in the doorway for a minute with his arms folded; watching Beth, his clinic nurse who was busy dressing a knee injury of a little boy perched on the countertop. She looked round and her eyes lit up. "It's Dr Watson, Jamie!" she said, smiling up at John adoringly. "Hi, Dr. Watson!" Jamie said. "I got hurt skateboarding, but now I'm getting Kneepads!"
"Good idea," agreed John.
Beth had been his girlfriend for a few weeks now, and it was looking promising. She had dark mahogany hair cascading in curls like a halo round her face, blue-grey eyes, and high cheek bones like her Latvian mother. When Sarah Sawyer, who was in charge of the clinic, first saw them together, she had given John a knowing wink. He had dreaded introducing her to anyone else, so he had kept her rather secret. Yes, she looked superficially like his former flatmate, but what they didn't see was that she had a completely different personality. Beth was kind, helpful, affectionate, and anyway, it didn't matter if she was taller than him. A lot of girls were taller than him ,she was only an inch taller without shoes. Sherlock had been six inches taller, but that was not relevant. Not relevant at all. He had already met her mother and was wondering if he dare introduce her to Harry.
"I'm going running tonight, do you want to come with me?" she asked, looking up at him hopefully.
"Maybe," he said. "I really ought to keep in shape." He had lost more than two stone over the past year and a half, and some days he hadn't even gotten out of his chair. Now he was back to working full time, it was easier somehow. Anyway, he liked running. He remembered running all over London on cases with Sherlock and the breathless feeling of excitement it used to give him. He looked at the boy to distract himself from the tug of memories threatening to engulf his mind.
"What have you got there?" he asked, looking at the doll the boy was clutching. He smiled as the boy handed it to him.
"It's my GI Joe," said Jamie proudly. "I got him a week ago for my birthday when we went to Florida."
"Well, I wish I could go to Florida for a holiday too!" said John, turning the toy over in his hands and looking at Beth. "Maybe I should take the nurse. What do you think, Jamie?"
Jamie nodded; he obviously thought it was a good idea. Beth did too, and her eyes shone.
"So," said John, looking at the toy. "GI Joe huh?" He handed the toy back.
" Yeah well, he looks ok… I suppose but," John looked at Beth , his blue eyes sentimental. "you know something? He's not a patch on Action Man!"
The end
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hope you liked the fic. Please let me know | c9c8b01e1c9244229fab2ab5ef7b5f57 | ['0e9ada0165a14e8584baf72be1b95c31'] | At the rear of the press and photographers, a small dark-haired man wearing sunglasses and dressed with impeccable attire stood where he was unobservable by the main characters in the room and smiled to himself. He was formulating a plan and the painting had given him an idea. "I owe you a fall!" He whispered as he looked at the foaming waters cascading into the depths below. Then he slowly and unobtrusively slipped out of the building.
…. 'End of Flashback'
Sherlock stood looking at the notice on the playhouse, his mind racing with a possible theory. Then he shot round to the back of the building with John at his heels." Aren't we going into the theatre?" John panted.
"Stage door," said Sherlock, skidding to a halt outside the side door. "We won't be allowed in the front after the play has started and it's nearly finished now"
He tried the handle and found the door unlocked. There was a booth in the entrance with a burly man behind the desk reading a variety magazine as they entered.
"Whoa boys, you can't be coming in here now, artists only it is," he said in a thick Dublin accent. Sherlock looked at him and at the other bouncer leaning nonchalantly against the wall. "I need to get a message to Richard Brook," he stated calmly."It's very important."
The Dubliner slid out a notepad which Sherlock scribbled on. Then he looked at the bouncer leaning against the wall. No point trying to get through the both of them
"Here, this is important so you will give this directly to Mr. Brook won`t you?" John saw though Sherlock's manner he was being unusually polite , probably acting himself. The man reluctantly looked up not at all convinced "We are working with the Garda and it concerns the kidnapping. By the way, your wife is having an affair and your son is gay. He isn't going to tell you until you ask him, but he wants you to know."
"What? My wife you … how did you know that when I've only just found out about it meself - The Jezebel! I'm leaving her tonight I've had enough!" His fury was evident at his wife. Slowly he calmed down a bit, glancing at his fellow bouncer with distain. Sherlock caught the look and deduced the other bouncer was the guilty party. "So do you know my son? He lives in London, and if I am not mistaken you are coming from there yourself. How is Moonstone, as he is calling himself in that band?"
Sherlock looked at John, who as always was fascinated by Sherlock's deductions and certainly appeared more interested than the bewildered doorman.
"I was reading his letter to you, you have it open on your excuse for a desk and the subtext was obvious. I don't know him, I wish I did. You need to have a talk with him, get to know him better. As for your wife- look at your shirt cuffs and the grey stains on your trousers you gave her to wash, she hasn't of course. I also saw your wedding ring that you have taken off on the desk."
John smiled as the doorman snatched the note and bid them goodnight.
Back at the seedy hotel, John felt tiredness overcome him. It had been a long day. He was glad to get into bed but Sherlock was pacing about the room in deep thought.
"Tomorrow, you will go to the station with the policeman in the morning. I have a certain meeting and I will not require your presence" he stated.
"What? Sherlock you can't go meeting that actor on your own, he may be responsible for the kidnapping!" John said with a note of rising panic."Or at least he may be in league with the kidnappers."
Sherlock looked over at his companion. "I will be in no immediate danger, John, but how brilliant of you to have worked it out yourself!" He smiled dangerously and John had the feeling that he had missed something really important. A common feeling as far as Sherlock was concerned.
"Any update on the substance in the Teddy?" he asked sleepily.
"Yes, but I was wrong. It was not an air pressure sensitive explosive at all," said Sherlock through gritted teeth. John laughed.
"Just drugs then?"
"Synthetic MDNA, the explosives were located by Mycroft's men in Berlin. This was apparently a test run, close thing though, and our discovery helped to locate the people who had a hold over the boy's uncle in Europe."
"what people?" asked John
"Keep up John, the group responsible for the last explosion in Japan!" John shook his head. It was too much to think about at this time of night. He looked sleepily at the pacing Sherlock.
"Don't get yourself kidnapped tomorrow or I'll have to kill this Richard Brook and I wasn't even allowed to bring my revolver on the plane," John murmured, turning his head onto the pillow as he drifted off. He was still just awake enough to hear Sherlock gently whispering to him. "Goodnight Jojo."
4. Chapter 4
Chapter Four
John entered the station and was shown into the chief inspector's office. The chief stood up and held out his hand. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I presume?" he asked respectfully. "Err … no actually; I am his assistant, Dr. John Watson, formerly Captain Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers and now working exclusively with Mr. Sherlock Holmes in conjunction with Scotland Yard." That sounded impressive enough he thought. The Chief was an ex-military man; John had picked up the signs easily enough. "Mr. Holmes is at present pursuing a lead on this case and set up a meeting last night with a Mr. Brook who is the understudy..." He hoped it was enough, it was. |
cbca0da66a064e1b8277240880e2b1bc | ['0ee894a48d714501b91fb07eed83b03e'] | The bar turns out to be at the top floor of the bar, with a glass ceiling giving a nice view of a beautiful starry nightsky. Despite the nearby city, the sky is dark enough that you can enjoy a view of the clear sky full of stars, and a thin moon, and I stand at the back of the room and look at it for a while, before I return to the bar desk to get something to drink. I could have watched the stars for longer, if it were not for the fact that the others standing nearby are two couples, and they are clearly very much in love. I don't need a reminder of my crappy, nonexistent personal life right now.
"Give me a rum and coke," I tell the bartender. Yeah, not very imaginative, I know, but I need time to read the drinks card. I haven't been to a bar for like five years, and even then it wasn't something that happened more than once a year or so. I have no life.
"Here you go." He give me the drink quickly, and I pay him.
I sit myself on a chair at the corner of the bar desk. There aren't many people here yet, but then I guess it's not 10PM yet, so it's early, maybe? The drink tastes good, but going out to drink on your own isn't really fun.
I have sat there for maybe 30 minutes, and ordered a new drink, a Hurricane this time. I have only just sipped it, when two young men enter the bar. They are fairly attractive, I guess, but also a bit too aware of that, I think. They go directly to the bar and order a beer each, then turn to me.
The nearest of them smile at me - and I instantly decide his smile is creepy. "Hello, pretty! Sitting here all by yourself?" He takes the chair beside me. "Wispy and me are gonna keep you company, don't you worry!"
"Uh, you don't need to do that. I'm just relaxing and taking a drink." I tell him, hoping he will take the hint and leave.
The other guy, 'Wispy' as he's apparently called, sit down as well, beside his friend. He smile to me. "We can't let a beautiful girl like you be all alone - that would be rude. Would reflect bad on the men in this place, ya know!"
I take a long drink from my 'Hurricane', trying to think of something to say. Something that will let them understand I am not interested.
"Would you like another one of those? Let me buy you one!" the guy that was not called 'Wispy', said.
I shake my head. "No, thank you. I can pay for my own drinks." I hurried call to the bartender. "Can you give me a Mojito?"
"I'll pay for it!" Not-Wispy smiles, and waves at the bartender.
"No - I'm paying myself!" I tell the bartender, who looks unsure.
"Come on, sweetheart - don't be like that! We just want to be nice, and have a little fun. That's what you want too, isn't it?" Wispy says, leaning close.
"Listen, I told you I don't want you to pay for me. Leave me alone!" I tell him, annoyed.
"Why are you so angry? We just..." Wispy begins, but is interrupted by someone suddenly grabbing his arm and pulling him away.
"She told you to leave her alone! Do so, or you _will_ regret it!" Lantash tells him, a furious look on his face. He looks very dangerous, and if I did not know him, I would probably be afraid.
He is using Martouf's voice, and he did not flash his eyes - which is impressive restraint on his part - but it is so very obviously him. I feel like kissing him!
"Relax, pal!" Wispy says, a fearful expression on his face. "I didn't mean to bother her!"
"Let's leave." Wispy's friend says, throwing Lantash a concerned look.
Relaxing some, Lantash turns to me. "Are you all right, Samantha?"
I smile at him. "Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry - I could have gotten them to leave on my own. But I'm still grateful to see you - and they sure left quicker when you told them to."
Lantash nods. "I am sorry I did not arrive until now. I do not like anyone bothering you."
"Why did you come here at all? I didn't think you guys liked hanging out in a bar and drinking."
"Hardly, but watching 'television' is boring. As well, we had only eaten some soup for dinner, and were getting hungry. We decided to find something more to eat, and also to explore this place."
I nod. "I'm sure you can get some food from room service, but the bar here probably has some food too. They often do, actually. Let's find out!"
"Yes."
We look at the menu, and they do indeed have some food. "How hungry are you? They've got various types of snack food - mozzarella sticks, onion rings, nachos, and also some small pizzas."
Lantash looks less than pleased. "I would like something more filling - and with less fat and salt than that."
"Yeah, I guess you've gotten to learn a bit about our junk food in the week you've been working here with us." I grin. "Okay - what about this, then - grilled chicken sandwich with a side... either a salad, french fries, or chips."
"That sounds acceptable. I would like a grilled chicken sandwich with a salad."
"I guessed that!" I smile at him, and turn to the bartender. "Could you make him a grilled chicken sandwich with a salad - and I'd like a mini cheese pizza. Oh, and gives two beers..." I ponder this for a moment, trying to remember which beers Martouf and Lantash would like. "Uh, some sort of dark ale, if you have it." | 032bf90c7ddc46f1b2088314de78ecdd | ['0ee894a48d714501b91fb07eed83b03e'] | ~ **Yes, unfortunately, sometimes the circumstances change.~** Jolinar answers, a bit testily.
~I know. It was not meant as criticism. Merely stating a fact... don't be so sensitive!~
Jolinar takes a deep breath. ~ **I am sorry. I have a lot of things on my mind. I worry for my mates... and for you, my new host... as well as other things.~**
~Including whether or not you will get a new host anytime soon - and if you will be punished for running off to rescue Martouf and Lantash and the others.~ I note.
~ **Yes.~** Jolinar says. ~ **And one other thing...how where a loyal Tok'ra like Sihklat brainwashed? Are more Tok'ra in danger of that, or was it due to Cordesh? If he was the only traitor, we should be safe now, but what if he is not?~**
~Garshaw said Tok'ra usually are loyal for life - it's not very likely you have _two_ traitors, is it?~
~ **No...but on the other hand...Cordesh was working for Cronus, and Sihklat joined Heru'ur. I know she may just have taken the first opportunity, but...something does not ring true.~**
~You think both Heru'ur and Cronus have planted traitors among the Tok'ra?~ I ask.
~ **I do not know what I think... yes, maybe. The Goa'uld has been trying to get spies into our midst for a very long time, and we have felt safe they would never succeed. Maybe they have taken advantage of that overconfidence. We have a great many operatives out for so long times that it is hard to know with certainty that they have not been compromised. Yes, we usually test them upon return, but not always thoroughly if they return in the same host, since they are trusted...maybe we should test all returning long-term operatives, like we do those who return in a new host, and with no witnesses.~**
~Is it possible for us to make a copy of Heru'ur's computers, or something? Do the Goa'uld even keep records of things like this?~
~ **They may, especially if someone is handling the brainwashing for them. I do not believe Heru'ur has the scientific knowledge for something like this. He has always been focused on pleasure and doing as little as possible. He is very much the child of a powerful warlord, used to not having to do anything on his own.** ~
~Okay, we'll try to find his computers, then. Should we do that first, or should we free my dad and my team mates first?~
~ **If we want to sneak around and get to Heru'ur's secrets like that, it will have to be done before we break out more prisoners. The current confusion will help us, as well as keep Heru'ur in his quarters, but we do not want a full scale alarm. Problem is, that Heru'ur most likely has his computers in his room, at least those with any secret information.~**
~Doesn't he have some labs somewhere? With scientists? Maybe they have the information.~
~ **It is not a bad suggestion. He does have a scientist. However, he is a Goa'uld, and he is not currently here, none of Heru'ur's underlings are.~** Jolinar sighs. ~ **Maybe we can find the laboratory and hack into the systems, however, while I can use computers and other technology, I am not the best at that. I am no scientist.~**
~I can try, I am usually fairly good at things like that - but I can't read Goa'uld, and I don't really know much about Goa'uld technology.~
**~It is too bad we are not fully blended. Then we could use my knowledge, and your skill, and we could together solve the problem.~**
I am getting frustrated! There is a million things that are hard to do, just because we are not blended! ~Then let's blend - what difference does it make!~
~ **It makes a difference, if I am to leave you. You would be left with not only my knowledge and feelings, but we would be as close as if we had been together for years. We would be closer than you have ever been to anyone. The loneliness you would feel after I left you, would probably kill you - or you would kill yourself. No. It is not a good idea.~**
15. Blended and an Escape
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Sam decides to blend with Jolinar, and to be her host permanently.
While Jolinar surreptitiously checks on the various rooms, trying to locate the lab, I am thinking about what she said, about _blending_. What do I want? Could I live in the Tok'ra tunnels? Leave Earth, my friends, my team mates?
If we do end up working together - and it would seem that is at least possible - then I could always visit Earth, right? Jolinar and I could even work to increase the cooperation between our people, and I would be able to work with my dad.
Then there is Martouf and Lantash. I think it is pretty obvious I won't mind having them as my mates, so that is a _huge_ plus about remaining Jolinar's host. They seem like they would like me to be their mate - they have said so, and they behave as they do, so I believe them.
If I become Tok'ra, I would go on missions for them, so I would still fight the Goa'uld. In addition, I would be able to study Tok'ra tech, far more advanced than anything we have on Earth.
I can't believe it, but I am actually starting to argue myself into staying Jolinar's host!
I push the thoughts away, deciding to make a decision after this mission. Right now there are important things to focus on. Jolinar has located the lab!
* * * |
dd8bd01e3cdb47ceb5f07107b8468891 | ['0f11ce39a0074fa4b672e5392daf8d21'] |
I Find You Rather Ribbiting
**Author's Note:**
> I was hoping to make their interactions more but the story called for the chocobros.
It’s not as chaotic as it should be.
Ignis is in the midst of a discussion over coffee with the Ambassador of Accordo when the incident is being brought to his attention.
Ignis’s assistant has stepped away a short while ago to take a call that seems urgent, given the string of continuous missed calls on Ignis’s phone. He returns with a hint of dread on his face and interrupts the meeting. Leaning close to Ignis, he talks under his breath to ensure everyone else is out of earshot.
“Lord Scientia, there has been an incident at the Wildlife Rehabilitation Centre. It involves His Majesty.”
Ignis immediately wraps up the discussion with the Ambassador, apologises for the unexpected and premature ending of their meeting, and excuses himself for the discourtesy to leave without seeing the ambassador off personally. He assigns the Glaive that is with them to ensure safe departure of the Ambassador instead.
The driver has already pulled up the car at the front of the restaurant when Ignis steps out; thanks to his assistant for the quick arrangement. Once inside the car, his assistant fills him in with all the information that he’s got so far.
Earlier in the afternoon, King Noctis went to visit the Insomnia Wildlife Rehabilitation Centre as planned. It was one of his regular visits to the centre to see how the Citadel could assist in raising more resources to support the centre.
Wildlife is no longer a threat in the new dawn, unlike in the past when they were on the road trip to save Eos; so, it is not necessary to be on guard on trips like this. Moreover, the King is more than capable to fight his own battles.
On this trip, Prompto has escorted Noctis instead of Gladio, who’d usually go with the King as the Shield whenever Ignis is not available. Ignis could imagine how Prompto did not even need to persuade Noctis for more than a second to allow him to tag along. In fact, Noctis would be more than happy to have Prompto hanging out with him and would’ve told Gladio that he’ll be fine going with his buddy.
During this period, the centre has been taking care of a Miniuserpent sent over by King Ravus due to the lack of expertise in rehabilitation of wildlife in Tenebrae. The Miniuserpent, native to Tenebrae, is a rare species that’s close to extinction. Ravus had personally contacted Noctis for a favour to lend a hand on this injured one.
For reasons unknown, the Miniuserpent had managed to escape from its housing facilities when the staff was conducting a routine evaluation session that just so happened to take place on this day—when the King was visiting.
With limited facts at hand, Ignis makes a call to Ravus while on the way back to the Citadel, hoping to get more information about the species—one he has not encountered before.
“Although it’s pretty small in size compared to a Midgardsormr or Naga, it is a potent species that could inflict a powerful status effect,” explains Ravus, but before Ignis could ask any questions, Ravus couldn’t resist adding, “I’ve heard that Noctis jumped on it without a Ribbon on him. He seems to be as reckless as he used to be, isn’t he?”
“That’s… beside the point. Please explain ‘powerful’.”
The phone conversation carries on for a little longer. However, there isn’t much that Ravus could offer in terms of advice to reverse the status effect sooner.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The door to the throne room opens with a thud and Ignis enters hastily to see Prompto standing facing the throne with no King in sight—except that the throne is not entirely empty. Prompto seems to be muttering something to himself (or at least that’s what it looks like) while Gladiolus is sitting on the staircase in front of the throne, elbows resting on his knees and hands press to the sides of his face.
With weary expressions, they observe as Ignis walks up the stairs towards them.
“I’m so, so, so sorry, Ignis. I should’ve stopped him. I mean… I—I’ve tried to. But he said, ‘I’ve got this, Prompto, just like old times.’ And he went straight to it. I wanted to go after him, but the response team came, and they handed me the ribbons. And then I was rushing over to him, but…” Prompto lets out a loud sigh, deflating his chest. A hint of guiltiness is reflected from his eyes.
Ignis is more anxious to see how his husband is doing rather than concern about what had happened at this moment. However, he’s been hindered from getting a glimpse of His Majesty as Prompto is obstructing his view all this while.
“Calm down, Prompto. It’s alright. We know how Noct—“
“It is not _all right_.” Gladiolus pulls himself upright, eyebrows knit in frustration as he motions Prompto to move to the side. He gestures his right hand towards the throne where a tiny creature is seated. “Look at him! He’s a…”
“Frog,” Ignis offers—deadpan, shifting his gaze from the frog back to Gladio—when Gladio seems to have difficulty completing his sentence, as though it’s forbidden to utter the word; it’s an insult to the King.
“Thank you! Our King is now a frog,” Gladio remarks.
“How long has it been?” Ignis moves slowly towards the frog, so as not to startle him and carefully brings both hands closer to him.
“An hour or so,” replies Prompto. “I don’t remember the effect would last this long, or is my memory failing me?” | bded1ab597f1433995684a7e4c4c2be7 | ['0f11ce39a0074fa4b672e5392daf8d21'] | “Well, all the toad status effects that we encountered previously were never cast by a Miniuserpent,” Ignis explains while picking up the frog gently. The creature—bright green in colour and moderately bigger than one handbreadth—feels cold to the touch.
Ignis is relieved that the frog didn’t flinch upon contact, as though he’s familiar with the touch. He scrutinises the frog closely, trying to find any indication that this is truly Noctis; apart from his blue irises, there isn’t any other—not that he’s expecting any at all. He holds the frog close to his chest, hoping to give him a little warmth although he knows it’s not necessary.
Ignis continues to inform the both that the effect will stay for at least a couple of hours and could last up to 48 hours.
“2 days?” Prompto says incredulously.
“Well, let’s just say there’s a fortune in misfortune. Tomorrow is an off day for the King,” Ignis says in response.
“Oh… OH!” Prompto exclaims as though something dawns on him.
“No shit.” Gladio reacts simultaneously.
Ignis remains impassive although he notices their reactions. “So, no one should be looking for His Majesty and no one should know how long the King is… not himself.”
Prompto lowers himself, leans towards the frog and urges, “Okay, Noct. Seriously, you need to come back soon, like… today. You would beat yourself up if you don’t. You hear me, buddy?”
The frog stares at Prompto and gives a blink.
“Ravus also mentioned that the frog would likely retain some characteristics of Noct and could have a psyche that is similar as well.”
“Are you saying that this is still very much Noct but in frog form?” Gladio asks curiously.
“In a way, yes. That’s one of main differences between the toad effect cast by this beast comparing to the ones that we encountered—that it may be aware of his surroundings and could recall, to certain extent, what has happened. But the degree varies depending on each individual,” Ignis elaborates further.
“Ahhh, that explains why it was less _jumpy_ when we returned to the throne room.” Looking thoughtful, Prompto continues, “Whenever I talked to him, he stayed really still, as if he’s trying to understand. He didn’t even try to hop off the throne.”
At least this aspect is something that they think they could make use of to keep the situation under some control.
“So, what do we do now. Do we wait it out or…. ? At least try to do something,” Gladio finally asks the question that has been on everyone’s mind.
“Oh, what about Remedy or Maiden’s Kiss?” Prompto suggests. “Did Ravus say any of the curatives are useful?”
“Yes, those are the only ones. But we don’t have those anymore, do we?” Ignis replies, feeling defeated.
Remedy or Maiden’s Kiss, just like potions, are made by way of Noctis's powers. With the crystal destroyed after banishing the starscourge from Eos, the power of the crystal died with it naturally and the power of the Kings was returned to Bahamut since it was not needed anymore (and would never want it again). Consequently, they are now _powerless_ to make curatives in the new dawn.
“I believe we still have some.” Feeling a glimmer of hope, the two gentlemen wait for Gladio to carry on. “Those we gave to the museum; can we use them?”
“Those were made at least three years ago,” answers Ignis. “From what I remember from my study, the curative properties would only stay effective for only about a year. Thereafter it would no longer be present and what remains is what it used to be.”
Their hopes are short lived but Prompto, ever the optimist, says, “We could still try. I mean, we don’t know for sure if it’ll work, but what if Noct’s power could make it last longer than that.”
They agree that there’s no harm trying and arranges to bring either a Maiden’s Kiss or a remedy back from the museum.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
In less than an hour, Prompto returns with a bottle in his hand. The bottle—almost entirely dark red in colour—is strapped with a small tag that has “Maiden’s Kiss” written on it. It still has its unostentatious label attached to it, which portrays a sketch of Lucian Tomato.
“Aren’t there any others besides Lucian tomato?” Ignis asks.
“The rest are the same as this or remedies made from Caem carrots. Which one is worse?” Prompto shrugs.
“I guess there isn’t any choice then.” Gladio takes the Maiden’s Kiss from Prompto and directs it to the frog that’s still sitting peacefully on Ignis’s hands, now with a damped cloth over it, hoping to keep his skin moist.
Standing beside the throne, Ignis puts the frog down onto the floor on the off chance that Noctis would return to himself. Gladio cracks open the bottle and pours the Lucian tomato juices on top of the frog.
In a blink of an eye, the frog hops onto Ignis—and startles him—as though to protest before it leaps, with a great distance, down the stairs.
“Noct!” Ignis immediately calls out but to no avail.
“Damn it!” Gladio springs into action and gives chase to the frog. Ignis follows suit.
Prompto moves to stand in his path in the middle of the staircase with both arms stretch out, trying to intercept the frog from jumping further down. The frog stops right in front of him and then lunges pass him effortlessly. Prompto lets out a grunt while Ignis and Gladio run pass him.
The frog continues to leap frantically across the hall towards the main exit of the throne room. They see that the door is shut and collectively feel a sense of relief… until they hear a few quick knocks on the door and slowly, it swings open.
“No, no, no! Don’t open the door!” Prompto cries out but that couldn’t prevent the inevitable. |
40dbef371f1f450e9c41f3923bd8c4bd | ['0f1818646bfc45caa37823ed677ce7f2'] | The path was easy to follow, even when the trail faded to imperceptibility beyond the range of his Alpha senses. It followed a straight line, never deviating. Derek heard his mother's voice in the back of his head, a fragment from a long forgotten conversation, _'The shortest distance between two points is measured in a straight line, Derek, as the crow flies.'_
The scent of Stiles disappeared completely when it was overtaken with the dry musk of lizard and the stink of ridiculously expensive Clive Christian cologne. The trio slowed to a trot as they passed overturned dirt, several destroyed trees and walked into what was obviously the site of a battle. The area was drenched in the scent of the Kanima, but it was fading and the scent of cologne, of Jackson's human form led away.
"He took down the Kanima." Peter was reluctantly impressed.
"Should we go after Jackson?" Isaac asked, "This is the first time he's surfaced in human form for over a month. It could be our only chance to put him down."
"He's being controlled by Gerard." Derek was torn, but knew what he needed to do. "Stiles is after Gerard. If he dies then either Jackson will be free of control or he'll need time to find another master. Stiles and Gerard are our priority. Jackson isn't important and the Kanima is nothing without a Master."
He sniffed around a bit before picking up on Stiles' trail again. They were getting close, the damaged trees were just starting to well up with sap and the destruction couldn't be more than a few minutes old, half an hour at the most.
* * *
Gerard was waiting for him when he burst into the clearing. He tightened his grip on the pathetically struggling bird as Stiles stepped forward. "Ah-ah, Mr. Stilinski. It would be in your best interest to stay where you are."
"What is your plan here, Gerard? A mexican standoff doesn't get either of us what we want, and I can wait you out. You are an old man and I will not tire or give up. You can't stop me. I _will_ kill you."
"That's where you are wrong. I know you stole a copy of my bestiary. Did you manage to translate any of it? What did you think? Such a wealth of knowledge my family has collected over the years. Generation upon generation of hunters finding ways to kill creatures like you."
Stiles went very still.
"Yes, Mr. Stilinski. I know your weaknesses. Did you think yourself invulnerable? You're not. Not entirely. Attacking you head on would gain me nothing, but I can still do THIS." Stiles screamed in agony as Gerard twisted the crow's neck, breaking it.
"You are nothing now, Mr. Stilinski. I have taken your power from you. I have stolen your strength. You are nothing but a shade. Too weak to stop me and too broken to move on." The small feathered body seemed to fall in slow motion and it hit the ground at the same time as Stiles' knees, the spiritual bond between the messenger of death and the cursed Crow spirit breaking. Isaac ran out of the woods just in time to dive and catch the smaller teen as he collapsed. The Beta made sure to roll their bodies so that he landed on the bottom and held Stiles' limp body protectively to his chest. Derek and Peter took up guard positions in front of them.
"Ah, Derek. You never were quite fast enough to save the ones you care for." Gerard sneered. "Too little, too late, as always."
"Isaac?" Stiles' eyes were wild and unfocused as he realized he was resting against someone's chest and looked up at the Beta in surprise.
"We're here Stiles. You don't have to do this alone." Isaac gently wiped away a drop of blood that had bubbled out of the side of Stiles' mouth when he spoke. He absently rubbed his fingers together, accidentally spreading the crimson liquid as he stared at it in shock. The Crow wasn't supposed to be able to bleed. He turned worried eyes back to the near weightless bundle of skin and bones sprawled on his stomach. In the excitement over Stiles being turned into some sort of super-spirit he had forgotten how fragile he had been physically. "We want to help avenge Erica and Boyd, too."
"If you can't protect pack, be damn sure to avenge it?" Stiles muttered, his eyes drifting slightly to the side of Isaac's ear as his head lolled bonelessly in the cradle of the wolf's shoulder. Ash that seemed to have been a permanent part of his Crow persona crumbled at the contact with the wolf's shirt and flaked off of Stiles' death bleached skin.
Isaac barked a brief humorless laugh, "Yeah, something like that. We want to avenge you too, y'know. It's not right for you to have to do that yourself."
"But… I'm not pack." Stiles gasped breathlessly and Isaac only heard it due to the grace of his werewolf hearing.
"I think you could have been." Isaac whispered back, shifting the other teen to tuck his head against Isaac's neck as he looked up at the others.
Derek growled and bared his fangs at the aged hunter, crouching lower into an attack stance. "You're finished, Gerard. Even without Stiles. There are three of us and you have no weapons."
"Do you ever tire of being wrong?" The old man dug into his pocket and pulled out a flask, slowly twisting the top off. "There were so many interesting things written about the cursed Corvx in our bestiary. How he gains his power, how he loses his power…. and how you can take his power from him." | ca2fb7fa75f94af49b08639282a0798a | ['0f1818646bfc45caa37823ed677ce7f2'] | Allison sat on her bed fiddling with the splintered pieces of broken bow her father had shot right out of her hands a month earlier. She had kept it as a reminder that he owed her a replacement, even after Gerard had outfitted her with the most lethal bow money could buy. She remembered the haze of utter fury that had overtaken her that night, but thinking clearer now, she realized that her father had been trying to stop her from taking everything too far in her rage. He was trying to protect her from herself and she had been completely out of control, egged on at every turn by Gerard. She had almost killed Erica and Boyd, had desperately wanted to make them hurt, and she had practically gift wrapped them for Gerard. Allison may not have been a part of their torture and murder, but she had no illusions that if her father had not stopped her, she could easily have taken it to that point and just the thought of what she was capable of terrified her. She still remembered the insane look in Kate's eyes those last few hours before her death, and she never wanted to become that.
She sniffed and hastily wiped away her tears, but jumped at the sound of a knock on her door. Gerard didn't even wait for a response after his knock, simply opening the door and making himself comfortable on the corner of her bed. Having seen deeper into his manipulations, always with his turn of phrase and false empathy, her skin crawled to have him so close. "Sweetheart, I know you're confused and probably don't want to speak to me right now, but you need to know. Whatever your friend was to you is gone now. All that is left is an undead creature of incredible ability that wants us dead. Now more than ever we need to stick together as a family."
"You. He wants you dead." Allison was very much starting to see her grandfather for who he really was, and it wasn't a pretty picture. She longed for the days when she was a little girl and had that absolute certainty of a child that her family was wonderful and they all loved her more than anything and would never let anything happen to her. Faith was in short supply these days, especially in family.
"Don't forget, Allison, that you are the one who caught them for me. You are just as much of a target as I am. He will be coming for us both and we will need to stand together to face him and have any hope of winning. Sleep lightly tonight, I have a feeling that we'll be having a visitor." Gerard looked at her with the same sympathy he had when he gave her the suicide letter from her mother, but while she had welcomed it then she found it lacking and off-putting now. She couldn't believe anything he said, but in this case he didn't need to lie. She WAS a part of this and there was a good chance that Stiles held her just as responsible as her grandfather. Gerard left her with that chilling thought, pale and shaky with the horrifying anticipation of having to face down the vengeful ghost of a friend. Where was her self-righteous fury and determination to defend herself and her family when she most needed it?
* * *
_"The Corvx is always created from the soul of a human innocent killed by human evil while watching those they care about die. Never has there been a recorded case where the Corvx was a supernatural creature prior to death, was killed by anything supernatural or died alone."_
The line from the bestiary echoed in Chris's head as he stood at the foot of the stairs in the basement where he was certain three teenagers had been tortured and killed. The smell of bleach still hung in the air, but he was experienced enough to have vivid sense memory of the blood that must have soaked the floors of his family's house. He felt emotionally wrung out. Had he really been so absent in his own home that this could have happened and the evidence erased all without him noticing? He hadn't even recovered from the revelation that his sister was a mass murderer, or her death before his wife was bitten and subsequently sacrificed to their cursed mission. Now, he had to deal with the fact that his father was mad with revenge and killing teenagers, his wife had attempted what his father succeeded in and he was loosing his daughter to the mission and to Gerard.
He stared down at the cracked, bloody lacrosse pads he had found wedged under his workbench, an unintentional trophy of a complete waste of young life. Argent used to be a name both feared and respected, now they were just feared. They were supposed to be better, to be honorable. He had been taught to uphold the Code for a reason. Without it a hunter was nothing but a vigilante on a vendetta. The Code was what made them better than the beasts they hunted. The mission was always supposed to be more about protecting innocents than about killing. If they were to play judge, jury and executioner than they had to be impeccable in their judgement and careful to be truly just in their hunts. In the old days there had to be irrefutable proof that a wolf had killed before they could be hunted. If hunters weren't actively protecting the unsuspecting populace then they were just killers and murderers. How had his family fallen to this and how could he not have noticed earlier, in time to do something? |
d437180c82d64194a47a169932e985c6 | ['0f290b500e3a4b6e80c4d2fc8db95338'] | It rained so much, Taehyung thought the trees would drown, their life span accompaying the rain down on its way.
The room around him emitted a dull lighting from a few chambersticks by his side, not much, but enough for him to notice his bandaged arm. He remembered how he'd stung himself on a nettle plant getting up, and the itchy rashes that burned his wits to agony. Taehyung shrugged his unfortunate expereince off.
"Ah, you woke up I see"
Taehyung got taken aback. He wouldn't have noticed the sihouette, if it weren't for him to talk in his gruff and raspy voice, seemingly not used in a while. He sat on the darkest part of the room, making it even harder for him to be spot.
"Huh...? Where am I, and who are you?" Taehyung asked, still a bit hazy.
"Who I am and where you are is of no importance. What really matters is, _how_ did you get here?" A serious, stern voice answered.
"I... don't really remember... clearly... All I remember is being lost in the woods and... waking up here." Taehyung looked down to his also patched torso, only to see himself donned in a slightly oversized white button up and his underwear. Had the silhouette undressed him? Had he seen his naked body? Just the thought of someone unfamiliar undressing him made Taehyung tremble.
He got up, a whiff of cold striking his nerves, making him shiver. "I should uh, leave... Thank you for the..." Taehyung looks at his wrist out of habit, only to notice his watch was gone. He instead looks out the window and estimates the time himself. "Around two...? Hours you let me stay here? And thank you for treating my wounds. I cannot be thankful enough for what you have done."
"Two hours? More like two days... And no, I can't let you leave. It would be rude of me to send away my guests in the middle of the night, on top of that there's a thunderstorm outside and you are injured. As for your clothes, although I couldn't really do much about the ripped part, I washed them as best as I could." The barely visible silhouette pointed to the closet.
Taehyung hastily moved closer to the closet, only to find heavily unwearable clothes.
"There really is no way I can wear them..." Tae mumbled under his breath, disappointment showing up in his face.
"I am afraid you will have to wear my clothes for the time being..." The Silhouette sighed.
"What? I'm sorry, but I can't possibly do that... It would be impolite and lowly of me to do so."
"But you already are." The silhouette chuckled.
'Stupid Taehyung, how could you forget!' He mentally scolded himself. But wait, how did he hear him from across the room?
"I... suppose you're hungry" The Silhouette said, moving to a lighter part of the room, no longer a part of the shadows. Now, Taehyung could actually see him. He wore a gold decorated mask, standing out amidst his raven dark locks and solem clothes. "I could hear your stomach's grumbles from here. Afterall, you haven't eaten anything in two days. I'll go and make something. Feel free to roam any part of the mantion you like, just remember this... _the last floor is off limits._ "
Taehyung flinched a bit. '...What a weird guy. First he hears what I whisper from 10 feet away. Plus that creepy mask he wears... It gives me the chills.'
"What is the mask for?" Taehyung dared to ask.
The silence answered his question.
Not knowing what else to say, he asked about his belongings' whereabouts. "Do you know where my ring is? The one with the blue diamond and rose print? It's my engagement ring, I can't lose it."
The silhouette, well, not really a silhouette now, is he?
The stranger, as we'll call him for now, upon hearing those words, seemed unpleased and ...disappointed...?
"The comodine. Everything is in there." He knew he majorly made a mistake by allowing him the dagger, but it would end in a disaster if he himself kept it.
As Taehyung collected his belongings, the stranger reached out for the doorknob, abruptly being disconnected by his thoughts with a question he _so dearly_ wanted to answer, noting the sarcasm.
"I never got to know your name. I can't really call you a stranger, as that would be rude of me. I'm Taehyung. Kim Taehyung. Tae for short." Taehyung asked eccentrically, plastering a smile on his face mimicking his friend missing outside.
"...call me... Guk" and with that, he coldly left.
{----------}
After Taehying wore the garments "Guk" left him, he did exactly what he indirectly told him to. Inspect the mantion.
As he moved down the hallways, Taehyung's ears picked up faint whispers and light chuckles, something he didn't quite expect.
"ᵒᵒᵒʰ, ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ˡᵒᵒᵏᶦⁿᵍ" "ᵒʰ ᵐʸ... ʰᵉʰᵉ ᵐᵃˢᵗᵉʳ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ˢᶜᵒʳᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵍᵒᵃˡ"
Taehyung looked around for the voices, and unsurprisingly wasn't greeted by the owners.
"ᵘᵖ ʰᵉʳᵉ, ᶜᵘᵗᶦᵉ"
Taehyung looked up, and to his confuison, two conjoined bats hung up from the chandelier.
"ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵍᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖˀ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ᵗᵃˡᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᵗˢˀ" They flew over to Taehyung, the latter taking a few steps back, looking at them in amazement.
"ᵒʰ ᵍᵒᵒᵈᶦᵉˢ...ʰᵉ' ˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶜᵘᵗᵉʳ ᵘᵖ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ~ ʰᵉʰᵉ"
"You can talk...? But how? You're bats!"
"ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ ˢᶦˡˡʸ, ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵘᵗᵉ... ᵃⁿʸᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ ᶜᵃⁿ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿ ᶦⁿ ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳ'ˢ -"
"Maia! Gaia! Enough!" Guk's voice thundered from the ground floor.
"ʸᵉˢ, ᵐᵃˢᵗᵉʳ" Both of the bats pitifully synchronised, and flew away, disappearing into waves of darkness.
"I apologise for their behaviour... they can be a handful sometimes. That aside, dinner will be ready in an hour. I'll be waiting for you in the dining hall." | 8687637aab0e46af830d42184e650896 | ['0f290b500e3a4b6e80c4d2fc8db95338'] |
Cherry Chapstick
'Cold!' Taehyung shrieked as his skin met the snowy winter weather. He'd headed to the drug store to buy himself a new chapstick, upon realising he'd ran out of his trusty coconut one. He wasn't too far from the store, around five minutes away he'd say, but his ears already numbened, waiting to gain their warmth back. He majorly made a mistake by skipping over the weather news and going out only with a sweater in a -20°C blizzard.
As Taehyung made his way to the store gates and enetered them, warm air hit his body, making his ears to go a normal colour. Taehyung felt like a melting marshmellow in a hot cup of chocolate, exactly what he needed right now.
He gradually made his way towards the makeup aisle, only to find out the store had completely changed its layout. Taehyung now found himself in the sweets section, and seeing all those cookies made him crave some like crazy.
To his appreciable luck, he only brought money for a chapstick, and decided to bake some at home. He quickly asked the nearest worker where the makeup section was, thanked them, and once he arrived at his desired destination, eyed all the chapsticks in display.
'No coconut flavor... hm... guess I'll get the cherry one.' Tae fumbled his way to the small box wrapped in pink, a small illustrated cherry on top. 'Cute' He thought. He paid for his chapstick, and ventured out.
Taehyung, who had forgotten about the blizzard, was once again shivering. He opened his chapstick the second he got out of the store, applying it and immediately falling in love with the creamy texture and slightly pinkish tint. Yet even under layers and layers of the sweet ointment, his lips still remained chapped. Unable to take the cold anymore, Taehyung scoffed and sprinted his way home, accidentally running into his neighbour, Namjoon, and making him drop all of his paper work.
'I'm sorry!' Taehyung screamed as his shaky hands picked everything up from the floor in mere seconds, while Namjoon simply, looked at him in a coctail of awe and confusion.
Taehyung ran up the stairs, tripping his way through the apartment door and startling a sleepy Jeongguk coming out of the bathroom. The tip of his wet bangs gave away that he just finished washing his face.
"What's the fuss about?" He huskily asked, still drowsy.
"Oh no nothing, just nearly became an icicle on the way back home." Taehyung smiled sarcastically.
Jeongguk sighed and made his way to the doorstep, to Taehyung. "Would some kisses warm you up?" He said, and leaned down to pepper his face with pecks. First on the forehead, then gradually making his way down to his lips. Jeongguk froze once the sweet taste of cherries registered itself on his memory.
"New chapstick?" He asked, pulling away.
"Yep! I ran out of it, had to pick one up at the store."
Guk hums in respose and trails his sight back down to Tae's lips, kissing him again. Taehyung got surprised at his boyfriend's actions, but kissed back anyway. It wasn't usual for Jeongguk to kiss him this much on such a short amount of time.
'Damn, I'm really craving those cookies right now.' Taehyung thought and pulled away, deciding not to waste anymore time. The kiss lasted way longer than the last one, yet Jeongguk still deemed it short.
"Getting addiced a bit too quickly?" Tae chuckled as he left Jeongguk in a clear daze.
"Cherry?" He unintentionally ignored his boyfriend's question as he licked his lips, trying not to lose the soft taste of Taehyung's ones.
"Your tasting senses have gotten stronger, my love." Taehyung winked as he set off to the kitchen. Jeongguk trailed behind, sitting on the kitchen counter and dragging his fingers across his own lips, seemingly still dreaming about cherryland.
"What are you doing?" He asked once he snapped out of his daydream. Guk was curious, simply not wanting whatever Taehyung was doing to disrupt his new hobby.
"I'm baking cookies!" Taehyung said as he tip toed to the top shelves, accidentally knocking over cooking ingredients over his head while doing so.
"Ow!" he yelped and bent down to pick the fallen materials, only to huff back at Guk who was lazily watching him.
"Help me get the apron off the top shelf, pleeeaaseeeee?"
"And what do I get in return?" He asked playfully, raising his eyebrow and creating a lump in cheek with his tounge.
"Hm..." Taehyung brought his fingers to his chin, a gesture representing thinking. "Cookies?"
Jeongguk wasted no time in making his own offer. "How about we exchange cookies for kisses?" He warmly smiled, showing his cute bunny teeth. And god, can Taehyung not resist his bunny teeth, and Jeongguk knew it. Everytime he wanted something, he'd flash his bunny smile and guarantee his win.
"After I'm done, Gukkie, Just- give me the apron already!" A flustered Taehyung muttered between blushes.
Guk chuckled and reached out for the apron, then went back to his original seat.
{----------}
It hadn't even been 10 full minutes of watching Taehyung try and figure out a recipe, and Jeongguk's patience drained out like a bathtub. He quietly made his way behind Taehyung and surprised him with a backhug, trapping his waist in a wave of muscular arms and resting his chin on his shoulder. He could see the chapstick sticking out Taehyung's pocket, and he dove right for it.
"What are you-" Taehyung's words got cut off by something familiar on his lips. Jeongguk's hand snaked its way up Taehyung's waist, and straddled his jaw, leading him into turning his head a bit to the left. Jeongguk coated Taehyung's lips with a layer of chapstick, later to glue his own right to them.
At first, it was nothing more than a simple peck, but as time progressed, the peck advances to a heated make out session. Jeongguk was now sucking lightly on Taehyung's bottom lip, staining his own with a light pink colour.
Taehyung abandoned his cooking, cookies long forgotten, and was 100% concentrated on his new craving instead. Jeongguk. The way Jeongguk kissed him burned his lips in an painful, yet arousing matter, and the way things were going, there were no signs of stopping yet.
Taehyung let go of his spoon, letting it fall on the ground, and instead tangled his hand amidst Jeongguk's dark locks. The scent of the cherry chapstick mixed with each other's cologne created the ultimate scent, which didn't fail to drive both of them crazy. It was a pretty strong scent for a chapstick, they had to admit.
The younger of the two was unable to control his senses, and bit down on Taehyung's already swollen lips. An unintentional moan escaped Tae sinfully as his lip started to bleed, but the pain turned into bliss once Jeongguk thrust his tounge inside Tae's mouth, adventuring every single corner of it. Not like they've never made out before, in fact it happened numerous amounts of times everyday, everywhere, anytime, but today was different. Was it the cold weather? Maybe the unintentional kiss celibacy? Or maybe Jeongguk's hungry bites? Yes... it had to be that, mixed with the, long gone, saccharine taste of the chapstick...
As if he were possesed the entire time, Jeongguk pulled away from the kiss, before it was too late and they accidentally ended up in the bedroom. Taehyung's unstable breaths and whimpers replaced the moans he'd filled the kitchen and Jeongguk's statisfaction to the rim.
'What just came over me...' Taehyung thought as he blushed at the thought of what they'd done for the past minutes.
"Hmm... always buy this type of chapstick, babe. Looks good on you, tastes even better on you." Jeongguk winked along with a smirk, and left Taehyung to continue his baking. |
8a96b258c7be4291a977e918304f5dce | ['0f2a30d2441041b08998687a508776ec'] | As the last man fell, his blood running like a river to join the others, I saw my saviour.
He stood at the doorway, his eyes bared to me.
His cheekbones were now revealed, those high, well-defined cheekbones. I don't know why I remember this, amidst the blood and death. It is one of the few remaining human memories that still burns so vividly in my mind.
It was the boy to whom I'd given my coat.
The same boy – Aro.
His eyes were still riveting but no longer pale.
Like a monster from the underworld, they were blood-red and lustrous, eyes he'd disguised by claiming sightlessness.
He'd lifted me up with gentle arms and carried me away from the fire, away from the massacre.
I had been so sure my life was forfeit. Hades himself had come to drag me to hell. But despite my terror, I also felt confusion – for what had been my crime?
"Sulpicia," he'd implored, once I'd calmed down enough to stop screaming. "When have I ever hurt you?"
I'd only stared at him, at those horrifying red irises, and then he'd pressed the familiar silk into my hands. His fingers brushed against my skin – chillingly cold – before he closed his eyes.
"Bind my eyes then, my love," he'd said. "If they frighten you so, bind them so you need not see them."
I'd stared at the cloth in my hands, then at his marble features – still as a stone, and waited for the demons to drag me down to hell.
But there were no demons.
Just the sound of the creek, the crickets in the night, and my own terrified sobs.
When Aro remained still like this, his eyes veiled from me, I could almost see in him the thin, emaciated boy whose life I'd help rescue as the sweet man who'd courted me so affectionately.
"I won't hurt you, my love," he murmured. "I couldn't if I wanted to." He'd dropped to one knee, his head bowed, as though I were Helen of Troy. And then those cold hands covered mine, guiding the cloth in my hands, helping me blind him.
After the task was finished, he did not let my trembling hands go, pressing them on his face, in his hair, the way I'd always dreamt of doing. The silken texture bewildered me.
Could a monster have hair this soft? A disposition this enticing? My fingers remained immobile, and the moment stretched – excruciatingly long.
I was thankful when he removed them, taking my hands in his own. His skin was still freezing cold, but less frightening than before.
He rose to his feet.
"How will you see?" I managed to ask, my voice still hoarse from the screaming.
"Through your eyes," he'd replied, taking my hand gently in his. "Let's move, Sulpicia."
With my entire family dead and nobody left in the world to trust, I did as he instructed.
He led the way silently, keeping his hand gentle on my arm.
There were cracks in the soles of my shoes but I bore the pain silently, until my feet ached and stung and bled, and I could no longer conceal my discomfort.
"Will you let me carry you?"
No.
But I was afraid to say it – afraid to deny him.
"Sulpicia, have no fear. I will never hurt you," he promised, repeating his earlier words. "I have no reason to deceive you." And then very slowly, he untied the blindfold, opening those brilliant eyes. This time I did not flinch.
"I never thanked you," he said suddenly. "For the coat, the shoes, the bread. For saving my life."
Just then, the first rays of dawn peeked from the horizon, hitting his skin and setting off a million tiny crystals.
I could hardly look at him – it was like the sun god himself had come to life before me.
He touched my cheek, fingertips tracing my face, pure adoration in his eyes as though he held the world between his palms.
The expression took my breath away.
"I love you," he said. It was the first time I believed the words and here they were falling from this man's – a monster's, an angel's – lips.
What woman didn't want what he offered so tenderly in his eyes? To be loved, to be cherished, to be _worshipped_.
He'd put his arm around my waist, tucking me close to his body as he stared at something across the distance. I followed his gaze to see tiny wisps of smoke rising, where fire still burned bright. With a pang, I recognised my birth city – its former splendour reduced to ashes and ruins.
I was a vagrant now, with no home, no family and nothing left to my name. My city had fallen. I felt wetness run down my cheeks as grief overtook me.
Aro's arm tightened around my waist, his cool lips pressing a kiss to my forehead and I sank into him, finding strange solace in his embrace.
"Come home with me, Sulpicia," he'd said. "I will protect you from the evils of this world."
And so I did.
»»-------------¤-------------««
**Bliss**
»»-------------¤-------------««
He'd removed the soiled leather, washing my dirt-caked feet in a basin of water, just like my mother had that winter night when I'd given my shoes to his sister.
_An orphan girl_ , he'd told his similarly red-eyed companions. _And she will be one of us. My beloved_.
An orphan. I'd never seen myself that way, but that was the condition he found me in last night.
His sister was among them, and her presence had soothed me.
"Worry not, dear Sulpicia," she'd told me radiantly. "All will be well."
The small girl had grown into a captivating young woman. When she hugged me, her skin was as mystifyingly cold as her brother's. | 102bf93df92e41e6afe2679deb3ca7dd | ['0f2a30d2441041b08998687a508776ec'] | In the light of everything that had happened, I'd almost forgotten that he didn't even want to be here.
No wonder he'd been so unenthusiastic about winning the votes.
He was doing it for me. Everything.
"Thank you," I said, hugging him again. "Thank you a million times."
"Don't thank me yet," he said, giving my arm a squeeze. "We must move."
My dad. The transformation. La Push.
"Okay," I said, drying my eyes and squaring my shoulders. "Let's go."
26. Chapter 26 - Man in the Meadow
**Chapter 26 – Man in the Meadow**
" _Customs_ ," Edward muttered under his breath as we walked through the tunnels. "It'll kill them one day."
I nodded as though I knew what he was talking about.
"They haven't changed. Not one bit," he vented. "People are dying, covens are uniting against us, and what do they say? S _orry Edward, but you must wait until the coronation._ "
I was hardly listening to him as we made our way down a sloping passageway leading to the tunnels.
I still couldn't get the image of the grisly, bloodstained carpet out of my head.
"...as though we have something to hide!" Edward was complaining, before he stopped dead.
I walked right into him – a big mistake, because it was like walking into a brick wall.
"Ow," I said, rubbing my forehead. "Watch where you're goi-..."
I stopped dead too.
An eerie figure stood in the middle of the corridor, her back to us. Dark hair spilled wildly down her waist, and her white dress was smudged with dirt.
She looked like a ghost, and by the expression on Edward's face, she must've been.
Her neck twisted towards us in a sudden, frightening motion and I screamed.
Edward clamped a hand over my mouth, drawing me backwards so swiftly that my surroundings blurred.
The figure took a step towards us, and torchlight washed over her pale features.
Sulpicia.
For a split second, I saw her gold eyes – and the demented look in them – before she blinked.
"Edward?" she called softly.
Edward let me go, pushing me behind him. "What are you doing down here, Sulpicia?"
"I must have gotten lost." Sulpicia looked at her dirtied gown, toying idly with the torn seams of her sleeves. The kohl around her eyes had smudged to streak down her cheeks, and her veil was askew.
"Mistress," Heidi said, appearing beside her suddenly, distressed. "You must return."
"Of course," she murmured. "Let me... let me light the way."
She made a motion with her hand, and a small flame escaped from the torch, floating and expanding against the walls until the entire passageway was brilliant and bright.
"Mistress, please," Heidi said, her voice strained. "You mustn't. It is very bright in your chambers. I will take you back."
"Just a little light," Sulpicia whispered distantly. "It's always so dark down here." The fire rose, menacing, and Edward dragged me back further as it spread across the walls like they were made of paper, intense and blinding.
"Mistress! _Stop!_ " Heidi cried.
The flames swallowed the corridor completely and Edward cursed. I heard Heidi scream.
"Sulpicia!" Edward shouted. He pushed me behind a doorway, trying to step into the flames but flinched back. They felt blistering hot, even from my sheltered position. Heidi was still screaming.
A figure streaked past us, directly into the scorching flames.
Edward shouted something in his arcane language, but in a split second, whoever it was had reemerged from the fire, Sulpicia grasped tightly in one arm, and dragging Heidi out with the other.
Sulpicia went limp, and the flames died. Heidi collapsed to her knees, arms around herself, looking dazed.
"Your service is appreciated," Aro told her formally. He was still carrying Sulpicia. Her eyes were closed, and I saw that most of her dress had been burned away. Aro removed his black cloak, wrapping it around his mate with unexpected gentleness. Then he strode past us without another word, vanishing around the corner.
"Are you all right?" Edward asked Heidi. "Why was Corin not with her?"
Heidi's dress was also in a dismal state. I took off my jacket, handing it out to her but she shook her head. "Thank you, but I cannot accept." She rose fluidly, unconcerned by the large sections of clothing that dropped away with the movement. "Corin is in pieces," she informed Edward calmly, having already collected herself. "I will attend to her now." And just like that, she, too, left.
"Are you okay?" Edward asked, turning to me, his face still drawn tight from the earlier stress.
" _Now_ you ask me," I said, crossing my arms. "Heidi's more important, huh?"
He managed to crack a smile.
"Honestly, Edward," I said, "I prefer to imagine this as a Halloween haunted house. It's easier for me to cope that way. Bloodied carpets. Ghostly figures. Magical fires. What's next? Monster babies? Bring it on." My voice sounded slightly hysterical.
He gave me a hug. "No monster babies. That one I can promise."
"Really? That was the one special thing I was looking forward to."
He turned away, seeming vaguely distracted.
"We'd better get moving," he only said.
We continued to make our way through the dimly-lit corridors. Unlike the last time, the hallways were empty. We didn't bump into anyone else. I wondered what they were doing, and if they were busy with whatever chaos Sulpicia had stirred up. Everyone must've heard Heidi screaming. Was this a regular occurrence? But I didn't have enough brain space to think about that right now. My family took priority.
"I'll take you to Jacob first," Edward said quietly. "And then to your dad. It's quicker that way."
"They're separated?" I asked.
"Yes. From what I gathered, Jacob was inconsolable," Edward said, as we rounded a corner. "They had one of the Guards put him to sleep." |
f7dbc015187e4fc6a0e24d44d28d6a4f | ['0f54178768224a2f8641ad21a009d35d'] | A song began in graceful, elegant notes. They resonated through the practice room, almost melancholy. Hopeful, yet despairing, and Jisung recognizes the tune as the start of Mariage D’amoure. Minho sits up almost immediately, eyes darting around the room before landing back on Jisung.
“That’s enough lying around,” the dancer tugs on Jisung’s collar. “This is my all-time favourite song.”
Jisung pushes himself up wearily.
“Really?”
“Yeah!” Minho rises to his feet, eager to dance.
“I thought you’d like something fast and hype,” Jisung stands up with a groan “Not something so light and classical…”
Minho shrugs. “I always felt some kind of connection to it. It has such a grim yet hopeful tone, but it’s named after love.”
The rapper hums, wondering how the dancer would translate the music this time. Would it be slow and expressive? Or would he elegantly leap through the bars, light in his step? He decided that, he wouldn’t really mind, as long as it were Minho. Jisung sighed, stretching a little, and observed his impromptu dance tutor beginning to dance, swaying this way and that with the music, rising and falling, caressing each note with care. Recognition washes over Jisung as Minho swept the floor in a graceful waltz.
Minho stepped closer to him, and away again, in time with the flowing rhythm, arms outstretched to grasp an invisible partner. He spun around, and Jisung watched, eyes wide with the wonder of an epiphany.
He finally saw now.
The music.
Music was Minho’s partner, his love, his life. He loved dancing, and in his step, one could see every note, every inch of his being devoted to his purpose, to dance, to feel, to translate the music for people like Jisung. The beauty of music took physical form in the shape of Lee Minho.
And the beauty of music was currently waltzing towards him, weaving and sliding across the timber dance floor. With a finesse he had never seen before, and never would see again in another, they swooped, dancing, waltzing, until they were mere inches apart with Jisung, and then they spoke.
“You’ve been working so hard,” the voice sounded so calm, so poised, and the voice belonged to Minho, the shape of music himself. Jisung knew not what to say, and so he stayed silent. Minho cracked a smile at the awestricken boy, and reached for his hand.
Jisung felt fingers firmly grasp with his own, snatching him out of his trance.
“WOa woa woa okay”
Giggling, Minho snaked his other hand to Jisung’s waist, resting on his side. Jisung laughs nervously, his spare hand grabbing at Minho’s arm.
“What are- What are you doing!?”
“Well, you finally got your choreography right, so I thought we might celebrate.” the dancer says half-heartedly.
That was all the explanation he got before Minho pulled him into the music, and took off into a waltz.
Jisung stumbled a few steps, unable to follow the dancer’s grace. Eyes cast down at the older’s feet, attempting, however feeble, to keep up with Minho’s flair. His stress must have been apparent, as the dancer slowed down for the younger to adjust.
“Relax. Just relax.”
But he could not relax. Who could, when they were ballroom dancing with Lee Minho?
“Look at me,” Minho’s voice cut through the piano, “Don’t look at my feet, look at me.”
Hesitantly, with the encouragement, the rapper brought his gaze upwards to meet Minho’s. His gaze tenderly held Jisung’s as they danced. Their steps slowed, and the rapper tread carefully to avoid stepping on his partner.
Jisung felt like melting. It was bliss, melting into song with someone he’d met mere hours ago, feeling more grounded than ever, wrapped up in the shape of music, yet so aloft as he allowed himself to get lost in those eyes. Was this what music looked like? How had I never seen it before? How is it that I, someone who makes music, had been so blind? The questions dragged disappointment through his mind, yet by the time he blinked next, rounded pupils focusing on Minho’s, the feeling was evanescent.
The pair waltzed across the floor, their clasped hands held high. Jisung came to rest his hand on Minho’s shoulder, while he held him close by the waist. Ethereal piano notes hung in the air around them. Minho guided Jisung around with each step, and he grew confident in his strides.
A warmth spread through Jisung's chest, gradually at first, then all at once. It
tickled his throat, and a giggle broke the silence between the two. He couldn’t stop smiling.
“Is there something on my face?”
“Only beauty"
For the first time that night, Minho was the one to be flustered. A light shade of pink dusted itself across his cheeks and ears, like the flowers Jisung’s grandmother grew in summer, and his smile faltered for a second before returning twice the size as before. Adorable. A spark of pride rose in the younger. He made Minho blush.
“Confident now, aren't you?” the elder laughs. “Well, let's step it up a level.”
Tugging the younger’s arm, Minho guided them into a faster pace, their bodies rocking heavily while they waltzed. Jisung inhales sharply as he adjusts to the new rhythm. For a few milliseconds, he felt them detach from the music's flow, before plunging right back in. Like a fish jumping out of water, breaching the serenity only to reseal it. The motion felt so surreal, so unlike himself. It was all so strange. How they danced, the way he felt in that moment, so… Happy.
Ah, that's the word. Jisung was happy to be dancing. Draped like cloth over the shape of music, frayed edges skimming the timber, he felt happy.
When Minho pushed him out by his waist, unravelling them up to the tips of their fingers, he felt happy.
When he felt the light tug on his hand, and he spun them back together, he couldn't stop the grin. | e5168c2ff276472a9ca438306ad22da1 | ['0f54178768224a2f8641ad21a009d35d'] | When they took matching strides, confidently, in every direction they wanted, he even laughed.
When Minho gave control to Jisung for a moment, and he pulled them over into a dip, he never wanted to stop.
When Minho brought them back up, and a few moments were spent in comfortable recalibration, he forgot everything about Minho only to learn it again.
And when the song ended, leaving Jisung to realize their hands had interwoven at some point, heat flushed through him, burning a mark in his heart.
Maybe dancing wasn't so bad after all.
Minho smiled at him, and Jisung returned the gesture. Breaths falling heavily on his lungs, he drove himself towards the mirror before crashing against it, Minho following suit.
Against the mirror they lay, enveloped in humid air, and the smell of sweat. Their intertwined hands grew warm in the fluorescent lights, reminiscent of their shared dance.
Jisung's mind flew. To the start of yesterday, where he woke up after only a few hours of rest, promptly washed up and left for the company. He'd walked in through the doors like any other day, greeted Changbin, Felix, Woojin, and Chan passed out on a desk somewhere. After hours of work, he hugged Seungmin when the latter arrived, and soon, Hyunjin and Jeongin too. He and the 3racha members worked a bit on songs together, and then it was back to practice.
No, today wasn't any different. But as he sat there, etching the details of the hours into his mind, etching Minho's image and their dance into his mind, he couldn't shake off the feeling that this day, this night, marked something unremarkably remarkable.
“Oi, Jisung, what's the time?”
Jolted out of his small flashback, Jisung ran his spare hand through his hair. Sighing and mumbling that his phone was on the speaker, he stood up agonizingly. Muscles screaming like age-old metal, he slips out of Minho's hand and shambles awkwardly towards the speaker as the dancer stifles a few laughs behind him.
“It is…” Jisung picked up his phone, “Oh my gosh, it's almost twenty past three.”
“Really?!” Minho replied in disbelief.
“Yeah! We've been here for more than three hours!”
“We've met for three hours.”
“Happy Anniversary!! What a milestone! Three hours, gosh!” Jisung chuckles softly in his exhaustion. Minho joins him. The moment passes, and it would only be later that Jisung realizes how much he loved making Minho laugh. As he leans over to pick up a water bottle that they'd sat on the floor next to the speaker, his smile doesn't falter.
“Get me my phone while you're there, will you?”
“M’kay”
Before returning to mirror, the younger takes a moment to examine himself. White graphic tee. Ripped jeans. Black converse with white laces. Rounded hazelnut pupils and chubby cheeks. His hair fell into a mess, pushed back by his nervous grooming and sweat. He was still Jisung on the outside.
But something definitely changed.
Slumping against the cool surface next to Minho and handing him his phone, he sat there pondering how today was any different from yesterday, sans his (very talented) new friend next to him, and perhaps he had ramen for dinner, not rice cakes. When he could not decipher the strange change, he decided he'd ask Seungmin or Woojin later, and Chan, if he had time. They always knew what to do.
But for now, he'd settle for staying here.
Minho scratched the side of his neck subconsciously as he stared at the light on his phone. Jisung couldn't help his boredom.
“Who're you textin'?”
He asked, leaning closer to Minho.
“A friend.”
He replied, flashing a quick smile at Jisung.
“You probably know him.”
“Huh?”
“I'm texting Jungkook.”
“HUH?!”
“Jungkook? Like the Jungkook?”
Minho nods curtly, as if revelling in his reaction.
“Oh my god.” _He's not human._ “You know him?”
“I was a backup dancer for BTS.”
_Definitely not human._
“That's crazy.”
“It sure is,” Minho smiles at him between texts “Almost as crazy as throwing yourself into a practice room at 12 am and then proceeding to dance the person who was in the practice room for three hours.”
They share a chuckle. _But that's how all good friendships start, isn't it?_
“Hey uh, I gotta go. But I hope I helped with your dancing.”
“Oh,” Jisung begins, a bit of sadness begins pooling at the bottom of his heart. All good nights have to end sometime. “Then I better be off as well. Thank you so much, Hyung.”
The boys stand up, and Minho starts packing up his things, tying them into a tight little bundle. He was really a strange person. Who makes bundles anymore? Jisung stands, holding the door open with his body, watching as the elder trots over with his bundle cradled in his arms.
They walk out together, down the hallway and into the elevator. Chatting as they listened to the soft music.
“We could totally dance to this weird elevator music.” Jisung quips.
“We totally could. The question is whether or not we should.”
The elevator dings as they approach ground floor. The doors slide open, and they start making their way to the entrance of the building.
“Hey hey Jisung, do you think elevators have feelings?”
“What?”
“I said, do you think elevators have feelings?” Minho gestures wildly. “And they get offended when you put too many people on them, they can't deal with the workload and have a breakdown?”
“Uhhhhhhhhh… Sure? Why do you ask?”
“just felt like it.”
Jisung laughs.
“Okay.”
* * *
“Rest well!”
“You too!”
His smile looked so bright in the steady streetlights.
“Rest well!”
“You too!”
His smile looked so bright in the steady streetlights. His hair was messed up from their impromptu rendezvous, and a bead of sweat trickled down his face.
“Rest well!”
“You too!” |
f027c0ddfa59437eb010a68b234116b6 | ['0f752993364d4119b7472e421dec260a'] | “Are you really that afraid of me?” Dan inquired through his shuddering sobs, “I would never hurt you.”
Phil continued standing in the stunned silence as Dan gently took Phil’s face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe his tears away.
“I wasn’t always a vampire, Phil.” Dan began continue his explanation that Phil had cut off the first time at their apartment by packing his things and storming out, “I got turned a few years ago when I was at a college party where I got attacked. I don’t drink human blood but only animal blood. I’m sorry if I scared you. I’m so sorry. Please believe me, I would never hurt you.”
Phil cautiously watched Dan for a few moments before noticing his eyes. Unlike the usual brown, his eyes were purple. Not just any purple but a lovely shade of **lilac**.
_Lilac eyes. Vampires’ eyes turned lilac when they were in love._ Then everything clicked into place. _Dan Howell loved him back._
They stood there for what seemed like an eternity. Their bodies in such close proximity, pressed against each other, electricity tingling wherever there was physical contact between each other.
Their gazes so intense on each other until Dan started slowly started leaning in. Phil closed his eyes, his heart fluttering with excitement as he felt a soft pressure of Dan’s lips on his. In an instant, hundreds of fireworks exploded around him as their lips started moving faster and in a synchronised rhythm.
Dan ran his tongue against Phil’s bottom lip and Phil readily gave consent to deepen the kiss. Soon, it turned into desperate open-mouthed kisses with tongue and teeth clashing, making up for the kisses they had missed out on.
When they both pulled back for air, panting heavily, eyes glazed and pupils blown wide, Phil finally asked, “So… do you want to be my boyfriend?”
Dan responded by planting another soft kiss onto Phil’s lips, Phil smiling into the kiss, before responding with a “Yes please”. | 55648fd9bb7e4a7e8a280956d6998f04 | ['0f752993364d4119b7472e421dec260a'] |
Jihoon slowly took Seungcheol's thumb into his mouth and sucked carefully. The blood from the pinprick so sweet that he could not help but to swirl his tongue around the digit as he stared up at his boyfriend rather lewdly with heavily lidded eyes – the action surprising yet pleasant for Seungcheol who still had trouble getting used to Jihoon’s ways as a newly-turned vampire.
Seungcheol could already feel Jihoon's fangs start to extend; that's when he knew he had to unceremoniously yank his hand away from Jihoon before his boyfriend lost control and drained every drop of blood from his body.
Jihoon unconsciously pouted at the loss of Seungcheol’s finger in his mouth before snapping out of his blood-induced daze and panicking about drinking blood _again._ Seungcheol had to repeatedly reassure Jihoon that it was just a few drops of blood and that taking his wound into his mouth was a good thing because his papercut had now completely healed without even scarring.
“Oh Jihoonie, I know you don’t like this arrangement any more than I do but we just _had_ to do it. We couldn’t let you die like that; not when you have so much to live for.” Seungcheol’s words of attempted comfort did little to ease Jihoon’s self-hatred of having the need to drink blood with his bitter thoughts of _“I’m not even alive anymore”_ but the circles that Seungcheol rubbed into Jihoon’s shoulder when Seungcheol had enveloped Jihoon in his arms was helpful enough to remove the tension in Jihoon’s lithe body.
Seungcheol moved his hands from Jihoon’s shoulders to cup his cheeks and bring Jihoon’s gaze to meet his, searching for any hidden emotions within those bright red (and slightly scary) irises and then the rest of his facial features.
“You haven’t been feeding?” Seungcheol’s words came out as more of a statement than a question.
Jihoon gulped nervously and broke his eye contact with Seungcheol. It was true; he had been feeding as little and as seldom as he could to avoid the feeling of guilt that washed over him every time he recovered from what Jihoon and Seungcheol refer to as a “vampire haze” which happened every time Jihoon’s fangs grew and he fed on blood.
Jihoon still remembered the first time he fed on blood. He remembered how the fangs felt, lengthening from his gums and past his lips, protruding out of his mouth. He remembered the rush of adrenaline and slight loss of self-control as he entered his “hunting mode”. He remembered the feeling of his fangs puncturing skin as it sank into warm flesh. He remembered his first taste of blood and how satisfied he felt.
But he _also_ remembered the guilt and realisation sinking in that he had indeed drunk another person’s blood. It disgusted him.
Seungcheol had seen it before. In his ever-expanding circle of friends and acquaintances, at least one of them was bound to be a vampire. It was a stroke of luck (or a near misfortune) that he’d met one of his colleagues in a similar situation; after an uncontrollable instinctive hunt. Jeon Wonwoo was his colleague’s name and his victim was an unfortunate college student, Chwe Hansol who just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
When Seungcheol found his boyfriend sobbing next to an unconscious person with two puncture marks on his neck, he initially thought Jihoon had been strangely over-sympathetic for the vampire attack victim but when Jihoon sharply turned his head to face Seungcheol, who was approaching rather cautiously, Seungcheol thought he was going to faint when he saw the fresh blood dripping down from Jihoon’s mouth.
Jihoon had desperately attempted to explain himself to Seungcheol and beg him not to leave him but Seungcheol muffled Jihoon’s attempts by covering his hand over Jihoon’s mouth until Jihoon silenced himself before taking Jihoon’s hands in his and leading him back to their apartment, leaving the unconscious victim behind, and settling an extremely surprised Jihoon in a warm bath.
As Seungcheol repeatedly ran his hands through Jihoon’s hair, the younger boy stopped trembling and plucked up enough courage to whisper, “Aren’t you going to leave me now because I’m a monster?”
Jihoon braced himself for a request to breakup that never came but instead, a soft caress of his cheek and a soft promise of “I’ll never leave you, Jihoonie”. Jihoon closed his eyes and leant his head against the bathtub, visibly relaxing until Seungcheol decided to ask how this unexpected transformation came about.
Jihoon was walking home from the café when he got into a hit-and-run accident and managed to crawl to the pavement where he lay, bleeding profusely. That was when a man with pale skin and a deep voice offered to save him. By then, Jihoon was starting to believe he was hallucinating.
Desperate to see Seungcheol again, Jihoon readily agreed without thinking of the consequences before everything went black.
When he woke up, the only thing he could think of was his desperate hunger which led to his instincts kicking in and overtaking when the next living person walked past him.
Jihoon absolutely despised having to feed on blood to satisfy his needs be it blood bags from the hospital or a living, breathing human being. The blood bags made him feel so guilty that someone else’s life could have been _saved_ with that blood but instead, it was being used to keep Jihoon away from starvation. Feeding from a living person again was just out of the question. He couldn’t live with the guilt of bringing someone so close to death that they would just be hanging on to their lives by a _thread._
Seungcheol took in Jihoon’s now even thinner frame and impossibly more tired features before making the decision of reaching for the kitchen knife and slitting his arm. Jihoon screamed in panic at the sight of Seungcheol’s blood and incredulously questioned Seungcheol’s actions.
“You _need_ to feed or you’ll die or something! Jihoon, if you don’t take some of my blood, the wound will never close and I will bleed to death.” Seungcheol firmly thrusted his arm in Jihoon’s direction, watching Jihoon unconsciously lick his lips before turning to Seungcheol for reassurance. Once Jihoon received the consent, he immediately latched his lips around the cut and began lapping at the warm blood.
Jihoon hadn’t fed in _days_ and left himself losing control. His fangs already protruded and pierced into Seungcheol’s arm making Seungcheol cry out in pain before the numbness started spreading through his body.
Jihoon was only meant to take a little bit of blood but right now, he didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. Seungcheol felt his eyelids grow heavy as Jihoon continued feeding. By the time Jihoon pulled away, licking the wounds close, Seungcheol was already slumped against Jihoon on the floor, his breathing shallow and heartbeat slow. |
7f8bf63c37be4eabaf9ff6c8ead38171 | ['0f9a4d435d0d4757b5f957e79e5c7288'] | "Cold spot." Came his clipped answer, "Feeling...Not…feelings...Not...me- mine…I…"
"Alright, Wyn, just take your time." Ant looked like he was thoroughly shitting himself over this, if Elwyn were honest. At least he thought so, he was kind of dealing with his own shit just then.
"Feelings, not mine." His voice was strange and he vigorously shook his head.
"What kind of feelings, mate?" Ant still sounded concerned, and he put his hand on Wyn's shoulder. Elwyn calmed down a bit. He concentrated.
"Grief," he began, "like when I lost dad but… more," Wyn really focused on what he assumed to be the feelings of a ghost, "Like if I lost you…" The last bit came out like prayer, damn him. After that, Elwyn felt Ant's finger swipe his cheek.
"What?" He demanded, slightly flustered by the touch.
"You were crying."
They were practically (and literally) falling over each other to get out of the room after _ that _ ordeal. Third wonder, indeed...
Eager to see _ anything else _ , Ant led Elwyn into the royal bed chambers. Shockingly, a wooden four-poster bed still stood there, bitten to hell and back by termites though. There was a desk at the far end of the room, no longer containing papers, but when Elwyn approached it he noticed a large ink stain on the polished wood. He ran his hand over it.
And remembered the time he annoyed Arthur so much that he'd knocked over the ink pot in his rush to throw something...
Wait.
"Ant, what the _ fuck _ ." Ant didn't respond. So Wyn turned around and found him staring out of one of the windows. Elwyn approached him slowly. He inhaled to speak, but,
"I think people died there." Anthony pointed out. Elwyn felt his eyes bug,
"Where?" He shifted to look out the window, Anthony pointed to the courtyard, "How do _ you _ know that?" Wyn finally looked at Ant's face, he looked like he'd just watched something horrible. Wyn made a tentative connection,
"Did you have a vision too?" Ant's eyes immediately snapped to him.
"How did you-"
"I made you spill ink on that table." He pointed to the desk. Ant's eyes narrowed.
"This feels...off."
There was silence for a minute, until Elwyn had a sudden epiphany.
"Go lay on the bed." He instructed his mate. Anthony must've been bloody shaken because he obeyed no questions asked. A very subconscious part of Wyn - the same one that gave him that vision - also found this odd (and slightly funny).
Elwyn left the fourth wonder, and stood outside the closed door. He then closed his eyes, and imagined.
He had always been really good at identifying energies, at least his mum said so.
"Elwyn Jones, you are a _ wonder _ ." She'd chuckle as she made him his tea that night... So Elwyn let the subconscious part of him take over.
He pictured himself getting out of bed, the bed in the storage room. He sat down for breakfast with an old man. Gaius.
After breakfast, he went straight downstairs to the kitchens, passing a young lady on the way. Gwen. He fetched a plate of food and a laundry basket. Then he made his way back up those familiar stairs and into Arthur's chambers to serve him breakfast. Physically and mentally, he opened the door. On muscle memory that he never knew he had, he laid out the imaginary plate on the table. He set the basket down next to the table, and drew the curtains. The morning sunlight filtered in. It was dark outside.
He then moved over to the bed and grabbed Arthur's shoulder, about to wake him.
"Merlin?" Came Anthony's voice, "It's the middle of the night."
Elwyn's eyes flew open.
"Arthur?" The man on the bed sat up, as if he really had been unconscious (had he?), and stared intently into his friend's eyes.
"They're glowing, Merlin."
Wyn's vision went dark.
* * *
When he finally awoke, it was in Arthur's bed (which deserved the title of sixth wonder all of its own, in Merlin's opinion). His head was in the blonde's lap.
"Let's have you, lazy daisy." Arthur whispered, pushing his hands through Merlin's hair.
"I waited for you." He croaked, looking up at the king. Who at least had the decency to look apologetic,
"I know. I'm sorry." At that, Merlin reached up and placed his palm to Arthur's cheek.
"I think I can forgive you." The warlock smiled as he said that, and he knew it was true.
Neither one knew who leaned in first, but soon they were kissing in the early morning light. The sky was a soft orange, and their kisses were backlit by the rising sun.
This was the seventh and final wonder of Camelot Castle.
"You do realise we have to go home soon?" Arthur admitted once they were done exploring each other's mouths. Merlin smirked from his position straddling Arthur's lap,
"Not too soon I hope." And they were kissing again, in a bed that was mysteriously back to mint condition, as if it wasn't over a thousand years old.
(It did creak, though, which was annoying.)
And so years of grief melted away, and two legendary ancients were facing a bright new future.
Haunted, Merlin's ass.
**Author's Note:**
> Wrote this after binging buzzfeed unsolved. Happy spooktime, friends. It's October I'm allowed | cd8ca392d1ae416998ec51451c18f3c6 | ['0f9a4d435d0d4757b5f957e79e5c7288'] | Merlin. The boy (despite him being a similar age to Arthur, this felt like a more accurate description) was completely devoid of any experience in a combat-setting, let alone training. He was also given no weapons before setting off on his quest, and he didn't have any chain mail or armour to protect himself. Oh, and how could Gwaine forget that the warlock was _unconscious_ and _literally dying_ when he set off with Arthur. In fact, if the two got separated, there wasn't a single doubt in Gwaine's mind that Merlin would be dead in a ditch.
And that was the most painful part of this whole palaver.
The knight had been having this unpleasant train of thought, while putting the finishing touches on the Bwystfil o Dân. "The flammable-dragon-statue that may or may not spontaneously burst into flames tomorrow", as he so eloquently described it.
"Gwaine, are you alright?" came the ever-grating voice of Gwaine's favourite suck-up-to-nobility, Leon (but who's Gwaine fooling, the man is a master at battle strategy).
"Yeah, just wondering why we were never allowed that extra week to search for the princess." Gwaine replied only slightly bitterly.
"Gwaine, we've talked about this, the council didn't want to waste their resources anymore. They needed the knights here, not on the trail to the Valley of the Fallen Kings." Gwaine muttered something about "stuck up nobles always expecting a war", "Besides," Leon dared continue, "nothing good ever happens up there..."
So they both shut up and got on with their work.
* * *
Gwaine had never gotten so drunk _in his life,_ which was one hell of an achievement. He knew the festival would be good, but _wow_.
There is some relevancy to his lack of sobriety in this circumstance, however, because he wasn't quite sure what he saw that night. Between the vastness of the night-time crowd, the darkness cloaking the streets, and the haze of intoxication settling over the knight's brain, he only saw a blur of it.
A creature, skin coloured as flame, eyes as bright and hot as steel straight from the forge, blurred across his vision at the foot of the dragon statue. He knew there was probably some significance to its presence at the festival, but as soon as it was gone, Gwaine was approached by a gaggle of eligible village maidens and got slightly... distracted.
The significance of the creature hit him full-force, however, when something happened behind him anywhere between thirty minutes and three hours later. He then felt all the affects of the alcohol he'd consumed dissipate instantly. Gwaine felt a truly baffling amount of heat beat down onto his barely-clothed back and dropped his tankard when he turned around to locate its source.
He didn't hear the tankard clatter, nor its contents spill; he hand't heard the gasps all around the streets.
All Gwaine heard, was the roar.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm currently juggling between two fics at the moment. But oooooh, INTRIGUE!
10. The Healing Power of the Forest
"Hanadl!" Arthur yelled, clutching the letters in his hand. The king soon felt her disconcerting presence in the air and was also joined by the other two Guardians.
"Have you made your decision, your majesty?" the calming trickle of Law's voice came from the lake as she breached its surface.
"Yes, I believe I have." Arthur set his jaw and adjusted his posture, preparing for follow-up enquiries.
"What did you decide, Pendragon?" Gweryd chirped from ~~behind~~ inside a nearby tree as he emerged from its bark.
"I am going to find a way to stop the hunting of your subjects. I do not yet know how, but I will start by having a serious word with my young knights and squires." the venom in his tone seemed to convince the Guardians that he was serious. Law floated forward.
"if this truly is your chosen course of action," Arthur gave an affirmative nod, "then when you arrive back in Camelot, you are to arrest one of your newest knights and his chosen squire: Rotgerius and Ouen." when the water Queen provided no answer, Empress Hanadl added to the accusation,
"The two are conspirators with an infamous user of Dark Magic, and are the leaders of the hunting and smuggling ring that kidnap and sell our people." at this point, Gweryd's rosy face turned sour, and he provided Arthur with the final clue to why the arrest must be so urgent.
"We also have reason to believe that one of them is going to smuggle a potent potion known only as "Eclipse" into the upcoming festival. The potion is made from various..." he gulped down what was presumably bile, as Hanadl gravely finished for him,
"From various _materials_ gathered from nymphs. It is a concoction of the screams, sweat, and tears of our people to form a deadly poison gas. The Dark Sorcerers intend to poison half of Camelot at the festival."
Arthur barely gave any of the Guardians a beat of pause before he insisted, "How fast can you get me there?"
* * *
The Guardians took Arthur and Merlin to a clearing less than a mile from Camelot's border. If Arthur began walking now, factoring in that he had to carry Merlin, he would arrive in less that two hours.
"Is it the day of the festival?"
"Yes." supplied Law, Merlin secure in her arms. Arthur looked at his pale face, still white as death, his breathing barely visible if one weren't concentrating with all their strength.
"He must be healed." Gweryd pointed out, quite obviously, to Hanadl and Law. The three then huddled together and began discussing matters which Arthur only heard as the whisper of a breeze, the dripping of a water pump, and the soft rustling of leaves. They all turned to face his sceptical expression. |
3f01e1d7dfdf4b45a823ccb95fa64b81 | ['0fadb0c9dd244df580cc6a97eb637a9f'] |
Morning Help
Rocket hated waking up before Asher. The space coyote slept pretty deeply most of the time. Hell, he slept through an entire battle once while he was on the ship.
The raccoon was pretty annoyed with this. Asher could sleep through almost anything. Until he got a devilish idea in his head.
Smirking, Rocket undid the Asher’s pants, the coyote not reacting much as he got to his underwear. Once that was off too, Rocket feasted his eyes on the prize. Asher’s cock was semi-hard, Rocket smirking at the idea of Asher possibly having a wet dream of him. Now it was time to make that a reality.
Rocket began to lick Asher’s dick gently at first, soft licks as he felt the taste of Asher on his tongue. Once it was hard enough, Rocket got his head down and engulfed Asher’s dick.
Asher did react slightly to that, moaning softly as Rocket took his dick in his mouth, using his tongue to put pressure on it.
Rocket was a pro at this, bobbing up and down to lube up the dick for the next step. The raccoon knew Asher wouldn’t sleep through the next part (which was also his favorite part). He blushed as the space coyote moaned again as Rocket began to quicken his pace.
Before Asher could cum though, Rocket eased off, huffing as he took his mouth off Asher’s dick. “Gotta wait for the best part.”
Smirking, Rocket got up on top of Asher, hot dogging the coyote’s slick and hard cock, waiting to pounce onto the awaiting dick. Asher grunted again, still not awake. Rocket rolled his eyes. “You gotta be kidding me.”
Rocket teased the cock in gently, moaning softly as it got inside him, before beginning to settle into a moderate pace, going up and down on Asher’s dick. Asher whined as the pace got faster, the pleasure rising up.
Rocket grumbled inwardly as he noticed Asher was still asleep. “What the flarking hell...still asleep?” He smirked as he stopped for a second, noticing Asher’s knot. “Well let’s see if this will wake you up.”
Rocket began again, the same beat of going up and down on Asher’s dick, Rocket moaning loudly as the pace went faster and faster until right when the knot went in.
That was when they both finally came, Rocket onto Asher’s chest and Asher inside Rocket.
It was this action that woke Asher up, still groggy as he took in what was happening. “Rocket?”
The space coyote mumbled something before his eyes shot open at seeing the raccoon on top of him, grinning.
Rocket folded his arms, smirking while looking at Asher. “You sleep through a hell of a lot of things.” Asher rolled his eyes.
“Well.... yeah, I do. But you also tend to have no awareness during times like these. Like the visitor right behind you.”
Rocket gulped, turning his head around to see a still also half-asleep Quill, looking at him with a hint of annoyance. “You were pretty damn loud, Rocky.”
Rocket gulped, wanting to move but he still had the knot inside him. “I- uh, didn’t mean to wake up from your beauty sleep, Star-munch.” Rocket could hear Asher giggle a bit at the nickname.
Quill rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. But Gamora told me to tell you not to be so loud.” Rocket looked a bit defiant. “And how may you do that?” It was then that the raccoon could see that Quill’s pants were unbuckled. He blushed slightly as the human guardian got a bit closer.
“So I decided to give you some help,” Quill said, smirking as he unveiled his cock, a pretty hefty size that made Rocket blush even more.
Rocket got his mouth on it quick, engulfing it as Quill huffed. “This oughta shut you up for a bit,” Quill smirked as he saw Asher roll his eyes, the raccoon still knotted on his cock.
Rocket really want to get off and tell him off, but he felt the human’s hand go to the back of his head, keeping him at a slow pace while sucking his dick.
“Yu Mhpfkin StrPrick” Rocket muttered softly.
Quill shrugged at that. “Might have to speak up. Seems you’ve got a lot in your mouth.”
Rocket, annoyed at that, went faster, his tongue a whirlwind around Quill’s dick. He could barely stand it much before he would be forced to cum inside Rocket’s mouth.
It was seconds later that led to Quill erupting in Rocket’s mouth, the raccoon grimacing as he swallowed it.
He quickly got off of Quill’s dick, looking annoyed at him. “Wish you warned me first.” The human sighed.
“Well try not to so… sensitive like that.” Quill scratched the back of his head. “I’m gonna go eat, so I’ll just leave you to your thing.” Quill left as Rocket turned his attention back to Asher.
The coyote blushed a bit. “That was pretty good. Nice thing to wake up to, you know?”
Rocket rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Star-munch kinda surprised me though. Didn’t think he was that… nevermind.” He got off of Asher’s dick with a soft pop, the space coyote grunting as the pressure was released.
“Thought he wasn’t that big?” Asher said as Rocket tried to put on his jumpsuit. The raccoon blushed, tailing swishing in annoyance.
“N-no!” Rocket said, his cheeks red. “Just didn’t think he’d be so quick like that.”
Asher smirked. “Maybe you should do something similar with him. I’d love to see you in action with him.”
Rocket sputtered. “R-really?” He paused for a bit to collect himself.
Asher folded his arms. “And me for course. Threesomes can be fun.”
Rocket decided he might think about it more. He wouldn’t mind seeing Quill on the bottom of the two mammals. | 1794548db83c4ed5a74862e216fb864b | ['0fadb0c9dd244df580cc6a97eb637a9f'] |
Unchained
It had been a long time since he had been to this city. A life such as his made him travel from place to place, doing odd jobs while staying under the radar. None of the humans would probably like to hear that a god in the guise of a wolf that killed thousands was roaming about the world.
Fenrir walked along the sidewalk, eyes overlooking the bright neon signs. He smirked at bickering humans, some annoyed with each other over small things. Fenrir sighed inwardly, almost back at his place after an hour of walking.
He slipped inside, the average sized apartment leaving him room for a bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, and even a living room. Far better than most people had here in New York. Fenrir sighed, laying down on the couch he had set up in the room.
Even with being a god, Fenrir could have his limits. Mostly he was annoyed with having to interact with other people (gods included), but today was just a bore. Not many criminals to violently maul at this hour.
Suddenly the silence was broken by a set of knocks on the door, loud and hard. Fenrir’s eyes narrowed. Not many people would come here at this hour, and less would know where he was living.
With a thought in his mind, a sword materialized around his hand as the god got closer to the door. As he got closer, he felt a presence of something he had remembered before.
He opened the door quickly, ready to fight if needed. Only to see he didn’t need to fight at all.
The sharp blonde hair revealed his face, a perfect complexion only rivaled by more powerful gods. His golden eyes looked right at Fenrir, the god smirking at the sight of him.
Fenrir held in a breath, his heart racing. “C-coyote.” He stuttered as the god walked in.
The god jumped down onto the couch, morphing into his more anthropomorphic form as he laid down. “Been looking around for you, Fenny.”
The wolf god blushed, leaning against the wall. “You don’t have to call me that.” He folded his arms in a huff. “It’s been a while.”
Fenrir was right. It had been several years since they last “met”, and that ended a bit prematurely when Lucifer stumbled onto them in the act. The wolf was annoyed by that devil god ruining his good time. But now he was at home, blushing like a damn schoolgirl as Coyote advanced.
Coyote grinned, his teeth razor sharp and bright white. “Did I interrupt anything?”
“Nope,” Fenrir said, shifting into his more natural anthropomorphic form. “I had actually just gotten back.”
Coyote leaped up, getting next to Fenrir seductively, slowing rubbing his chest fur. “Then I can guess you might need something to relax.” Fenrir growled softly as the coyote reached lower on his body. “I can help with that.”
Fenrir could feel Coyote’s paws grip around his growing cock, moaning as he began to stroke it. Coyote smirked as he also grabbed Fenrir’s butt.
“Wow, you haven’t had this in a while. Been waiting for me?” Coyote said.
The wolf god nodded quickly as Coyote increased his pace, his paw going faster along the dick.
Fenrir groaned again as Coyote jerked him off faster, the god enjoying his moans. Fenrir had these short moans that Coyote loved, the ones that made him sound so cute even though he was a force of destruction.
Fenrir came, cum hitting Coyote’s chest as he let out a soft moan.
Coyote smirked. “I’ve got some more ready for you if you want it.”
“G-give me it,” Fenrir said softly, leaning more into Coyote’s soft fur.
The coyote smirked, making a duffle materialize in his hand. He dropped it, unzipping the bag to reveal a few items.
A set of chains, making Fenrir blush hard at the sight of them.
A XL dildo with a knot, one that Fenrir had not seen before.
And lube, of course.
“You like these, Fenny?” Coyote said, wanting to gauge his reaction before he started.
“Y-yes.” Fenrir muttered as he grabbed the chains, automatically applying them to his body.
The chain used magic to hoist the wolf up, now suspended in the air. Coyote adjusted the position, now having the wolf’s muzzle facing him and his butt in the air.
Coyote moved past Fenrir’s vision to his backside. “Now let’s get this ready first.” He applied lube and a spell for movement to the XL dildo, then slowly inserted it into Fenrir.
The wolf god moaned as it entered, then even louder as it moved on its own. “O-oh gods.”
Coyote now moved in front of Fenrir, his cock erect. Fenrir eagerly took it in the mouth, his tongue wrapping around the cock as Coyote thrust inside his muzzle.
The attack on both sides made Fenrir feel so aroused. The last time he had been like this was when he first was with Coyote. He kept up his pace, moaning as the dildo sank in deeper.
“Good Fenny,” Coyote said as his paw went on Fenrir’s head, helping him get more of the cock down his throat. He moaned softly as Fenrir’s tongue reached a sensitive part of his cock.
The sensation of being fucked on both sides was quickly making Fenrir want to cum. He began to suck faster, wanting Coyote’s cum inside his mouth.
Finally, Coyote came, right at the same time as the dildo finally knotted the wolf, the cascade of cum dripping into Fenrir’s throat. Fenrir also came, the cum hitting the ground as the wolf struggled against the chains from the pressure of his orgasm.
Coyote pulled his cock out of Fenrir’s mouth, the cock still dripping wet. He huffed, out of breath a bit as he undid the chains, slowly getting Fenrir to an upright position.
As soon as he undid them, Fenrir bounced up to him, wrapping his legs around the coyote as he embraced him in a long cum filled kiss.
Coyote, not expected it, growled softly as the kiss continued, eagerly enjoying the taste of the wolf along with his cum. He went into the embrace tenderly, letting the good emotions unfold.
It felt like hours before the two got out of the embrace, Fenrir smiling at Coyote.
“Thanks for the help. I needed it.” Fenrir said, slowly taking out the dildo with a tug, the sound of it popping reverbing around the room.
Coyote smirked. “Of course. Besides that, I’ll be staying in town for a few days. Might need a place to stay for a bit.”
Fenrir grinned at the coyote, before snuggling on his chest. “I’ve got room in my bed. Enough for both of us.”
The coyote god had to admit, that sounded perfect to him. He snuggled the tired wolf god closer to him. This felt very good for the both of them. |
4b7ae69b646249d2991c1a5dd02aae46 | ['0fbbb9c752704e3dac91fdce9db14d60'] |
Little White Cubes
Soft feet crunch and slip on tiny white cubes and you look down.
What was the last thing you remember? You remember fear and pain and seeing blue and olive mix and everything is so fuzzy. Your head starts to hurt and you touch your temple with a hiss of irritation. That is when your foot slips and you are propped up on your hands with your bum on the prickly cubes and a foot in the air. You hate this place. Whatever this place is, it's not where you want to be. But you can't seem to remember where it is you want to be-- who you want to see.
You stumble to your feet and steady yourself and that is when you notice what you're wearing. You feel like this is not what you usually wear but it still fits you quite well, like a part of you is attached to these purple garments. The thought is only passing and you get distracted by the scenery. A beautiful yellow sky and white mountains painted in the light. A memory tries to manifest itself again and you are shocked to feel something else push its way through your mind and a shiver runs down your back. It feels imposing like a trespasser.
Turning around, you notice that the sky has changed from your beautiful yellow to a thick red and you can sense someone else is on their way. If you had fur, you know it would be bristling right about now.
A little growl escapes your lips as you scan the land with narrowed eyes. Flexing your claws, you feel like your strife specibi are securely fastened to your hands and when you look down, they are. Purrfect.
Swiftly spinning around on one heel, the little white cubes go flying in different directions as you launch off the ground and pounce the intruder who you could feel was sneaking up behind you. Both of you fly backwards and land harshly on the pointy ground, dragging a deep ditch into the unstable earth. When the cubes settle and you are able to look your prey in the eye, you are met with pure white in gray skin. Realization hits you like a large cargo vehicle that is set on tracks and all of the sudden, the memories come rushing back in a way that makes your head feel like it's splitting in two and you fall back, clutching your own head, unable to even relax your shut eyes, let alone open them.
"H-hey, are you okay?" The intruder shifts under you and you scoot back, waving one clawed hand at him.
"No! Get away! Stop!" You gasp out as you fall backwards.
Through the rush of images that go flashing through your mind, you see your moirail kneeling before another one of your friends, and you can almost taste the fear as you watch the blue seep around one of his knees. He falls over and you are so overcome with rage, you could quite possibly shit a rage snake longer than Karkat's and that is really saying something--
Karkat.
Karkat.
Your eyes suddenly snap open as a hand is placed very softly on your shoulder. You look up at its owner and see short, spiky black hair and stubby nobs but the eyes aren't how you remember them. You scrunch your nose in confusion and tilt your head at him.
"A-Are you..." The words die on your tongue and you feel a lump form in your swallow chute. Your head falls forward as you let out a thick sob that shakes your entire being and the sadness of everything falls down around you like the meteor that took your hive.
"Hey, whoa, s-stop! It's... uh, you don't have to cry, hey. Are you listening to me?" His voice cracks and you look up, blinking through tears and you know he's Karkat. His name escapes your lips and he gives you an unsure half-smile that warms your expanding and deflating blood sac. "Yeah, it's me." And he plops down in the little white cubes in front of you and looks around. "Isn't this your medium?"
You rub at your eyes and sniffle. "Yeah... I remember... coming here with Equius back when we were playing the game..." The tears fight to come out but you force them to stay back as you relive the memory. This would all be so much easier if Equius was here with you. But he isn't.
"Yeah, remembering is good. You gotta keep remembering, okay Nepeta?" His look is stern even with the eerie white eyes. You wonder why his eyes look like that and if he's actually okay. You then notice his outfit.
"Uhm, Karkitt-- Karkat? Is that a godtier outfit? How did you get it? I don't remempurr you reaching godtier."
He looks down at his own shirt and then back up, scratching the back of his head. "Uhhh, yeah... About that." You tilt your head at him and he seems to become quite exasperated. "I guess I should probably bring you up to terms as to what happened to you and what happened to me." You scoot closer because that is all you want right now. Some clarity as to what exactly is going on.
He begins to tell you about how he died. How everyone died. About how he tried to make it through the game and keep everyone safe but certain decisions he had made early on really screwed him over in the long run. How they screwed everyone over. How they weren't meant to succeed because they were all in a doomed time line. He wasn't meant to live longer than he did and neither was anyone else and by the end of the story, you are in tears. | 7ee9d057804442b9bf1e33f87747ad74 | ['0fbbb9c752704e3dac91fdce9db14d60'] | “I don’t even know what I’m in the mood for. Surprise me or something.” he says, with little emotion. Hunk stares at him, hands wringing for a second before he turns back to the kitchen.
“Well, all right.” Lance hears him rustle around as he picks at his fingers. Something is eating at him. He knows exactly what it is, and he wants to talk about it, but every time he goes to open his mouth and spill that he’s practically head over heels for their new friend, his lips clamp down and his body distracts itself with some menial task. He’s tried for two days to talk to Hunk about this. He just needs proper motivation.
Lance watches Hunk scuttle around the kitchen, pulling out dishes and boxes of things and nudging cupboards closed with a free foot or elbow. He props his head up on the palm of his right hand and taps his fingers against the table with his left.
“What are you making?” He finally says. It’s safe. It has nothing to do with Keith.
“Rice Crispy treats, but with crumbled heath bar on top.” Lance perks up at that.
“You spoil me, Hunk.” Lance chuckles, the tension in his shoulders relaxing.
It’s not that he’s upset about his crush- not anymore. He had come to terms with it the last time they went to the beach. He’d made up his mind that the feelings are here to stay, that he might as well get used to wanting to kiss Keith at any given moment and if the only way to keep this as least bloody as possible is to keep it to himself, then Lance will shut the hell up and take one for the team. The only issue is Hunk and Pidge have already pestered him about it. And he knows the less he talks, the more they’ll want. He’s surprised Hunk hasn’t said anything to him about it, yet. Not in person, and not since he had texted him about it the night he realized it.
“So, Shiro told me something about Keith today while I was in the shop…” He starts, nonchalantly, but Lance knows his angle.
“Oh, yeah?” Lance says, attempting to sound uninterested but completely focused on whatever Hunk says next.
“Yeah, says that we’re the first group of friends Keith’s made in a while. He told me he was worried that Keith would spend his days alone. Isn’t that sad?” Hunk glances back at Lance who just shrugs. “I mean, we’ve been friends for- what? 10, 15 years?- and what would we be without each other? Keith hasn’t had that. Well, not until now.” Hunk pops a bowl of marshmallows in the microwave. Lance knows, Keith opened up to him a little bit and he got the gist of how lonely Keith’s life has been up until now. Lance can’t imagine not having a plethora of friends to choose from. Something small and tight clenches in his chest.
“Yeah, he told me.” Is all he can muster up to say. Hunk doesn’t seem to notice the drop in his mood. Thank you, high school acting classes.
Hunk brings over the tray and places it on the table in front of Lance. As he cuts the Rice Crispy Treats into squares, Lance watches the redundant motion.
“Hey, Hunk…” His mouth starts to move, his mind slowly catching up to it. “What should I do?”
“Well, for starters, pick the biggest piece because if you don’t, I will.”
“What? No- No I mean, about… you know,” Lance slumps in his chair slightly. His lips form into a small pout. “About Keith.”
Hunk looks at him for a moment before shrugging, taking out the biggest piece and putting it on a napkin for Lance. “Well, you got two options.” He counts them on his fingers. “One, you can tell him, get it over with, get the feelings out there so you’re both on the same page. Maybe he’ll feel the same. Maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll give it a shot? Who knows?” Lance leans his head back and it bumps against the back of the chair. “Two, you tell no one, suffer in private, try and get over it while also maintaining the friendship. Die alone.”
“Hunk!”
“Three, drop him entirely. Though, I really don’t think you’d do that. That would just suck, dude.” He finishes, pushing the rest of a treat into his mouth and moaning at the sweet taste. Lance picks idly at his own piece, his appetite shot.
“Well, option three is out for sure. I wouldn’t do that to him- or anybody.” He looks down and to the side. “That’s just cruel. I’d rather suffer alone.”
“So, is that what you’re going to do, then? Just try and get over him and act like nothing’s wrong?” Hunk says, taking another piece. Lance hasn’t even taken a bite of the first one.
“Well, yeah. Option one is too risky. Not gonna happen, nope.” Hunk gives him a soft look at that. Lance would like anything else but his pity right now. Not when he pities himself enough to last him a lifetime.
“Wanna know what I think?” Lance glances up at him, not answering. “Well, you did bring it up, so I’m going to assume you want to know what I have to say on this particular subject.” He pauses for dramatic effect, hands clasped together, index fingers out and pressed to his lips. He tilts his hands, pointing the extended index fingers at Lance “Tell him.”
“E-Excuse me?” Lance sputters but Hunk has his hands raised up, palms facing out.
“Now, hear me out.” Lance does. “You like Keith.” Lance nods. “You’d like to date him.” Lance nods a little more hesitantly this time. “The only way to do that is to tell him.”
“You’re insane.” |
611ffaef9c114775af89a47d6ac44278 | ['0fcc71809aee4b2b9a9bb698307b91e5'] | “You mean _you_ need him; I barely know the kid. My memories are still fuzzy.” He raised an eyebrow in her direction subtly. Light shook her head and ignored the emphasis he put on the words “you” and “him”. This was not just a problem for her, it involved all of them, even if they didn’t know it yet. Soon they would be together, she kept reminding herself, and soon they’d find Serah and find a way back home.
“Not just me, Snow, all of you guys. Hope, Fang, Vanille, Sazh— we need to find Serah. And to do that, we need everyone together.” _We did it once, we can do it again,_ the woman wanted to add, but the words died on her tongue.
The blond flopped back on the bed, “Well, wake me up when the kid comes to.” With that, he quickly dozed off, muttering something about baseball.
The soldier sighed, sitting down on the bed where Hope lay face down and unconscious. Refusing to fall victim to sleep like her companions, she instead tried to distract herself with the pile of magazines that had made their way from the coffee table in front of the television set to the bedside table next to her, possibly by Snow. Of course, her guess was confirmed when the first magazine she flipped through was a sports magazine - and a special edition on baseball, for that matter. Shaking her head in amusement she tossed it to the side, now flipping through a girly magazine, full of makeup tips, latest fashion styles, celebrity gossip and cheap finds. _Something Serah would probably like,_ Light mused, absentmindedly turning the thin pages and barely paying attention to the eyeshadow tricks that were being showcased in an article. _I wonder if she would use this -_
Her thoughts came to a screeching halt when her eyes swept across the next page, meeting a pair of bright green eyes and a bubbly smile, bright red hair tied back into two curly ponytails— Vanille!
A smile spread across the woman’s features as she gripped the magazine tighter, scanning the information box next to the posing teen. She was currently a fashion model in an area called Australia, part of a successful modeling agency and living a lavish life. The next few pages featured an interview with the teen, speaking of how she came to be a model and how she hopes she can get farther into the business and reach even more fame— all while donating half of her funds to a local animal shelter in Australia. Lightning had to roll her eyes at that information; Vanille had always cared for animals, even the monsters they had to slay during their adventure as l’cie.
Just as the rose-haired woman finished the article, the unconscious lump besides her began to stir, groaning and rubbing his head. Perhaps she had hit him too hard after all... Lightning extended a cautious hand as he sat up, wincing in pain and rubbing his jaw as she lightly touched his shoulder, “Take it easy, you got hit pretty hard.”
“By- By what? A truck?” he asked in response, obviously still agitated. He stopped rubbing his jaw and suddenly became aware of his surroundings, bolting from the fluffy bed. “And what-what am I doing here?”
“You—” She bit her lip, trying to come up with something to say to him. If there was another thing the Farrons were good at, it was thinking on their feet. “agreed to come with us, but sort of... tripped down the stairs as we were leaving your office.”
“I did?” Hope blinked before glancing at the sleeping log in the bed next to Lightning. "I just remember turning you guys down..."
"Anyways, Hope," Lightning quickly changed the subject, "I've located our next destination— somewhere called Australia. We should leave within the next few days."
He sat on the bed again, rubbing his temples and sighing, "Australia? I've been there once, when I was younger... How will we get there?"
The rose-haired woman nodded towards a now curled up Snow, "He's got it covered," her pale eyes swept over his stressed form, still a bit taken aback by his new age and appearance, "Hope, how old are you?"
The man in question raised an eyebrow in her direction before answering truthfully, "Twenty-seven. Why?"
She mentally cursed; depsite how childish it may seem, Lightning liked being older than him back on Cocoon. It felt nice to have a younger charge admiring you, but now the tables have turned and she seemed like the baby of their friendship. It was odd, to say the least. "...No reason."
Hope stretched his arms upwards, the bones making a small popping noise. It looked as if his stress gone, as he turned to Lightning and asked, "So, Lightning, why are you doing this? Gathering all of these people, I mean."
"To find my sister," Light explained, absentmindedly fidgeting with the zippers on her cargo pants that she had fished from Claire's closet again. "I told you back in your office, hadn't I?"
"Well, yes, but I'm still curious," he tried a smile, which, of course, worked on the woman. "As to why I don't remember any of this."
"I have a theory," she nodded, "That you'll regain your true memories the more you spend time with us. That explains your reaction to me opening the survival knife." | 6e0b52219ca04e2f9e2020d412508a22 | ['0fcc71809aee4b2b9a9bb698307b91e5'] | The silver haired man didn’t even bother climbing back onto his board. His cheeks were flushed as he answered with a sigh, “Yes. I mean, the mood was perfect! But I’d never actually been on a surfboard before, which is why I…” he groaned, wanting the ocean to sweep him up right there. “Sorry.”
She brushed some silver strands from his eyes. “You have bad aim.”
He tasted entirely of salt from the ocean, which is why it was the grossest kiss she’s ever gotten, but it was also her favorite.
12. Language
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> AU.
_**L** anguage_
* * *
For Claire, losing her hearing wasn’t as bad as she had anticipated.
She knew the risks of being in the military, as did her sister and parents, but she didn’t let her initial fear stop her from enlisting once she turned eighteen. She knew that anything could have happened to her once she was on the field, that she could have had it _a lot_ worse.
So when she was found a few feet away from a bomb that had went off, everyone thanked her their lucky stars that she had only lost her hearing and not any other vital body parts.
Sign language was easy enough, and after years of practice, she was having day-to-day conversations with her sister as if she wasn’t deaf. Claire could still speak, of course, but hardly did so unless absolutely needed, such as when bumping into people.
Like she had just done on her way home from her afternoon jog.
The man she had bumped into was polite enough to say sorry, and offered his hand to help her up from her fall. He said something, and Claire waited until he finished before signing her thanks.
The silver haired man looked surprised for a moment before grinning, signing back, “It’s no problem. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“No, it’s okay. But I’m actually surprised you know sign language.” she signed, the corners of her lips curving into a slight smile.
“One of my friends lost their hearing as a kid, so I picked it up when I was young. I’m a little rusty.” He hesitated, then added. “My name is Hope. And yours?”
“Claire. It’s nice to meet you, Hope. It’s rare I get to talk to someone who isn’t my sister.” The rosette smirked, knowing Serah would be excited to know she met someone.
Hope chuckled, “How old is she?”
“Eighteen. She studies at the university in the city.”
“I teach there,” he signed, almost excitedly, “Is she a first year student? With hair like yours?”
Claire nodded, surprised by the fact. She didn’t know if it would even go anywhere, but the thought of her dating one of Serah’s professors definitely made her feel weird. “Small world.” she signed, wanting to laugh.
She would never admit it, but she was secretly glad she bumped into Hope that afternoon. A year later they were signing “I love you” to each other regularly.
13. Message
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> a conversation between light & hope via text message. college AU.
_**M** essage_
* * *
It’s noticeable, isn’t it? I can feel people staring. HE
No, it isn’t. You’re overreacting. And it isn’t like it’s the first time I’ve given you one. LF
It’s the first time you’ve given me one directly on my /neck/. Everyone can see it! HE
Hope, you’re being paranoid about this. It’s just a hickey. LF
Just a hickey that everyone can see and everyone can judge and compare us to a couple of horny teenagers. HE
We’re freshmen in college. We still count as teenagers. And we /are/ horny. LF
No one needs to know that! HE
You could have stopped me before I actually left any marks on you. But noooo. You were obviously caught up in the moment. LF
I was DISTRACTED. HE
That’s a word for it. If it makes you feel better, you can leave one on me next time wherever you want. LF
Anywhere? HE
Anywhere. LF
Deal. I still expect pizza as compensation. HE
14. Needle
_**N** eedle_
* * *
"You don't have to get one, you know." Light said, noticing how hard Hope was gripping the chair's armrest. She settled her hand on top of his, thumb brushing over his knuckles.
He scoffed, but it came out weak with nerves. "We agreed we would get matching ones, I don't wanna chicken out," he glanced towards the tattoo artist, who was currently prepping Hope's wrist. "I'm just glad it's not a _huge_ tattoo."
When asked if he was ready, he nodded, and kept his eyes screwed shut for most of the time. The needle stung like hell, but he'd been through worse— a _lot_ worse— and he repeated that in his __head like a mantra. Lightning stayed by him the whole time, almost laughing at his expression.
Once it was all finished, Hope's wrist was slightly red and bleeding, but otherwise seemed intact.
"You did it." The rosette leaned in to peck his cheek, holding her wrist next to his to compare. Small Roman numerals spelled out the number thirteen, inked in black.
"Yeah. We did." Hope sighed in, admiring the work.
And for a second, Lightning knew he wasn't just talking about the tattoo.
15. Oath
_**O** ath_
* * *
It wasn’t fancy, it wasn’t big, and it wasn’t planned.
They were lying near the shore of the beach, Claire nearly dozing off before Hope suddenly sat up and turned to her, saying, “Marry me.”
That obviously woke her up.
She briefly thought back to the day’s events. “Hope, you can’t be drunk. You only had one glass of wine and you didn’t even drink it all.” |
5e50512f4d5e41dd919ec7e30c4c7766 | ['0fd32ae1458f4d2aafdd43048e67ddd0'] | Indeed, it did. The water haven reflected the afternoon sunshine, it felt so homely and warm that the mere glance at the place left you breathless. The reflexion of the autumnal trees on the surface distorted from time to time due to underwater movements; their lair was full of life.
It didn't only look like a marvelous fishing spot but it was also a beautiful site to have a picnic, perfectly peaceful to read a book, it was the sort of place an artist would put in their easel to start a masterpiece. It was... too much.
-"I didn't ask for all this..." He bit his lip. "I don't want to sound ungrateful. I mean, this is wonderful but-"
-"You deserve this." His partner insisted, capturing his face to place a kiss on his forehead. "Even if you still want to think that you don't, to me you do and I want you to have it."
He shut his eyes down as he pursed his lips. It felt so very strange, being pampered like that.
-"Why would you do something like this for me?" _For someone like me._
Hannibal caressed his cheek and lean to give him a peck on the lips. Will returned the gesture weakly, he felt bounded, imprisoned by the feeling that he had done nothing to be worthy of that sort of treatment.
-"Do you really need an answer?"
Did he perhaps needed to hear it to feel it was real? No, that wasn't what he felt. It didn't sound right. He shouldn't need that. And at that moment he finally realized that in fact, he didn't.
All his life he had thought he was too stubborn and proud to accept anything from anyone, material or not. It wasn't that, neither pride or stubbornness, none of that was stopping him, it was something else. The feeling that not being worthy of what was given, not feeling good enough to allow himself to that. It was the first time someone made him feel loved. He was important to Hannibal, the same way Hannibal was important and dear to him. No one else would make him feel complete.
Will shook his head slowly. His arms held on to Hannibal as his lips sought to his lover's, capturing them with all his affection. He could have sworn that he felt that his heart skip a beat. Hannibal's arms surrounded him with tenderness, he felt his warmth. If that fervour was to end his life, it would be worthwhile.
-"Good. That's what I thought." But still, Hannibal wanted to say it. No other words felt sweeter when being pronounced. He would never get tired of saying it. He would never be able to silence the feeling. "I love you, Will."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you I shall be unique in all the world. | 99f26b6a18e24f7ab1752a4c0154de9f | ['0fd32ae1458f4d2aafdd43048e67ddd0'] | This time Will chuckled. - "You're right again."
Once he was in the comfort of his own house, away from campestrial smells and that air full of dog hair, the first thing he needed to do was to take a long relaxing bath. He was wearing the same clothing he wore the day before, now it was all lined and he felt completely unclean.
When he began hearing the sound of the water filling the bathtub, he immediately thought of the moment when Will had gone to take a shower. Even if he had been quick, waiting for him at his place had felt almost as weird as watching him sleep. The most absurd ideas invaded his mind but somehow he felt that it had been due more than the simply influence of that dream he had had. It had been weeks ago and he hardly remembered the content, only the sensations were what remained on his memories. Those thoughts had to stop before things got even more awkward than they already felt for him. Luckily for him the sound of the rainfall stopping calm him a little bit, the temptations were finished or that he wanted to believe. But now, once again he felt tormented by his desires.
Why wasn't he able to think of him as a friend and nothing else? There was no logical reason for wanting more than that, Will wasn't anything special... _Is he?_ Maybe just unusual but still, Hannibal saw no reason to think of him differently than any other person he knew.
Was that the whole case? There was something that still bothered him. His desire wasn't clear either, what he wanted was more, that was all he felt and it was too vague. Assuming his dream come true, it was not enough, there should be something else entirely different than a one-night stand to fulfill a fantasy. _I want him in body and soul?_ The idea was so ridiculous that he dismissed it as soon as it appear in his mind.
Just when he came out of the bathroom, his phone started ringing. He had to hold back a sigh of annoyance when he heard the voice of one of his patients at the other side of the phone, the most emotional and needy of them to his dismay. Even though he was trying to act cool, it was obvious for Hannibal that he was crying while asking for a session that day, he sounded so desperate and desolate.
\- "Alright, see you later." He said as he hang up the telephone once they arranged the impromptu appointment. That ruined his plans for the day, he had to tell Will he wouldn't be able to see him that afternoon. _Poetic justice_. Maybe if he hadn't talked to Will about how tired he was of this patient and his nonsense, he wouldn't have to change his agenda.
Friday felt like a long day for Will, dull and tasteless. The following day, however, he had big plans. He enjoyed theater but he had had to decline Hannibal's offer since he could go to see a play, but a date with the woman he had admired for so long looked like a one-time opportunity.
It had been so long since they met, he had spent so much time trying to convince Alana Bloom to go out with him. She had gently refused, saying that she prefered not to go out with a work colleague but she had finally accepted. At first of course he was filled with joy, but later Will was not quite sure if she had done it out of pity or if she had finally taken an interest in him in any case he promised he was going to do anything possible to make their date wonderful. However, at that moment the atmosphere that surrounded them at the restaurant felt heavy and uncomfortable and judging by her expression he was not the only one feeling so, should that be a relief?
Alana looked beautiful and refined as always, in the eyes of anyone she stood among the rest of the women who were present at that restaurant and her appearance wasn't the facade of an empty shell, she was kind and smart, funny and enlightened.
Leaving aside the negatives she had given him, they had previously enjoyed each other's company and they had shared talks and interesting discussions, but the conversation wasn't fluent during that night, it even seemed forced.
_Maybe I should have gone to the theater with..._
He stopped his train of thoughts, staring blankly his meal. At last he was having dinner with the most beautiful and brilliant woman he had ever known, and yet at that moment he wasn't able to feel the same interest he had felt for her before. Did the fascination end?
\- "Will." Her voice called softly, making him lift his gaze to meet her blue eyes. 'This isn't going well, isn't it?"
He pursed his lips. When you get what you wanted you discover that it wasn't what you needed, was this the case? Perhaps his previous interest lay with the unattainable of the situation so now it seemed that the enchantment was over...
\- "I'm sorry, I guess you were right all this time. This isn't... It's just..."
\- "Hey, you don't have to apologize." She assured him as she rested her hand on his across the table. "Maybe it's not what you planned but this can still be a nice dinner, right?"
Will smiled at her an nodded. Just dinner between friends, it could have been nice, but neither of them could deny how awkward the situation was.
With any luck, by Monday both would have forgotten this night and everything would be like it used to, they could pretend to forget it at least. |
40c51cc2497b4377a38daded80360901 | ['0fdd7d0e0b2d4553a0abdb8399ce8cbc'] | “I have a conference call today, so I’m taking a short lunch,” he said apologetically. “If it was any other day…” Then he had an idea. “Unless you want to meet me in my office. I’ll have enough time to eat, just not enough to go somewhere.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, flashing his dimples. “I’m done at noon. I could grab sandwiches from that deli down the street.”
And just like that, Dean had a lunch date with the hot guy from the coffee shop. He had never brought his personal life into the office before, and, as a new hire, he should have been more cautious than he was being. But he didn’t want to risk the chance that Sam would take any deferral as a rejection, and he thought he was in good enough with Mr. Adler to risk it. He found himself worrying about it a lot less than he normally would as he spent the morning anticipating lunch.
2. Chapter 2
Dean wasn’t startled when the call from the receptionist came in, mostly because he’d been waiting anxiously for at least ten minutes, wondering if Sam was going to actually show up or not. He rushed out the door to his office to reception, straightening his tie on the way.
Sam was leaning casually against the reception desk. “Hey,” he said with a grin when he saw Dean.
“Hey yourself,” Dean said, and didn’t miss the small smile on the receptionist’s face.
“Thanks, Marie,” Dean said.
“Any time, Mr. Smith,” she said, her smile widening as she looked between the two of them.
Dean led Sam back into his office. They didn’t speak on the way there, but Sam stayed close enough to Dean that their elbows bumped a couple times. Dean found that he didn’t mind at all.
He ushered Sam into his office and closed the doors. He’d had the presence of mind to close the blinds over the glass walls of the office earlier that day, so he didn’t have to conspicuously do so when Sam was there.
“Water?” Dean asked, opening the minifridge that blended in perfectly with the cabinets.
“Sure,” Sam said, and then raised his eyes when Dean handed him a bottle of San Pellegrino. “Fancy.”
“Did you want something else?” Dean asked.
“No, man,” Sam said with a small laugh. “I’m sure I can handle it. I got pastrami on rye and turkey and swiss on wheat. I wasn’t sure what you liked.”
“Do you have a preference?” Dean asked.
“Yeah: food,” Sam said with a grin. “Aside from that, I’m not picky.”
Dean reached for the turkey; he was perpetually trying to drop five pounds, so it seemed wise to forgo the pastrami. Sam didn’t seem to have the same concerns. He flopped into the chair across from Dean’s desk and took a big bite of his sandwich.
Dean wasn’t sure whether to take the seat next to Sam or his normal seat, across the desk. Either one seemed fraught with peril. Luckily, Sam saved him by moving his bottle of water over.
“Sorry, I’m taking up all the space,” he said, making room for Dean to sit next to him. It seemed like as good a sign as any, so Dean took the chair.
After that, the tension quickly dissipated. Within a few minutes, Dean and Sam were talking and laughing like they’d known each other their entire lives. Dean couldn’t shake the feeling of completion that he felt with Sam.
There was a lull in their conversation, and Sam glanced down at Dean’s mouth.
“Shit,” Dean said. “Do I have something on my face?”
“Just a little mustard,” Sam said. “Here.” He leaned forward and wiped the corner of Dean’s mouth with his thumb. Before he even consciously thought of what he was doing, Dean felt his tongue lick the mustard from Sam’s thumb.
Sam sat stock-still, staring at Dean, who quickly pulled his tongue back into his mouth.
_Stupid idiot_ , he chastised.
But he didn’t have long to be upset with himself. Sam grabbed Dean by the tie and pulled him into a kiss.
Sam didn’t appear to have any intention of taking things slow; his tongue probed at the seam of Dean’s lips, and Dean parted them, willing the welcome invasion. Sam put one of his hands on the back of Dean’s head, the other one still tugging on his tie, pulling them closer and closer together.
Dean put a hand on Sam’s chest as the kiss deepened, feeling the firm muscles underneath, and wondered what Sam would look like with his shirt off. His hands were moving before the thought was even finished, pulling Sam’s polo shirt up insistently. He felt Sam smile against his mouth as he broke the kiss for a moment, pulling his shirt up and over his head. Dean’s hands immediately began to roam, feeling Sam’s defined pecs and tracing down his abs.
Sam groaned and dove in for another kiss, his tongue even more insistent in its exploration of Dean’s mouth. Dean could feel himself getting hard, the restrictive cut of his suit pants suddenly uncomfortable.
“Mr. Smith, your conference call begins in five minutes,” Helene’s voice buzzed through the intercom.
“Fuck,” Dean said against Sam’s lips.
“Ok, but you might miss your call,” Sam said, nipping Dean’s lower lip.
“We have to stop,” Dean said, reluctantly breaking their kiss. “Trust me when I say I’d rather do this than take a conference call, but my assistant will break in here if I’m not out the door in three minutes.”
Sam pretended to think it over. “She’s cute, but not what I go for,” he said, winking.
“We could pick this up later?” Dean asked hesitantly. He didn’t want to push too far, too fast, but he also didn’t want to let the opportunity pass. “Dinner?”
Sam grinned wide and Dean was momentarily distracted by how adorable those dimples were. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he said. | 173023e18d8e4411b08257efdc2ac1af | ['0fdd7d0e0b2d4553a0abdb8399ce8cbc'] | “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” Dean said. “I have pretty good connections. Or we can just order Thai takeout. There’s a great place just around the corner from my place. We can watch a movie or something.”
Or something.
“That sounds good,” Sam said, his smile even wider.
“Ok,” Dean said, leaning in for one last kiss. “It’s a date.”
***
Dean paced back and forth in his kitchen as he waited for the buzzer. Sam had offered to stop and get the food, but Dean had expected him at least ten minutes prior. He knew it was ridiculous to get so worked up over ten minutes, but he just couldn’t help himself.
Finally, as Dean was pulling out his phone to send a casual-but-not text to Sam, the buzzer rang. Dean smoothed his hair in the couple minutes it took Sam to arrive at his door.
“Hey,” Sam said as Dean opened the door. He leaned in and brushed a soft kiss against Dean’s lips.
It took every ounce of willpower that Dean had not to grab Sam by the lapels and deepen the kiss. Instead, he took the takeout bag from Sam and gestured for him to come in. Dean turned towards the counter to set the bag down, and suddenly felt Sam pressing against his back, his hardening cock pressing deliciously against Dean’s ass.
“Thai food reheats ok, right?” Sam said huskily into Dean’s ear.
“Yeah,” Dean replied, turning his head so Sam could capture his lips. Sam’s hand was on his jaw, encouraging Dean’s head to the side as he slid his tongue into Dean’s mouth. Dean turned to give Sam better access, and his stiffening cock rubbed against Sam’s, causing both of them to moan at the same time.
“Is this too fast?” Sam murmured into Dean’s mouth.
“It’s perfect,” Dean said, his hands carding through Sam’s hair.
“Good,” Sam growled, and the next thing Dean knew, he was being lifted onto the counter. It shouldn’t be so hot that Sam could manhandle him so easily, but damned if he wasn’t turned on by it.
Sam stepped between Dean’s legs, his mouth leaving Dean’s mouth to explore elsewhere. He nipped at Dean’s earlobe and sucked at the pulse point on Dean’s throat, while one hand spread wide across Dean’s ass, pulling him closer. His other hand played with the waistband of Dean’s pants, little teasing touches that were driving Dean crazy.
“Jesus,” Dean panted into Sam’s mouth.
“It’s Sam,” came the teasing reply. “But you can call me Jesus if that’s what does it for you.”
“You do it for me,” Dean said, dropping his head back to give Sam more neck to explore.
Sam growled and his hand tightened in Dean’s hair, pulling it backwards just enough for Dean to feel the tug.
“Bedroom?” Dean asked.
“But Dean, what about dinner?” Sam asked, taking a step back.
“Fuck dinner.”
Sam tsked. “You hardly ate any of your sandwich at lunch,” he said. “I won’t have you skipping dinner too.”
Dean knew that he ought to feel offended that Sam was talking to him like he was a child, but he didn’t. It felt nice to have someone worry about him, to let someone else be in control. “Ok,” he said simply.
“So good,” Sam said, stroking Dean’s hair affectionately. Dean leaned into Sam’s touch and smiled.
Sam stayed through dinner and two ridiculous action movies that neither of them paid much attention to. Sam alternated between eating what was on his plate and feeding Dean bites of his own food, which was substantially more erotic than Dean ever would have imagined. Other than that, Sam kept his hands to himself for the remainder of the night. Dean would have been disappointed had the goodnight kiss not been so sizzling hot. Finally, Sam left with a promise that they’d see each other the following day.
Dean fell into bed two hours later than he normally did, and he didn’t mind the disruption in his schedule one bit.
3. Chapter 3
Dean wasn’t quite sure how his interaction with Sam would be the following morning when he walked into Coffee Coffee Coffee. It turned out that Sam’s smile was turned up a notch, but aside from that, it was business as usual. Sam did run a finger over Dean’s wrist as he handed him his latte, but that was it.
Dean felt a little disappointed as he crossed the street to his office. He hadn’t expected Sam to haul him over the counter for a kiss or anything, but some acknowledgement of what had happened the night before would have been nice.
It put Dean in a bit of a mood for the morning. He felt on-edge, and then he felt upset with himself for taking what was essentially a one-day flirtation so seriously. Sam didn’t owe him anything.
Dean was in the middle of a meeting when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, assuming it was just an email notification, but instead he saw it was a text.
_Sam: Touch yourself for me._
Dean felt himself stiffening in his pants in the middle of his meeting, just from the thought that Sam was sending him suggestive texts during the day. He made every attempt to pay attention to what his colleague was saying, and quickly typed back.
_Dean: Can’t. In a meeting_.
The response came almost immediately, and Dean thrilled at the idea that Sam was waiting for his response.
_Sam: Go to the bathroom. Now._
Dean stifled a groan, his hard-on problem getting worse by the second. With a murmur, he was out of his seat and quickly making his way to the executive washroom. He’d never been so grateful for the privacy of that bathroom. He locked the door and palmed himself through his pants, letting out the groan that he’d been holding back.
_Sam: Are you in the bathroom?_
_Dean: Yes_ |
bfa833f788174a8ba8c468929ec47e4d | ['0fec1807314d4cc5a93cd974c96a5092'] | The silence that followed the leader's slow, steady approach filled Adam with a disturbingly familiar sense of dread. He could almost feel that knife at his throat again, only…only this time he knew a different kind of fear, the kind his family must have felt for him, because this time he felt it for Joe.
* * *
**4**
Joe looked toward the barrel of his own gun, and then past it to the small hand that fit so poorly around the grip. In his thoughts, he saw a different image. He saw a knife held to Adam's throat, blood blossoming bit by bit as the blade was pulled across the exposed flesh. The sight had terrified him; there was nothing he could do to stop that deadly edge from digging deeper. A knife held like that could seem to act all on its own. Any wrong movement, whether made by Adam or the boy, could force the blade to skip across flesh or slice deep enough to make the final, killing cut. Intent or accident, it wouldn't matter. Adam would be dead.
But guns were different. The threat they posed was not as direct, or even as obvious. Facing his own gun now, Joe had no sense of fear. Thoughts of his own death had no place in his mind. All he knew was he did not have a blade pressed against his throat; his life was not balanced on the edge of a finely honed piece of steel. An explosion would sound, or it would not; and if it did, he probably wouldn't be alive long enough to hear it. No, Joe gave no thought to dying. He thought only of Adam, and the blade of a knife held in a careless boy's hands. It was a thought that filled him with enough anger to push away pain, exhaustion, and probably even good sense.
The boy's eyes made it clear Joe should stay where he was, waiting for decisions to be made on his behalf. Instead, Joe pushed himself slowly back to his feet, part of him daring the boy to pull the trigger, another part expecting him to.
Rising wasn't easy. The world threatened to go black around him. He inhaled sharply, and then, when the boy was looking up at him rather than down, he asked a simple question as he expelled his held breath. "What's the point of all this?"
The boy probably didn't understand him. His expression remained unchanged, his eyes holding the same glare as before.
Frustrated, Joe decided, "You're gonna shoot me, then shoot; I'm not playing along anymore."
He turned slowly, seeking out Cochise and then catching sight of the pinto deeper in the trees as a splash of black and white flickering in and out of patches of green and the swirls of gray that were starting to eat away at Joe's vision. He tried to will himself to move forward, but his feet stayed locked where they were. He needed more strength than he had. In fact, he realized he didn't have any strength left at all. It was all he could do to avoid shaking…shaking like a hungry, frail, crying baby.
_A baby?_ The thought spurred more than an image; it brought him the faint sound of crying in the soft breeze. Curious to know whether or not what he'd heard was real, he focused his attention in the direction they'd been headed. Yes, he was sure of it, then. He could hear a baby crying—until the now familiar voice of the boy in charge said something behind him.
The words, spoken in the boy's native tongue, were not shouted this time. And then, "Soon," he said next in English. "We come. Soon."
The unexpected softness in his tone pulled Joe around. He looked toward the boy and immediately saw something that had been absent until that moment. He saw…sadness.
* * *
The sound of crying was louder, Joe realized—as though the baby was close, almost within reach. He opened his eyes, confused as to why they'd been closed, and then discovered he was lying on the ground. He could feel dirt beneath the fingers of his left hand; his right hand was still tightly secured to his chest. Had he fallen?
He pushed himself upward, fighting against the black spots that threatened to pull him back, and had to blink several times before his vision cleared enough to enable him to look around. What he saw then confused him as much as waking up on the ground. He was alone at the outskirts of a clearing that gave way to a small lake. The woods were behind him. In front of him, the clearing was littered with debris, mostly soot-blackened twigs and bits of cloth.
Scanning the area, he finally caught sight of people far to his right. Children. They were moving in and out of what looked to be hastily constructed wickiups made of twigs and grass rather than hides. He couldn't see his pa or brothers, but he did notice a very old woman leaning heavily on a walking stick, her other arm cradled in a sling of sorts. Since she was the only adult he saw, he figured she was the one he needed to talk to. But when Joe started to rise to his feet, the searing pain in his arm stole his breath and threatened his vision once more. He dropped back to the ground and then slid backwards to prop himself up against the nearest tree. Several moments later, as the pain began to ease to more tolerable levels, he started to recognize familiar rustling sounds in the woods. Someone was moving toward him.
"Joe!" Hoss's urgent whisper came as a relief. "Hey, Joe!"
Joe felt a hand on his good shoulder and swiveled around to find his brother crouching low to the ground on the other side of the tree. | 3f229a743d234300ab7f16dd767c0d04 | ['0fec1807314d4cc5a93cd974c96a5092'] | And suddenly Adam realized what that reverend thought he was seeing … or rather, whom. The white hair, dark brows and eyes blazing with a fury that had caused as many men as boys to stutter and step nervously backward….
“Pa,” Adam said softly just as his father’s mouth was coming open to lash out at the reverend once more. He waited until he met those blazing eyes before adding, “He thinks you’re….”
“I don’t care what he thinks!” Pa shouted. “This man expects to be welcomed into Heaven with open arms and showered with Heavenly pleasures, yet look what he’s done to you, to all three of you!” he added loudly, arousing Hoss and sweeping a glassy-eyed Little Joe into the conversation. “He told you he was a man of God, but that’s absurd! He has no faith! His lack of faith brought harm to my sons. Our Father in Heaven would never---”
“Pa….”
“ _Hallowed_ be Thy name….”
“That’s right,” Pa rumbled then. “Pray. Pray long and hard that---”
“Thy kingdom come….”
“Pa, I think he thinks you’re---”
“God,” Joe said, surprising Adam to have such keen perception when he’d had to be told to take a drink of water --- especially when Pa, himself, had failed to recognize the rapt expression in the reverend’s fevered eyes.
“What?” Pa asked breathily, clearly taken aback.
“Thy will be done….”
Adam lifted one eyebrow as the reverend tried --- and failed --- to raise his hand further.
“Why, that’s even more absurd than---”
“On Earth as … in H-Heaven….”
Pa looked back at the reverend.
“Give us this day … our … daily bread….”
“No.” Pa shook his head, dismissing what two of his sons had told him. But Adam saw the reverend’s awe grow into horror; and he knew the reverend believed his God was refusing him succor.
“Forgive!” the reverend rasped, his eyes furrowed in desperation. “Forgive … transgressions….”
Disturbed, Adam’s father turned away, giving his attention back to Hoss, who’d been watching with a peculiarly rapt expression of his own. The dismissal left the reverend crying. And that, Adam noticed, soothed the anger in Little Joe. Adam’s little brother finally relaxed enough to take a sip of water, settle back and allow his eyes to drift closed.
XxXxX
**6**
Hours passed, days even, but they were all jumbled together in Ben’s thoughts. He could barely comprehend where one ended and another began. He knew only that he was bone-weary and … _lost_. Yes, lost. He didn’t know quite why, or even how. He knew only that he felt a sense of displacement or … disconnection.
_Just tired_ , he told himself. When had he last slept? Or eaten? He couldn’t really remember. It was almost as though he was just beginning to emerge from a dream --- a _nightmare_ that filled his head with muddled moments … arriving in Carson City … giving his sons over to the care of the local doctor … settling back into the hotel with Adam, and then anxiously dividing his time between the hotel and the doctor’s clinic where his two youngest sons needed more care than his oldest ….
Yes, he was tired. And suddenly he found himself standing on a street corner, unsure which of his sons he had just left behind him and which he was trying to reach. He closed his eyes, filled his lungs, and then looked to what lie ahead of him. He swept his gaze out past the wagons and horses and the endless clouds of sandy dust from their passing, to focus further eastward, toward the heart of the desert. He could almost believe he was waiting once more for his sons to return, as though he could erase what had happened.
“You can go inside, if you’d like,” a man said, coming up beside him. Smiling warmly, the man nodded in response to Ben’s bewildered expression. “The church is always open.”
Following the man’s gesture, Ben saw that a white building with a tall steeple lay directly in his path. “No,” he answered dismissively. “Thank you, reverend,” he added, noting the man’s collar. “I was just … on my way to ….” To where? He still wasn’t quite sure.
“You look like a man who could use a cup of coffee … and perhaps a bit of friendly conversation.”
Ben shook his head. “No,” he said again. “My sons…. I need to … look after them.” Gazing about him once more, he finally began to get his bearings. “Adam,” he said as much to himself as to the reverend. “Adam should be waking up soon.”
The reverend’s brows rose. “Adam?” he asked. At Ben’s absent nod, he added, “I presume you are Mister Ben Cartwright?”
Startled, Ben finally gave his full attention to the reverend. “How do you know me?”
“The sheriff told me about what happened out there.” He indicated toward the desert. “In fact, I’ve just come from the jail, where I had a rather lengthy if fragmented conversation with the reverend Smith.”
Ben scowled. “Reverend? He is no more a man of God than … than---”
“Doubting Thomas, perhaps?”
Grunting in only partial agreement, Ben turned his thoughts once more to his sons. “Excuse me,” he added, “I should see how my son is doing.”
“Adam?”
“Yes.”
“I understand he suffered a concussion but is healing nicely.”
“Yes,” Ben repeated.
“And your other sons are also on the road to renewed health.”
Ben nodded once more. “Excuse me, reverend, but---”
“Have faith, Mister Cartwright. From what I’ve heard of their experiences out there, I have faith that they have all been well looked after, right from their first encounter with Smith and his followers. I think, in your heart, you, also, have such faith.”
“Faith?” Ben countered angrily. “That man of God, that … that scoundrel who calls himself a reverend … he tortured my sons because of his own lack of faith!” |
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